#It’ll be at least nine hours on a few planes and then more hours of rest

[aliencatwafers]

Soon I’ll go out of hiding

I will be back from my two week trip so I will be able to redownload Discord and chat once more. It’ll be most likely tomorrow or the day after but I will be back.

@parmsnik

@marbarmars

@doodlebob54

@astralmaple

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Broken Chords: Slow dancing in a burning room

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I don't even know what to say, I couldn't not write it.

Summary: the morning after their night together, Andrew and Y/n struggle to deal with the aftermath of their tattered relationship.

Warnings: Angst.

Read part one here.

She's up before he is. Y/n actually thinks she can remember every time he’s woken up before her; usually on her birthday or sometimes on their anniversary – when he remembers it – to make her breakfast and tea. Outside of those days though, she can count on Andrew waking up at around nine or ten in the morning – unless he’s going for a swim with his buddies.

And even then, when he gets back at seven, just because he knows it’ll annoy her, he’d strip down to his boxers and get back into bed next to her, smelling of the sea and pressing his salty body as close to hers as possible. He’ll stay there until he convinces her to get into the shower with him, which never really took that much effort at all.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Y/n carefully extracts herself from Andrew’s embrace and sits up against the headboard. Gathering the sheets over her chest, she watches him sleep; the even breaths keeping his lips parted ever so slightly, the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders and the hair strewn over his face. Because Andrew’s always been a fairly strong sleeper, she doesn’t think much of it when she reaches over to move a few messy strands away from his cheek, letting the back of her fingers linger near his jaw.

She misses that; being the only person he’d let get that close. Touch his face, hold his hand, taste the whiskey right off his lips.

Y/n used to think she'd do it forever. Or at least, for the rest of their lives. But she knows Andrew well enough to know that it probably isn’t in the cards for them. Every time they’re together, it takes everything in her being to remember that the pair of them aren’t exactly compatible – sometimes love isn’t enough.

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how much you feel, or how deeply you feel it, it just isn’t enough. The compromises start feeling like a chore and the sacrifices become another way to punish yourself.

After ghosting her thumb along the top of his cheek, Y/n finally pulls her hand away. A quick glance at the clock mounted to the wall proves that she’s long missed her flight, but of course, she doesn't mind if it means soaking up a couple more hours with him – and delaying the inevitable.

The hurt in his eyes. The promises that it won’t happen again. The way he doesn’t let her hand go, even as she’s walking away, so the very tips of their fingers are touching until they're literally out of each other’s reach.

That last kiss until the next one, the one that neither of them wants to break because in that moment, the just the thought of not doing it again is far too much.

The inevitable; getting on that plane and going home. Crying in the shower and then stripping the sheets off her bed because they make her think of him.

But in the essence of delaying the inevitable, she doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Shoving the blanket away, Y/n slips out of bed and snatches Andrew’s shirt from the night before off the floor. The fabric is silky and cool as it settles on her shoulders, and the hem falls past the middle of her thighs. She closes up a few buttons and then rolls up the sleeves so they aren’t swallowing her hands up before stealing away to the bathroom to quickly freshen up.

By the time she emerges from the small, adjoining bathroom, Andrew has turned onto his stomach and stretched an arm out to the vacant spot on the bed. The sheets are even more of a mess then before and she’s barely resisting the urge to get back in next to him; tuck herself under the weight of his arm and feel warmth rise up in her chest when he pulls her against his own.

Though, when another cautious step forward consequents her accidentally kicking his pants from the night before, Y/n stops to look at them on the floor. There’s something sticking out of the pocket, she can see enough of it to peak her interest but not enough to know what it is. So she picks it up.

A picture.

She sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the image, immediately recalling exactly when it was taken. London; October 5th, 2019. Though, considering what they’d gotten up to that night, it could have very well been the earliest hours of October sixth.

Sinking to the floor, she presses her back to the side of the ottoman near the foot of the bed. Everything about that night is so clear to her; the energy radiating off him right before the show, the roughness of his denim jacket when he’d draped it over her shoulders as they walked back to the car that would take them to the hotel. The taste of his mouth; whiskey, and something sweet.

The sound of his voice every time he said, “tonight’s gonna be special.”

In retrospect, October fifth – or sixth – was really the night that changed everything. The beginning of the end.

“Morning.” Y/n jumps a little when Andrew’s voice startles her out of her little trip down memory late. She must’ve been lost in thought for a while, because when she glances up at him, the mess of his hair has been remedied by long, tired fingers and he’s pulled on his boxers.

“Morning,” she mumbles, looking down at the picture again, “I didn’t realize you still had this."

Andrew shrugs, sinking down onto the floor in front of her, “its been right where you left it.” I’ve been right where you left me, he wants to add, but holds his tongue. He watches intently as she traces the pad of her thumb over the image of them on a hotel room sofa, with plastic cups filled with booze in their hands and her half-sat on his lap. God, the weight of her in his arms; he’ll do anything to make that a staple of his life again.

“I thought you were gonna propose that night,” she elicits softly, head still bent.

“What?” He rasps, furrowing his brows.

Y/n shakes her head, feeling silly about it all these years later. “You kept saying that it was a special night.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant now,” she swallows harshly, “and I know you –I knew you. So I should've known better. But I was so…..caught up in wanting that with you, I guess I’d hoped you changed your mind.” He’d always been so clear that marriage, and maybe even kids, wasn’t something he was very interested in, and for years Y/n had convinced herself that she loved him more than she wanted either of those things.

But then her friends started getting married and having babies, and suddenly, and ache in her yawned open. Was she really going to miss out on half her life for a man who shied away from talking about her after they’d been together for almost three years.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “we could’ve gotten through it, you didn’t have to leave–”

“Well I definitely couldn’t stay,” Y/n cuts him off, tone harsher than she intends, “it was never gonna work out, Andy. We were never getting past that.”

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he re-emphasizes.

“It was more than that,” when she looks up at him again, her eyes are shining and her lips are shaking ever so slightly, “I want something from you that I am never going to get.”

“Why isn't it enough to just be with me?” He asks, long fingers ghosting the side of her face in a touch so heavy it almost isn’t there.

A soft, almost silent scoff breaks her lips and Andrew notes the shine of fresh tears in her eyes. “Would it really be that bad?” Her gaze shifts as she searches his eyes, “Being married to me,” Y/n clarifies in a wounded, hushed tone, “Would it really be that bad?”

Pulling his hand away, Andrew scrubs it over his face, “its not like that,” he promises, “I just don’t get why its important to you.”

Okay, so maybe not anything.

“Why isn’t it important to you?” And just like that, they’re having the same fight they had two years ago, when she said she he couldn’t wait and he’d told her that it didn’t matter if she did. He’s never understood her obsession with marriage, the way Andew sees it, he’s committed to her in every way that matters, getting married will only make things difficult.

Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, Andrew leans back into his chair, “Because I know that I wanna be with you right now, and that’s enough for me. Look,” he suspires heavily, “marriage is tough. Besides people get married all the time and then just get divorced two years later-”

“And some people stay married for fifty years,” Y/n counters defiantly, “so what the fuck is your point?”

“I’m just saying; that might not be us,” he stands and takes a couple steps back to lean against the small round table near the window. When Y/n’s response isn't anything more than an irritated scoff and a glance towards her right, Andrew relents, “maybe I should go.”

“Yeah, you should,” she agrees with haste. She doesn’t look at him as he snatches his pants off the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. The minute shuts the door, though, a hitched sob leaks off her lips and Y/n has to press her hand to her mouth to quiet them. Trying –and failing– to contain her tears, she looks at the picture again and its hard to wrap her head around the fact that the man holding her there, whose arms she’d felt safest in, is the same one seemingly determined to break her heart.

God, she misses him.

Oddly enough, the only comfort she wants at the moment is his. It must be the most visions cycle to be caught in; have him inflict the pain and then seek him out to dress the wounds.

Y/n doesn't know how long she stays there, or how long Andrew lingers in the bathroom, but its long enough for her tears to slow and her legs to start feeling tingly.

At least he's here right now, something in the back of her mind urges. And she doesn't want to leave things the way they are.

Pushing off the floor, Y/n discards the picture on the unmade bed and pads over the bathroom door. “Andy?” Her knuckles hit the cool wood without much force, and after three brief taps, she pressed her cheek to it. “Can I come in?”

She hears the tap turn on and then off again, followed by a brief rustling and then; “yeah.”

He's at the sink, and despite the white hand towel strewn on the counter, his face is still damp and his eyes are red rimmed. His slacks are on the counter too, and it takes a minute before he looks away from his reflection in the wide mirror to regard her. “I thought you might want your shirt back,” she shrugs, fingers fiddling with the top button.

“Yeah, you can just….” He trails off when she starts undoing the buttons, and upon realizing that she isn't wearing anything underneath, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” she hums, as his shirt slides off her shoulders and billows to the tiled floor. Briefly tipping her chin to meet his gaze, Y/n moves past him, her shoulder brushing his arm.

She slides the door closed, but it doesn't make much of a difference considering it's made of totally transparent glass.

“Fuck,” Andrew drags his lower lip through his teeth. Part of him wants to pick up his clothes and leave; if going back to her after the reception was bad, then this is just down right toxic. But she’s upset, and so is he, and she’s usually the only person he wants to be around when he feels like that.

He thinks there’s a physical pull as he approaches the glass door. Ridding himself of his boxers, he steps into the shower and outstretches his arm to invite her against his chest, and Y/n steps into his embrace. Her arms go around his middle and she presses her cheek to the center of his chest and Andrew smoothens his hand over her wet hair. “I was supposed to be made for you,” Y/n professes softly, “I could’ve sworn it.” Andrew can feel the difference between her tears and the water raining down on them. They’re warmer, they feel like acid on his skin.

Besides, it doesn’t seem right to leave things on a sour note.

What if it really is the last time? It probably won't be, but he doesn't want to leave it to chance.

He doesn't want to leave at all.

He doesn’t know what to say to her; sometimes it feels like she is made for him. The shape of her body is practically molded to fit his, but it's so much more than that. Its the way she laughs at his worst jokes, the way it feels when she runs her fingers through his hair. He’s written songs for her – no other woman has ever been as much of a muse as Y/n has. Its in the small things; like how her laugh is one of his favorite sounds and they like the same kind of wine.

Its in the biggest things; like how he can only stand to have her around when it feels like everything is falling apart around him – or coming together.

Bending his head, Andrew kisses her hair. “I’m sorry,” he utters, realizing, for the first time, that she’s just as caught up in that tangled mess as he is;

they’ll always go back to each other, because there’s nowhere else to go.

[fridayfirefly]

Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

[bellaireland1981]

New Beginnings: A Christmas at Disney

Summary:  Follow up to New Beginnings series- Andy and Briella head to Disney World with Jacob, Ava and Bri’s parents for Christmas. A little bit of Christmas magic mixed with a little bit of Disney magic and you never know what will happen! 

Characters: Andy Barber x Briella James (named reader), Ava James, Jacob Barber, and Briella’s parents. 

Warnings:  None- FLUFF and lots of sweetness 

Word count: 5k (it got away from me!)

**Read the series starting with Ch 1 HERE

A/N: I do not give permission to copy or post my work on any other website or platform. Reblogs are always welcome. Andy Barber and Jacob Barber are characters that do not belong to me. All other characters in this story are my own. Thank you @denisemarieangelina​ for reading and being my sounding board for all things Disney! 

“Slow down, Princess” Andy laughed as Ava all but dragged him towards the entrance to Magic Kingdom. “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Someone sure is excited to get to Disney!” Your mom laughed, walking behind with you, Jacob and your dad.

She wasn’t wrong. Ava had been a ball of excitement since you’d gotten on the plane to fly to Orlando. You were staying on property at the Contemporary Resort, so the Disney magic had started at the airport when you’d boarded the Disney bus to head to the hotel. Once you’d arrived, she’d discovered several gifts on her bed of the hotel, including a breakfast reservation with all of the princesses.

“I can’t be late to meet the princesses! Hurry!” She begged.

“We have plenty of time, Monkey” You assured her, “We have early entry to the park, and breakfast isn’t for another hour.”

That seemed to satisfy her some, as she slowed down at least. You all made your way into the park and started out on Main Street, looking in some of the shops. Soon, it was time to make your way over to breakfast at Cinderella’s Castle. Ava was beyond excited at this point. Jacob walked ahead with her, holding her hand so she didn’t get too far ahead of everyone.

“She’s in heaven.” Andy said, smiling at Ava as she interacted with all of the princesses. “I love seeing her so happy.”

“She’ll be on cloud nine for the rest of the day, and probably the trip.” You agreed.

“This just might be the highlight of her entire year.” Your dad laughed.

After breakfast, you moved through more of the park until lunch time. By then Ava was starting to get tired, so you and Andy took her back to the hotel to rest for a bit. Your parents stayed at the park with Jacob, continuing to explore the park.

Ava was already asleep when you got to the hotel. Andy carried her to the room and gently laid her on the bed.

“We’ll let her recharge her batteries and then we can head back for some more.” You said, “I know she won’t want to miss the parade or the fireworks later.”

While Ava slept, you and Andy ate a light lunch on the balcony of the room and enjoyed some quiet time together. Once Ava woke up, you got her some lunch and the three of you headed back into the park to meet up with Jacob and your parents.

You spend the afternoon going through the park,meeting all the characters, and riding as many rides as possible. By the time the parade begins, you’re convinced Ava and Jacob are both riding a permanent sugar high. You’ve never laughed so much as you did watching the two of them go through Disney together.

You snap lots of pictures of the various floats and characters as they go by. Being Christmastime, all of the floats and characters were decked out in holiday decorations. It made an already magical place, extra special.

“I love that Jake is having just as much fun as Ava, even though he’s a teenager.” Andy said, wrapping arms around you and resting his chin on your head. “I always wanted to bring him, but Laurie never seemed interested.”

“Well, we can make up for lost time now.” You promised, “We can make it our mission to visit during all of the holidays at least once. Or at least visit once in every season.”

“We may need to look at an annual pass,” Andy laughed, “But I’m sure Ava and Jacob would both like that plan.”

“I think you’re right.” You agreed, “They’ve both caught the Disney Magic, and I don’t think there’s a cure.”

“Mommy, when do the fireworks start?” Ava asked, turning to look at you from her perch on a nearby bench. Jacob was standing next to her, ensuring she didn’t fall.

“Soon, Monkey” You replied, “It’s after the light parade and when it gets just a little bit darker.”

“You’re going to love this Ava!” Jacob said, “I watched a YouTube video of it and I bet it’s even better in person!”

Jacob wasn’t wrong, the fireworks show was breathtaking. They were both mesmerized the entire show. You and Andy kept stealing glances at one another from over the tops of the kids’ heads. Once the show was over you started the trek back to the monorail to head back to the hotel. Jacob gave Ava a piggy back ride, as she was beyond exhausted while you and Andy walked behind them, and your parents walked in front of them.

Once back at the hotel, your parents went to their suite next to yours and the four of you headed into your suite. Ava was half asleep on Jacob’s back. Andy carefully lifted her off and carried her to one of the bedrooms.

“Do we need to wake her up to use the bathroom or change?” Andy asked you, gently laying her down on the bed and carefully pulling her shoes off.

“She should be ok as she is.” You replied, smiling at how loving and gentle he was with her.

“I’m going to crash too.” Jacob said, coming in and flopping down onto the other bed. “Thank you for bringing us. Today was a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Andy smiled at Jacob, “Sorry it took so long to get you here, Pal.”

“It’s better this way.” He replied, “It’ll only be good memories. Not tainted.”

“We love you, Jacob” You said gently, “There’s a lot more happy memories to be made, get some sleep sweetheart.”

You and Andy made your way out of their room, into the sitting area of the suite. He grabbed your hand and gently pulled you to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

“The past 3 months have been so amazing, I keep forgetting he’s still healing and coming to terms with everything that happened.” Andy sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head against yours. You wound your arms around him, your fingers gently threading in this hair.

“I have no doubt that there’s still a long road to recovery for him, but I can assure you, he’s come so far the last few months.” You reassure him. “He’s resilient, strong, and has a huge heart. He also has an amazing dad in his corner. And now he has Ava and me who will always be there for him, and pseudo grandparents.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.” Andy said, his lips finding your own.

“I love you too, Andy.” You replied between kisses. You both stayed on the couch for a while, enjoying the stillness of the night and being in each other’s arms. Eventually you made your way to the second bedroom in the suite and fell into an exhausted sleep curled into each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning was Christmas Eve. You’d all decided to order room service for breakfast before heading to Animal Kingdom for the day.

While waiting on breakfast to get delivered to the room, you and Ava go into the bathroom where you braid her hair for her in an Elsa style braid per her request. Once finished, she goes out to join Jacob to plan out what they want to see that day. You quickly finish getting ready and then join everyone in the common area of the suite.

After the food arrives, you help Andy get it all set up on the table for everyone. While setting the table you and Andy overhear Ava asking Jacob about Santa.

“Jakey,” Ava asked softly, “Will Santa be able to find me here at the hotel? And how will he get in? There’s no fireplace here… and we don’t have stockings or a tree!”

“He knows where we’re at, Kiddo.” He reassured her, “And he’s got magic, remember? He doesn’t need a fireplace to get in.”

“But what about the stockings and the tree?” She asked, not convinced, “Those are still at home.”

“We’re at Disney” He replied, “Between Disney magic and Santa’s magic, I think it’ll be covered.”

“Promise?” She asked, holding out her pinky to Jacob.

“Promise.” he said, linking his pinky with hers.

You looked at Andy, worried. You hadn’t thought about this aspect of being away for Christmas. Of course Ava would be worried about Santa not coming and being upset about not having the tree and stockings up.

“I’ll take care of it.” Andy whispered, reassuring you. He pulled you close and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Trust me.”

“Always” You replied, smiling.

“Who’s ready for more Disney today?” Your dad said coming in through the suite door. “I hear Animal Kingdom is on tap for the day!”

“ME!” Ava said, jumping up and running over to hug him. “I can’t wait to see the animals and go on the safari! Jacob showed me a video!”

“I’ll bet it’s going to be another fun-filled day!” Your mom said. “And I heard one of the hotel workers say they’re preparing a giant batch of cookies for a certain someone who’ll be stopping by with presents tonight!”

“Really?” Ava asked, “Mommy! We need some of those cookies!”

“I’ll look into it Monkey.” You promised. “Let’s eat so we can get over to Animal Kingdom.”

Once everyone had finished eating you all headed down to the front of the hotel to catch the shuttle bus to Animal Kingdom.

Jacob and Ava wanted to do the safari first when you arrived so you headed over there.

“It’s kinda like when we first met at the zoo.” Jacob said, smiling at Ava. “Not a train, but still cool.”

“That was the best day EVER!” Ava exclaimed, “Mommy and I got  you and Andy that day!”

“You sure did, Princess.” Andy said, smiling lovingly at her. “You and your Mommy captured our hearts that day for sure.”

“Definitely the best day.” You said, wiping a stray tear from your eyes, smiling.

The safari was incredible. It was fun watching Jacob and Ava point out the animals and bonding over animals again.

“Those two have such an amazing bond.” Your mom said once you’d finished the safari. “They remind me of you and your brother when you were little.”

“They really do.” You agreed, “It makes my heart melt watching them together.”

“They’ve definitely already adopted one another.” Andy added. “I love getting to see Jake in a protective big brother role.”

“He’s got the role down pat for sure.” Your dad winked at Andy.

You headed to Pandora the world of Avatar next and spent a few hours there, before grabbing lunch and continuing on to the rest of the park.

You decided to head back to the hotel before dinner time, opting to eat at the hotel rather than Animal Kingdom.

While you headed to the pick up area to catch the bus, Andy nodded at Jacob who smiled and walked ahead with Ava a little bit in order to talk to her.

“It’s time, Kiddo.” He whispered, “Remember what dad wants you to say?”

“Yes!” She whispered back, excitedly. “I need to go to Cinderella’s wishing well and make a wish!”

“Good job.” He smiled at her, “Make sure to really sell it!”

They stopped at the bus pick up and waited for everyone to catch up. The trip back to the hotel didn’t take too long. When they arrived back and got off the bus, Andy winked at Ava over your shoulder.

“MOMMY!” Ava exclaimed, “We have to go back to the Magic Kingdom! I have to go to Cinderella’s wishing well!”

“Ok, Monkey” You said, amused, “We can go back tomorrow.”

“NO!” She insisted, “I have to go TONIGHT! It’s Christmas EVE and Jacob said that Disney magic AND Santa magic are EXTRA special. So I HAVE to make the wish tonight. Pleeeeeaaasssseee?”

“How about we take the monorail and go to the wishing well then just get dinner at the Magic Kingdom tonight?” Andy suggested, “It’s still early enough.”

“We can see if there is availability to eat at Cinderella’s Royal Table.” Your mom suggested, “I know our little Princess would love that.”

“Sounds like fun to me!” Jacob said, “We can see the fireworks show again!”

“Ok then,” You laughed, “I guess we’re not done with Disney today just yet.”

“YAY!” Ava yelled, happily. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” She tugged Jacob’s hand and started moving to the monorail.

“You know we can’t always give in though, right?” You asked Andy, laughing, “We’re creating a monster here.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas.” Andy shrugged, smiling, “And it’s Disney.”

“Wrapped around her little finger.” you laughed

“Possibly.” He agreed. “Come on, let’s go experience some more magic.”

You rode the monorail into the Magic Kingdom and immediately headed towards Cinderella’s wishing well for Ava.

“While we’re here did you want to go on any of the rides again or see anything else?” You asked the kids.

“Nope! Just the wishing well!” Ava said, “And what Nana said for dinner. I like that!”

“I’m good.” Jacob agreed, “We’re doing Epcot tomorrow for Christmas around the world”?

“Yup!” You confirmed, “We’ll do breakfast and presents in the morning and then head to Epcot later.”

“Cool.” he smiled. “There was a shop I kinda wanted to go back to on Main Street if that’s ok on our way out?”

“Of course!” You said, “We can stop after dinner. I may pick up some treats from the candy shop too.”

“Now who has whom wrapped around their finger?” Andy teased you, mimicking your earlier words.

“Hush” You laughed, “Not the same thing.”

“Uh huh.” He nodded, smirking.  “Your argument is weak, my love.”

Once you arrived at the wishing well your mom and dad walked up with Ava and Jacob giving them each coins to toss into the well.

“Andy and Bri, you make wishes too.” Your mom said smiling, her hand holding out two more coins. You and Andy reached over and took the coins.

“You have to hold the coin in your hand really tight” Ava told Jacob, “Squeeze your eyes close and think REALLY hard about what you want to wish for. If you think about it and wish hard enough, it’ll come true!”

Jacob followed her instructions and made his wish, tossing the coin into the well. Ava made her wish next, tossing her coin into the well.

“Your turn Mommy!” Ava said, “Make a wish! Close your eyes REALLY REALLY tight and wish SUPER hard!”

Andy smiled at her, winking. You laughed, then closed your eyes tightly and made a show about really thinking about your wish, wanting to make Ava happy. In reality, you already had everything you could wish for. You finally tossed your coin into the well, opening your eyes.

“Ok, Andy…” You said, turning around to face him, your words getting stuck when you saw him.

While you were making your wish, Andy pulled the ring he’d been holding onto out of his pocket and had dropped down to one knee.

“Everything I could possibly wish for is already right here with me, Bri.” He said, his voice full of emotion. “I never really believed in second chances or in happily ever after until I was lucky enough to meet you and Ava. I was determined to be the best dad I could to Jacob and make our own happiness. We moved here for a fresh start, and I was given that and so much more. You embraced Jacob and he immediately started healing, and finding himself again. I was probably already half in love with you when we met for that reason alone. I fell completely in love with you the day in the zoo. Watching you with Ava and Jacob, I knew that’s what a mother’s love was supposed to look like. My heart was also captured by a little Princess that day. Bri, I love you completely with everything that I am. I love Ava as if she were my own. I love our little family that we’ve created. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of our lives together, raising these two crazy kids, and any more that may come along.”

You wiped at the tears now steadily streaming down your face at his words. Your heart bursting with love for him.

“Briella James, will you marry me?” Andy asked, smiling up at you, his eyes brimming with love for you.

“YES!” You exclaimed happily through your tears. Andy slipped the ring on your finger and then stood up, pulling you to him and kissing you.

You could hear loud applause all around from your parents, Jacob and Ava, but also from many strangers who had witnessed the proposal.

“I love you too, Andy.” You said when you could regained your composure. “More than I can possibly put into words.”

“Congratulations you two!” Your mom and dad said, coming over to hug you. Ava bounded over and threw herself into Andy’s arms hugging him tightly.

“I’m really glad you said yes.” Jacob said hugging you, “I mean I figured you would, but I’m still really glad. I love you Bri.”

“I love you too, Jacob.” You replied, a fresh wave of tears springing to your eyes.

“My wish came true!” Ave laughed happily, “Jacob was right! Disney magic and Christmas magic together makes the wish more powerful!”

“We have reservations at Cinderella’s Royal Table in 20 minutes.” Your dad said, winking at you. “Let’s get some pictures and then we can head over.”

Your parents snapped pictures of you and Andy and then of you both with the kids before a very helpful cast member came over and offered to take a picture of everyone together. One you were done with pictures, you made your way to dinner.

Like the princess breakfast, Ava was enamored by everything at dinner. It was fun to see her so excited. You kept sneaking peeks at your left hand, smiling whenever you saw your ring. Andy saw you looking and smiled widely.

After dinner, you all went to the shops on Main Street for some last minute shopping. Once you were all done you decided to skip the fireworks show again and head back to the hotel. Ava was anxious to pick up cookies and place them out for Santa and it had been a very eventful day.

The trip back was quick as most people were staying until the park closed. When you entered the hotel you took Ava to go get some cookies while everyone else headed up to the rooms. You knew Andy had something planned for her, but he hadn’t let you in on exactly what the surprise was.

Once Ava picked out the perfect cookies for Santa you headed up to the suite. When you walked in you both let out surprised gasps. While you’d been gone today, your suite had been turned into a Christmas wonderland. It could almost rival the North Pole. In one corner of the common space, a large tree had been set up and decorated. Garland was strung around the suite, what looked like mistletoe was hung by the balcony doors and on one wall, stockings were hung. The stockings were all Disney themed and had everyone’s names embroidered on them.

“MOMMY!” Ava exclaimed, “It’s BEAUTIFUL!”

“It really is, Monkey.” You agreed, “It’s perfect.” You looked over at Andy, smiling. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down so you could kiss him.  “Thank you.” You whispered.

“Of course,” he replied, kissing you back. “Anything to put a smile on our Princess’ face.”

Jacob helped Ava get the cookies on a plate and placed a small carton of Milk next to it with a note. Ava had written the note to Santa earlier in the day and sealed it in a hotel envelope so we couldn’t see it. She insisted it was for Santa only.

“Alright, Princess,” Andy said, “Time to get ready for bed and head off to dreamland so Santa can come.”

“Ok!” She said, hopping up and heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth and change.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that willing to go to bed before.” You laughed.

Your parents said goodnight and headed to their room, and Jacob went and got ready for bed after Ava was finished.

When both kids were ready for bed you went in to tuck Ava into bed.

“Mommy, can Jacob read me a bedtime story first?” Ava asked.

“That’s up to him, Monkey.” You said, “But off to sleep you go after one story.”

“I’ll read to you, Kiddo.” Jacob agreed. “Goodnight Bri.”

“Goodnight Jacob,” You smiled, “You’re already such an amazing big brother.”

“She makes it easy.” He shrugged, smiling bashfully.

“Good night Mommy!” Ava said, “I love you!”

“Goodnight, Monkey.” You replied, “I love you too. And I love you, Jacob.”

“Love you too.” He said smiling and grabbing a book to read to Ava.

You backed out of their room, quietly closing the door, and headed to your room to change and help Andy get everything set up for Ava for morning from Santa.

“Just when I think I can’t possibly love you any more than I already do, you go and prove me wrong.” You said wrapping your arms around Andy’s waist from behind and dropping a kiss on his shoulder blade. He turned in your arms and cupped your face gently in his hands, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“I love you too, Sweetheart.” He replied, leaning in to capture your lips again.

“How did I get so lucky that I get forever with you, my incredible fiance?” You asked.

“The luck is all mine, my beautiful future wife.” He replied.

Smiling, you both set to work filling stockings and getting all the gifts and Santa gifts under the tree. When you were about done, you noticed Andy pulling a small box out of a Disney bag that you didn’t remember picking up.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Andy said, looking almost as nervous as when he proposed.

“I already said, ‘Yes’.” You teased him.

“And I’m really glad you did, or this would be super awkward” He laughed, letting out a breath he’d been holding and sitting down on the bed. “I saw this necklace the day that I found your ring, and immediately knew I was going to get it for Ava. I know that by getting married, we are both gaining another child. I love Ava as if she were already mine, and I wanted to ask you, before asking her, if once we’re married, if I could legally adopt her? I want her to officially be my daughter.”

“Andy, of course you can!” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. “I love that you love her and want to adopt her. And I know she’ll be ecstatic when you ask her. She already looks at you like her dad.”

“Think she’ll like the necklace?” He asked, opening the box to show you. Inside the box was a delicate silver chain with a locket and tiara charm. You carefully opened the locket and inside there was a tiny picture of the two of them that’d been taken at her birthday party on one side and on the other side it said ‘Daddy’s Princess’.

“She will love it.” You confirmed, “Almost as much as she already loves you.” You put the necklace back into the box and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. “You’re perfect, my love.”

“Far from perfect, but given a lifetime with you, I may get closer to it.” He replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you were woken up to Ava bounding into your room and jumping onto the bed.

“SANTA CAME!” She exclaimed, “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

“We’re awake, Princess.” Andy laughed, grabbing her and pulling her down between the two of you, tickling her. “Give us a minute and we’ll be right out to see what Santa left for you.”

“HURRY!” She ordered, laughing and running off into the common area.

“Guess that’s our wake up call.” You laughed, looking at the clock next to the bed. “At least she waited until 6:30. Last year she had me up at 5.”

“I have a feeling Jacob may have been keeping her contained for a bit.” Andy guessed.

“That would make more sense.” You agreed, “Let’s go before she comes back in.”

The two of you made your way out the other room. You stopped quickly to start coffee on your way.

“Ok, dig into the stockings” You said, “Everything else waits until Nana and Papa are over here.”

You all looked through your stockings, loving the variety of treats, and small gifts that filled each one. While you were all engaged in stockings your parents came over and joined you all.

“YAY!” Ava said happily, running over to hug her grandparents. “Nana and Papa are here so we can open ALL the presents!”

“To be young and have that much energy again.” Your dad laughed.

“You’re not wrong.” Andy agreed, “If we could bottle an ounce of her energy we could make millions.”

“I don’t know if I could even handle THAT much energy.” Your mom replied.

“Alright Monkey, we’ll do presents and then breakfast” You said.

Lots of paper and ribbons later, you were down to the last couple of gifts. Jacob handed you a package at the same time that Andy handed Ava the small box.

“This is for you Princess.” Andy said. He sat down next to hear while she tore the wrapping off and opened the box.

“It’s BEAUTIFUL!” She exclaimed, beaming at Andy. “Thank you so much!”

“Open it, Monkey.” You encouraged her, tears already filling your eyes. Knowing something big was about to happen, your mom had her cell phone out recording the moment.

Ava carefully opened up the locket and saw the picture of her and Andy from her party. She was still new with reading but was good at sounding things out, and could recognize words she was more familiar with, so you weren’t surprised when she was able to read the inside of the locket.

“Daddy’s Little Princess.” She read aloud, slowly and quietly. She paused for a moment, then looked up at Andy, then to you. You nodded to her encouragingly. “You… want to be my... Daddy?”

“I very much want to be your Daddy, Princess.” Andy said, his voice thick with  emotion, “If that’s OK with you?”

“YES!” She exclaimed, launching herself into his arms, her own winding around his neck tightly. “I love you, Daddy!”

“I love you too, Princess.” He replied, tears slipping down his cheeks. Your own were wet with tears, as well. Your heart was bursting with happiness. “Your mommy and I talked and she said that I could adopt you. That means officially you’ll be my daughter too, and as soon as Mommy and I are married, we can change both hers and your last name to Barber.”

“And Jacob will be my brother for REAL?” She asked happily.

“I’m already your brother for real Kiddo.” Jacob said coming over to hug her.

“Yes he is.” Andy confirmed.

“Bri, open yours next.” Jacob said.

You smiled, picking up the package again and carefully unwrapping it. You opened the box and moved the tissue paper aside. Nestled in the paper was a bracelet with several charms on it. You looked at the charms closely, tears once more springing to your eyes.  In the middle was a charm that said ‘Mom’, with the O being minnie mouse. On each side of that charm were birthstone charms. One for Ava and one for Jacob.

“Jacob…” you said, your voice horse from emotion, “this is so beautiful. Thank You!” You reach over and pull him into a hug.

“There’s more” he whispered as he hugged you back. He pulled away and you looked back down into the box. Tucked in with the bracelet was a folded up piece of paper. You took it out, carefully unfolding it. After the first few lines you read you realized what you were reading. Your head shot up and you caught Andy’s eye over Jacob’s head. He had tears still gathered in his eyes and he nodded slightly, letting you know he knew about the paper. You assumed Andy had been responsible for having the paper formally drafted, but it was a petition of adoption.

“Jacob…” You said, “If you’re sure this is what you want, I would be honored to adopt you and be your mom. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“I’m sure.” He said firmly, “I love you too. You’ve been more of a mom to me in the last 5 months than my biological mother was in 14 years. I know what a mom is supposed to be since I met you.”

You hugged him tightly, as though you could put all his pieces back together again in that one hug. You knew it would take time, but you swore you’d help to undo the damage that Laurie had done to him.

“I think this has been the best Christmas in a long time.” Your dad said, voice breaking with emotion.

“There’s only the best yet to come.” Andy said, sitting next to you and Jacob with Ava on his lap.

“Papa is right!” Ava declared, “I wished on my birthday candles that we’d be a real family, and then I asked Santa this year to make Andy my Daddy and Jacob my big brother!”

“It looks like the birthday Fairy and Santa delivered then huh, Monkey?” You said, beaming at your daughter.

“Yup!” She agreed. “I think next, I’ll wish for a baby brother or sister!” Everyone burst out laughing. You and Andy looked at each other over her head, you’re sure your eyes were as big as saucers. He just winked and smiled.

 @nickysurfer28​ @jamielea81​ @fluffymisha97​ @waywardodysseys​ @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss​

[unmaskedagain]

Ladybug in Smallville

           You can’t fix a broken heart, her grandmother told when Marinette was young and had ask why the older woman why she never remarried.

“You can forgive here,” Gina Dupain had pointed to her head. “And you can tell yourself every day that you forgive him, that all is well. And maybe you do. Maybe not right away, like you tell people but eventually… you do. You move on. You find some kind of peace. But that doesn’t mean your heart’s forgotten. Especially during the worst of it, when it’ll remind you every day just how much you’re still hurting.”

           The silver haired woman had look so dejected, so cynical compared to her usual chipper, charming self that it left the little girl stunned.

“Until one day, it doesn’t,” Gina continued. “And yet, your heart’s not the same. You’re not the same. No matter what you tell yourself. Sometimes, you’d swear it’s just a giant scar on your heart. Because at least that means it’s healed; beaten up, bruised, and permanently disfigured but healed.  Other days when you think too hard about it, and you are walking through memory lane; you can just barely admit the truth. That you can still feel every jagged edge, sharp angle still there from a shattered heart. And once on a very blue moon, you admit to yourself the truth; you can’t fix a broken heart. It’ll always be broken. Love has consequences.”

           She looked Marinette deep in the eyes, “The trick is learning to live with it. Learning that a broken heart doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.”

“Broken… but still good,” Marinette quoted Lilo and Stitch.

           Her grandmother beamed, “One of the hardest things is the world, sweetie, is to not let that broken heart stop you. You can cry. You can be angry. You can vengeance on the entire world. As long as you never let it stop you from living.”

“And loving?” Marinette asked. “You learned to love again.”

           There was a pause. A thoughtful look. And then a sigh, as Gina finally answered, “No, I never fell in love again. I could never trust the same as I did before. Never managed to figure out how to love with all of my heart like I used to when I was young. And it always felt wrong not you; but that’s just me. I learned to love myself, though. And that is the greatest thing you can ever learn. Love yourself.”

           Marinette had been nine-years-old at the time and hadn’t quite understood what her grandmother had been talking about. But she never forgot, the cold look on her grandmother’s face and the sorrow in her eyes.

           It was only years later, when the biggest liar to ever walk the planet proved that not all villains are easily defeated, when her friends had all turned their backs on her, when the boy who she swore she was going to marry someday was more of a cowardly frog than a prince, when even her parents bought the fabrication of Marinette being a bully, a thief, a jealous liar that Marinette finally understood. Because not only had her heart been broken, but it had been shattered.

           Marinette couldn’t even go to Fu as the man had used the last of his power in a fight against Hawkmoth because Chat Noir never showed up and Fu refused to give out Miraculous to people Marinette didn’t trust so the turtle had to fight. They had won but Marinette swore she’d never forgive Chat Noir for not showing up and costing a good man his life, and Marinette her mentor.

           Master Fu’s last act had to strip Chat Noir of his ring and name Marinette the new guardian. Before he faded, he warned Marinette that some people weren’t worth fighting for. Sometimes, a hero’s first priority has to be to save themselves.

           However, even then, Marinette had refused to give up. She kept trying to get her friends to listen, even when they made it clear they weren’t her friends anymore. Most didn’t reply to the texts anymore. And the ones that did, Alya mostly, ridiculed her; scorned Marinette’s very existence.

She tried to get Adrien to stand up and help her like he’d promised, only for him to ignore her calls, texts, and have Nathalie tell her that he didn’t want to be involved.

Despite the furious silent treatment from her mother and her father’s disappointed looks, Marinette still tried to convince them of her innocence. She had begged for them to listen to her, to trust that they raised her right, to believe her.  It was only after two weeks into her expulsion, when Marinette found luggage waiting by the door that Marinette understood. Nothing would change their minds.

They explained quickly that Marinette was going to be sent to live with her father’s godmother, one of his mother’s best friends. A good woman who promised to set Marinette straight. Or at least keep her out of trouble.

Marinette was on a plane an two hours later to a little old Kansas and then to a small town rightly called Smallville.

A kindly older blond man name Jonathan Kent had met her at the airport. Marinette had given him a polite, quiet, greeting and when mute for the rest of the ride to their farm. She hadn’t known what to expect. Feared the worst. Feared that they thought she was the bully her.

As soon as they arrived at the farm, a rather pretty greying redheaded woman walked out of her house with a mixing bowl in one hand and a sturdy wooden spoon in the other. Marinette steeled herself as she got out of the car. She raised her head up, “Bonjour, Madam.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing,” The woman had greeted. “And I swear, you look just like your grandmother. It’s that spark in your eyes. Every time I saw it, I knew there was going to be trouble. Particularly, for the fools that messed with her. That’s how my cheating ex boyfriend’s dorm accidently caught on fire.”

           Marinette blinked once. Then twice. What?

“Accidently, Martha?” Jonathan chuckled as he got Marinette’s bags out of the car.

           Martha shot him a smile, “They could never prove otherwise.” She looked Marinette over, “Gina said your parents have their heads in a place sun just can’t seem to reach. Wanted to me to look after you. Get you away from all that drama. Get you with family. And the lord knows, that woman doesn’t know how to sit her butt anywhere long enough to leave an imprint. So come on inside, let’s get you unpacked and some food inside you.”

           Aunt Martha, as Marinette had been instructed to call her, had led her to an empty room that was just a bit bigger than the one she used to have and had a desk by a large window, a twin bed covered in a plaid blanket, and a few other standard amenities. Plus an old sewing machine on the desk. Marinette’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

“Your grandma told me you like to design,” Aunt Martha smiled kindly. “I don’t use old Bertha myself anymore but I’d thought you’d like her. You can decorate your room anyway you’d like. Let me know if you need any help.”

           Marinette nodded and couldn’t stop herself from hugging the woman. She hadn’t been able to take much with her (Clothes, phone, laptop, a stuffed animal or two, the guardian box) but she made sure to bring all her sketch books and had just barely enough time and money to drop off a few boxes of her designing equipment and supplies at the local mail service carrier to be shipped to the farm in the upcoming weeks. The fear had been weighing on her of what ifs. What if it all got lost in the mail? What if Marinette couldn’t design anymore?

           Martha simply hugged her back, no probing questions. When Marinette let go, Martha said, “Now Kara and Conner’s rooms are either side of you. Conner’s mostly here on the weekends. Kara visits enough to still have room. They can be a… little nosy. But ignore it. My son, Clark, is visiting next week. They just can’t wait to meet you. I wouldn’t be surprised be any of them suddenly drops in.” She laughed, and it sounded a little like jingle bells.

           Then suddenly, Martha straightened up and gave Marinette a soft look, “You let me know if you need to talk or… Anything really.”

           Marinette felt her throat close up a bit and nodded stiffly.

“Dinner will be on the table soon.”

“May I help, Madam?” Marinette asked.

           Martha looked her over, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can go ahead and get settled in.”

           Marinette blinked again. No one ever turned down her offer to help before. “I want to.” And so she did.

           Cooking with Aunting Martha was different that with her parents. While, she knew her parents loved to bake. It always felt like a job with them. One more responsibility Marinette had. Cooking with Aunt Martha was relaxing. They shared stories with each other and Marinette got more insight of her grandmother’s past than she ever had before. And even when it got silent, Marinette didn’t feel the need to fill it for once. And neither did Martha. It was nice.

           Eating dinner had been the same. Enjoyable and lovely with promises of teaching Marinette all about the farm. Uncle John laughing at wide-eyed Marinette reaction to idea of her milking a cow. It was a relief not to deal with her mother’s stony silence and her father’s blatant disapproval.

           Marinette knew from just one night that the Kents were good people and if she let herself, she could enjoy her time there. That didn’t stop Marinette from crying herself to sleep for a few nights.

           During her first week, Marinette didn’t hear a word from her parents. Or the second. Marinette knew they were more than likely waiting for her to make the first move like she always did.

           But unfortunately for them, Marinette was done. She was done with fake friends and disappointing crushes. She was done with being made out to be the bad guy. She was done always being the one to fix everything. Save everyone. Because she knew, without a doubt, that this time. Her first priority had to be save herself. Marinette had to fix herself. (Of course, Marinette still had to use the horse miraculous to go save Paris nearly every day but innocents needed her help.)

           So Marinette let herself be immersed in the smallville way of life. She helped out of the farm. She competed with Aunt Martha over who had the best pie recipe. Blinked in confusion when Martha wrapped a plate of Marinette’s special double chocolate salt caramel cookies to be delivered and muttered something about “Alfred finally getting his” and the Kent family reigning victorious. Marinette had just been happy to be considered family.

           Speaking of family, Marinette had become rather fond of her new “Cousins”. Jon was the youngest and reminded Marinette of a very hyperactive puppy. He constantly dragged Marinette away to play games and pretend. Connor was a bit sullen but had turned out to be a giant teddy bear once he opened up. He loved to talk about his friends; particularly someone named Tim. The beautiful blond Kara loved girl talk and arm wrestling Connor. She raved about Marinette’s designs and over her pictures with Jagged Stone. Clark, the oldest of her cousin, was a sweetheart; a geeky reporter who was married to a man named Bruce, worked mainly out of Metropolis, and had somewhere between five to seven kids. There was a lot of names and nicknames that left Marinette’s head spinning.

           None of them had taken kindly to Marinette’s story of how she ended up on the Kent farm. Wondering who could bully such a sweet angel?

           Though Marinette decided he wasn’t ever going to be her favorite after the blueberry scone incident.

           Over the next few months, Marinette learned what her grandmother had meant about letting herself be angry and getting some vengeance. Because was allowed to be angry. And she was allowed to get payback.

           After a rather nasty Akuma, Ladybug had taken the time to do an interview with Nadja. She had confirmed that Chat Noir was never returning, that the Ladyblog and its journalist had lost her trust forever after Ladybug had learned about the lies the blog was posting.

“What lies,” Nadja had asked, glad to finally stick it to the girl, Alya, who had been so mean to her honorary niece.

“Well for example, who the hell is Lila Rossi?” Ladybug asked when Nadja pulled up the website on the blue screen behind them. They scrolled through the website pointing out lies and inaccuracies. “That girl is not my best friend. I saved her from her own akuma save five times now. That’s it. I don’t know the girl. I don’t like the girl. What was written would only serve to put Lila in danger. And what’s this about Lila saving Jagged Stone’s cat? From a plane? Which airline was this? Who could be so careless?”

           Nadja nodded and looked quite stunned herself at what was on the blog. “I highly doubt Clara Nightingale stole Lila’s dance moves. Or strictly guarded Prince Ali invites random girls, even Ambassador’s daughter, to discuss his country go green intuitive. Or that she came up with the entire plan herself. This is just ridiculous! And what this about you curing Tinnitus?”

           Ladybug quickly shook her head, “That’s not possible. And it gives people false hope.”

“So Lila’s lying,” Nadja had to fight to keep the smugness out of her voice. She had told Sabine she was wrong. Had been absolutely furious that Marinette had been sent away. Some journalist should really learn Check Her Sources.” She said the last part with a smirk. “And what’s this about Gordon Ramsey?”

           It went on from there, with brief intervals so Marinette could recharge. Ladybug had blasted her former school, its’ principle, and her old teacher Bustier to shreds. For allowing bullying of students, victim blaming, and sheer negligence. Reciting how many times Ladybug had to deal with akuma from that school, particularly from Bustier’s class.

“I heard one poor girl even got expelled,” Ladybug shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, there was no investigation, just word of mouth, easily planted evidence, and then expulsion. I’m surprised I didn’t have to deal with her Akuma.” Ladybug’s sad tone was clear to hear. “I looked into the incident a bit. A rather brilliant Robot name Markov had been recording the room at the time.” Marinette nodded to the screen. “I had them blur the students faces for security reasons. The girl with the short hair is the victim in question.”

           The video played. And it was clear that a long haired girl had stolen the answer and planted them.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t fix the issue,” Ladybug sighed. “By the time, I heard of it girl was been sent away by her parents. Not even they believed her.”

“I know the girl you’re speaking about,” Nadja frowned. “She’s stronger than she looks. Still, she deserved better. I swear to you that I’ll be leading the charge in investigating the wrongful expulsion.”

           Ladybug smiled.

           It took less than an hour after the interview to air for Marinette’s phone to start blowing up. Her ex-friends, her old classmates texted up a storm of apologies.

           The call from her parents had come in no longer after. Her father had full of apologies and swore to make it up to her. Her mother had been in tears.

           They were met with silence from Marinette. A forgive didn’t come. Marinette made it clear she still loved them but she was staying with the Kents. She would not be returning to Paris. It was her father’s turn to cry.

           Marinette would forgive them in time. But that wasn’t her priority was herself at the moment.

           While the Kents, Marinette was free to just be Marinette. Not anyone’s “Everyday Ladybug”. And was finding that she liked who she was.

           She liked designing clothes for Kara and dresses for Aunt Martha. Doing everything possible to get Clark out of plain. (She would be victorious!) She liked hanging out around town with Connor and being someone’s little sister, as he called her. Though she wouldn’t mind if he lost the overprotective streak. She wasn’t some damsel in destress. There was no more panic attacks. No more dealing with pushing best friends. No more waste time on crush on a blond loser.

           The only near heart attack she had was the blueberry scone incident. Marinette had gotten an akuma alert. She had yelled to Aunt Martha that she was going on a walk, hid behind the farm, transformed and portal’d away.

           Unfortunately, Uncle Clark had heard that Marinette had made her famous scones and had been FLYING overhead to the house at the time and had saw her.

           Uncle Clark had been waiting for her when she got back, with crossed arms and a stern look on his face. Before Marinette could open up her mouth to give a multitude of excuses, Clark held up one hand to silence her. Then he spun around faster than she’d ever seen anyone do before. And then Superman was standing in front of her.

           Marinette’s heart had stopped, she’d swear.

           After that they both de-transformed. Uncle Clark had led her inside where the entire Kent family was waiting.

           Turns out Uncle Clark was a tattletale. And he was never going to be her favorite.

“Snitch,” She told him simply before anyone could say anything.

           Clark blushed a little but shrugged.

           After that everyone introduced themselves. Or rather their superhero identities. Each taking turns to tell their story. Marinette had shed a few tears about the loss of Krypton. Marinette had introduce the Kwamis’ to the Kents. Jon had let out a squeal of joy at the sight flying creatures.

           Aunt Martha had only laughed when Plagg flew up to her face and said, “Cheese.”

           Marinette told her story from when she first got Tikki to then. There was no happy faces in the room.”

“You’re a superhero?” Kara was the first to burst out. “Ladybug the Parisian hero.”

“You work an entire city?” Connor asked. “I’m now even allowed to do that yet.” He shot quick glare at Clark. “Even the Teen Titans has league supervision.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, “The Justice League doesn’t usually tread on other heroes’ territory. Ladybug had always managed well.” He then gave her a look. “However, we were unaware that Ladybug was a teenager. I think its time we took a closer look at Paris.

[drabblesforsanguine]

Letting Go - Oneshot

Summary: Miraak lets go of the past and looks towards his future.

Pairing: Miraak/f!LDB

Warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, brief descriptions of ptsd, mentions of violence, possible thalassophobia triggers

Word Count: 1879

Prompt: none

A/N: this is the first oneshot I've ever posted on this site, so pls be gentle lol. Also I'm on mobile, so sorry about any spelling/grammatical errors. Find me on ao3 

The only sound to be heard was the soft splash of the oars cutting through the water. No sound of waves crashing against the shore or the cry of seagulls, for even they didn't fly out this far.

If he squinted hard enough, Miraak could just barely make out the rocky outline of the northern coast far behind the Last Dragonborn.

The midday sky above was overcast and the ocean breeze was bitter. More than once he'd seen her shiver from a particularly harsh gale only to pretend that she didn't. A storm was brewing on the sea behind him, though with luck it would be many hours before it reached them.

"Not much further, now." Her eyes were fixed on the dark waves as she spoke.

"You've been saying that for the past hour." He grumbled, his arms starting to feel sore from this seemingly endless amount of rowing.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a faint teasing smirk on her lips.

"Well, this time I mean it."

His gaze flickered down to the wooden chest resting by her feet, his curiosity still piqued as to its contents and purpose for being here.

He'd asked about it at the beginning of their voyage, among many other questions, but of course she'd just shrugged him off like she always does and said he'd find out once they were far out at sea. Well, they were far out enough.

He stopped rowing and fixed her with a hard stare.

"I'm not rowing another inch until you tell me what we're doing out here."

She finally turned and faced him fully, one of her dark eyebrows arched upwards. With a dead serious look in her eyes, she spoke.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to kill you, lock your corpse in this chest and dump it in the sea."

He blinked at her once, twice.

"Is it impossible for you not to act like a child all the time?"

She rolled her eyes then, with a sigh, she leaned over the chest and lifted the lid. Miraak peered inside with curiosity. His eyes narrowed at what he saw.

"Are those..."

"The Black Books, yes." She said, wrapping her arms around herself as another breeze rolled by.

True to her word, inside the confines of the chest were all seven of Hermaeus Mora's forbidden tomes, each individually wrapped in animal skins and tightly bound with rope.

"He will not be happy if we do this." Miraak cautioned after a short pause, his eyes still fixed on the evil books before him.

The books that had brought him nothing but suffering. Just looking at them made him feel... uneasy, for lack of a better word. It was the same feeling he always had in Apocrypha: alone, yet constantly under watch by an unseen entity.

She just shrugged nonchalantly. "He's not exactly thrilled with me anyways."

He stared at her, his brows pinched together. "Why?"

For a moment she appeared confused. "For starters, I shot him with Auriels bow, temporarily destroyed his plane of Oblivion and stole his favorite champion?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. "No. I mean, why are you doing this?" He gestured towards the chest to make his meaning clear.

"Oh," she mumbled, suddenly avoiding eye contact with him. When she finally focused back on him, it was with a seriousness he'd rarely seen from her before.

"These books have brought us nothing but misery -- you most of all." He winced involuntarily at her words, but she continued. "Maybe doing this will give you- us, some closure. If not, then at least it'll piss Hermaeus Mora off, which is good enough for me."

He scoffed, "He is probably laughing at us as we speak, you know."

"Yeah. Well, he can choke on his own tentacles for all I care. Now, are you gonna keep rowing or what?" She asked, feigning irritation as she shut the lid of the chest.

He rolled his eyes but seeing as she revealed why they were there, he stayed true to his word and continued pushing the boat further out to sea.

"You are too eager to defy the Daedra." He admonished lightheartedly.

She shrugged, "We defeated him once. We can do it again."

He gave no response, though there were many things he wanted to say. Most notably that she was naive to think they could defeat a Daedric Prince twice. They'd merely gotten lucky the first time. He wanted to say that, but he didn't.

After a brief silence, she spoke again.

"How long has it been now?"

"Nine months, 14 days." He answered without skipping a beat.

"How time flies," she mused. "It feels like only yesterday that I was nursing you back from the brink of death."

"Don't remind me."

She smirked at his sour tone.

"Come on, I wasn't that bad of a caretaker."

Again, he didn't respond.

Miraak would much rather forget those first few weeks after he was freed from Apocrypha -- after she freed him from Apocrypha -- when he was so weak and ill that he couldn't even walk by himself, and he was forced to rely on the Dovahkiin's good will to help him.

He hated feeling so powerless. So vulnerable.

He'd learned from an young age how to take care of himself, but all those years trapped in Oblivion made him forget. For a long time it pained him to admit how much he needed her in the beginning, to help him remember how to be human. It wasn't quite as painful to admit now, but he'd still rather not be reminded of it.

"Is it such a bad thing to let others take care of you from time to time?" She asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"In my time, relying too much on others was a good way to get yourself killed."

"You're not in that time anymore."

She looked at him with a sincerity that made his insides ache. He almost couldn't stand it -- these feelings she aroused in him.

He looked down at the chest again, just so he didn't have to bear that look anymore.

"This should be far enough." She said suddenly.

Miraak stopped rowing and secured the oars in place. He watched curiously as she reached into her satchel laying on the bench beside her and withdrew an iron padlock. She paused for a split second before reaching out towards him with the padlock.

With little hesitation on his part, he took it from her open palm, his fingers lightly grazing against her skin. He saw goosebumps raise on her arm as he withdrew his fingers, but chalked it up to the cold. For a Nord, she didn't handle the cold very well.

His hands felt heavier than usual as he reached forward and snapped the lock shut around the latch, sealing the chest.

When he looked up at her, there was a hint of relief in her eyes. Like a huge weight had already been lifted from her shoulders. He felt it too.

"Ready?"

He nodded, unwavering.

They both stood carefully as to not tip the small rowboat over, each grabbing one side of the chest, and leveraged it precariously on the boats edge. Kneeling side by side, they shared one last look of determination then, after a deep breath, they pushed the chest overboard. Together they peered over the edge and watched it sink into the dark water below. With all luck, it will remain lost to the depths of the Sea of Ghosts forever.

Then they waited.

A minute passed, two minutes. For what felt like forever they remained there, holding their breaths as they stared into the icy water. Nothing ever happened. No mass of angry, slimy tentacles appeared over them, threatening to disembowel them for desecrating his precious tomes.

When it finally felt safe to do so, they each exhaled their long held breaths. Relief finally settled in his bones.

She spoke after another significant pause, if only to break the ice.

"When I 'won' the Oghma Infinium, the first thing I did with it was drop it into the sea. At least now it's wretched cousins can keep it company."

"Mora will not let this go unpunished. Sooner or later he will have his revenge." He hated that his voice wavered ever so slightly. He was never one to show fear. He could feel it, yes, but he certainly never showed it.

If she noticed, she gave no indication.

"Yes, he will," she said, her tone not lacking in surety. "And when he does, we will face him together."

Then she turned towards him, a faint smile on her face. His stomach nearly jumped out of his throat when her hand slowly slid over to rest atop of his own. Strangely though, he didn't move away. He should've moved away, but he found that he didn't want to.

Even before he'd been imprisoned for thousands of years, Miraak had gone out of his way to avoid intimacy. It was nothing but a weakness to be used against him. After being completely devoid of the touch of others for so long, he'd forgotten how nice it could feel.

Seeming to act on a will of it's own, his hand turned upwards and sought her own significantly smaller one. Her ice cold skin immediately warmed at his touch.

"Together." He repeated with a nod.

Her smile grew a little bit brighter, her cheeks turning a faint pink. It was only due to the cold air, or so he told himself.

"But until then," he continued, "let's get somewhere warm. You're freezing out here."

She gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling away, much to his disappointment. He tried not to let it show, but the way her smirk grew even more told him he was not as stoic as he thought.

His disappointment quickly faded, however, as he watched her take a seat on the bench he'd previously occupied. Still smiling, she crossed one leg over the other and pat the empty space next to her.

"Yes, let's go home."

Home. She'd never called it that before. It was always 'my house' or 'the house', but never 'home'.

Struggling to contain his own smile, he sat down next to her and started unfastening the oars. Before he could react, she scooted closer to him and huddled against his side, digging her hands into his robes for warmth.

She was shivering worse than he'd realized.

He wrapped one of his arms around her to grab the other oar. She angled her body in a way that allowed him to row while still being close enough to absorb his warmth. With a tranquil sigh, she rested her cheek on his chest, the peek of her head stopping just below his chin.

He tried to tell himself she was just cold, but he knew better. He'd always known better.

It was in that moment, with his ferocious little Dragonborn cuddled against his body for warmth, he realized that she was his home, and to his surprise, that wasn't such a scary thought.

For the first time in a long time, he had something worth holding onto and he never planned on letting go.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 88

~*~Sebastian~*~

After the video call with my friends, I went back to the couch with a fresh glass of wine. I am blessed. Family, friends, co-workers, and a woman who loves me. None of us are perfect. I have people to call when times are tough. Today they called me, knowing I’d be struggling, only this time it was in a good way. Not long later Jessica called and invited me to dinner.

Pizza, beer, friends, and a toddler made for a good night. Giulietta thought I was much more fun than mom or dad. I guess they don’t let her use them like a jungle gym. When mom spoiled our fun and said it was time to settle down, I stopped the tears by promising to read her a story. Her choice. Like someone else I know Giulietta was asleep before I was halfway through. At this rate I'll never know how anything ends.

I sent the picture Jessica had taken to Emma. She'd wake up to it and with any luck send me back something fun. Which she did as soon as she woke up. Which was afternoon for me. Dinner break before I checked my phone. Emma struck the perfect balance between sweet and sexy. Her hair was messy with just her eyes peeking over a pillow she was hugging. Those beautiful green eyes I loved to look into. I couldn't see her smile so I could imagine it anyway I liked. The sweet one she often got right before she told me she loved me. Or the other one she got when she wanted me. I loved them both.

Our texts were broken up over the course of the day. Short bursts or long hours between. We talked most days at least for a few minutes. We talked about our days, shared memories, and talked about us. Maybe had phone sex. What didn't happen was whining about being apart or bitching about the time and distance. I didn't hang up feeling angry or guilty. I did my job, hung out with friends, relaxed during my downtime, and did a little shopping. Emma relaxed, did some studying, and practiced guitar. I missed her. She missed me. But we went on with our lives apart, making the best of the situation. It sucked, except it didn't.

I think this is the way it's supposed to be.

Thursday we wrapped for Paris. That was worth a party. Over the next four days production would pack up and move to Rome. I'd spend a day and a half on planes going from Paris to Dallas to San Diego. Then back to Dallas and on to Rome. The time zones were going to fucking kill me.

I called Emma when I got back to my room. I was drunk and grumpy. Hearing her voice helped. Seeing her face was even better. The way she told me exactly what she wanted to do to me and said all sorts of dirty things until I came... I wasn't grumpy anymore.

I had a headache when my alarm rang. I needed more sleep. Hopefully, I'd catch up on the flight. I was still debating going back to sleep and blowing off the weekend when my phone rang. Emma. It was the middle of the night for her. "Why are you awake?"

She laughed, "Making sure your drunk ass doesn't turn off his alarm and blow off the weekend."

I rolled to my side, mirroring her. "I wouldn't do that. I was thinking about it, but I wouldn’t do it."

"Such a professional. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Advil, breakfast, and a long nap on the plane and I'll be fine. How are you?"

"Good. Big plans laying by the pool with Mallory today."

"Sounds fun. I will be on a plane."

"Yes, but you will walk out of the airport into sunny California. Then spend two days being adored and laughing with your friends."

"That will be fun." I was honestly looking forward to that part.

Emma yawned. I smiled at her beautiful face, "You need to go back to sleep. I need to get showered."

She didn't argue with me. She was tired.

"Thank you for making sure I was up. I love you."

"I love you." There was my sweet smile.

I cannot begin to explain how very disorientating it is to board a plane at nine am, travel for fifteen hours, to arrive at three pm, which is only six hours after you left. I get to relive eight of the hours I spent on the plane. Only thing is, my body thinks it’s midnight. I slept some on the flight and I knew better than to go back to sleep. The closer to "normal" bedtime for this time zone I could get, the better I would feel tomorrow. Anthony and I had press then an autograph session, before the big Marvel event. Sunday was photo ops and an autograph session. Both long days where I was expected to be pleasant despite how inappropriate or rude fans got. Needless to say, a decent night’s sleep would be best for everyone.

I got to my room by four and quickly realized I couldn't stay there. I needed fresh air. I needed to breathe. I changed into shorts and took off to have a look around. There were several hotels in the area that hosted celebrity guests. We weren't all in one place. I'd requested a beach. It was a little farther from the convention center and I was confident I could wander unseen. Most people stayed right around the center since a lot of packages kept prices lower and being so close to the action was appealing. I wanted the ocean.

Down the beach I could see big boulders and took off that direction. I needed some flip-flops. The sand made me think of Emma. The water. The people surfing. The impending sunset. Breathing. I'd like to say the plan I was cooking up was a product of sleep deprivation. It wasn't. It had been bouncing around in my head since this morning as we lay in bed together thousands of miles apart. I'd dismissed it as selfish. On the plane, when sleep was impossible, and I was panicking, it didn't seem so selfish. I shoved the idea away because I knew it really was. The same reasons I didn't ask Emma to stay in Paris or go to Rome were valid here. Asking her to fly literally to the other side of the country to spend two days with me, asking her to amuse herself while I worked a chunk of that time, was peak me as a selfish asshole. The longer I sat on the rock watching the ocean the less of a bad idea it seemed. Maybe not less of a bad idea, but an idea I could give her a choice in, with the difference being if she said no, I wouldn't be angry or make her pay for not doing what I wanted. Growth in action. Hopefully.

I should check flights before I even think about calling. Or actually call, because I'm already thinking about calling. Might not be possible.

It was. I flipped my phone in my hands several times before hitting the buttons to call her. Apparently, I hadn't grown completely out of being an ass.

"I'm about to be an asshole."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Uh oh."

"Yeah." I was going to do it anyway. "Fifteen-hour flight with little sleep because the turbulence over the ocean was a nightmare. I'm grumpy, exhausted, and lonely as fuck. I'm on the beach without you. I miss you. I can get you on a flight in the morning and if you come straight to the venue you'll be here before I have to do anything. It’ll be two days. I have to leave for Rome Monday. I know it's a shitty thing to ask, but will you come see me? So I can see you."

"I'd love to."

I was prepared to step up my game and her easy acquiescence caught me off guard. "You will?"

She nodded with a smile, "I miss you too."

I took a deep breath and let it out, "I was prepared to beg."

Her smile was almost a laugh, "While you begging sounds fun, it's not necessary. Do I need to pack anything dressy?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I have a pair of jeans, shorts, and sweatpants." It's amazing how much better I felt. I ran my hands through my hair. "You're flying out of JFK. Sorry."

"You booked the flight already?"

"Not many seats left. I wasn't risking it. You leave at seven, here at ten. My first thing is noon." I could see her grabbing her carry-on from the closet.

"I'm going to spend the night at your place. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

I scrunched up my face, "Underwear."

"You don't have underwear?"

"The one's I'm in and a spare."

"You may not like what I pick out."

"Emma, baby, I will wear yours as long as you deliver them."

"I think that's a little drastic."

"It's really not."

Emma laughed and touched her screen. I could almost feel her. I could definitely imagine feeling her. She almost gasped and broke into a smile, "I have an idea. I need to call Jill real quick. Give me five maybe ten minutes."

I nodded, "Okay. I'm going to lay here on my rock."

My rock was not soft, but I was very comfortable. I was very happy. The sky was blue and the sound of the waves was calming. I only had to wait until tomorrow to see Emma. It was going to be a good day.

A little more than five minutes later Emma was calling me back. "You've made my little sister very happy."

"Excellent!” I smiled, "How'd I do that?"

"We need to change my flight. Monday I'm going to Seattle pick up Olivia and take her back to New York with me. Then we'll meet up with the family in Chicago."

"That's perfect. You're not just coming out here for me."

She picked up on it. "Yeah, because seeing you isn't enough of a reason. You know I miss you, right?"

"I know, but I'm..."

Emma cut me off, "Stop there. I jump on planes to spend weekends on tour with dad. This is fun for me. Dad's doing sound checks, interviews, and charity shit while I amuse myself. You're not an asshole. I love this."

"You love this?" I did not love jumping on planes at short notice.

She was nodding as I spoke, "I love this."

"And you'd tell me to fuck off if you didn't?"

"Maybe, but this is your lucky day."

"No, my luck day was exactly eight weeks ago."

We talked for another ten minutes or so until she was loaded and heading into the city. We've talked while she's driving many times, but I wanted her to pay attention. The sun was going down where she was and it would be dark before she got to my place. I headed back toward the hotel and ordered room service. By the time Emma texted she was at mine and I was deep in a documentary, struggling to stay awake.

Emma ~ Safe and sound in your bed.

Naturally, she sent a picture. Sheet barely covering her breasts and one arm stretched out above her head.

I sent back a picture of me in the same pose, but making sure to show the empty side of the bed. I drew a red ✗ there.

Sebastian ~ Where you will be in my bed tomorrow.

Emma ~ Equally safe and sound Sebastian ~ More. Emma ~ I'm going to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Sebastian- Can not fucking wait

 I was probably asleep before she was. By the time I woke up twelve hours later Emma was halfway here. I felt well-rested and excited for my day. Not just the Emma piece. Mackie and I always had fun together. I'd been sent the day’s itinerary. Noon was press, two thirty was an autograph session, and five was the big deal Marvel panel. We should be done by 6:30. Disney was having a party tonight. I had to make an appearance. It started at eight. That wasn't going to happen. Nine was more likely. I remembered it wouldn't matter because mice can't tell time.

At the venue I was led to a behind the scenes area. There was a large room, guarded by security, set with food and drink. Several smaller rooms encircled the larger area and some were labeled with company names. One of the largest was for Disney, with cloth wall dividers making several smaller rooms, where a stylist would be waiting to make sure Mackie and I looked presentable. Outside of the room was a loading area that was separated from the autograph booths by black curtains. I'd already ducked between them and gave fans nosing around my booth quite a surprise. Those were my favorite interactions. The ones without expectations. Security came over to make sure I hadn't been ambushed. I hadn't, but that was a perfect way to get away and I needed to talk to security anyway. I had them take me to the security office. Some lucky fans got a shot at a sighting of a Sebastian in the wild. I explained what was happening to the head of security and put Emma’s name on a list. They gave me a lanyard with her all-access pass and told me what door to direct her to. Security would meet her and bring her to me.

"About that." Call me paranoid, but I didn't trust they'd remember to have someone waiting for her. They'd call someone when she showed up and gave her name to the person with the list. "I need a Pearl Jam fan."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone on your staff is a Pearl Jam fan. Get them.”

He got on his radio, "Anyone out there a Pearl Jam fan?"

A voice came back, "Big Ed. He works all the shows up the coast."

I looked at my watch then back at the supervisor, "I need to borrow him for an hour."

His face read doubtful, but I was Disney. "Big Ed. I need you in the security office. Anyone see him? Send him."

A different voice, "On my way, boss."

Several minutes later Big Ed came through the door. I knew it was him because he was six-five and an easy two-fifty. He was his name. I held out my hand, "Hey, Big Ed. I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

“You too."

"Walk me back to the guest area." We headed out and I waited until we were away from the office. "Do you know Ed's daughter?"

He smiled, "He has three. Which one?"

"The only one old enough for me to ask about."

"Emma. I've seen her at a couple of shows. I work security up the coast. Great way to see a bunch of shows."

I nodded, "I guess anything you miss at one you can catch at the next."

"Exactly." He pointed to his ear, "And you can always hear."

"Back to Emma. She's on her way here. I'd appreciate it if you would meet her and bring her to me."

"Is Ed coming?"

"No, he's," I stopped myself, "you ask her where he is."

He laughed, "I might take the long way back here."

"I haven't seen her in weeks. Not too long." Two is weeks. Barely.

Emma texted they'd landed. Big Ed changed where he wanted her to go and he headed in that direction. I sat down to wait for her to text she was here. I heard a familiar voice.

"Sebastian Stan? Is that really you?"

"Captain America?" I stood up and turned to the voice.

"Don't call me that. The pressure." Mackie hugged me, slapping my back much harder than necessary. "How jet-lagged are you?"

"Is that code for how much work are you going to have to do because I'm grouchy?"

"Maybe." We laughed.

"I had a good night’s sleep and I'm in a great mood."

"You seem twitchy. Why are you twitchy?"

"I'm not twitchy."

"Yes, you are. You're twitchy."

"If I'm twitchy it's because you're making me twitchy."

He pointed at me, "Ah ha! You admitted it. You're twitchy."

I rolled my eyes and scowled, "Emma's on her way. I might be a little twitchy."

"Here?" He pointed to the ground. With his eyebrows raised.

I smiled, "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, I got that. Plus, Evans told me."

"She’s not a secret." That felt good.

He asked and I answered. Talking about Emma is my second favorite thing having to do with Emma. First is being with Emma. In absolutely any way. My phone went off with Emma telling me she was here. I put my hand on Mackie’s arm. "Stay here. Right here."

[lyssismagical]

Can you do a hurt/comfort parkner story where Peter overworks himself cause someone died and he thinks it’s his fault so Harley has to help him. No rush at all 💞

It’s hard for Harley to really offer much, living so far away from his boyfriend.

When Peter stops responding to texts, stops answering his endless calls, cancels their virtual date nights, there’s not much Harley can do. It’s not like he can really force Peter to answer him.

The days without Peter, without his witty texts, his soft crackling laughter over the phone, the heart-eyes he gets whenever they have Skype Dates, it’s hard. Harley hates to be so far, still stuck in Rose Hill, with no way of getting up to New York for more than a couple weeks a year, but being without Peter, not being able to see him or hear from him or even get a single text to ease his nerves, hurts like his chest has been pried open, heart trying to escape and find it’s way back to his love.

At first, he assumes Peter’s just busy. They’re rounding on Exam season and Peter’s a Junior, so class loads are pretty heavy, not to mention the Academic Decathlon competition he’d been talking about the last time they called.

But even when Peter’s busy, he always remembers to text at least once. Especially with how nervous and worried his texts get as the days pass with no answer.

His boyfriend is a superhero. How could he not be worried?

He’s had the news on almost constantly at home, annoying the hell out of his little sister, and his phone ringer stays on high all day at school, getting him into a few detentions. But so far, nothing’s come up about Spider-Man.

After four days of radio silence on Peter’s side, nearly a hundred messages staying on Delivered, he finally caves and calls Tony.

“Wow, my second favourite young adult!” Tony says, sounding mostly chipper. As chipper as someone like Tony Stark can. “What’s got you calling? Normally, I hear everything through Peter.”

“So you’ve heard from Peter?” Harley asks, voice lifting almost an octave higher in his worry and panic. “He hasn’t answered me in four days and I’m kinda freaking out.”

Harley starts pacing the length of his bedroom, heart hammering in his chest. Abbie shoves open his door, rolling her eyes overdramatically at him, but she still sprawls out across his bed, watching him carefully.

“Um, now that you say that, he cancelled his last Lab Night with me. I didn’t really think much of it but he’s been kinda snappy with me last week too,” Tony says. There’s a few clicks of a keyboard, and then Tony sighs. “It looks like he’s been logging a lot of hours as Spider-Man. Like a crazy amount. Yesterday, he was out from four pm, when he got out of school, until five am.”

“Is he mad at me? Did he say anything?”

Even Abbie frowns at his question, laced in desperation.

“I don’t know, kid. I haven’t spoken to him in like a week. I’ll ask May, I’ll see if I can corner Peter into telling me anything and I’ll let you know, okay?”

Harley frowns, saying a quick goodbye and dropping onto the bed beside his little sister. “I hate this. I just wish he’d call me.”

“I know, Harls, but there’s nothing either of us can do. It might be smarter to just take your mind off everything. Weren’t you planning a trip up over summer? That’s only another two weeks out,” Abbie says, forever going to be the smarter, more logical of the two Keener siblings. She shrugs but still wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a comforting hug.

“I know you’re right,” he says, still staring at his phone. “I just… I really think I love him. I do. And I’m scared he’s mad at me or that things are falling apart and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just really wish he’d call and talk to me.”

Abbie doesn’t say anything more, knowing there’s nothing more she can do to make it better.

* It’s another three days before Peter finally responds.

All he’s heard since then was a single text from Tony reading Peter’s acting weird, think you were right. He’s not talking to me or May or even his friends, falling asleep in class, getting detentions. I’ll try to talk to him or at least get him to talk to you. But I’m pretty positive it wasn’t anything to do with you. Don’t fret.

And then it had turned back into a waiting game until Peter finally texted him.

It was simple, small, sweet.

I miss you

It made Harley’s chest jump, and he immediately asked to go to the bathroom, ducking out of class and dialing Peter’s number again.

He waits and waits and waits, but Peter doesn’t pick up. He tries again, heart pounding and pacing down the hallway.

On attempt three, Peter finally picks up. “Harley.”

“Peter, honey, thank god. I was starting to get worried. You weren’t answering my texts and cancelling all our dates and I was- I just-”

“I’m sorry.” Peter sounds miserable. Tired and upset and confused. “I meant to but I kept freaking out and I didn’t know how to… Is there anyway I could convince you to come up to New York early?”

Harley frowns. He wants to see Peter, he’d drop everything for Peter any day but he has his own exams the following week, plus Junior Prom on the Friday. It’s not like he can really skip any of it. Plus, changing his plane tickets is going to be a hassle.

“I don’t know if I can. I might be able to fly up on the Saturday, but that’s still another nine days from now, and that only changes our plans by four. It’s not really…”

Peter sniffles. “I just- I really wanna see you. I miss you and things have been hard and I just want you here, you know. I miss you. It’s been, what? Three months?”

“I miss you too, sweetheart, I have exams next week. All week. I don’t mind skipping junior prom, it’ll probably be awful anyways considering the disaster that was homecoming last year. But I still need to be here until Friday.”

“I know, I know, I just-” Peter cuts himself off, voice trembling.

Harley checks his watch, knowing he’ll get another detention if he spends too much time out of class. “How about, for now at least, we’ll set up a Skype date for tonight, and then we’ll talk more about making another trip up.”

“Six?”

“Yeah, six is good. I’ll look up plane tickets for this weekend, but I can’t make any promises, okay?”

Peter sniffles again. “Okay. ‘m sorry for worrying you.”

“That’s okay, darlin’. Don’t you worry about me. Are you home?”

“May grounded me when she found out I was skipping curfew. And when she saw just how badly I was skipping curfew, just how little sleep I was getting, she made me take a sick day to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much stress I must’ve been putting you under.”

Harley sighs, already knowing from Tony just how little sleep Peter had been getting. It makes his heart ache with the idea that he’s not there. He’s not close enough to wrap Peter up and protect him from everything, take care of him. He wishes, more than anything, that he could do that, that he could be there.

“I’ve gotta get back to class before I get a detention, but Skype call at six, okay? And we’ll talk about everything, make everything better, alright, honey?”

“Thank you, you’re the best, you know that? I really don’t deserve you, Harls,” Peter says, voice slipping into a quiet murmur. “You’re too good to me.”

Harley shakes his head, voice dipping too. “You deserve the world, darling, I swear.”

* Seeing Peter, through the old camera lens, makes everything make a little more sense.

The dark circles under his eyes, the puffiness of his tear-stained cheeks, his bloodshot eyes, the slight tremble of his shoulder, the bruises mapped out across the pale expanse of his skin. It makes Harley’s chest hurt so badly, makes his heart ache to be close to his boyfriend again.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harley starts, voice rough and pained. “Everything okay?”

Peter shrugs, bottom lip sticking out. “I miss you. I wish you were here. The only thing I want right now is a hug from you.”

“Oh, I know, honey. I’m so sorry I can’t be there all the time to take care of you, to protect you, to hold you. I’m sorry I can’t. I’m sorry this has been so hard on you.”

“I know this has been hard on you too,” Peter says, obviously trying his best not to cry. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. I just- I got so caught up in- in feeling like this and working so hard to be better, I didn’t think I deserved to have your support.”

Harley looks down, not wanting to cry in front of Peter who obviously needs him to be strong and stable for him. “You deserve everything and more.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew.”

“Knew what?” Harley says and then quickly rephrases, “Whatever it is, that’s not going to change how I feel about you, that’s not going to change how much you deserve.”

Peter frowns, lip trembling and eyes watering as he turns his gaze to his hands. “Last week, I was out patrolling and there was this fight happening out on the streets and I went to go save them, I wanted to protect her. She was- She was young, like maybe mid-twenties, and she was so scared and alone and I tried- I tried so fucking hard but-”

“Honey-”

“I got shot,” Peter says, voice breaking. “In the hip. I fell- I didn’t want- I couldn’t-”

Harley shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to hug his boyfriend, press a kiss to his forehead, hold him and make all of his pain go away. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“She died,” Peter chokes out, tears falling down his flushed cheeks. “She got shot and I tried to swing her to the hospital and keep her awake and get the bad guy, but with my stupid hip, I- I didn’t make it in time. I can’t- I-”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not on you. You can’t save everyone, you know that. I’m so sorry that happened, but just because some bad guy hurt a civilian, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be cared about. It doesn’t mean you have to overwork yourself to make up for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Peter lets out a quiet pained noise, shoulders shaking. “It was my fault. I was right there. I should’ve gotten up and saved her. I should’ve been faster, more careful, something. I could’ve saved her.”

Realizing just how bad this is, the overwhelming need to wrap Peter up in a hug, makes itself obvious so he grabs the emergency credit card Tony had given him, and books the next flight to New York, leaving the next day. It’s not cheap, but he’s sure Tony would understand.

“Darling, it’s not your fault. I know it seems like it is, but you weren’t the one holding the gun, you weren’t the one who put her life in danger, the only one at fault is that bad guy, okay? This isn’t on you.”

Peter sniffles, ducking his head. “I visited the family yesterday as Peter Parker not as Spider-Man, well I told them it was me, but I told them what happened, how sorry I was.”

“Did they say it was your fault?”

His boyfriend deflates, shaking his head. “No, they said exactly what you did. That it’s not my fault, I tried, I made sure she wasn’t alone when she went. I know logically, there was nothing I could do, but- I still feel like I need to work harder to make sure it doesn’t happen to anybody else. That I won’t lose anyone else.”

“It’s not up to you to save everybody, Peter,” Harley says, hoping he can get it through to his boyfriend for at least tonight. “You’re the only superhero within the Avengers who actually cares about the little guy, it can’t be just your responsibility to save everybody in New York. That’s not feasible, right?”

“Right,” Peter agrees, finally slumping. “I know you’re right. I know I’m being crazy. I know it’s not up to me to save everyone, Tony’s had that conversation with me about a thousand times. I know, I just- I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Harley nods sympathetically, offering a small smile. “You’re definitely sleep-deprived, that can’t help. How much have you been doing?”

“I’ve been patrolling for like twelve hours every night,” Peter admits quietly. “May’s been working overnights so as long as I can get home before she gets home around six, she wasn’t going to find out. But I’d only get like an hour or two of sleep before school and exam prep and homework- I don’t know. Too much, really.”

“I just bought tickets to come home for the long weekend,” Harley says, smiling when Peter’s whole face lights up. “Tomorrow night, I’ll be flying out and you’ve got me until Monday morning. As long as you promise we’ll spend a little time studying for our exams.”

Peter quickly swipes a hand over his cheeks, ridding himself of the tears that still linger. “You know you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve hung in there for another week or two.”

“If I’m being honest, it’s only half because of you. It’s also half for my benefit.”

“Because you need me to reteach you all of calculus?” Peter teases sweetly, smile making his eyes sparkle.

Harley rolls his eyes, smiling back. “Believe it or not, I have missed you too. Not for your genius brain, somehow understanding how to do stupid calculus, but for you. You know I’ve gotten more detentions these last two years than ever before because of how often I’ve been caught texting you or just daydreaming about you.”

“I don’t want to put your education in jeopardy,” Peter says, mostly joking but there’s an undertone of guilt.

“You’re not. That’s all on me. I think I’m really the bad influence here, not you.”

“You’re really coming all the way to New York? Just for this weekend? Just because I said I was upset?”

Harley rolls his eyes again, smiling softly. “You really doubt me? The things I’d do for you, Peter Parker, are so much bigger and higher than flying out to see you for a weekend.”

“You’re too good for me.”

“You won’t be saying that when I get there and physically force you to sleep if I have to. I’ll be your self-care enforcer all weekend. Eight hours of sleep, no Spider-Man outings, the exact number of calories your metabolism needs, everything.”

The love that fills Peter’s expression is so open and whole that Harley’s chest starts to hurt again, the same aching, fullness like he can’t possibly fit this much love inside his heart.

They talk throughout the night about what they’ve missed over the past couple weeks, of school and friends and Spider-Man and Tony, catching up on each other’s lives, until eventually Peter looks like he might pass out if he stays up for a moment longer, and Harley has to pack for the weekend, so they say their quiet goodbyes, see you soon’s bleeding into their every sentence with unbearable amounts of fondness.

And the next day, after a few hours’ plane ride, Harley makes it to the New York airport, dropping his luggage to catch his boyfriend in a tight hug, they finally murmur the three words they’d been holding close to their chest, I love you leaving their mouths between kisses like a promise.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[goldenhemmings]

In Your Atmosphere

Shawn Mendes x reader  |  9,005 words

Whew. Hi guys. It’s been a while, I know, but actually having freetime again has made me realize just how much I miss writing. This piece is sort of a rollercoaster and I didn’t really edit it or anything, so please excuse any errors or if it just sucks in general. It’s based on In Your Atmosphere by John Mayer, and I’m pretty sure it’s also the first and only thing I’ve written that isn’t an AU. I hope you enjoy it, and I always love hearing what you guys think!!

There was a reason why the majority of Shawn’s songwriting and recording happened in Los Angeles. The city had always possessed a certain spark that inspired him, and the only way he knew how to describe the feeling it gave him was through the music that he wrote there. Its atmosphere was incomparable to that of any other city in the world, even his hometown. Toronto would always be special to Shawn, but Los Angeles was a different kind of special. It was magic. 

It was no surprise, then, to find Shawn once again back in L.A. making music even though it had only been a few months since he’d released an entire album. He had a love affair with the city, and he just couldn’t seem to stay away from the beckoning of the lights, the sunsets, the ocean. To him it was all music waiting to be created, and he wouldn’t dare deny himself the opportunity.

Since his first visit, he’d always described the city as being full of magic; so full to the point where he didn’t think it possible to get any better. That, however, was before Y/N walked--well, tripped--into his life; once she happened, L.A. came to mean something else to Shawn entirely. Something more. 

He remembered it clearly, the first time he met her. Cliché as it was, he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He was sitting on the beach, facing the ocean as he hummed melodies in his head and scribbled lyric after potential lyric into the leather-bound notebook that rested on his outstretched legs. She was walking through the sand, a tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye clutched between her delicate fingertips as her eyes were glued to the yellowed pages. Neither person was aware of their surroundings, and it was inevitable, really, that she would trip and fall over his legs, belly-flopping into the sand as her book went flying. 

Shawn was up immediately, his music disregarded as he offered a hand to help her back on her feet. “I’m so sorry,” he gushed, gently lifting her to sit up. He handed her book back to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she sighed, brushing the sand off of her faded t-shirt. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who apparently never learned to watch where I’m going.”

He laughed lightly, and it was a sound she could get used to hearing. “Must be some book you’re reading.”

“The Catcher in the Rye,” she stated, smiling as she flashed him the cover. “It’s not exactly a typical beach-read, but it’s one of my favorites. I’ve probably read it, like, seven times by now.” 

“Never heard of it,” he admitted, and her eyes blew wide. Shawn was immediately taken with her, physically evidenced by the fact that he couldn’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off of his mouth though he’d yet to even learn her name. 

“Never?” she quipped, sitting down in the sand across from him as though she were preparing to recite the entire plot of the book. 

He grinned, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not a big book-reader, I guess.”

“Well what do you like, then?” she pressed, absentmindedly shaking the sand out from between the worn pages of her beloved novel. “If it’s not books?”

“Music,” he admitted, leaning back onto his hands as a wave reached shore. The tide had been steadily creeping closer to him as his hours spent on the beach increased. He’d figured that he’d have to move soon, but as this girl’s expectant eyes bore into his he found himself wishing that a wave would come swallow him whole and carry him out to sea. He almost couldn’t bear to be in the vicinity of the aura she was casting over him; she was overwhelming in a way he’d never known before.

“Everyone likes music, though,” she answered, studying his face carefully.

Shawn laughed, staring down at the sand underneath him. “True, but not everyone plays music for a living.”

“A musician,” she drawled, in a tone that made it hard for Shawn to tell if she was intrigued or mocking. He quite quickly learned it was the former. 

He talked with her until well after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the impending darkness and creeping tide the only forces strong enough to tear him away from her. She’d recently graduated college and moved to L.A. upon receiving the internship of a lifetime, and though she’d only been living in the city for a year, she seemed to be just as enraptured with it as Shawn was. He let her scribble her phone number on a page of his notebook after a promise to call her the next day, and the two went their separate ways as they tried to race home before the moon could reach its peak in the sky.

The thought of someone else's writing in his precious music journal would usually make Shawn’s skin crawl; his team was constantly teasing him about how protective he was over it. But Y/N, however, could have up and run off with the thing and he’d have been powerless to stop it. It wouldn’t have been the only piece of him she’d run off with that night, anyways. 

Since that day, whether Shawn consciously recognized it or not, Los Angeles was no longer his city, with its entire atmosphere at his disposal. It was her atmosphere now. She was city lights and sunsets and the ocean and music all rolled into one; every bit of inspiration he’d ever needed. She was a million songs waiting to be written, all for him to discover and create. 

Any time he went to L.A. after that, Y/N was the first thing on his mind. It was almost routine; his plane would land, he’d collect his things, and he’d race to her door. She’d greet him with the same brilliant smile and mind-numbing kiss as always, and they’d spend every waking second in each others’ presence. Even doing nothing at all meant everything to them; each was intoxicated by the other in the best, most addicting way. 

It stayed like this for a while: effortless, constant. Shawn always made sure to clear time in his schedule at least once a month to go see her, and she was in Toronto any chance she got. But then a cloud began looming over the two of them, casting a fast-approaching shadow that would soon coat them in darkness: tour. A nearly nine month long tour, the weight of which pressed down on the couple more intensely with each passing day until, finally, Shawn couldn’t stand to live in a state of denial anymore. Tour was happening, which meant he would have to leave Y/N for longer than he ever had before. 

It was a lazy Sunday morning lying in bed when he decided to bring up the subject for real--no more dancing around it. They needed to talk about it. Y/N had her head on his bare chest and one of her legs slotted between both of his, gently toying with the pendant that seemed to never leave its home around his neck. Shawn sighed, and Y/N immediately knew he had something to say.

“What’s up, love?”

Shawn shook his head, prepared to back out of the conversation and continue living in his state of blissful ignorance for a little while longer. “Nothing.”

But Y/N knew him better than that. She lifted her head and tilted her jaw back to look at him, immediately met with worried brown eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Hey,” she coaxed, reaching a gentle hand up to turn his face towards hers. “There’s something on your mind.”

Shawn laughed halfheartedly. “There’s always something on my mind.” Y/N was silent, beginning to gently trace light patterns on his chest as she awaited his inevitable continuation. “It’s just...tour.”

Y/N frowned. “What about it?” 

He looked at her, hesitating, nervousness clear in his eyes. “Come with me.”

“On tour?” she queried with a small smile, convinced he was just beginning to make up some whimsical daydream for the two of them to live in until reality eventually hit. 

His eyes searched her face for any sign of what she might be thinking. “Yes.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he defended, and when Y/N looked up at him, she knew he was. 

“I can’t just up and leave my job,” she answered, but the look on Shawn’s face seemed to insist that she could. “I can’t,” she repeated, more firmly this time. But how was she supposed to adequately explain that to someone whose job was quite literally packing up and leaving a million times over?

“But you’re my inspiration,” he whined, teasingly, and she smiled softly as she reached up to lightly scratch her fingers along his scalp. “I need you there.”

“Everything inspires you, Shawn. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he admitted quietly, the true vulnerability he’d been feeling about the situation finally coming to the surface. Y/N sighed, burying her head into the warmth of his neck.

“We’ve made the distance work so far,” she reassured, but she was mostly trying to convince herself. “It’ll be okay. I’ll come see you when you play here.”

He groaned. “But that’s so far from the start of tour.” He looked at her once again, melancholy brown eyes half-lidded. “Come with me,” he repeated once more, but it was a weak plea; he knew the answer was no. 

“I want to,” she breathed out, and Shawn’s grip on her tightened like he was worried she’d be stolen away from him right in that moment. “But I can’t. It isn’t practical for me.”

“I know,” he sighed, reluctance evident even in the way the breath left his chest. “I just wish you could.”

“Stop doing that,” she responded sternly. “It’s not fair to me. You know I’d go with you in a heartbeat if the circumstances were right.”

He let out a heavy exhale. “I know,” he repeated. “‘M sorry.”

“You love touring,” she continued. “The time will fly and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“And the second it is, I’ll get on a plane to LAX and race to your door like I always do. You just have to promise me you’ll be here.”

“I’ll always be here,” she affirmed, her voice not above a whisper. “It’s up to you to come back.” And in that moment, she was certain that he would.

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

The day of the first show, Y/N was physically unable to focus on anything other than Shawn. Her rockstar boyfriend was about to play to thousands of screaming people in a city so far away from her that it made her heart ache, and as much as she wanted to hear his voice, she knew he was too busy to spare the time to talk to her. So she didn’t call, because she knew he’d answer regardless of whether or not he had time, and she waited with painful anticipation to hear from him later that afternoon.

When her phone finally lit up with a FaceTime call just after 1 p.m. (around 11 at night in Amsterdam, she’d memorized the time difference), Y/N surged to pick it up with cat-like reflexes. 

“Hey,” she beamed, taking in the way Shawn’s cheeks were still red from the high of his performance. “How was the show?”

He stared back at her with a goofy, love-drunk smile on his face. “Amazing. Best way to start the tour.” At this she smiled, but Shawn’s lingering pause caused her upturned lips to waver. “Would be even better if you were here.”

Y/N’s sighed. “You’re still the Shawn Mendes people are dying to see whether I’m there or not. You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “Still want you here, though.”

“I want to be there, too,” she admitted. “But--”

“But you can’t be, I know,” he interjected. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

Desperate to change the subject, Y/N went fumbling for something lighter to bring up. “So where do you play tomorrow?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. 

“Another night in Amsterdam, then Belgium in a few days.”

She smiled. She’d never even been out of the United States until she went to visit Shawn in Toronto, and here he was getting to experience all of Europe in the most amazing way. “That sounds incredible,” she answered, and she meant it. Her eyes lit up at the thought of getting to hear about all of Shawn’s adventures around the world. 

“I miss you like crazy, Y/N.”

“You’d better toughen up,” she teased, ignoring the way his words made her heart twist. “You haven’t even been gone a week.”

“So?” he laughed. “I already can’t wait for the L.A. show.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled. “It’s on you to come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you, sweetheart.”

And Y/N believed him, as she always did. But as Shawn got further into his tour and time began to pass, her certainty started to fade. At first, things were fine. They spoke every single night without fail, and usually more during the day. He���d share stories and make her guess what he’d bought her that day, promising to bring back a souvenir from every city he stopped in despite her insistence that she didn’t want him to bring her anything except himself and stories of the things he’d done and seen. 

But as days faded into weeks and weeks into months, Y/N and Shawn’s consistency began to fade as well. With increasing frequency, she saw videos on his friends’ social media accounts of him out partying in seemingly every major city in the world. It wasn’t that she was opposed to him having fun, but nights that he had sworn to call were now being spent having drunken adventures without her while she sat at home finding any excuse to absolve him from all of his broken promises. But it only got harder, because he eventually stopped making time to call her altogether. The perspective Y/N lacked, however, was that the less Shawn heard her voice, the easier it was for him to be apart from her.

It was stupid, he knew. But it was a temporary fix, and it worked for him. 

But Y/N didn’t want easy; she never had. She didn’t want someone who would avoid the challenge when it came to distance. She wanted Shawn to fight for her, and after all they’d been through together, she didn’t think that was too much to ask. Shawn’s lack of communication led Y/N to an immense confusion and worry as to why he was suddenly being so distant. It didn’t make sense. Does he not miss me? 

The one thing Y/N had to look forward to through all of the tumult was Shawn’s fast-approaching tour stop in Los Angeles; when she would finally get to see her rockstar after months of being apart. She bought a new outfit specifically for the concert and had her best friend come to do her hair on the night of the show, not caring that she was acting like an over-excited teenager getting ready for prom. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of Shawn and all of the memories they had made under countless cotton-candy L.A. sunsets, ready to begin adding to the collection in only a few hours. Y/N thanked her friend for the help and hugged her goodbye before ducking into her small car, ready to begin the drive to the venue. Before pulling out of the driveway she fired off a quick text to Shawn: Leaving home now. I can’t wait to see you. 

As she drove she had to constantly remind herself to slow down, that there was no need to race to the arena; Shawn wasn’t going anywhere. But as much as Y/N was excited, she was equally as nervous. She hadn’t really had a solid conversation with Shawn in weeks, and even then he had seemed detached and preoccupied. She pushed the thoughts from her head as the miles went by. Relax. Everything will be fine.

She eventually pulled into the closest parking lot she could find, and she rolled her car into a spot and made her way up to the arena, shooting Shawn a quick, excited text. I’m here!! See you soon. She quickly found the side door of the venue, met with a burly security guard. She smiled, but the guard didn’t seem to warm up to her. “Main entrances are around the front.”

“Oh, I...This is actually the door I’m looking for. Shawn or someone from his team should have given you my name, I think.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and Y/N couldn’t tell whether he was amused or frustrated. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, sweetheart. You can’t get in this way.”

Y/N stumbled over her words a bit, taken aback by the trouble she was being given. “I-I’m serious. I’m his girlfriend, I have pictures I can show you.” She flashed her lockscreen at him, a photo clearly depicting Shawn and Y/N lighting up the display. “Don’t you have a boss, or something?” she pleaded. “A person you can call that can get ahold of someone from Shawn’s team? I promise they’ll recognize me. I don’t mean to inconvenience you, and I’m sorry for being pushy, it’s just that I’m really looking forward to this and they’re expecting me and I don’t have another way into the arena.” She knew she was rambling, as she often did when she could sense that something was wrong, and she was powerless to stop the slight shake in her hands as she waited for the security guard to respond.

The guard sighed, and Y/N felt her heart drop as she realized the answer would still be no. “Look, kid. As convincing as that all is, and as much as I personally would like to open this door for you, I can’t. I have a job to do. I wasn’t given your name, which means I can’t let you in unless someone comes to get you. I’m sorry.”

Heartbroken, she backed away, fighting the weight that came with knowing that Shawn had forgotten about her, had forgotten to tell security she was coming. Had he really not remembered? She shook the thoughts out of her head, convincing herself that maybe he’d just gotten distracted. She reached for her phone to dial Shawn’s number, but her shoulders fell when the call went straight to voicemail. She tried Andrew this time, but again...nothing. After frantic calls to Cez, Josiah, Mike, anyone whose number was saved in Y/N’s phone, all went to voicemail, Y/N finally gave up. By now, it was surely too close to showtime for her to reach anyone. 

With no ticket, no security clearance, and no way of reaching anyone inside the stadium, the only thing for Y/N to do was go home. She felt pathetic as she walked down the sidewalk in her new outfit, mascara-stained tears streaming down the face she’d spent hours putting makeup on. Hundreds of fans passed her as they walked in the opposite direction towards the venue, and with each smiling girl she saw, Y/N’s distress heightened. How could he forget about me? 

As she ducked into her car she hoped with all the strength she had that her phone would ring before she got home. She’d accept the rushed apologies and speed back to the arena, caring about nothing except finally seeing Shawn. He’d smile so brightly upon seeing her again that it’d make her heart skip a beat, and she’d bounce along to the songs she loved so much from the side of the stage, counting down the seconds until she could hug him again. She wished for that; willed it to happen. 

But she was sorely disappointed. 

It wasn’t until nearly 11 p.m. that her phone finally rang, and despite her current state, Y/N’s heart still jumped upon seeing Shawn’s name lighting up the display. She lunged for it, taking a deep, steadying breath before tapping the button to answer the call. “Hey,” she mumbled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“Hey,” came Shawn’s breathy voice through the speaker. “Where are you?”

She scoffed, pressing a hand to the forehead that ached from crying. “I’m at home.”

A pause. She could easily visualize the furrow in his brow. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t get into the venue.”

“What? What do you mean?”

She laughed, but she wasn’t amused. “You really don’t know?”

“I…”

“No one gave my name to security, Shawn,” she snapped. “I drove all the way there and I couldn’t get in, so I left.”

The other line was silent as Shawn realized his mistake. “I--Fuck. Oh my God, baby, I’m so sorry. I was so distracted, and the Q&A went over time, and--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cut in, surprising even herself. “The bottom line is that you forgot, and it took you this long to call me. Your show has been over for more than an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call someone else to let you in?” he demanded, accusation lacing his words.

“I did!” Y/N cried out, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “God, do you really think I didn’t try that?”

He sighed, and Y/N could picture his defeated expression in her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing you can do to fix it now. I just--.” She sighed. It wasn’t worth it. “Nevermind.”

“You just what?”

“Nothing. You should go to sleep, you’re probably tired.”

“Y/N,” he pressed, and it was clear that he was frustrated. 

“Okay, fine,” she burst, all of her frustration bubbling right back up to the surface. “I was going to say that I was so excited to see you tonight, but I don’t even know why.”

Shawn sucked in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N tried to relax, knowing that she’d reached the point of no return; she was finally going to confront him. “I just can’t help but wonder if you ever actually cared that I was coming. I’ve hardly heard from you in months, but I still got all dressed up and was so happy I couldn’t breathe just to see someone who won’t even talk to me. I’m done making excuses to justify why you never call anymore.” She laughed dryly, realizing how pathetic that sounded; he wouldn’t even speak to her to make the excuses for himself. “You act like I don’t even exist half the time. I don’t know why I thought tonight would be different.”

There was some shuffling from the other end of the phone, and Y/N heard a voice--probably Brian’s--asking Shawn where he was going. A few more seconds passed and suddenly the background noise was gone. “Look, I’m with the whole team right now. Can we please talk about this later?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now, Shawn? I’m sick of being avoided. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“I’ll call you later, alright?”

“No, you won’t,” she burst, sadness quickly dissolving into anger. “If you hang up the phone right now you will never talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Don’t even try to make me feel like it’s ridiculous that all I want is an explanation.” 

She could hear him exhale into the receiver, and her heart pounded with anticipation as she waited for him to finally speak. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

“What’s hard?”

“Finding time for this, I don’t know. It sucks being away from you. Hearing your voice--I just can’t do it.”

While she appreciated that Shawn was finally beginning to open up to her, Y/N didn’t fully buy what he was saying. “It wasn’t too hard when you first left,” she rebutted. “You didn’t seem to find it hard when you were forcing yourself to stay awake at night just because you wanted to talk to me.”

“It’s not that easy, alright? You don’t know what it’s like. You aren’t here.” 

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Wow.”

“What?” Shawn asked, but it was flat. 

“I just hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are.” She was not about to put up with him spitting her absence back in her face as though her staying behind was unreasonable. 

“It’s just that—” he stumbled, trying to keep his frustration in check. “I tried countless times to get you to come with me. You know you could’ve.”

“So now the way you’ve been treating me is my own fault?”

“No, it’s just that if you were here--”

“Well I’m not, Shawn, and you need to get over it. You aren’t the only important thing in my life. I wasn’t about to give up my job—the job that I love—to have some nine-month, fairy tale vacation across the world. Don’t you dare put this on me.”

“I’m not trying to--” His voice stopped as someone talking to him became clear through the line. He was quickly back on the receiver, but it wasn’t to pick up where he left off. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I have to.”

“Shawn.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not doing this with you. If you hang up right now, this is over.”

There was a pause long enough to give Y/N the slightest bit of hope, but as quickly as it had come, it was shattered. “I’m sorry,” Shawn said. Then the line went dead.

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

March. It had been three months since the end of Shawn’s tour, and nearly six since things had ended with Y/N. Not a day went by in those six months, though, that he hadn’t fallen asleep thinking of her and woken up wishing she were there. It was excruciating, and worsened in knowing that it was entirely his fault.  

Shawn was nursing a small glass of whiskey and staring blankly into a television screen when he felt his phone buzz from the arm of the couch beside him. He figured it was just Brian wondering where he’d been; he hadn’t been in the mood to go out with his friends even though he was home in Toronto, and he knew they were wondering about him. He set his cup on the coffee table and reached for the device, sighing when he instead saw a message from Andrew. 

I need you to verify that you’re good with the dates for LA so that I can confirm our jet. 

While tour had only been over for three months, it was time for Shawn, unwaveringly hardworking as he was, to get back to the studio and begin working on new music. But, for once in his life, Shawn wanted nothing less than to go to L.A. and pretend like it hadn’t been six months since he’d last spoken to Y/N. The text from his manager sent a sinking feeling reverberating through his chest, and he was instantly averse to the idea of following through with the plans he’d made months before. 

He immediately dialed Andrew’s number, who answered after the first ring. “Shawn?”

“I don’t think I want to go to L.A. anymore,” he blurted, and he could envision the way his poor manager’s eyes had probably gone wide in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I just don’t,” he said flatly, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he lied, but his manager knew better. 

“You love Los Angeles. I know you do.”

“I don’t,” he mumbled. 

“Be honest with me, man. What’s wrong?”

Shawn groaned, tugging tired hands through tufts of unruly brown hair. “I don’t know what it’s like to land at the airport and not go right to her. I can’t be in the same city as her. I’d die if I saw her.”

“Y/N, you mean,” Andrew mused, but of course he knew that was exactly who Shawn was talking about. “So don’t see her.”

“But I’d die if I didn’t see her, either,” Shawn admitted. “Especially knowing I was only a car ride away. So I just don’t want to go.”

His manager sighed. “We already booked the house, Shawn. The whole team is coming.”

“So tell them not to.”

Andrew laughed lightly at this, and as much as Shawn was frustrated by it, it also grounded him in the realization that he was being a bit ridiculous. “The way you feel right now will make for some incredible music, Shawn. I know you, and I know that you'll kick yourself for not taking advantage of that.”

“The last thing I want to do right now is write music.”

“How many times have you said you can’t wait to have your heart broken so that you can write an album about it?”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“Use that.”

“I can’t. It fuckin’ hurts.”

“Then go see her.”

Shawn paused to ponder whether or not he’d heard Andrew correctly. “I already told you, I can’t do that.”

“I’m serious,” Andrew replied, his tone still as even as it always was. “I think you clearly need to have a conversation with her. You haven’t seen each other in person since you left for tour.”

“She won’t want to see me,” Shawn mumbled. 

Andrew let out a heavy breath. “You’re right, she probably won’t. But I think that for both of your sakes, you need to talk face-to-face. You need closure, and I’m sure she does too.”

“God, I’m such an idiot,” Shawn mumbled, and Andrew did well not to comment on it. 

“Just relax. You’re going to Los Angeles and we will all be there with you to support you like always. Whether or not you see Y/N is up to you, but I think you need to go.”

Shawn let out a heavy breath, but it didn’t relieve the tension in his shoulders. “Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll go.”

“The original dates still work for you? Two weeks from now?”

“Yeah,” Shawn assented, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “I’ll see you there.”

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

The first thing Shawn did after dropping his bags off at the house his team would be staying at in Los Angeles was take the keys to one of the rental cars and drive straight to Y/N’s house. 

He had a box filled with souvenirs he’d bought for her at various tour cities tucked into the passenger seat--a box that he’d been dying to give to her. It drove him crazy to see it lying around his condo, and he jumped at the opportunity to finally hand it off to her. 

As he drove, every bone in his body screamed at him to stop. Even the world around him seemed to be mocking him. The sunset laughed at his foolishness for thinking that his relationship was different from the thousands of others it had seen come to an end under its golden touch. The streetlights, beginning to flicker on as the sun set further, told him to never mind, forget her. Even the mountains ridiculed him, their deep-set lines seeming to smirk back at him as they awaited a surely inevitable disaster. 

He stared at his hands, clenched at ten and two on the steering wheel. It made him feel lonelier, if possible, knowing the hand that usually rested in Y/N’s as he drove was now forced to join its companion on the wheel. Her voice wasn’t coming from beside him directing him where to go because, no matter how many times he swore he knew his way around the city, he was lost without her guidance. He felt empty being in her city without her. It was wrong.

He finally managed to find his way to her quaint house, parking on the street parallel to it. He immediately felt his heart jump into his throat upon realizing that he actually had no plan for what to say or do. He was worried she didn’t love him anymore the way he still loved her, even though she had every reason not to. But he didn’t care; he still needed to see her. If it meant that he could hear her voice, he’d let her tell him every day that she didn’t love him. He craved her that badly. 

Shawn hesitated as he raised his knuckles to the front door, eyeing the broken doorbell and wondering if she’d gotten it fixed in the time he was gone. He finally decided to just knock as he’d always done, and it wasn’t long before the familiar beige door was opening in front of him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her after nine excruciating months. Her hair was longer and she was clad in one of the shirts he’d left behind for her, but he couldn’t ignore how tired she looked. 

Y/N’s face fell the second she saw him, and her immediate instinct was to slam the door in his face. But her mind and her body were at a disconnect--her thoughts racing, but her limbs frozen. She didn’t know what to do, so she just stood there, wide-eyed, staring back at him.

“Nice shirt,” was the first thing he could say, and Y/N looked down at herself like she’d forgotten what she was wearing.

“Sorry, I, um, I need to do laundry really badly,” she answered sheepishly, folding her arms over her chest and knowing that it was a blatant lie. She was surprised she remembered how to talk. “You can have it back.”

He cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t apologize. Looks right on you. You look beautiful.” 

Y/N’s expression remained stiff and cold. “I didn’t apologize.”

“Yes, you did,” he pushed back, a semblance of a smile playing on his mouth.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, eyeing the box under his arm and already feeling drained of energy. “What did you come here for, Shawn?”

“I, uh--” he stammered, searching for words that wouldn’t sound as childish as he felt right then. Hearing her say his name didn’t feel as right as it always had. “I wanted to give you this.” He thrust the box out at her, but she didn’t take it.

“What is it?”

“I got you something from all the cities we stopped at on tour up until, uh, you know,” he trailed off, reaching a hand up to scrub sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I don’t really have any use for this stuff and I was in town so I figured I should just give it all to you.”

She skeptically took the box, reaching inside and gingerly pulling out a small metal cactus that sprouted from a base that read Arizona, the Grand Canyon State. She sighed and dropped it back inside the box, turning behind her to set it on the floor of her entryway. 

“There’s no way that you came all the way here just to give me this stuff. What is it really?”

Shawn let out a huff of breath, running a hand down his face. She knew him so well that it drove him crazy. “I don’t know,” he answered, and it was the truth. “Just missed you, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, looking to the side so as to avoid eye contact. She never swore, and it tugged at a separate piece of Shawn’s heart knowing that he was the one to make her.

“I did,” he pressed, floored at the accusation that he hadn’t when, in reality, he’d missed her so intensely that even his bones ached. 

“You cut me off and then gave me six months of radio silence,” she bit back, her words accusatory. “So I don’t believe you.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on finding any words that could possibly make this better. He finally looked up, coming to terms with the fact that the damage he’d inflicted was certainly irrevocable. “I messed up, okay? And there will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you could say to make me forgive you, anyway.”

He swallowed, hard. He had no plan for what to say to her, and the longer she stared at him the more his body felt like it was on fire. “Will you at least let me apologize? Even if you don’t forgive me.”

Y/N was quiet, her incriminating stare unwavering. “Fine,” she reluctantly assented, not missing the way Shawn let out a heavy breath of relief. 

“Can I come in?”

“No. You can apologize just the same out here.”

“It’s just that--,” he paused, sighing. “Okay.” He’d wanted to remind Y/N that she’d probably start yelling at him at some point, because he knew her and he knew how she was sometimes unable to fight back her emotions, but he refrained. He was lucky she hadn’t slammed the door in his face by now. 

He took a deep breath, and Y/N tapped her foot in impatience. On the inside, however, her heart had begun to beat just a tiny bit faster. She wasn’t happy to see Shawn, but, much to her dismay, she wasn’t exactly mad about it either. She was mad at him, that much was clear, but he was still Shawn. Seeing him here, in front of her, made her realize that her feelings weren’t as far-gone as she’d convinced herself they were.

A nervous laugh slipped from his mouth. “I wasn’t expecting you to let me get this far, I don’t really have much of a plan.” But Y/N was silent, and Shawn cleared his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry I ghosted you. I’m sorry I forgot to get you into the stadium when we planned for you to come. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t stronger, just in general.”

“Me too.” 

He took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “It just...it got to a point where I couldn’t stand to listen to you say you missed me anymore. I know my lifestyle isn’t necessarily conducive to a good relationship and it was just hard knowing what I was putting you through. Hearing your voice was hard for me, too. I thought distancing myself from you would make it easier to cope with being away from you, I never--,” he broke off, running an anguished hand through his hair. “I never wanted this to happen to us. I just needed space. There were times when I was completely ready to just up and fly to L.A. not caring what the consequences would be, and that terrified me. I wasn’t focusing on my shows because all I could think about was you.”

She frowned, her face clearly expressing disbelief. “You were willing to abandon your tour to get on a plane to come see me, but then you didn’t have it in you to talk to me on the phone? On nights you knew I was waiting up for you to call?” She shook her head, and Shawn wished he could unsee the tears brimming in her eyes. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

“I know that it probably doesn’t make sense,” he admitted. He clenched his hands together as he physically fought the urge to reach over and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I wasn’t strong enough to be away from you, so I did everything I could to get rid of the thought of missing you. Worse, of you sitting here missing me.”

“If you loved me as much as you said you did, you shouldn’t have been able to just ignore me like that. I went crazy trying to convince myself that there was a time where I even mattered to you at all.”

“You do matter to me!” Shawn insisted, his words jumping in volume until he remembered he was still standing outside on the porch. “You always have. You’re everything.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” she demanded, pretending like her voice hadn’t just broken. “I just--None of this makes any sense to me! We’re here because you couldn’t even make it through the first half of your tour without abandoning all the promises you made to me before you left. You swore you would come back.”

“I did come back,” he replied, weakly. “I’m here now.”

“No,” she spat, pressing her wrists over her eyes as though it would hold in the tears. “You showing up at my door after all this time and blindsiding me like this is not the promise you made to me to come back. Do you have any idea what it feels like to spend months waiting for someone to come home to you, knowing deep inside yourself the entire time that he isn’t actually coming home? Do you have a single fucking clue what you put me through?” He was silent. “I stayed awake night after night for hours waiting for calls that weren’t coming. I started to actually feel guilty for not putting my life on hold to follow you around the world, which is fucking ridiculous, Shawn! I hate that you made me feel that way.”

“I do too,” he responded, tugging an agitated hand through curls that were already messy from his five-hour flight earlier that day. “And it’s clear that you’re not going to forgive me, and I don’t blame you for that. I just--I don’t know what to do. I have never loved someone the way I love you.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted meekly, pretending to be less affected by his words than she actually was. “But that doesn’t change what you did.”

“I know.”

They were silent for a few moments, Y/N’s eyes looking at the floor even though she could feel Shawn’s stare glued to her face. The quiet eventually came to be too much for Shawn to take, and he was the first to speak again. “So now what?”

Y/N finally looked up at him. “I don’t know. I guess you leave.”

“Leave?” he interrogated, taken aback. 

She arched a brow. “What?” 

“There’s just so much else to talk about.”

“I don’t have anything left to say to you,” she sassed, folding her arms over her chest.

“Tell me you actually want me to leave,” Shawn demanded. At this point, he was grasping for straws to keep her talking to him. Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open but no words coming out. “Tell me you want me to leave,” he repeated, “and I will.”

“I--”

“I know you want me to stay.”

“You have no idea what I want, you arrogant asshole.”

Shawn huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve said I’m sorry, okay? I want to start over.”

But Y/N wasn’t willing to give in. “Is that what you think?” she scoffed. “You come here uninvited and give me some spur-of-the-moment apology and then suddenly everything is normal again?” She stepped forward, so furious that steam may as well have been radiating off of her skin. “I am so sorry that you’re frustrated,” she continued, sarcasm practically stinging her lips as the words came out, “but I don’t care what you want, Shawn. You are not going to show up at my doorstep and start feeding me all this crap about how you missed me and how beautiful I am and how sorry you are!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, hot tears betraying her as they finally began to roll down her cheeks. “I waited for you. I knew you weren’t going to call, I knew you weren’t coming, and I still waited for you like an idiot.”

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. It took everything in him to resist the urge to wipe her tears away, or hug her, or to touch her at all and offer any small form of comfort that he could.

“It’s a little late for that,” she bit back, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her left hand. “I’ve spent the past six months crying over you. You don’t get to make me all worked up like this and then tell me to stop crying like you’re not the reason why I’m like this in the first place.”

“Then we don’t have to talk about this right now, let’s find something else.” Y/N looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her mind equally as confused as her heart. “We can go get coffee, or--”

“I really don’t think--”

“Just trust me,” he said softly, finally finding the courage to gingerly place his hands on her shoulders. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I have coffee here,” Y/N answered after a silence long enough to make Shawn even more nervous, and he wasn’t sure what she meant until she moved aside to allow him room to come through the doorway. 

She stepped over to the kitchen and reached for her Keurig, Shawn hot on her heels. “Let me do it,” he said, gently reaching to take the supplies from her hands.

“Fine,” she sighed. She didn’t have the energy left to fight him. “The mugs are in the same place as always.”

He nodded as Y/N made her way over to the couch, her brain screaming what are you doing at her as though it would weaken its disconnect from the rest of her body. Logic reminded Y/N that she didn’t owe Shawn her kindness, her time, or her forgiveness for what he had done to her. Logic told her Shawn shouldn’t be there. Her heart didn’t care. 

“How’s your internship?” he asked with an outstretched arm, offering Y/N a coffee cup and effectively tearing her from her thoughts. She eyed him carefully as he moved to sit clear on the other side of the couch, an awkward distance between the two.

Y/N pretended to ignore the almost palpable awkwardness in the room. Am I really about to sit here and make small talk with him? “It ended a few months ago. The company gave me a full-time job, though.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, and he meant it. “How is it?”

There was a slight upturn in her lips. “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted and my coworkers are all awesome.”

He smiled. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Seriously.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee and fighting off the voice in her head reminding her of how painfully uncomfortable this all was. “Um, how was the rest of tour?”

He shrugged, knowingly avoiding a rerun of the conversation they’d already had. “It was really great. I’m lucky.”

“Good,” she replied. It took everything she had to keep her voice level and dry of emotion. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“Are you, like, seeing anyone?” he blurted, no longer able to refrain from asking it.

She looked up, a smile nudging at her lips as she found herself suddenly amused. “Why do you ask that?”

“I dunno,” he responded sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. “I’ve just, y’know, seen pictures and stuff.”

“So you’re stalking me on social media now?” she asked, but it didn’t sound like a question--more like an observation. 

“No,” he rushed out, wide-eyed. “Not at all stalking you, no. Your photos just come up in my feed sometimes and I see...things.”

She hummed, deciding not to dwell on the motivation behind his question any longer. “If you really want to know, I’ve tried,” she admitted bitterly. “But no one that I meet really compares to you, so it’s sort of hard.”

“I get it.”

She looked at him, her expression perplexed but challenging. “You’re constantly surrounded by celebrities and girls from all over the world. It’s different for you.”

“So what? None of them compare to you, either. I thought about you all the time on tour. No one else.”

She quirked an eyebrow, silently prompting him to continue, which he did after a deep breath. “Being in a different time zone almost every night starts to make me feel like I’m kind of just floating. Having the routine of playing shows helps, don’t get me wrong, and I love touring. You know that. But the only thing that anchored me through all that was knowing what time it was in L.A. and imagining what you were doing.”

Y/N was silent, her lips slightly parted as she tried to digest his words, but the discomfort that came with the silence caused Shawn to begin rambling. “I didn’t really care what time it was where I was, because that changed constantly. It didn’t matter. I only cared what time it was in relation to where you were because it was steadying, or something, I don’t know. Basically, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I always had you in the back of my mind.”

“Did you still do that even after we…?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I mean...no matter what happens, I’ll always care about you and think about what you’re doing. We’ll always be tied to each other somehow.”

“I wish I could’ve gone with you,” Y/N blurted out suddenly, surprising even herself. They stared at each other, the wide-eyed expression plastered on Shawn’s face essentially a reflection of Y/N’s. “Things would be so different now if I could’ve gone.”

“Different how?” Shawn stammered, though he already knew the answer. He was just desperate to hear her next words.

“Don’t know,” she muttered, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on one of the couch cushions. “Like it was before you left and all this happened.”

“It doesn’t mean we can’t get back to that point, though.”

“No, but it’s certainly gonna be a hell of a lot more difficult if I even…” She trailed off, and Shawn swallowed hard. If I even want this. “Nevermind. I just wish I could’ve gone on tour with you because then I wouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now.” It was a harsher-sounding reality than was the truth of her feelings, but she couldn’t take the words back. And, to be fair, Shawn deserved nothing but harsh words from her, though it wasn’t what she wanted to give him. The more time she spent with him, the harder it was for her to fight the feelings that she’d known were still very much there for the past six months.

“But then you wouldn’t have had your internship.”

“Yeah, I know, Shawn,” she snapped. “That’s why I didn’t go and that’s why we’re here. God forbid I choose my career.”

“That’s not what I--”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m just--I don’t even know. That was unnecessary.”

“It’s okay,” Shawn answered, but only because he didn’t know what else to say. She was in no position to be apologizing to him, and he knew that. He deserved every harsh thing she had to say to him.

“Can I be honest with you?” he continued, suddenly more nervous than he had been the entire time. Y/N nodded.

“The real reason I came here is because I can’t lose you forever. Six months was hard enough. I just wanted to apologize and tell you how I feel. How I still feel.”

She scrubbed a hand over her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to process the whirlwind of thoughts littering her brain. “You never lost me, Shawn,” she whispered, eyes still closed because she was too nervous to look at him. “Just distanced yourself.”

“And I’m sorry for that, truly,” he said quietly. “I wish I could take it all back.”

Y/N looked at him, trying to decipher her own feelings. “I’m glad you came,” she finally admitted. “I needed this. Even though I yelled at you, like, basically the entire time.”

He let out a quiet laugh, not taking his eyes off of her. “I deserved it,” he admitted. “I probably deserved worse, if anything.”

She grinned. She knew how she could be when her emotions took over. “How long are you here for?”

“We’ve got a house booked for a few weeks to work on new music, but my schedule’s free for a bit after that. No reason why I couldn’t stay here a little longer if, you know...”

“It depends,” she cut in. She wasn’t one to sugar coat things. “If these first few weeks go okay, then I’d like that. But it depends on that.”

Shawn nodded and became painfully aware of his heart suddenly pounding out of his chest, grateful to be given any chance at all to win Y/N back, though he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how anxious the thought of messing up again made him.

“Can we just take things one day at a time?” she continued, looking up at him with an almost nervous expression. “Is that okay? I’m gonna need a little more time than you, probably.”

He smiled. Anything she’d give him, he would gladly take. “Of course,” he echoed, moving next to her and carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He swore he’d faint when he felt her head softly lean to rest on his shoulder. “One day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever you need.”

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is always appreciated :)

permanent taglist: @nedthegay @wronglanemendes @the-fandom-ness

[mfingenius]

Heyy!! You're posts have been motivating me through this quarantine. Thank you for writing so much and spreading joy. I loved the Dreville and Laurent/Nik fic you wrote recently. A prompt i was thinking of: Like what if soon after their parents die ( Laurent is 14 and August 19), August gets into a lot of partying etc, at college, and kind of pushes away Laurent when he asks to visit, only to find out later that during that period the regent abused him. Lamen optional Thank you so much !! :)

Ahhhh thank you so much <333 I’m very glad I’m helping at least a little... I hope you’ll like this :D

TW: MENTIONS OF CSA

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

Auguste finds out when it’s in the news.

He wakes up, same as always, hating everything and with a pounding headache; he doesn’t remember the name of the girl in his bed, and he doesn’t care, either. He’ll kick her out as soon as she wakes up.

He goes to the kitchen, searching for some painkillers; he swallows them down with tequila - a bad idea, he knows, but he doesn’t think he has any water left - and sits on the kitchen table with a groan. It’s barely seven - he never sleeps for more than a few hours at a time - and he enjoys the quiet of it.

His apartment’s a mess, but he doesn’t particularly care; he’ll call a service to clean it up later, and it’ll be trashed tonight again, and he’ll have maids coming in tomorrow, again. It’s become a routine. 

He’s seriously considering going back to sleep with his forehead against the kitchen table when his phone begins to ring. He groans, jerking upright and beginning to look for it among the clothes thrown over the kitchen floor. When he finally finds it, he checks the name on the screen to make sure it’s not Laurent, feeling a pang of guilt as he does it; it’s not that he doesn’t want to see or talk to his brother, it’s just been - hard. 

Their parents died three years ago, when Laurent was eleven and Auguste was seventeen, and they were both sent to live with their uncle; Auguste had left just a few months after that, after getting into college on a football scholarship - not that he needed it, since his parents left their entire fortune to him and Laurent and he’s currently wasting it away in parties and anything that makes him feel good for three minutes - and Laurent is... different now.

He’d wanted to visit Auguste a lot, at first, seeming desperate to get away, but Auguste had brushed him off whenever he could; he didn’t want Laurent to see what a mess he was. After a while, Laurent had stopped asking to visit, but he still calls. Auguste picks up sometimes, and though he usually ends the call as soon as he can, he is trying.

He knows he’s not doing very well, which is why he’s immensely relieved when it’s only Jord; he’s one of Auguste’s best friends from Arles, before Auguste moved to Delpha to go to college, but they haven’t talked since Jord called him an irresponsible dick for getting drunk every day for three months after his parents died.

“Jord?” he asks, picking up. It must be important if Jord is calling him; he’s never apologized, and Auguste hasn’t either.

“Turn on your fucking TV,” Jord snaps. “The news.”

“Which channel?” Auguste asks tiredly, walking to the living room and searching for the remote. It has to be here somewhere...

“Any fucking channel, Auguste!” He hasn’t heard Jord sound this angry... well, ever.

He gives up on searching for the remote, instead clicking the button to turn the TV on and stepping back to see the screen properly. It’s already on a news channel, and Auguste is about to ask why Jord has decided to call him at seven in the morning to tell him to turn on the news when he catches the headline.

Laurent DeVere, second son to billionaire DeVere family, taken away from his uncle because of alleged child sexual abuse

Auguste stops breathing.

“Get on a plane,” Jord snaps. “Now.”

Auguste is booking a plane ticket on his laptop before Jord has even finished the sentence.

*

The plane ride to Arles is only an hour and a half; he’s back at his Uncle’s house before ten, swallowing and knocking on the door. He’d scoured the news obsessively while on the plane. It seems no one knows who tipped off the police, but that they’d gone to their Uncle’s house to question him and seen it, seen him - doing things to Laurent; Auguste can’t think about it.

He already threw up twice.

The reporter had said their uncle had been arrested immediately, and now Laurent was awaiting for a word on what would happen; Auguste doesn’t want to think about his brother, sitting there all alone, just waiting.

The door opens, and he expects to see Laurent, but it’s not; there are three men in police uniforms there, and behind them, Auguste can see many more; the house had been swarmed by reporters, yelling and taking pictures, so Auguste had had to sneak in through the back of the iron-wrought fence, an old spot he’d quickly learned of after he’d begun sneaking off to parties at night.

His uncle might’ve known, and simply not stopped him because it was convenient for him.

Auguste nearly retches again.

“I’m Auguste DeVere,” he says. “I’m here to see my brother.”

“No one is allowed in or out,” one of the officers tells him. “You have to get off the property.”

“He’s my brother,” Auguste snaps. “And he’s fifteen. I’m here to see him.”

“You’re the brother, then.” Behind the officers, steps up a woman; she has olive skin and long, wavy brown hair. “I’ll take care of him.”

The officers leave, and Auguste tries not to sound too impatient when he says, “Yes. And who are you?”

The woman smiles grimly. “My name is Kashel. I’m your brother’s social worker. We’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

Auguste had forgotten his phone in the apartment after kicking the girl he’d slept with out. He grimaces.

“Social worker?” he asks. “Why does Laurent need a social worker?”

Kashel looks at him like she’s not entirely sure if he’s dumb. 

“Well,” she says, careful. “Seeing as your brother’s fifteen and his current guardian is awaiting trial for child abuse, we need to find him another one for the time being, and then someone permanent.”

“I am,” Auguste says, without hesitation. “I will be. His guardian.”

“Mr. DeVere, we don’t give children to anyone-”

“I’m his brother!”

“You smell like alcohol,” Kashel says bluntly. Auguste rears back, surprised. “And tobacco, and it’s nine thirty in the morning. You look like you haven’t slept, you didn’t answer any of our insistent calls for two hours, and, if I’m not wrong, you’re a university student. You’re not exactly in peak condition to take care of another human being.”

Auguste can’t find anything to say; he cannot - Laurent cannot go to someone else, he just can’t. Sure, Auguste hasn’t been the best brother these past few years, and he’ll have to change everything about his life before it’s even acceptable for Laurent to be near, but he has to take care of him, Laurent is the most important person in the world to him.

He doesn’t know how he seems to have forgotten that.

“I-” he tries. Then again, “I-”

“Right now, you can see him,” Kashel says kindly; she doesn’t look to be older than him, must be only twenty one, and yet she seems calm, entirely put together. Auguste feels like his life is falling apart. “I’ll take you to him.”

Auguste steps inside numbly, watching as a dozen people walk around the house, each doing different things; he doesn’t know what they’re all doing, and, quite frankly, he doesn’t care. He wants to see his brother.

Kashel takes him upstairs, to Laurent’s room - walking through his uncle’s house is a surreal experience. Auguste never thought he’d be back here - and, before she opens the door, she looks at him sternly.

“Do not promise him anything,” she says. “Don’t pressure him to tell you anything, and don’t push for details-”

“I don’t need an instruction manual to talk to my brother,” Auguste snaps.

She purses her lips. “As I’ve heard it, you wouldn’t know, seeing as you haven’t spoken to him for a while.”

Auguste pales, but she does not look in the least apologetic.

“I devote my life to these children, Mr. DeVere,” she says. “My priority here is keeping him safe and not to make this any harder than it already has been. If I have to keep him safe from you, I’ll do that, too.”

Auguste nods.

She looks him over once again, and then knocks on the door softly.

“Laurent,” she says, opening the door slightly; her tone is nothing like the one he’d used on Auguste before. She steps through and then closes the door in Auguste’s face.

He waits impatiently, listening to her talking to Laurent; he can’t quite make out the words, but he assumes she’s asking him if he’s willing to see him. He doesn’t hear Laurent’s response, but, a second later, the door opens, and Kashel steps aside with one last menacing look towards him.

Seeing Laurent is more surreal than walking through the house was; he looks unbelievably thin, somehow exactly as Auguste remembers him and not like that at all, dark bags under his eyes and a look on his face that Auguste has never seen before and wishes to never see again.

He tries to smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Laurent is impossibly quiet.

They’re both silent for a while, and it seems maybe Auguste did need a manual on how to talk to his brother; he wishes he’d paid more attention to Kashel. Don’t promise him anything. Don’t pressure him.

“I-” he tries. I’m sorry? Laurent would have every right to kick him out for saying that. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you try to tell me and I didn’t answer the phone? When you wanted to visit and I said no, why didn’t you insist more? 

That wouldn’t be fair; Laurent had made countless efforts to talk to him, to be with him, and Auguste had felt bad about pushing him away, but now... knowing what was going on while he was at parties and refusing to talk to Laurent, it’s a million times worse.

“I-” He doesn’t know what to say. He sees it clearly in Laurent’s face, how uncomfortable he is in the room, and though fury boils inside him, he ignores it. “We can go somewhere else.”

Laurent nods immediately; as they go from room to room, Auguste watches him. They don’t step into Uncle’s rooms, because Auguste assumes most of it happened there, but he searches Laurent’s face for any sign of discomfort any time they go somewhere; the dining room doesn’t work, and neither does the kitchen.

Laurent grimaces in the living room, and wraps his arms around himself warily in Auguste’s old room; the Laundry room doesn’t draw as big a reaction as anywhere else, but it’s also noticeable, so Auguste doesn’t want them to stay there. When he is considering giving up - this was happening, after all, for three years in this house - they walk into the library, and Laurent’s face is sweet relief.

Auguste exhales.

“You’re here,” Laurent says, after he curls himself into the big armchair. 

“I am.” Auguste swallows. Laurent doesn’t look at him, and Auguste swallows again. “Laurent, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry,” Laurent says, at the same time, and they both look at each other surprised.

“Why are you sorry?” Auguste asks, surprised.

“I-” Laurent’s cheeks are red, suddenly, stained as though he’s been slapped. “I tried to - I didn’t want to give you any trouble - and I’ve made you come all the way here - and now Uncle’s in jail and it’s my fault-”

“What?” Auguste asks. “What?”

“I swore I wouldn’t-” Laurent’s eyes are bright, wet, and he blinks quickly. “He told me I would just bother you and he was right - I swear it wasn’t me who called the police, I didn’t mean for any of this-”

“Laurent, what are you talking about?” Auguste asks, heart beating wildly. “I’m not angry at you. I don’t care if it was you who called the police. Fuck, if it had been you I would’ve said well-done. I’m sorry I left you here, I made it so hard to reach me-”

“It’s not your fault,” Laurent says; he’s nothing like Auguste remembers him; he’s clothed from neck to wrist to toe, everything tightly fitted and dark, nothing like the child Auguste remembers. “I know I’m - a bother, and I really didn’t-”

“Laurent, you never bother me.”

“You didn’t want to see me.”

And isn’t that just perfect? Auguste had been unknowingly helping along a narrative their Uncle had been telling Laurent, about being a bother, about being unloved, Auguste had made him feel all those things.

Fuck; he doesn’t know how he’s fucked up so severely.

“I-” Auguste swallows. “Laurent, I’m not... perfect. I wasn’t - I’m not having the easiest time, and I didn’t want you to see me like that and I was selfish, I never once thought about-”

About what might be going on with his brother, never once saw the signs that were probably already there.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hollowly.

“I-” Laurent wipes at his eyes desperately, and sounds oddly fragile when he speaks. “Can I - stay with you? I don’t want to go anywhere else-”

“Of course,” Auguste says immediately. “Fuck, Laurent, I’d never let you go to anyone else, I - I love you, so much, I’m so sorry-”

“Promise me, please, promise I-”

Don’t promise anything, Kashel had said. You’re not exactly in peak condition to take care of another human being.

Auguste doesn’t care; he’ll get custody of Laurent, whatever he has to do, however he has to change his life for it.

“I promise,” he says.

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

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[alirhi]

jfc FINALLY

Ugh. I have been fighting with my muse to get this done for two months. And I was actually going to stretch it to line up more or less with the movie's timeline, but honestly... I'm just so burnt 😂 So this is what you get.

Title: Monday Chapter: Oneshot Fandom: Monday Rating: R/NC17 (I mean, have you seenthe movie?) Pairing: Mickey/OC Summary: What if, instead of Chloe, Mickey met a woman that night who was actually good for him and whom he was compatible with? WARNINGS: swearing, sex (not explicit; I rarely if ever write smut, but still) Notes: I hate Chloe. Omfg I hate her so much. So I fixed it XD Yes, I literally rewrote the entire movie with a different love interest. Well... most of it lol. I get bored, okay? Lol. Oh, and the girl is actually a character I yanked from one of my original stories lol. I didn't make her up on the spot for this (I'm too lazy for that XD). Tweaking her to fit the setting was kind of a bitch, as she's from a fantasy series, so if she seems kind of Mary Sue-ish...sorry.

“You have a nose for American cheese!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Come on, that girl looks insane!”

“What?” Looking surprised, Argyris turned and looked where his friend was pointing, and then laughed. “Not her, you idiot! The ginger-snap over there!”

The girl in question, a lithe, pretty thing with a wild mass of red hair that she constantly shoved impatiently out of her face was dancing alone a few feet away from the angry-looking blonde Mickey had thought he'd been talking about. She was gorgeous, he had to admit.

“Go and talk to her, man!”

He pointed to the turntables in front of him, impatiently reminding Argyris, “No, I'm working!”

“Come on,” the other man taunted, “I know your playlist inside-out! It's the same R&B shit, and then a little bit of disco!”

“It's not R&B, and it's not disco!”

“This song is twenty fuckin' minutes long! Come on!”

“Hey!” Mickey grimaced, hastily yanking his headphones off and setting them down as he was dragged off toward the redhead. “Fuck!”

All puffed up with pride – and way too much to drink – Argyris pushed Mickey when they drew close to the girl, so that he slammed right into her. Laughing, he patted her shoulder, but his mirth was short-lived. She grabbed his hand and twisted his arm up behind his back.

“Put your hands on a girl you don't know again. I dare you.”

Mickey covered his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter as his friend writhed in the deceptively delicate-looking girl's grip.

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!” Laughing as he was released, Argyris went to put a hand on each of their shoulders, took one look at the girl, and just hung off of Mickey's shoulder, instead. “You're an American... You're an American! You're a man, you're a woman! There you go!”

“Yeah, crazy kismet,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “Two Americans out of their natural deep-fried, flag-waving habitat at the same time! Imagine!”

Undaunted, the drunk Greek simply shrugged and flounced off with a flippant, “Whatever. Have fun!”

“Sorry about him,” Mickey said immediately, smiling when she turned and smiled at him. At least she didn't seem to be judging him by the company he kept.

“Friend of yours?”

“Argyris? Yeah.” He grinned. “He's kind of an idiot, but he's a good guy.”

She laughed. “I'll take your word for it. Aren't you the DJ? Should you be over here?”

“No,” he admitted with a laugh, “but I'm fine for a few minutes. You wanna dance?”

“I'd love to.”

She was tall, he realized as he spun her around; in the little barely-there heels she was wearing, they stood eye to eye. Clearly drunk, though, she lost her balance every few seconds and crashed into him with a laugh, occasionally giving up on righting herself and just resting her head on his shoulder.

Mickey grimaced as he heard the song beginning to wind down, but the girl hanging off of him only smiled and patted his chest. “Go on! Get back to work. I'll be here when you're done.”

“Any chance I could convince you to come around the other side?” He gave her his most charming grin, and felt a little warm inside when she laughed.

“Why, so you can stare down my top the whole time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “I've been doing that anyway, so why not?”

“Honesty!” She grinned and kissed his cheek. “I like it. Alright, you gorgeous lech! Get back up there. We'll see what I can do about your view.”

He only made it another hour or so, with the girl coming up to him every few minutes with another drink, and occasionally flashing him from the spot she'd found in front of him. Queuing up enough songs to play through the end of the party, he hopped down off the podium and ran over to her, tugging her close for the kiss he'd been dying for since Argyris had first pulled him over to her. “You wanna get out of here?”

“You sure? What about-”

Mickey shook his head, smiling. “It'll run til they all pass out. No one'll touch my stuff, not here. Come on!”

“Okay, yeah.” She shrugged and laughed, allowing him to pull her through the throng of dancing people and away from the party. “Fuck it. Let's go!”

The next morning, naked, hungover, and covered in sand, they were nudged awake by a police officer while an angry lady yelled about their indecency. The officer waited for them to scramble back into their clothes and then cuffed them both, ushering them into the back of a cruiser.

Despite the situation, Mickey couldn't keep the silly smile off of his face. At least the cops had been kind enough to cuff their hands in front of them, allowing him to hold his out to the girl beside him. “Hi. I'm Mickey.”

She laughed, the realization that they'd never introduced themselves clearly dawning in her bright green eyes. “Beck.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, but couldn't hide his slight confusion. “That a first name or a last name?”

“It's short for my first name.” She was still smiling, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she added, “Call me 'Becky' once and I'll be facing real prison time at the end of this ride, and you'll be missing body parts.”

With a slightly nervous laugh, he nodded. “Alright, noted. Beck it is!”

“And, nice to meet you, too.”

There was the briefest of conversations at the police station, the sandy couple signed themselves out, and then Mickey persuaded one of the officers to give them a lift back to the beach.

“You want a ride?”

Beck grinned, one ruddy eyebrow arching up. “I still need to clean up from the 'ride' last night.”

Laughing, Mickey shook his head. “I'll never say 'no' to more of that, but that's not what I meant.”

“I know.” She shrugged, snarky grin turning into an almost bashful smile. “And yeah, I'd love a ride. Thanks.”

He loaned her his helmet and, after getting directions from her, drove her to her hotel. It seemed like that would be the end of it... and he hated that thought. “So, what're you doing tonight?”

“Packing and sleeping,” she told him with a laugh, leaning against the building. “I gotta be on a plane Monday morning, and I hate leaving things to the last minute.”

“You're leaving?”

With a grin and a snarky air kiss, she teased, “Missing me already, lover boy?”

Mickey shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I am. I like you, is that so bad?” He beckoned, and was somewhat surprised when she walked right over to him. Still smiling like a fool, he grabbed her by the waistband of her shorts and pulled her close for a kiss. “Come with me tonight, for a proper sendoff.”

“Come with you where?”

“I'm DJing on an island.” Thumb sliding under her clothes to slide over her hip, he wheedled, “Come on. Come with me.”

“I need to shower. I'm all sandy and sticky from last night.” Beck gave him just long enough to deflate, and then she smirked and nipped his jaw. “Care to join me?”

“Fuck yes!” He was off his moped in a flash, following the laughing redhead as she took his hand and tugged him into the hotel. Giggling like hyenas, the pair made their way up to Beck's room, stopping every few steps for one to yank the other close for another kiss. Mickey was on cloud nine. This girl was fun, she was sassy and wild, and he couldn't get enough.

It seemed she couldn't get enough, either. They'd barely stepped into the shower before Beck was on her knees in front of him, her hand on his ass and his hand tangled in her hair as she sucked him off. He leaned back against the wall, tugging lightly on her hair and shuddering as he felt her moan around him.

“Fuck... oh, fuck, you're good at that! Holy shit... Stop. Stopstopstop!” With a little half-smile at her look of confusion, he tugged her back to her feet and kissed her. “You're fucking amazing. God damn, you are good with that mouth! But that's not what I want.”

Beck grinned, a playful glint in her bright green eyes that made him weak in the knees. “That's not a good idea.”

“Oh, no?” He backed her up against the wall, nuzzling her neck as his hand drifted down between her legs. “Funny... You don't seem to really believe that.”

“I definitely want you to fuck me til I can't move,” she assured him, shaking as she tried desperately not to laugh. “But it's not a good idea-” Her words turned into a startled whimper as Mickey hoisted her up by her thighs and slid into her to the hilt.

“I think it's a great idea,” he purred, biting her shoulder. Then he almost dropped her, and they both cracked up.

“The wall's slippery! This isn't smart.”

“No, it's definitely not smart,” he agreed, turning so that he was holding her up in mid-air instead of bracing her against the wall. “But that doesn't make it not a good idea.”

Beck laughed, clinging to him for dear life. “You're just gonna hold me up?”

“Yep.”

“The whole time?”

“You don't think I can do it?” Mickey grinned, bouncing her a few times just to prove her wrong. “You weight nothing, baby girl. I got this.” She was surprisingly light... but she was also a grown woman almost the same height as him. His pride would never let him admit it aloud, but there was no way he was going to be able to fuck her like this for long.

Just as he was wracking his somewhat foggy brain for a solution, he saw light dawning in Beck's eyes and waited. “Counter!” She nodded toward the sink, and only then did he realize they hadn't even closed the shower curtain, and the bathroom floor was getting soaked. “Put me on the counter.”

“I thought we were supposed to be getting cleaned up.” Even as he teased her, he was carefully stepping out of the tub, blessing her foresight when she grabbed a towel and threw it down just before he set his foot down, and carrying her across the bathroom.

Beck snickered and kissed him. “No point getting clean until we're done getting dirty. Shut up and fuck me.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

A little while later, they stumbled across another logistical issue Mickey hadn't considered.

“You are not putting dirty clothes on a clean body!” Beck insisted, prying his – pretty nasty at this point, he had to admit – clothes from his hands. “That's disgusting!”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to wear? Clearly, I can't just run around naked. We got arrested for that this morning!”

“Pity,” she teased, eyeing him in a way that made him wonder if they were ever actually going to leave her hotel room. “You're the best view in Athens.”

“Maybe they arrested us out of jealousy, then.” Mickey shook his head, though he couldn't help chuckling a little, despite his frustration. “Either way, I'm kinda stuck. It's either be gross, or don't go anywhere.”

“As much as the thought of keeping you trapped here as my sex slave appeals to me...” With another mocking grin, Beck turned and started going through her dresser drawers. “I think I can help you out.”

“I'm not wearing your clothes.”

“They're less flamboyant than what you do wear.”

“They won't fit!”

She tossed him a tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that proved him very wrong. They were huge. At his questioning stare, she shrugged.

“I always pack a couple of cute outfits when I travel, and the rest is super baggy; at least three sizes too big. I like to be comfortable.”

“Convenient.” He stared at the shorts in his hands, and then at the belt she handed him a few seconds later. “Am I supposed to wear your underwear, too?”

Beck snorted and walked away, patting his shoulder as she passed him. “I don't wear underwear.”

“Then I guess I kind of am wearing yours.” Even as the joke was tumbling out of his mouth, he knew it was lame, but they still both laughed. Then he glanced at his watch and winced. “Shit, we gotta go.”

“What?”

He waited for the dress she was pulling on to settle into place and then wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back against his chest. “We gotta go. If we don't catch the next ferry, we're gonna be late.”

She flinched. “Okay, two seconds.” The girl moved like lightning. Mystified, Mickey watched as she yanked on a pair of canvas sneakers, grabbed her wallet and cell phone – which she then stuffed in the pockets of the shorts he was wearing – grabbed a hair tie, and ran for the door. In no time, she'd strangled her wild red curls into submission in a low ponytail. They hadn't even reached the elevator yet.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Handing her his helmet, Mickey shook his head. “I think you got dressed faster than I did! I thought girls always take forever to get ready.”

Laughing, Beck rolled her eyes. As she settled on the back of the moped and tucked her skirt around her legs for decency, she told him, “I spent two years in the jungle with nothing but what I could fit in a backpack. Low maintenance is kinda my thing. The fewer steps to getting ready, the less time it takes.”

“That explains so much.” He stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head and grumbled as he slid into place in front of her and started the moped, “And raises so many more questions!”

“Full disclosure: I will probably answer none of them, as I'm very likely never going to see you again after tonight.”

Well, that was a depressing dose of reality he wasn't ready for. Not one to dwell on things, though, Mickey simply decided to have as much fun as he could with this girl while she was around, and treasure the steamy memories.

They made it to the ferry just in time. Making sure there was no one else around, Mickey smirked and tugged Beck into his lap, one hand sliding up her thigh. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away if she wanted; she simply arched an eyebrow at his questioning look and grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand closer.

“Why do you think I'm wearing a dress?”

Fuck, he loved this girl!

They were pretty much attached at the hip the whole day – literally, when they could steal a few minutes alone. While he was DJing, she was dancing like a lunatic, front and center. Those piercing green eyes never strayed from him; he knew, because he couldn't look away from her, either. Once he was free, they danced together for a little while, but it didn't take long for Beck to grow bored and yank him down the beach, away from the party. They found a dark, hidden nook to be alone, spent the night hopelessly wrapped up in each other, and then cuddled as they watched the sun come up.

“Gods, this place is so beautiful!”

Mickey chuckled at the plural, but didn't ask about it. He had a more important question for her: “You really gonna leave all this behind?”

“I have to.” She didn't sound any happier about leaving than he was about letting her leave. “I gotta get home.”

“Where's home?”

“Boston. You?”

He grinned and nudged her. “Athens, baby. Been here seven years!”

“Okay, but where before here?” she prodded with a laugh. “You're obviously not Greek; you don't even speak it!”

“Do you?”

Beck sat up a little straighter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Nai.”

“Showoff.”

“One word is being a showoff?” Beck laughed, shaking her head. “You've been here seven years, and you don't know a single word of the language?”

Mickey scowled, feeling defensive. “Everybody speaks English!”

“Wow.” She wasn't smiling anymore. She actually looked and sounded pretty pissed off. “That is astoundingly arrogant. And completely American, so clearly your obnoxious friend with no boundaries was right; it's not just a funny accent, you actually are American.”

“You're an American, too!”

“By birth,” she snapped, “not by choice. And I fucking hope not by attitude. I don't go stomping around foreign countries with absolutely no respect for their language or customs, expecting everyone around me to cater to my laziness.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting away from her. “Give me a break! Learning another language is hard!”

“Impossible, if you don't even try.”

“Yeah? How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently?” She held up her hands, ticking each one off on her fingers as she listed them. “English, obviously. Korean, Irish Gaelic, Italian, and German. Passably? Japanese – I can speak it fluently, but I have trouble reading it; the kanji is a nightmare – Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, and Swedish. I can read Latin and Old Norse, and I'm learning Mandarin, but I admit I'm struggling with that one. Mostly for the same reason I can't read Japanese; the writing system.”

Gaping at her, Mickey couldn't formulate a response for a long moment. When his brain finally started working again, all he could think to say was, “Jesus, what the fuck are you, a robot?!”

“I'm an archaeologist,” she told him flatly, still looking irritated. “And I've been traveling since I was seventeen. Been studying at least one language other than English since I was ten. I definitely had an advantage, starting when I still had a little kid's spongy brain, but it's not impossible to learn at any age, if you actually care enough to try.”

“You sound like my ex.” Hoping to distract her from that comment he hadn't meant to make, he hastily asked, “If you love to travel so much, why're you in such a rush to get home?”

Beck sighed, turning to stare out over the water. “I promised my daughter I'd be home in time for her birthday.”

Huh. They had more in common that he'd thought. “You have a kid?”

She nodded. “Two. Two girls.”

“How old?”

“Alice is five,” she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest and crossing her arms over them. Head pillowed on her arms, she added, “And Madeline's about to turn fourteen.”

“How the hell old are you?!” He hadn't meant to ask so bluntly, but he was so stunned by her daughters' ages that the question just kind of blurted itself out.

Mercifully, Beck laughed a little. “I'm thirty-three. I'll spare you some math – I was nineteen when I had Maddie.”

Mickey shook his head, not sure how to react. In all honesty, she didn't look much older than that now. There was a shadow behind her eyes that he was dying to ask about, but even as thoughtless as he could be, he knew when to just not go there. Instead, he told her softly, “My son is six.”

“What's his name?”

He smiled. As much as the situation with his ex sucked, he loved his son, and thinking about him always brought a little smile to Mickey's face. “Hector.”

The look on Beck's pretty face as she watched him like a hawk made him blush, though he wasn't sure why. There was just something about that direct green gaze that made him feel like she could read his mind. “He's the real reason you don't want to leave Greece, isn't he?” A spot-on guess like that certainly did nothing to dispel the notion.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yep. His mom hates my guts, but I don't care. There's nothing I wouldn't do to stay in his life. I actually, um... I have a room for him, at my place. If she'll ever let me take him, you know, just for a weekend or whatever... His room is ready and waiting for him.”

“All you can do is keep trying. Put in the work, be the best dad you can be, and hope for the best.”

Unsure what to say to that, Mickey changed the subject with an awkward smile. “So... Alice? She blonde, like Alice in Wonderland?”

Beck snorted, shaking her head. “No, she has black hair, like her dad.” She paused and then shook her head again with a bemused smirk on her face. “Actually, both of my girls look like their dads – dark hair, big blue eyes.” Smirk turning into a grin, she nudged him. “Guess I've got a type.”

“'Dads,' huh?” He grinned, too, and nudged her right back. “Plural?”

“You gonna get all judgy on me, now?” Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes promised a whole lot of pain if he answered wrong.

Mickey just laughed. “Nope, no judgment. I think you've seen enough of what I'm like this weekend to know I wouldn't have the right.”

“Good answer.”

“I don't want you to leave.” He watched her go rigid and sighed, shaking his head. “I'm not gonna try to stop you. If you were leaving for literally any other reason, I might, but I'd never dream of trying to keep a mom away from her kid. I just... I really like you, and I wish you didn't have to go.”

She shrugged a little, staring out over the water again. “To be honest, I don't wanna go, either. I mean, I'm dying to see my girls again, being away from them is always painful, but... This place is so beautiful. I would love to stay a little longer.”

Not a single word about whether or not she liked him. That stung, but he did his best to ignore it. “Why don't you bring them with you when you travel?”

“I used to,” she admitted. “When it was just Maddie, I brought her everywhere with me and tutored her myself. I tried to keep it going after Alice was born, but it was rough. They got tired of always being on the road and not having kids their age to play with, so now I leave them with my sister when I'm away.”

“Wait, you taught her yourself?” He laughed, shaking his head in dismay. “Are you sure you're not a robot?”

Beck laughed, too, rolling her eyes. “I'm sure. There's more down time than you think in archaeology; plenty of time to keep an already smart girl from falling behind in her schooling.”

“They must take after their mom. I mean, you speak a zillion languages, so you gotta be pretty damn smart.” She was so reckless and carefree, it was hard to picture this woman digging in the dirt for broken clay pots, or wrangling two children to teach them math. From what he'd seen, it felt like Beck was describing a completely different person. He didn't want to offend her, so he refrained from pointing out that she came across less brilliant, multilingual career woman in her thirties and more Girls Gone Wild: Athens.

“Cheapann tú gur leathcheann mé.” He had no idea what the hell she'd just said, but he could tell from the look on her face that he hadn't been as good at keeping his thoughts to himself as he'd hoped. She looked both offended and darkly amused. “Pensi che una ragazza non possa essere intelligente e libera? Eísai vlákas, Mickey.”

He didn't bother asking for a translation; her tone told him he didn't want to know. “How many languages was that?”

Beck grinned. “Three. Gaelic, Italian, and Greek. I sometimes mix a few in the same sentence – I constantly mix Japanese and Korean at home; it makes my girls laugh – but I figured I'd be nice.”

Mickey opened his mouth to say he wouldn't have noticed the difference, and then stopped. He had noticed the difference; the lilt of her voice changed dramatically with each language. That was how he'd realized that she'd been speaking more than one in the first place. “I kinda wanna hear that mix, now. Are the languages that similar?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not at all. They share some slang thanks to pop culture, and both borrowed a lot from China, but they're structured differently, and the way they're spoken is different.”

“Then how do you mix them?”

“I speak them both,” she said with a shrug and another laugh. “If you speak more than one language well enough, they don't have to be similar to still flow. Like...” She smirked, leaning against him and batting her eyes. “Kimi wa baboya, demo... mada jowayo.”

“Showoff.”

“Yes.” Cracking up, she pulled him back to lie on the warm sand with her and cuddled close. “That time, absolutely.”

“Do you think you'll ever come back?” He'd been trying so hard to avoid the subject, but he just couldn't get his mind to budge from the fact that he didn't want her to leave.

With a fond smile, she kissed him before teasing lightly, “You gonna miss me, honey?”

Mickey grinned, hoping she couldn't see that he was feeling more melancholy than amused. “I think mostly I'll miss the sex. It's hard to find a woman who can keep up with me.”

“Oh, is that so?” She laughed and tickled him, making him squirm. Then she stopped, a warm, almost wistful smile on her face. “I'm gonna miss you, too, you know.”

Forced playful grin turning into a soft, genuine smile, he pulled her closer and kissed her. “I was beginning to worry you didn't like me.”

Beck grinned and nuzzled his neck. “The past twenty-four hours wouldn't have happened if I didn't like you.”

Feigning shock, Mickey gasped. “You mean you don't fuck strange men all over Greece indiscriminately?”

“No, that I do all the time,” she joked, hand sliding up one leg of his borrowed shorts. “But I only let the really special ones wear my clothes.”

He laughed, glancing down at himself; he'd forgotten for a second that they were hers. “Right. We should stop at my place so I can change and give these back before I take you back to your hotel.”

Beck sighed, snatching her hand back as if he'd burned her. “Right. Yeah, we should get going.”

Though he still hated that she had to leave, he kept his word and didn't try to stop her. Argyris tried to convince him to make some grand gesture at the airport, but Mickey shut him down with a grumpy, “It's her kid's birthday. I'm not that much of a selfish asshole.”

“I can't believe you're in love with this girl!” Hooting with laughter, Argyris slapped his back. “I'm a fuckin' matchmaker! Who knew?”

“Fuck off, Cupid!” Mickey grinned and shoved him away, hoping the other man couldn't see how shitty he really felt. He moped for a couple of days, barely paying attention to the world around him, just missing the crazy girl with the temper as fiery as her hair.

Then he answered an unexpected knock at his door and was baffled by the sight of a cute, petite brunette with huge blue eyes staring up at him. “Um... Can I help you?”

“Huh.” One dark eyebrow arching up, she called back over her shoulder, “You really do have a type.”

A familiar laugh made Mickey freeze in shock as Beck stepped into view behind the girl, another one in her arms. “I made the mistake of telling Maddie that I met this awesome DJ in Greece-”

“And since I have no friends anyway,” the girl, who he finally realized was Beck's older daughter, Madeline, cut in, “I figured there'd be no problem moving my 'party' somewhere more fun than my aunt's house. For the third year in a row.”

“Jesus, you might look like your dad, but you sound just like your mom!” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. While Madeline rolled her eyes, the little girl in her mother's arms – Alice, he figured – giggled.

“Yeah,” Beck agreed with a grin, moving closer and leaning past her daughters to kiss him. “She's got my snarky attitude. Gods help me. Thankfully, this one's still innocent.” She squeezed Alice tighter against her side, making her giggle again.

“Mommy! You're squishing me!”

“Her? Innocent? Did auntie tell you what she did to my stereo?!”

“It was an accident!”

“My butt it was!”

Wincing, Beck glanced at Mickey and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' “Girls, enough. What have I told you about bickering in front of strangers?”

“I mean, you also tell us not to spread our legs for strangers, and yet...”

“Madeline Fiona O'Brien!”

“What?!” Eyes wide and looking frustrated, Madeline gestured to Mickey. “I'm kinda right!”

He couldn't hold it in anymore. Leaning on the door frame to stay upright, Mickey burst out laughing. God help this woman, he thought as he struggled to get his breath back. Her daughter's exactly like her!

Face even redder than her hair, Beck grumbled, “I did not tell her we slept together.”

“You couldn't shut up about him and your clothes smelled like dude. Doesn't take a genius.”

“Maddie, couldja stop? I kinda wanna see more of Greece than two buildings. If mom drags us home early cuz you're being a jerk, I will kick your seat the whole way back to Boston!”

“I'll let her.”

Mickey had just about gotten his laughter under control. Still chuckling, he yanked Beck into his arms and gave her a long, slow kiss. “You are dreaming if you think I'm letting you leave again.”

“That doesn't sound kidnappy at all!”

Laughing again, he released the blushing redhead only to trap Madeline in his arms and tickle her until she squeaked. “And you, little miss Queen of Sarcasm!” With a grin, he kissed the top of her head and released her, pleased to see that she was smiling. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

As he stepped aside to let them in, it finally dawned on him that he'd never actually worked a child's party before. He was used to crowds of rowdy drunk Greeks, not two innocent little girls. He didn't even know any kids, besides his own! He glanced helplessly at Beck, who snickered and kissed his jaw.

“Just do whatever; I can keep an eye on them. Maddie was more interested in the change of scenery than an actual party.”

“Does she really have no friends?”

She shrugged, turning to watch her daughters awkwardly settle on the couch and begin nudging and poking each other repeatedly. “She's never been the most social kid in the world. Around their own age groups, Liss is the bubbly extrovert and Maddie can't be bothered; she wanted to hang with kids her own age until she realized they annoy the hell out of her.”

“Argyris might know some people with kids...” He rolled his eyes. “He'll think I'm nuts, trying to hunt down teenagers, though.”

Beck laughed and shook her head. “No, really, don't worry about it. We don't even have to actually throw a party-”

Cutting her off with a kiss, Mickey insisted, “Oh, she's getting a party. When is her birthday, anyway?”

“Today, actually.”

He flinched, glancing at the clock, and then relaxed. It was still pretty early. “She's getting a party,” he repeated firmly. “She's fourteen! That... has no special significance in any culture I've heard of, but the kid still deserves some fun on her damn birthday. Especially if the last few have been disappointing.”

“The day after is pretty significant in our culture,” she murmured, so softly he almost didn't catch it.

“Is it?” Wasn't she American? He seemed to recall a whole conversation that almost turned into an argument about it. “Since when?”

Beck blushed again, looking uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

“...Girls, make yourselves at home. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

“You're talking now.”

He almost wrote that off as another snarky response, until he realized it had come from Alice. Looking innocently confused, she stared at him with almost comically large blue eyes, and he smiled. “In private,” he clarified as gently as he could as he grabbed Beck's wrist and tugged her down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Door open at all times!”

With a huff, Beck dug her heels in and spun around to glare at Madeline. “Who's the mom, here?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Madeline.” Wrenching free of Mickey's grasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared her defiant offspring down. “Who's the mom?”

Glowering right back, Madeline mirrored her pose and grudgingly admitted, “You are.”

“Good. Now that we've got that cleared up, how about you show our host a little respect?”

Madeline's face was red as a tomato, but she still looked more angry and resentful than contrite, until she took a deep breath and turned to Mickey. With a surprising note of sincerity, she grumbled, “Sorry, Mickey.”

“Jet lag gets the best of all of us. Maybe you two should take a nap while your mom and I talk.” He didn't know what the hell else to say. He couldn't say 'it's okay' and undermine her mother, and 'you're forgiven' sounded kind of dickish. With an awkward smile, he waved and resumed dragging Beck down the hall.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them, Beck sighed and leaned against it, looking worn out. “I'm so sorry about her. She's been so bitchy lately; my sister said she was even copping an attitude with her, which she almost never does.”

“She's probably just tired and been missing her mom.” In truth, he thought Madeline's sass was funny as hell, but he wasn't about to step into the middle of a mother-daughter war. Instead, he focused on his own curiosity. “What 'culture' celebrates the day after a birthday?”

She winced. “It's nothing, Mickey. Forget it.”

Weird. “What's the big deal? I'm just curious.”

“Alright, fine.” Looking and sounding resigned, she muttered, “If you're gonna judge or laugh, might as well get it out of the way – I'm a witch.”

Mickey stared at her. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that. “...A witch?”

“I don't ride a broomstick and I can't turn you into a toad.” Oof. Defensive. Judging by her tone, she'd had this conversation before, and it hadn't gone well. “My sister's a witch, too, and so are my girls. There's an old tradition in the craft; at thirteen we find our deity, if we're meant to serve one, and a year and a day later, we pledge to their service.”

Light dawned. “Oh, that's why you always say 'Gods' instead of 'God'! That makes sense.” Who was he to judge? He wasn't particularly religious, but was any one religion really any weirder than the next? Curiosity abated, he brushed it off and tugged her into his arms. “My very own Sabrina.”

Beck snorted and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Sometimes I feel more like Sarah Sanderson.”

“You really want me to throw a rager for your fourteen-year-old?” He didn't know what to say about her Hocus Pocus reference – 'horny and ditzy? Sounds about right' was...probably not the right thing – so he decided to just jump back to the original topic.

She shrugged. “I honestly don't know what to do for her. Coming back here was her idea, but I kinda doubt it had much to do with her birthday. She wasn't kidding about wondering which one of us is the parent; that kid's been trying to take care of me since she was little.”

“Why?”

Sighing, she stepped back out of his arms. She looked so sad and broken suddenly that he wished he'd never asked. “I would love to say that it's just who she is – and it is, to a point. Some people are just natural caregivers, and Maddie's definitely one of them. But I was a mess before Liss was born. Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.”

That settled it in Mickey's mind. As he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with one hand and opened the bedroom door with the other, he told her again, “She's getting a fucking party.”

Three hours and a lot of yelling at Agryris to get him to stop laughing later, he was setting up speakers in front of his apartment building, surrounded by what looked like every kid in Athens between twelve and sixteen, along with their parents. It definitely wasn't his usual crowd, to say the least, but they were friendly enough. Most importantly, Madeline was already smiling and laughing.

Remembering the posters he'd seen around town, he pulled his phone out again and called a number he hadn't used in quite a while. “Well, well. So you're in Athens. What do you know? I have a favor to ask you...”

“OHMYGOD! BASTIAN!”

Mickey grinned. Clearly, he'd made the right call, and it was earning him hugs galore. For the first time all day, Madeline was acting like a teenage girl, bouncing up and down and screeching with joy as Bastian made her way through the party. With a bright smile, she hugged the birthday girl and smoothed her dark curls back off of her face before approaching Mickey and hugging him. The second she moved back, Madeline launched herself at him, squeezing so tightly he thought she might crack a few ribs. And then her laughing mother replaced her, and he'd never felt so popular.

“Hell of a dad move,” Beck teased, grinning at him as she stepped aside and Maddie barreled into him again.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Laughing, Mickey lifted her up and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday.” She was too light; idly, he made a mental note to ask what the hell Beck and her sister were feeding these kids, or failing to feed them. Then he realized he sort of was acting like Maddie's dad and he blushed, setting her down.

As she ran off to dance with her little sister, he pulled Bastian up onto the platform and picked up the mic. “First of all – let's hear it for the birthday girl!” He pointed, and grinned when the revelers around him cheered, making the brunette blush. “Maddie O'Brien! You said you have no friends back in the States-” Boos echoed around them, and her color deepened. “-So I thought, what could make a better birthday present than a couple hundred Greek friends?”

The crowd cheered again, and a few “YEAH, MADDIE” shouts made the girl in question laugh, covering her face with the hand not holding tight to Alice's little wrist. Mickey noticed that she did that a lot; whenever the younger girl wasn't in her mother's arms, she was in her sister's tight, protective grip.

“What do you guys think?” He shouted into the mic. “This girl's really cool, right? You wanna be Maddie's friends, and show her how much better everything is here in Greece?”

The cheers were deafening. Mickey was grinning like a fool, and was pleased to see that so was Madeline. Big blue eyes shining, she stared up at him like he was her hero, and for a minute, life was pretty damn good. He'd die before admitting it aloud, at least so soon, but he could easily see a bright, happy future where he was stepdad to these two beautiful little girls, and they doted over their step-brother Hector, the way Maddie doted over Alice. He glanced at their mother, and couldn't help getting just a little choked up when he saw an identical look of joy and appreciation on her beautiful face. Man, it was nice to be the hero.

Before he could get too emotional and ruin the party, he pointed to Bastian. “You guys know who this is, right?” Another enthusiastic roar; he was a little jealous this time, but shoved it down and smiled. “Well, she's gonna take over for a little while, so make sure you give her some love, alright?”

Yanking her into one more tight hug, he handed the reins over to Bastian and hopped down. Beck immediately threw her arms around him and kissed him. “You are amazing, you know that? I descend on you unannounced with a grouchy teenager in tow, and you give her the best fucking night of her life!”

“All in a day's work,” he joked, squeezing her. “She seems like a great kid; they both do. I couldn't just do nothing and let her be miserable.”

“Hector is lucky.” She was grinning so wide, her face hurt; Mickey only knew because he was doing the same. “He's got a really great dad. If you'd do something like this for a kid you've never even met before, I can only imagine the lengths you'd go to for your own.”

“Think you can pass that praise on to my ex? Maybe she'll actually let me see him.”

Smile fading, she gripped his head with both hands and pulled him down to press their foreheads together. “If you want me to, I'll help you fight for him. You deserve to see your son, and he deserves to know his dad.”

“How long are you staying this time?” He didn't want to talk about Hector suddenly; not at a party surrounded by strangers and their children.

Seeming to sense his mood, Beck smiled and glanced at her giggling daughters. They were hopping around like lunatics to the music, surrounded by kids Maddie's age. She looked like she was having the time of her life. “From the looks of things now? Forever.” Mickey thought she was joking, but the look on her face stopped him from laughing it off. “I've never seen her so happy. Athens might just become home.”

“I hope so.” He shrugged, forcing a chipper smile to hide the desperately hopeful one he couldn't quite keep in. “It did for me!”

“We'll see.”

Unlike most of the parties he'd worked, this one started winding down fairly early as kids hugged Maddie, wished her a happy birthday, and were ushered home by their tired parents. Alice was asleep in Mickey's arms, her tiny body limp as a rag doll and her silky black curls tickling his nose. As the last of her party guests wished her well and left, Madeline hurried over to him and cuddled up to the side not currently occupied by the dead weight of her sister.

“Thank you, Mickey.”

“Did you have fun?” She nodded, and he smiled softly, stroking her dark hair. “Good. Let's get inside and get the little one into bed, shall we?”

She glanced around, frowning a little. “Where's mom?”

“Already upstairs.” Grinning, he watched her for a reaction and added casually, “With Bastian.”

Bright blue eyes widening, she gaped at him. “She's staying?”

Mickey laughed. “For tonight, at least, yeah. Come on.”

As they trudged through the door of his apartment a few minutes later, Mickey found himself wishing he'd stayed outside.

“No way!” Beck whipped around to gape at him while Bastian laughed. “You didn't tell me you were in a band!”

“Oh lord,” Madeline grumbled under her breath. “Get something pierced and she'll propose to you by midnight, I swear.”

Choking on a startled laugh, he lowered Alice into her sister's waiting arms. “Put her in Hector's bed. You and your mom can take mine tonight.” As she obediently wandered down the hall to tuck the younger girl in, Mickey flopped down on the couch beside Beck and tugged her into his arms. “That was a long time ago. Then she got her big break and got all famous, and she didn't need losers like me anymore.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit!” Laughing, Bastian stretched out to kick him. “We got a break. We got a deal. You were every bit a part of all that!”

“Oh, please!” Mickey rolled his eyes. “You never needed me. It was the Bastian Show, and we were just-”

“No! No, what happened was...”

They bickered for a while, going back and forth over who was to blame for Saint Claude's ultimate demise. After a few minutes, Beck excused herself and left the room, leaving the two old friends to catch up. When the argument showed no signs of ending, Mickey huffed and stood up, muttering something about getting a drink as he walked away. He loved Bastian, but damn she could be stubborn!

“What the fuck are you doing?” A glass in each hand, he stared at her as she laid out lines of cocaine on her phone's screen.

“What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?”

“Oh, god.” He grimaced, glancing toward the bedrooms. All quiet, but he didn't know if Beck and Maddie were asleep, or just hiding from the debate. “Come on, let's go in the bathroom.”

“The Brat Pack's asleep. Don't worry about it!”

“You don't know that,” he hissed. “Come on.”

Bastian rolled her eyes, but she allowed him to usher her into the bathroom. “You're paranoid. You barely even know these people! What do you care what they think?”

“I care,” he snapped, though he didn't refuse when she offered him a line. He'd just finished, was still hunched over the phone, when the door opened and he was faced with, basically, his worst nightmare: Madeline was standing in the doorway, hand on the knob.

They both froze, staring at her like deer in headlights. Face completely expressionless, Maddie looked at each of them, then at the line of cocaine still on the phone, and then straight at Mickey. "I just wanted to thank you again for today." Without another word, she calmly turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Shit." Ignoring Bastian's drug-fueled giggle fit, Mickey was on his feet and chasing after the teen in a flash. "Maddie!"

Though her face was still a stony mask, there were tears in her eyes when she whirled around to face him. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Okay." He gestured to the couch, but she shook her head.

"Outside. I don't wanna wake up mom or Alice."

Nodding, he followed her without another word. At first he'd thought she meant out in the hall, but she didn't stop until they were outside the building. "Maddie, listen-"

"Let her go." Mickey's heart broke when she turned to face him again. Tears running down her cheeks and lower lip trembling, she stared up at him with those huge blue eyes and he almost started crying with her. "You have to let her go. Mom's loyal even when she shouldn't be. She'll never break it off."

"Maddie, I don't want-"

"I only exist because my dad drugged and raped her!" Wiping furiously at her face while he shrank back in horror, she continued more calmly, "She doesn't know I know that, or that he tried to kidnap me a bunch of times when I was little. Auntie told me. She still stayed with him for almost a year. Will hit her, Owen was a toxic psycho, Alex was a racist jerk... Alice's dad was always really nice to us all when he came around, but he almost never did. And I don't know what he did, but he's in jail for life now." With a bitter grimace, she spat, "And you're a druggie."

Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.

Beck's soft voice, so full of pain and regret, echoed in his head as Mickey sank down to sit on the steps and tugged Madeline into his arms. "I'm not a druggie," he assured her as she clung to him and broke down sobbing. "One time thing, kiddo, I promise."

"Like you'd say anything else!"

The little whimper that escaped her as she scooted up his leg to get closer and dropped her head onto his shoulder very nearly made him start crying with her. For all that she insisted he get the hell out of her life, he could tell that she was desperate for someone decent to stay. This poor kid was fourteen going on forty after watching her mom date a string of losers; no wonder she had no faith in men, or in her mother's ability to make sound decisions. He squeezed her a little tighter, not sure what to do or say.

"Mickey, I'm tired," she croaked, making his heart ache for her even more. He knew she didn't mean sleepy; she was tired of being the mature one, and he couldn't say he blamed her. "I'm so tired..."

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he whispered, rubbing her back. "You can rest now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're my little girl now, okay? And I won't let anything happen to you, or your sister, or your mom. You don't have to take care of her anymore, honey. I will. You just take a breath and be a kid while you can."

"How can I trust you?"

Well, that hurt, but he got where she was coming from. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, he murmured, "I gotta earn that." He pried her loose and pushed her back a little, just enough to be able to look her in the eye. "Do you think you can give me a chance to?"

After a pause that felt like an eternity, Maddie sniffled and nodded. "Okay. But if you hurt her, I'll kick your nuts back up inside."

Laughing, Mickey nodded and smoothed her hair back. "Noted.” A thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Why did you aunt tell you all that? Putting that weight on a kid... That's cruel.”

“I asked,” she admitted with a shrug. “I asked why mom was such a mess, and why I didn't have a dad. So she told me.”

I'd have made some shit up, damn. Even high, he was smart enough not to say that. He chose not to say anything at all, and just held her for a while as the cool night air soothed their frayed nerves and her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Mickey?”

“Hm?”

Voice a small, timid whisper, she asked, “Do you really wanna be my dad?”

Smiling softly, he kissed her head again and hugged her just a bit tighter. “I am your dad.” When she tensed and let out a frustrated huff, he explained, “I'm in love with your mom, kiddo. And I already love you and your sister. We're family now, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

“You're weird.” He could hear her teasing smile in her voice, and he smiled, too, relieved. “You don't even know us.”

“I know enough. Come on.” Though all he wanted was to sit there and cuddle with her all night, he gently pushed her off his lap and stood. “It's getting late. You should get to bed.”

Sending her off down the hall to his bedroom when they got back upstairs, he collapsed on the couch and sighed. He'd known when he met her that Beck would make his life more interesting... he just had no idea how interesting.

A laugh beside him reminded him of his other guest and he reluctantly opened his eyes. Judging from the way she was twitching and snickering, Bastian had finished the rest of the coke. “That was intense!”

Mickey closed his eyes again. “If it's not already gone, get that shit out of my house.”

“Oh, come on!” She shoved him, grinning impishly. “Don't try to act all virtuous now! You were right there with me, until that kid walked in.”

“'That kid'?” Annoyed now, he sat up and glared at her. “My kid.”

“Not really, though.” Confused, she twisted to glance down the hall, and then back to stare at him. “...Right? I mean, shit, she does kinda look like you...”

He shook his head. “No. Biologically, no, but I don't care. I'm not gonna add my name to the list of guys who've hurt her.”

Bastian snorted, rolling her eyes. “Mickey, you can't just decide to play daddy to this random kid on a whim just because your ex won't let you see your own. She's not yours, and changing your whole life and personality isn't going to change that.”

“I haven't touched that shit in years. I'm not changing on a whim; you just don't know me anymore.”

“Enough,” she challenged, settling back in her seat and staring down her nose at him. “I know you well enough to know this is never gonna work.”

“What isn't?”

“This!” Bastian gestured vaguely around them. “This whole self-domestication shit. You're not some house husband and stepdad – you're a musician. You belong on the road, Mickey! Not shut up in some old lady's apartment playing House with some crazy chick and her walking, talking reminders of past mistakes.”

“Beck,” he snapped, glaring at her. “'That chick's' name is Beck, and her gorgeous daughters are Maddie and Alice. They're not mistakes. Alice is adorable and so smart, and Maddie is fucking awesome and she's been through Hell. I haven't seen you in years and you think you're gonna sit here in my house and tell me who I am and what I want? I don't fucking think so, Bastian.”

“Alright, alright!” She held up her hands in surrender, eyes wide. “Chill. I just miss you, okay? I want you to come on tour with me, like the old days, not sit here and rot away in some mediocre domestic life. You could have so much more!”

Mickey sighed, staring off into space for a moment. Some part of him was drawn to her offer, but that wasn't him anymore. He didn't actually want to tour with her, he just hated feeling settled; at some point in his wild youth, stability had begun to feel like stagnation, and now he found himself often desperate to avoid it, even if it came with everything he truly wanted.

He thought about Beck, and her bright smile and her two beautiful, lonely daughters, and he thought about Hector. Beck had been spot-on; as much as he did love Greece, Mickey had really only stayed this long because of his son. He wanted to be in Hector's life. Now he wanted to be in Maddie and Alice's lives, too. He wanted a family.

And for the first time, he was willing to fight for that family.

“You're right,” he admitted slowly. “You're right, I've been hiding here, just floating around aimlessly.” Before she could get all triumphant, he stood and growled, “But that's not what I'm doing now. Now, I'm finally seeing a life that I want, and I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take it away from me.”

That said, he walked away without giving Bastian a chance to argue. He peeked into his son's room to check on Alice, smiled when he saw the way she was sprawled, half hanging off the bed, and he quietly closed the door and headed to his own room. Hopefully Maddie wouldn't mind; he'd originally intended to crash on the couch, but he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Bastian, and couldn't quite bring himself to kick her out, either. Moving slowly, so as to avoid waking either of the bed's other two occupants, he slid in next to Beck.

She immediately rolled over and cuddled close to him. At first he thought she was just fidgeting in her sleep, but then she whispered, “Don't let anyone change you or tell you who you are. Not even me.”

“I won't.” He tried to smile, couldn't quite manage it, and kissed her, instead. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

It wasn't quite a seamless transition. Mickey's place was too small for a family of four, and he didn't exactly love the idea of moving a bunch of heavy audio equipment down those winding stairs. Though he wanted to jump right into living together, he didn't put up much of a fight when Beck started looking for her own place.

It helped that she didn't spend a lot of time at home. Once the girls were enrolled in school, their mother started dropping them off and then going straight to Mickey's place. She helped Argyris translate for Mickey and his clients, which both men had thought was a terrible idea... until they saw her in action. The short fuse he'd become so familiar with in their first couple of days together was nowhere to be found. Around even his most difficult clients, Beck was the embodiment of charm and professional courtesy. Mickey quickly found that while Argyris was better for direct translation, he was no match for Beck when it came to diplomacy and deescalating a heated argument.

“You haven't seen 'difficult',” she teased, “until you've been a woman in a male-dominated field arguing for funding. This is nothing.”

Mickey laughed, yanking her into his arms. “Where have you been all my life?”

She flinched, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips to her mouth for a second. It was the briefest of moments, and then she was smiling again and joking, “On my knees in the dirt, mostly,” but he refused to ignore it.

“You okay?”

With a little shrug and a nod, she admitted, “Been a little queasy and lightheaded lately, but I'm fine. It never lasts long.”

“You are so American.” She glared at him and he grinned, pleased that he knew how to get her attention. “You're not in Dystopia anymore – go to a doctor.”

“Did you not hear me? I'm fi-”

“I heard 'lately,'” he countered, poking her side and immediately regretting it when she cringed. Right; queasy. Maybe don't mess with her stomach, Mickey. “'Lately' means this is not normal. It means you're sick, so go to a doctor.”

She shook her head, winced, and dropped it onto his shoulder. “I don't need a doctor.”

“You can't even move without turning green.”

“I'm fine. I don't need a doctor.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You're supposed to help me with stubborn people, not be the Queen of them!”

“Am I your girlfriend or your lawyer?”

“That's not what I meant and you know it. Don't change the subject.” Rubbing her back, he insisted as gently as he could, “Please just go get checked out.”

“I don't need to. I'm fine.”

“Look, even if it's minor, do you wanna suffer or find out what's wrong and get better?”

“I don't need a doctor to tell me what I already know!”

What she already knew? He frowned, more confused than ever. “Is it some kind of chronic-”

“Mickey, I'm not sick – I'm pregnant!”

He froze, gaping at her in shock. She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her waist before she could stand up. “You're what?”

Looking nervous and uncomfortable, she mumbled, “I was trying to find the right time to tell you; we've just been so busy with that 'make it more Greek' asshat...”

“You're really pregnant?” When she slowly and carefully nodded, Mickey grinned and hugged her as tight as he dared. “That's fantastic!” He finally let her up, only to stand with her and frame her face with both hands. Between frantic kisses all over her face, he gushed, “That's incredible! Have you told the girls yet? Oh, Alice is gonna be so excited to be a big sister! And Hector! I can't wait for Hector to meet his little brother or sister!”

“Mickey...”

He glanced around, smile dimming just a bit. “Damn, we gotta get a bigger place.”

“Mickey.”

“I wonder if Agryris' grandmother had-”

“Mickey!” Shoving his hands away, Beck got a tight grip on his hair and forced him to turn back to face her. “Do you really think we can do this?”

He blinked, taken aback by that. “Don't you?”

“Three kids, and fighting for joint custody of a fourth?” She shook her head, looking at him like he was an idiot. “The thought that we might be in over our heads crossed my mind, yeah. I was struggling with just two!”

“Well, now you have me.” His cheeky grin didn't seem to comfort her as much as he'd hoped it would. “You were struggling 'cause you were alone; now you're not.”

“A single mom with two kids really isn't all that different from two parents with four,” she pointed out, releasing his hair and crossing her arms over her chest. Seeing the hurt he tried to mask, she sighed. “Look, I'm glad you're excited, I am. And whether we're ready or not, the kid's on the way, I just... I just wish I shared your optimism. I'm not excited, Mickey; I'm scared to death.”

“Well, get excited,” he jokingly commanded, pulling her close for another hug. “We'll be fine. Besides, it's not like Aspa's ever gonna give me full custody, so it's not really two to four. Maddie's old enough that she doesn't need constant hyper-vigilance from us, so it's really just two to two-and-a-half.”

Finally, finally, Beck laughed. It was quiet and weak, but a laugh nonetheless. “Jesus, you're like sunshine in human form. Does anything ever get you down?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but I try not to let it for long. And I see a new baby as something to celebrate, not freak the hell out over.”

“See, you get to see it that way because you don't have to push it out,” she teased. “It's not so perfectly sunny from where I'm standing.”

“No one said life is perfect.” Still smiling like a fool, he kissed her. “Whatever you need, I'm here. You're not doing everything alone anymore. We got this.”

“I love you.”

It didn't seem possible, but somehow his smile got even wider. “I love you, too.”

“Speaking of Aspa, though...”

“Oh, god, what?”

With a laugh and an apologetic smile, Beck ventured, “I don't think you should come today.”

“What?”

Her smile immediately faded; apparently, he was really bad at hiding it when he was confused and offended. “Baby, you're chaos incarnate. It's one of the things I love about you, but it's not exactly conducive to a civilized conversation with a woman who probably kind of hates you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I just think I might have better luck getting through to her, single mom to single mom.” She looked like she was waiting for him to hit her, which only made him feel worse. “I know how hard it is, and how, whether we mean to or not, we tend to villainize our exes-”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, with the stellar guys you've dated, it makes sense. It's not really villainizing if he's already a villain.”

“Exactly how much did Madeline tell you?”

Uh-oh. She was mad. Knowing he was in trouble no matter what and refusing to drag his stepdaughter down with him, Mickey hastily changed the subject. “Do you really think I'll fuck things up that badly if I go?” Why was he even asking? Offended or not, he knew she was right; Aspa hated his guts.

Thankfully, Beck let the dig about her exes drop and her steely expression melted back into one of gentle sympathy. “I just want you to have the best chance possible of getting to be an active part of Hector's life. I want him to know you, to sleep in that bed you bought him before he outgrows it, to meet his new sisters. And I think your feelings towards Aspa, and hers toward you, are probably too raw and volatile right now for a face-to-face meeting to be a good idea.”

“Alright.” Forcing a faint smile, he nodded. “Alright, go. You've got a point.”

“I'll tell you all about it when I get back, okay?” She promised with an equally strained smile, kissing his cheek.

“Can't wait.”

When she came back a little while later, she was laughing. Mickey's hopes that it meant things had gone better than expected were dashed, though, when she managed to gasp out, “She really hates you!”

“Yeah, thanks.” He shook his head. “I knew that much.”

“I'm sorry.” Still giggling, Beck wound her arms around his waist. “She was just such a bitch. I kinda respect the hell out of her.”

“What did she say?”

“That you're a baby,” she dutifully recited, “and you're irresponsible, unreliable...”

“Why is this funny?!”

“Because, Mickey... Mickey, honey...” Framing his face like he had to her earlier, she told him, “It's nothing I didn't already know. You're flighty and you're a big kid; this isn't news. She was floored that I love you anyway, and my god, the look on her face when I went off about how that childishness is what makes you such a good dad, and you're great with the girls... I haven't been able to stop laughing since! Pretty sure she hates me now, too.”

“Great!” Failing to see the humor, Mickey jerked free of her light grasp and moved away, beginning to pace the room. “So instead of helping, you just alienated her from us both!”

“We're going to see him on Saturday.”

“What?” He spun to stare at her; she wasn't laughing anymore. “Are you serious?”

Looking rather proud of herself, she nodded. “Supervised by Aspa, of course, but yep. You get to spend time with your son, and I finally get to meet him. It doesn't matter what she thinks of either of us, as long as she can see that you give a shit; that we're safe to be around Hector, and can be trusted to think of him first. Show her how much you love him, that even childish and flaky you can be reliable, that you want to be reliable, and a supervised visit might turn into father-son weekends, without your ex underfoot.”

“I... wha... how...?”

She shrugged, smiling faintly. “Mother to mother. We came to an understanding.”

Overwhelmed by emotions he couldn't even identify, Mickey closed the distance between them and lifted her up. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

Beaming as he set her down, Beck leaned in for a kiss. “I love you, too, baby.”

“That's not cute anymore.” Despite his protests, he was grinning as he backed her toward the bedroom. “Now I just feel like you're calling me a baby. That sucks. Don't do that.”

“I'll call you what I want,” she teased, pulling him down for another kiss. “And you can't stop me!”

With a hand on her belly, he joked, “How about you call me 'daddy'?”

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “I physically cannot do that. I'll puke.”

“Well, morning sickness is pretty common.”

“No, this is pure disgust.”

They were both laughing now as they reached the bed; he almost playfully shoved her back, but then remembered the baby and thought better of it. Instead, he flopped across it himself and beckoned for her to join him. “We're gonna be okay, you know.”

Beck winced as she settled gingerly on the edge of the bed. “It's just such bad timing. I don't...”

“Hey.” He tugged at her arm until she stretched out beside him, and wound his arms around her. “It's all gonna be okay. No matter what life throws at us, we'll deal with it together, okay? I want this baby. I know you want this baby. The rest is just details.”

“Pretty big fucking details. I was supposed to go to Mongolia next month.”

“Then go.” God, he didn't want her to, but he was determined to show her that they could be together, be a family, without completely derailing her life. When she looked at him like he'd lost it, he gave her a bland 'are you kidding' look right back. “You're not really gonna try to convince me that you weren't still going on digs when you were pregnant with Alice, are you?”

She blushed. “My team didn't know...”

“So don't tell them this time, either.”

“Mickey...” Pushing his arms away, she sat up. “You really have no idea how physically demanding my work is, do you? I almost lost Alice.”

For a second, he floundered, wondering what the hell to do or say. Then he brightened and sat up, as well. “You speak a million languages; just work as a translator until you're safe to go back out into the field.”

“...I do love it,” she conceded, making him perk up. “And maybe I can finally teach you some Greek so you can talk to your son more easily.”

Mickey chuckled. “I'm not getting out of that, am I?”

“Nope.” She grinned and settled back against his chest as he leaned against the headboard. “Not until we're both fluent.”

“Alright, I'm in.” He smiled, kissing her jaw and lacing their fingers together. “New home for us, new job for you, learning a new language...”

“New baby on the way.”

“New baby on the way,” he parroted, pressing their linked hands to her belly. “New chapter.”

“Here's to a new life.”

Mickey nodded and leaned down for a proper kiss, murmuring against her lips, “Together.”

[steves-on-a-plane]

The Royal We

Written for: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2021!  Words: 1699 Square Filled: Modern Royalty AU Pairing: No Pairing, general fic.  Cast of Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers w/ Reader Warnings: none.        Summary: It’s Coronation day for Prince Steve and though Rumor’s circulate around the kingdom, and the tabloids, about he and Duchess!Reader, she has her eyes cast in another direction entirely. 

“Ah, there she is, My absolute favorite Duchess!” Prince Steven Rogers greeted you with his most charming smile. There was a pair of foreign dignitaries in the receiving line just ahead of you. They turned to see who Steve was talking about. They smiled when they recognized you. It was no secret, thanks to the internet, that you and Steve were good friends. Many tabloids and Twitter accounts also suspected you may be more than that.  

The truth was your father had been the most trusted confidant and Chief of Security to Steve’s father, the late king. Both your fathers had been killed on a plane crash when you were just thirteen. Since your father had died while performing his duties for the crown, Steve insisted you and your family be taken care of financially. He may have taken things a little too far by gifting you a Duchy for your eighteenth birthday. The rumors only snowballed from there.

Steve was a good friend, but you had no interest in him romantically. He was kind and honest which would make him a great King. He just wasn’t the kind of person you wanted in a partner. While Steve had his moments where he’d throw caution to the wind, he could also be stiff and reserved. The after effect of growing up on the public eye knowing he’d rule someday.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” You chastised him with a whisper. You dipped down into an elegant curtsy. “Especially since you’ll be King in a few hours. You know how they talk.”

“Let them talk.” Steve laughed. “If not us they’ll find something else to criticize me for. But I’d watch out for The Dragon if I were you.” He nodded his head slightly indicating somewhere behind you. You didn’t bother looking to see where, you knew who he was talking about, his fiancé.

Steve had been engaged since his tenth birthday to a very beautiful woman who seemed to truly love him and your kingdom. Though she was a princess from another smaller kingdom, she would often visit for extended periods of time. On her visits she did a lot of volunteer work and help with local beautification projects. Her special interests were conservation, helping orphaned children and hating you. Yes, the soon to be queen of Brueklin wanted you as far away from her fiancé as possible. Despite your best efforts to show her you had no interest in Steve, she seemed to believe her social media feed over you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve got to go find my table which is no doubt on the other side of the room in a nice dark corner. Give The Dragon my best.”

You curtsied again before exiting the reception line. A page slipped you a small card with your table number on it. You walked off to your assigned table and immediately recognized two of your tablemates and their security details. The other two thirds of what the press called The Royal Rogues and Steve’s other two best friends.

Duke James Barnes had inherited a sizable Brueklinian duchy when his father retired two years ago. He’d spent most of that time gambling and partying with his checkbook close at hand. He was dressed to the nines for the royal coronation. He was sporting a charcoal grey tuxedo, blue waist coat, a complimenting tie and a black silk shirt. He was leaning back in his chair so that it rocked on two legs. He grinned mischievous when he spotted you.

Prince Samuel Wilson was the heir of a kingdom so small it was hardly visible on most maps. He’d been training to broker peace treaties since he first met Steve and Bucky as teenagers. Sam was dressed in the ceremonial uniform of his country. Even in the far back corner of the room couldn’t dim the bright color of his crimson red waistcoat and tails. His white pants were crisp and clean, his boots shinier than ever. Sam never showed up to a royal event looking less than perfect.

Sam got to his feet as you approached. He welcomed you with a smile so earnest it nearly made your heart stop. He kissed you on the cheek, a familiar greeting shared among all royals in his country and pushed your chair in as you sat down. You’d never confess as much out loud, but it was Prince Sam your heart had set itself on.

“[Y/N], arriving fashionably late and decked out in Brueklinian Blue.” Bucky appraised your sapphire blue gown, drawing your attention away from Sam temporarily.

“I’m not late!” You gasped. “I’ve been waiting in that reception line forever. Still it’s nice to see you two relegated to the kids table too.”

“Yeah, the cool kids table.” Bucky smirked. He swirled the glass of wine in his hands for a few seconds before taking a drink. “No doubt this is the work of The Dragon.”

“Why do you guys call her that? Roxanne’s nothing but nice.” Sam shook his head.

“Oh, so she’s Roxanne?” Bucky laughed, he leaned forward so his chair was on all for legs. “Of course, she’s nice to you. You’re a Prince, if she offended you it could lead to an international incident. While [Y/N] and I are but a common Duke and Duchess.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Sam shook his head. “The fact that she knows you both don’t like her has nothing to do with it.”

“Also, not to be that guy but you kind of have to be team Roxanne or Team [Y/N]. At least if the tabloids are to be believed.” Bucky shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I’m firmly on Team [Y/N],” Sam assured him. Which caused your cheeks to flush.  “I’m just saying everyone knows that Steve values the opinions of you two more than anybody else’s. Make it easier on the guy and stop giving his future Queen such a hard time.”

“Ah, but you’re assuming she’s still our future Queen! There’s plenty of time for [Y/N] and Prince Charming to elope. True that once he’s crowned king it will be harder for him to leave the Dragon, but it could happen. Maybe his first act as King will be to disband the engagement. Wouldn’t that be something?” Bucky sighed hopefully. He sipped from his glass again.

“There’s no way he’d end that engagement.” You insisted. “It was practically his father’s dying wish to see the kingdoms united. There’s no way Steve would ever go back on a promise he made to his father.”

“Are all Brueklinians such downers or am I just lucky enough to be friends with the Kingdom’s two biggest pessimists?” Sam question. “I know it’s a coronation, but it’s still a party! Tell you want,” Sam quietly slapped a hand on the table before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go get us some more drinks. When I come back, I want smiles on both your faces.” You watched Sam disappear from the ballroom to the garden outside where drinks were being served.

“Of course, Princess Roxanne made sure they got a front row seat to the action.” You looked to where Bucky nodded to see T’Challa, the King of Wakanda, and his sister Princess Shuri. Wakanda was Brueklin’s largest and most profitable ally.

“Keep your friends close and the money closer.” You commented.

“Speaking of money, how’s the Duchy doing?” Bucky asked, frowning at his now empty wine glass. “You know, rumor has it your ports need some serious upgrading. I’ve heard you’ve asked the crown for a sizable relief check.”

“Oh, did you hear that from a very reliable royal source?” You assuming he talked to Steve.

“Sorry Duchess, that information is classified.” Bucky smirked. “But you know my Duchy has plenty of money…”

“Are you proposing a loan? Because I imagine your interest rate is a lot less than the National Council.” You supposed.

“Actually, I’m proposing a lot more than a loan…” Bucky began to explain. He was interrupted by Sam who’d returned with your drinks. He placed a wine glass in front of Bucky and a cocktail in front of you.

“Sam, this drink seems very tropical and barely appropriate for a coronation.” You observed sniffing the coconut and pineapple frozen beverage Sam had ordered for you.

“It’s a Pina Colada. You couldn’t stop drinking them when we were on that Yatch to Paris.” He commented sipping from his whiskey glass.

“That was over a year ago!” You exclaimed. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Yeah well, it’s gonna be a long day, I figured you could use a pick me up.” Sam winked. “Now what did I miss?”  

“We were just discussing some financial stuff. Boring.” Bucky shrugged. “Say [Y/N] could you do me a huge favor? Could you get me a glass of water from the bar? Like his Royal Highness says it’s going to be a long day. I’ve got to stay hydrated.”

“Sure. It’ll give me a chance to hide from The Dragon’s watchful gaze for a few.” You wandered off to the bar where Sam had just returned from. Bucky waited until you’d gone before looking to Sam.

“You know I think it’s about time [Y/N] upgraded from Duchess to something else.” He commented simply.

“Man, you’re still on this?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“You have to admit that Princess [Y/N] has a nice ring to it.” Bucky insisted. “Now we know Rogers is taken, but if only there was another Prince who was madly in love with her…” Sam laughed so loud he drew the attention of nearby tables.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a serious liability to your country?” Sam lowered his voice so that only his friend could hear him.

“Yeah. Lots of people actually, including you several times.” Bucky chuckled. “Now listen she’s going to be back soon so I need to know how many more years of sideways glances, giggles and little inside jokes you’re going to make me suffer through before you finally summon up the courage to ask [Y/N] to marry you or at least have a secret tryst?”

[pinencurls]

Oh Honey

Hey! here’s the last of my draft one shots! Hope u enjoy and if u don’t remember I wrote this a g e s ago so you can’t blame me !

Italy, bike rides and a sun burnt Harry

3.6k 

These days, we wake in the early hours of the morning. It's hard not to stir when the sun rises so early and bright through the thin cotton drapes strung up over the bedroom window. Sometimes, we stay quiet. Exchanging a few murmurs of good morning wishes and lightly pressed kisses; silently decided to stay in each other's arms until the ungodly hours pass and breakfast is more tempting than bed.

I think it's Wednesday. I got pulled into the warped holiday time effect as soon as we arrived. I was free from jet lag at least, the flight from London to Italy only changing the clocks forwards about an hour. Harry had been less fortunate; the busy winding of work post-tour kept him out in Los Angeles a few more days than planned whilst Sarah, Mitch and I made our way to the holiday home we'd booked in Italy to celebrate a successful first tour. By the time Harry arrived in the white-walled villa tucked away comfortably in a small town - away from prying eyes, he was slow-moving and sleepy, although the afternoon was only just setting in. He'd eagerly drunk the coffees we offered and passed out around 5pm. Harry complained to me the next day that he was still exhausted, his brain and body were working nine hours behind after all-

"You shouldn't have slept on the plane, H." I mumbled, steadying the kettle over the large white mug as I poured hot water into Harry's second coffee of the morning. He'd been vocal about his dissatisfying sleep all of the two hours we'd been awake and my comment was seemingly unhelpful. He confirmed this by burying his face into my neck, head laying heavy on my shoulder, a low groan buzzing against my skin.

It took him a few days before he was fully himself again, but we've been here for a week now and everything's falling easily into long days by the pool and explorations into the cities either side of us. It feels oddly like a family holiday, I've known Sarah long enough; We grew up in the same town a few years apart, both moving away when we hit eighteen to pursue careers in similarly creative industries - music and journalism. We ended up at the same dinner parties and, for a few months before she moved to LA, we shared a shoebox flat in London.

She's the reason I met Harry; I stayed in her overheating LA apartment over the Easter break of 2017. We spent most days sprawled out on her sofa with all the windows thrown open, catching up on everything that'd happened since she moved away. She'd promised I could meet Mitch - a guitarist for the new band she'd started playing with whom she'd been dating for a few months. I'd heard bits and pieces about him as soon as they met, mostly about his brother-like closeness to the singer they played behind, and as promised, the Tuesday afternoon I opened her front door to Mitch, an equally long-haired-Hawaiian-shirt-clad boy followed.

Harry was goofier and unarguably louder, we paired up naturally in the group of four and it wasn't hard to get to know him, or to fall for the infamous charm I'd heard he was known for. To my pleasant surprise, it didn't feel odd when we joined in with Sarah and Mitch's couple-y activities - mini-golf, brunch, movie nights, I tagged along to a few studio sessions too before I had to go home. We promised to keep in touch but I was certain I'd probably never see him again, or at least not in the same way we'd spent the last week but, when he kissed me goodbye at the airport, I had a little hope.

"Hazzaaa!" Mitch calls loudly down the hall - no doubt on a temporary high from his new coffee addiction. There's no point responding, I can hear his footsteps storming towards our door before he swings it open and I can hide my face further into Harry's shoulder, who is unsurprisingly awake now.

"Go away Rodrick." I grumble, smiling at the rumble of laughter my nickname causes to ripple through Harry's chest.

"We've got bikes, Sarah's found a ride that's only a few miles - we're gonna get lunch." I could probably live here with Sarah and Mitch forever, there was only a few years difference between us but sometimes they felt like parents - or older siblings, cooing over me and Harry's relationship. I always felt part of something when we were all together, it wasn't so hard to imagine moving around each other in the same villa for the rest of our lives.

"Give us a sec Mitchy," Harry's waking up now, I roll over as he leans forward to sit, reaching out for the tea Mitch passes him. I hear mine clink down on my bedside table. "When're you leavin?"

"Thirty minutes?" Mitch replies, twisting his wrist to check the time on the ridiculously retro watch Harry had bought for his birthday. "S'already midday."

Harry hums, promising we'll be down in ten before Mitch accepts his mission of recruitment successful and leaves the room. I shift my head at the metal click confirming the door's shut behind him.

"M'gonna stay here," My face is resting in the crook of my arm, eyes closed as I try to cling to the last bit of sleep, "too tired."

The duvet shuffles slightly again with Harry's movements. He rests on his front now, his torso propped up as he leans his face down into my hair. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to his smiley morning kisses or the smooth scratch when his curls fall over my own.

"It'll be fun," I turn beneath him, settling to listen to his groggy drawl, his accent is always thicker in the mornings, he strokes a wave of hair behind my ear to see my face. "We'll get a nice lunch - Sarah'n'Mitch'll fawn over some street cats, what more could you want?"

"Sleep..." I giggle, his classic pout having the opposite effect as intended. "I'll come next time, promise. Today I just wanna sleep a little more and maybe go for a swim."

He glances down at me for a moment longer, hesitant to accept my excuse before swooping down to press a kiss to my cheek with a hum of approval and bounding out of bed. He tugs a white t-shirt over his head, pulling it down his torso to reveal the smiling bee graphic - "Enjoy Health - Eat Your Honey." He tries to calm his slightly dishevelled curls in the mirror before he goes back to his long morning process of getting ready.

I could spend all day by the pool if nobody stopped me. It's small enough to fit cosily in the garden of the villa and still leave enough patio for lounging chairs and a small table. A row of citrus fruit trees line the fence at the edge of the garden, they offer a little shade over the far end of the pool in the afternoons when the sun reaches its peak. Every now and then a blossom will fall from the larger trees along the patio; the first day we were all together, Sarah, Mitch and I swam for hours until the evening breeze got too cool against our wet skin. Harry had been reading in a chair a few feet off from us and despite our noisy chatter, he'd fallen asleep, no doubt aided by his still slightly backwards body clock. I made my way over to wake him, the breeze must have been stronger than we thought because as I got closer I noticed tiny pink flowers nestled in his hair - they must have blown from the trees and landed on him as he slept. For hours after he trailed behind me inside through the patio doors, I was picking small blossoms from his curls, he was smiley and dopey from jet lag as he kept reaching his hands out to catch mine and pull me into his chest. I'd missed him for the last ten months when he'd been dazzling the world in flares and Gucci suits. I visited and travelled with him for a few show dates, of course, we'd even managed to spend Christmas and our one year anniversary together, but it was different spending so much time apart. Everything was still shiny and new to me when he left for his first solo tour - we'd only been together four months, most of which had been spent in his London house or weekends together in LA. The refreshing familiarity of being together again after so long hadn't quite rubbed off as we lay sprawled over the sofa, blossom abandoned for now.

"What're you thinking about?"

I look up at Harry, he's changed into a grandpa esque pair of brown drawstring cords I don't miss the little bow he's tied. He raises his eyebrows at me inquisitively when I don't answer, smirking slightly as my eyes wander up to his face.

"Nothing," I smile, pausing to yawn, "Just thinking about what 'm gonna do today."

"Sure you don't want to come with us?" He's collecting bits and pieces from around the room - his phone, wallet, sunglasses, but he peaks his head over his shoulder to look at me as he asks.

"Yeah, think I'm just gonna sit outside for a bit, I wanna catch up on a little bit of work."

His eyebrow quirks up slightly, the 'catching up on work' conversation is something we've had tirelessly throughout our fourteen months together. His work was obviously a little more...noticeable. When he was at work it was normally in a studio all day or sat in meetings, sometimes in a different city or country to me. I could work at home more at least; the articles and reviews I wrote almost always required me to spend a few days out of town to research the topic but once I had my notes, I could write from home. This sometimes lent itself to later nights sat up in my small study - work day blurring into the evening. Harry couldn't argue on it though, he did the exact same. His long hours out of the house didn't cancel out the long ones in, Jeff called any hour of the day with 'pressing matters' and even without external pressures, Harry was determined to get everything perfect, even if it meant tweaking new songs on his weekends off. Normally when he was overwhelmed by the workload of album deadlines and promo he was out in LA, where the pre-sleep chatter whilst we both got ready for bed wasn't an option.

"We're on holiday love, you can let some of it slide."

"It's not work-work, I just wanna write a little." I brush the topic away, it didn't need to abet the argument it'd triggered in the past. "Hurry up - Mitch'll run off without you at this rate."

"I wouldn't worry, don't think Mitch has run a day in his life." Harry chuckles, the goofy smile he wore the whole first day we met beaming back at me as he tucks his belongings in his pockets. He leans down to where I'm sat up over the duvet now, kissing me goodbye. "Be back in a bit, don't burn the house down."

"Promise not to - don't fall off your bike." I say as he pulls away. "Love you- now go, I can hear Mitch having a hissy fit from here."

He laughs. Everything's so easy here, it feels as if time has warped slightly and nothing's too hard anymore. The sun's almost at it's strongest now, defying the curtains and falling on Harry as he makes his way to the bedroom door, picking up his pace as Mitch yells up the stairs at him to 'Stop messin with your hair and come down already.'

"Love you!" Harry calls behind him. His heavy footsteps are followed by Sarah's laugh from downstairs and then the door clicks shut and everything's quiet again.

After an hour or so laying by the pool and a nap that might have lasted a little longer than planned, the sun beats a little heavy and I make my way inside. I've written a decent amount - I found myself recalling the last week here, dipping into more personal ground than I would usually. It's not that Harry and I's relationship is a secret anymore, after about eight months people caught on, but we were still private. He'd brush off interviewer questions about relationships and his 'status' and my social media profiles are free from the hundreds of cosy domestic Harry photos I might have posted if he was someone less in the public eye. It's hard sometimes, especially when I can't share a decent chunk of my photography and all the experiences I might have written about. My old film camera is sat on the kitchen counter now, no doubt filled with sweet moments that'll never see the light of day outside of the four people in them.

The fridge was pretty well stocked considering we'd spent a lot of evenings eating out. We'd taken an eventful shopping trip earlier in the week to the massive grocery store in the town thirty minutes down the road. We ended up buying too much fruit and bread and not much else. The trek home hadn't been considered as Harry and Sarah grew more and more excited over the fresh foods they were used to being shipped over and older than ideal, after it all, we ended up on a long single-tiered town bus, tote bags full and tucked safely on our laps. There one photo in particular of Mitchell standing at the bus stop, watermelon in his arms and a bemused expression on his face that I can't wait to see again once I get to the small camera store back home.

After scouring the shelves for a moment longer, I settle on a sandwich. I'm slicing crunchy lettuce on the old wooden board with swirly carvings around the edges when I hear the door open and familiar voices.

I smear a thin layer of mayonnaise over the contents of the bread before cutting two even triangles and wander out to the living room. Mitch and Harry are already lounging over two of the sofas when I get there, Sarah's nowhere to be seen but the sound of the shower running upstairs starts quietly through the house.

"Hey," I call, making my way over to the back of the black sofa Harry's laying over. "How was it?"

Harry peaks one eye open and reaches his hand up towards me-

"Good- what're you eating?" I steer my food away from his prying fingers as he swoops up to tear off a corner.

"Sandwich, didn't you just eat lunch?"

"Yeah but the portions were tiny," Harry whines slightly, reaching up in a second attempt, protesting when I love the bread away from him again. "I'm growing!"

Mitch laughs from the other side of the room. He swings his legs over the side of the sofa and stands up, rubbing his eyes slightly and trogs over to the stairway. "I'm gonna go shower."

"Good idea, you stink mate," Harry smirks cheekily, earning a glare from Mitch before he disappears up the stairs.

"How was it really, H?" I ask before taking another bite of my sandwich.

"S'good, we cycled for ages - it was actually really beautiful. You've gotta come with me sometime before we go home, although we need to find a different cafe- I paid €11 for the smallest burger I've ever seen."

"We'll bring a picnic or somethin'" I muse, thinking between chews. "I was thinking we could make something tonight 'stead of going out again, something summery maybe."

"Yeah?" Harry mumbles, rubbing his hand over his sun pink cheeks, "Like what?"

"Maybe pitas and some fruit- you bought enough kiwis to last us a lifetime." It's true, he'd claimed he had to in celebration of the tour coming to an end. "Here, d'you want the rest?"

Harry's eyes wander down to the remaining half of my sandwich I'm holding out to him, I try not to think too long about how I could watch his sleepy eyes light up for as long as he'd let me.

"I had something after you left earlier, I'm not that hungry." He looks up at me, unconvinced, but takes the plate anyway, quickly setting the plate on his lap and tucking in. Now that he's sat up in the light without the shadows of the dark cushions around him, I can see how pink is face really is. There's a blushing red along his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears are bright pink. I brush my thumb over his ear softly, catching his attention as he winces slightly.

"Sorry- think you caught the sun a bit." He swallows the food in his mouth and nods up at me.

"Yeah, hurts a bit." I tilt his face slightly to see the other side - the pink continues down his neck and shoulders where it disappears under the tan lines of his t-shirt.

"Did you not put suncream on before you left?" His mouth full again, he just shakes his head. I smile slightly at how suddenly he's eased into his patient role, munching on his sandwich and peering up at me - ready for me to tend to his injuries. A soft grumble comes from Harry before I sigh - "I'll get the aloe vera."

I walk out into the cool tiled kitchen, opening the fridge again to retrieve the small pot of gel from the top shelf. It was one of the only sensible things we'd managed to buy during the kiwi shopping spree.

"And why didn't you have any suncream on?" I chastise him, giggly at his pouty expression. "It's right on the table, you know."

"You were in bed - I forgot." He eyes my movements as I tuck my leg undeath my body and sit opposite him on the sofa, twisting the cap off the small glass pot in my hands.

" M'I supposed to remind you of everything now, can't even remember suncream without me hey?" He shakes his head, curls tousled around his face. "Come here, stay still..."

I balance the pot in his hands and push his hair back and behind his ears, it'd gotten longer on tour and was threatening to grow into a curly lord farquaad territory. He keeps his head in place when I take back the pot and spread the cold gel over his nose, smiling slightly in surprise-

"S'cold." He watches as I scoop another load of aloe onto my fingertips and cover his cheeks.

"It's been in the fridge- how're your shoulders?" I ask once the gel is spread sufficiently over the pink tint that covered his face and the tips of his ears.

"Not so bad, it's just my face that hurts really."

I hum an okay, spinning the pot lid back on and placing it on the coffee table beside my lunch plate. Harry's hands lay limply in his lap, one reaching slowly to stroke the hem of my loose summer dress. I look up to see his slightly shiny face settling in a shy expression-

"I can be quite forgetful - might have to look after me forever you know." He smiles lovingly, looking up from where his finger and thumb play with the cotton of my dress, to meet my gaze.

"Oh forever, so you've got no plan to improve this bad habit then?" He laughs at my teasing and his smile broadens into a trademark Harry grin.

"Nah...S'okay though, I'll look after you too."

We all end up in the garden by eight pm, lying around the pool with platters of fruit and pittas full of salad and falafel. Harry has a stripe of suncream down his nose and he keeps trying to throw kiwi into Sarah's mouth, although it's ending up anywhere but. The pink in his cheeks has calmed down by now and he's stolen a blue scrunchie from my suitcase and tied a little bun on top of his head.

The hours tick by and the air starts to lose its humid warmth. Pair by pair we trickle back inside, Sarah and Mitchell retreating to their room first.

Harry's standing above me, barefooted in the grass and tipsy on wine. He holds out his hand to me and I take it, pulling myself up from the soft blanket we'd been laying on.

"Leave it," Harry says when I kneel down to fold it, "It's not gonna rain."

Before I can protest he's pulling me behind him and inside the sliding french doors. The tile floor's cold against the bottoms of my feet but the air inside is warm, Harry squeezes my hand in his and pulls me closer against his side, slinging his arm over my shoulders. He's soft and sleepy, and we make out way up the curling staircase clumsily in each other's arms.

I call goodnight to Mitch and Sarah before falling into my own bed. There's a second and then two familiarly inked arms curl around me and pull me into a warm chest. I'm a little drunk, sun-kissed and sleepy from the long conversations of the evening and it isn't long before my eyes are closing - the last noise I can hear is Harry's soft mumbling against my hair. I could definitely stay right here forever.

[paperwick]

Dragon Age Tarot Style Guide: Part Two

The second of my at least three part set of tarot tutorials. This sentence will link to the first one on composition if you haven’t seen it. It’s been a four year gap between these, and I apologize for that. To all you who messaged me and reminded me of this project, thank you. You kept me from forgetting and I’m glad. <3

It won’t be another four years until I post the next segment, which will be pattern and texture focused. It’ll hopefully be in the next month or two. 

This is going to be a long post, so I’m putting it under the cut. Apologies to the mobile users! 

As a general disclaimer, this is an unofficial guide, I’ve never worked with Bioware. All of this is based on how I approach tarot design, my inspiration being heavily rooted in Dragon Age Inquisition’s companion card designs. 

Secondly, I know nothing about tarot. I tend to use http://www.ata-tarot.com/resource/cards/ heavily as a resource for my understanding of the cards and their meanings.You don’t need to know anything about tarot to do illustrations, just have as much fun as you can. <3 

So I typically work with a color composition in mind, but for those who are struggling to imagine a color scheme, my best advice for coming up with a palette is to just throw down some colors in this sort of an arrangement.

Your Main is going to be whats forming the base of the card, or it’ll be the most widely used color. Backgrounds usually make up the main, but sometimes it’s a foreground element or the character’s clothing. 

Your Cores are going to be colors that accent the base. You can make these pretty wild to be honest, but complementary colors and triads tend to work best for a balanced color composition. That’s what you’re trying to achieve with these--balance. Think about what’s drawing the most attention. The red in this example I did with the Iron Bull is very strong, and the teal I chose is fighting with it so my last color is something a bit more desaturated that accents the teal instead of picking another aggressive color, like a saturated yellow. 

The Accent or HL color is whatever you’re going to use to add the final focus notes. It will typically be your brightest or your most saturated color, though not always. Sometimes your HL color might be the darkest of the composition because your main and core colors are naturally bright. It should be used sparingly, or if you’re using a lot of it, focused in one area.

You can use more colors than this! For my example card with Bull, you can see I made his pants a sort of subdued yellow and added accents to the background and lit parts of his body in in different colors, But you’ll want to keep your major colors limited to keep it cohesive. If you start losing cohesion, I recommend using a gradient map over your picture set to multiply or soft light (not at 100%) to tone down your most divergent colors, and you can mask out areas where appropriate. 

This Bull card is one I made by picking my colors first then deciding on the content and composition. Color picking can be done first, or second as I’ve done with the rest of my examples. 

Card #1: Rayne Amell   [ @dracoangel​ ]

The Queen of Cups

This card went though several iterations with color, and the end product is less about story and more about atmosphere. The drawn composition reflects more of the story: she conceals her thoughts and feelings, but the world bends around her like water. I wanted to add more purple to this card, considering the character’s preference for it, so I skewed the color scheme in the final to be more purple. The first version probably makes for a more cohesive palette, but it lacks the same depth and drama as the one with purple. I added another core color to the second palette, which is totally okay to do. Sometimes the core palette might be 7 colors, sometimes it’s 2. The idea is to strike a balance. Colors that are super eye catching like the red in the scarf might better serve the composition as a lesser accent, whereas the purple core is a great fill because it’s fairly desaturated and doesn’t demand as much attention.

The HL color takes up a fair amount of this composition, but note that it’s strongest in the top two thirds, and is centered in the top third. The foreground water also cradles it against one of the darkest purples of the card, which helps center focus up top.

Card #2: Valora Lavellan [  @kylorensprettymuchanasshole​ ]

The Devil

This was the most difficult of the palettes, I’m working with two separate light sources in two wildly different locations. On the one side you’re at an ancient elvhen temple, on the other, in a burning chantry. It only made sense to have two different palettes for this composition. Where I really failed here was in not having a color that bridged the two sides. If you can engineer a color to be in between two differing palettes, you’re in a good place. 

With that in mind, I revisited the thumbnail. 

The execution is a little weak, but the idea works. The bridge color could work in either of the palettes and is a midway point between the two most similar values of the core colors. It’s used primarily where the separate palettes meet each other smoothing that transition. In this instance, it also helps to define the figure and double down on where the focus is, since before it was fighting between the top left and bottom right corners. Now the focus works as a diagonal from one corner to the other.

Double palettes are hard, but can make for some truly dynamic color compositions.

Card #3: Iothari Mahariel [ @theuselesspotoo ]

Six of Swords

This card was a struggle for completely different reasons. The palette is pretty homogeneous, primarily purple, with a hint of green. This one could use far more variation, and the challenge is in driving interest with such a limited palette. This is where your values are going to be super important. Your darks vs lights are always hugely apart of composition, but in limited palettes they do the most work in driving interest. Make sure to break up some of your larger and more prominent shapes with value differences, the snow vs the dark stone beneath it.

If that isn’t enough though, there’s a few tricks that can help push focus where you want it without heavily changing the color scheme. 

We have three very distinct planes in this; the sky, the distant mountains and skyhold, and the cliff the figure is standing on. We can push the far mountain plane back by reducing the brightness of it, and we can pull the nearby plane closer by adding stronger highlights to the lit areas. I also brightened up the figure since they were getting lost in the sky a bit. 

In addition, I popped the foreground colors with just a bit more red, to separate that plane from the more bluish purple mountain plane. 

Just those small changes really sharpened up the focus of the composition, and we were able to keep the palette fairly limited. 

Card #4: Tighe Lavellan   [ @queen-scribbles​ ]

Nine of Wands

This palette was a breeze compared to the others. We’re working with complementary colors, reds versus greens, and very little divergence in either direction. The bottom half is primarily reds, the top greens, and they meet in the middle with a soft orange and harsh yellow. Palettes with complementary colors are the easiest to work with, the important part is making sure their balance works with your drawn composition because they like to fight. All of my reds are limited and desaturated because the greens and yellows, by the nature of the composition, are the most demanding elements. 

Card #5:  Lathari Lavellan [ @jisabeau​ ]

The Chariot

I knew what I wanted for this one immediately when I started it. I really wanted the character to be falling into a void, to mirror their emotional crisis when dealing with the deadly white bear of their past. But though this works fairly well as a base palette, it’s really missing the intense horror I wanted when I started. 

So in my edits I pulled them further apart, and pushed the darks even further. The challenge here is having a dual focus, since I don’t really know if either stand out enough from one another at this phase. I have to pick a focus, either the bright whites of the bear or the strong orange/green tones of the character. 

This is probably the strongest focus-wise.

But I enjoy the color notes of this one far more. 

The point here is, sometimes things aren’t perfect, and that’s also okay. Pick your favorite, or at least pick one, and take that to completion. It’ll occur to you while finishing it what I needs. Which brings us to the final point, similar to that of tutorial part one: 

Final Note: Don’t spend overlong on one thumbnail. I’ve spent days in the thumbnailing stage, that’s fine, but don’t spend more than 1 hour on any one color thumbnail drawing; it’s not worth it. If an idea is good but not great, just start a new thumbnail of something similar, and you’ll stumble onto the right composition.

Remember to explore your own color intuition. My way of doing this might be helpful, but if it’s not, don’t feel compelled to follow it. Everyone has a unique vision, and we’ve got to feel out our own paths. 

If you have any questions, send them to paperwick [at] gmail [dot] com under the heading “Color Tutorial: Questions”, OR comment on this post (I might not see them on a reblog) and I’ll pool them into one area and answer as many as I can in a separate post.

Finally, I’d like to give another shout out to everyone who sent their character breakdowns to me for this. I wish I had time to get to all of them, and I really appreciate you taking the time to put them together! Thank you all so much!

Not making promises on when Part Three will come out, but it WILL be coming out. Thanks for reading through all this, I hope it’s been helpful. 

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch15

Yup, this beast is still going and still growing.  Life sapped my energy so it has been a lot longer between updates than I would have liked but I’ve been experimenting with writing out of sequence to make use of whatever creativity I can grasp.  The plus side of this is that ch16 is in the editing stages and ch17 is also half written.  But anyway....it’s taken a while but here is ch15 in the saga that has become affectionately termed ‘Bad Jeff’.

@willow-salix has been wonderful at helping be fix the plot holes and pick out the parts where I contradicted myself.  I now have a proper timeline though (funky multicoloured spreadsheet and everything) so I shouldn’t tie myself in knots so much with the boys ages and milestones.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Fifteen

The incoming call notification had Virgil scrambling for his phone, fumbling with the handset while trying to swipe a call accept icon that suddenly seemed too small and fiddly to be practical.  It took him three hasty attempts before managing to complete the action correctly, allowing him to finally speak to the brother who had been frustratingly out of contact.  Scott had been in LA for three days and Virgil was now desperate for news but he had promised he wouldn’t interfere lest he call at the wrong moment and inflame matters further.  It had been a nail-biting wait, forcing himself to be patient and trust Scott to call when he could.

“Scott, how is it?”  It took him a moment to register that the face on the screen wasn’t Scott’s despite what the caller ID proclaimed.  “Gordon?”  He was surprised to see a younger brother rather than an older one.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see me.”  There was an air of the old teasing Gordon making a slow return.

“Sorry.   Of course I’m pleased to see you,” and he genuinely was, the face that looked back at him was still too thin and pale for comfort but the hair was clean again and the eyes had lost their haunted glaze, “I just wasn’t expecting it.  Where’s Scott?”

“He’s here too.”  The scene on Virgil’s screen shifted quickly as the handset at the other end was spun round to reveal its rightful owner who gave a little wave.  “He said he was going to call you so I asked if I could go first.”

“Well, how are you?”

“I’m....okay.”  Virgil had made him promise in the past not to lie about how he was feeling, it was one of the reasons he had been pulling away; it didn’t count as lying if you just omitted the truth.  “It’s been a strange few days.”

“I’ll bet.”

“For a start I’ve found out that flyboy over there gets ever so twitchy if anyone else is at the controls of a plane.  You’d best hope you never have to take him as a passenger in that bumble bee of yours if it ever gets off the drawing board.  Or was it more like a turtle, that beast was green wasn’t it?”  The look of fear that crossed Virgil’s face would have been comical if it wasn’t so genuine and Gordon was given the sudden reminder that, as far as Virgil was concerned, he wasn’t meant to know about their father’s vision.  He was quick with his reassurances.  “It’s okay, Dad told me about his rescue plans”

“He still won’t tell Alan though” Scott called out from across the room, “Dad has taken him out to fetch ice cream so we can talk freely for a few minutes.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah,  I think he’s just trying to cover some of his own guilt.  He’s still no Dad of the year though.”  Scott's tone was derisive and Virgil could tell that tensions must still be running high.  “He’s going to have to tell him sooner or later, he can’t just spring it on the kid that he is being dragged out of school and shunted across the world when the island move happens.”

“What, you mean like he gave us time to prepare for the move to LA?”  Gordon snorted.  “I don’t know about you guys but me and Alan didn’t exactly get much warning when we left Kansas.”

This surprised the older two who had known all about the plan, the many arguments were etched in their memories.  In this case the problem child had been John.  Scott had been making the transition from university to the Air Force and Virgil had been busy preparing for his studies at Denver but John had been on a path that didn’t align with their father’s business plans.  The fifteen year old, with a coveted place at Harvard nearly in his grasp, had begged to stay so he could finish high school without interruptions; he had worked hard to stay two grades ahead of the curve and an inter-state move could undo it all.  Of course letting John live alone had been out of the question, and Jeff had not been prepared to delay the move, leading to  flares of temper and defiance that none of them had realised the middle child was capable of.  It was only when Grandma stepped in, offering to return from New Mexico to become custodian of the farm and care for John during that final year that their father relented.  With all of the concerns over John and his university dreams it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the youngest two hadn’t been told about the move.  Evidently their father’s policy of ‘need to know’ was long running. 

“Don’t worry Gords, Scott and I will make sure that Alan gets told.  If Dad’s idea happens, and knowing Dad it probably will, Alan won’t just have another move sprung on him.  I promise.”  There was sincere honesty in those deep brown eyes and Gordon gave a subtle nod of thanks.  “So tell me everything that has been happening over the last few days.”

Gordon recounted everything that had happened since Scott’s arrival, prompted by said older brother if he missed anything out.  Virgil winced at the revelations.  Even with the sanitised highlights he could tell that the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster.  In some cases the revelations were beyond his worst fears and he couldn’t help feeling proud of his little brother who had been living through harder circumstances than any of them had imagined.

“Which brings us to today,” Gordon brought the tale up to the present, “Dad’s decided I need to learn to fly seeing as this island he’s chosen isn’t exactly on the commercial air routes.  Alan’s going to start learning too; Dad wasn’t happy about that idea but Scott reminded him that he started learning at Alan’s age.  You should have seen him up there, Alan is an absolute natural.”  Gordon’s voice glowed with pride at the achievements of his little brother.

“You didn’t do badly yourself” Scott cut in from across the room.

“So why were your knuckles white the whole time?”

“Hey, as you said, I just like being the one in control.  It was no different when Dad was piloting and he’s clocked up more flight hours than the rest of us put together.”

“I can just imagine it” Virgil snorted, “you should’ve seen him supervising John when he was learning to drive.”

Gordon glanced across at Scott who had visibly paled at the memory, before turning his attention back to Virgil. “So yeah, I’ve now got to fit in pilot training and exams around getting back up to strength for WASP selection.”

“And WASP is definitely what you want?  You aren’t just going along with it so you can get away from Dad?  I know you’ll be able to do it, but please don’t enlist unless you’re really sure.”

Gordon wasn’t sure if that was the concerned older brother or the family pacifist speaking; WASP was still military after all and Virgil had made no secrets of his thoughts in that direction.  But equally Virgil knew how stubborn he was and how he would never back down from a challenge and had managed to resolve his difference with Scott over the Air Force so he chalked the questions up to brotherly concern.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s a good life Virg, something I can really make a career out of and the opportunities for officers…”

“Officer?” This definitely surprised the distant sibling.  The widened eyes elicited a slight blush from Gordon.

“Um, yeah, that was Scott’s idea.”  He was still having a little trouble reconciling himself to the notion that he was cut out to lead.  

“Not just my idea” said brother called out from his perch on the bed, “the Marineville lot wanted to transfer you to officer training too.  This time round you’ll just be applying for the officer steam from the beginning.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,”  Gordon shot Scott a glare of mock indignation, earning a chuckle from Virgil “it’s a good life.  And yes, this time I’ll be trying out as an officer.  I’ll have to redo the aptitude tests, different benchmarks and all that, but we’ve been looking into it and my scores were already at the right level.  There’s just one additional aptitude test for officers that I never took before.  I’ve tried an online practice test and did ok so I should be alright.  I’m booked in to take it for real in a fortnight.  After that it’s selection at Marineville again and then hopefully I’m in.  It’ll take a few months but by the summer I should have my first posting.  The officer intakes don’t happen as frequently as junior ranks so I’ve got time to train.”

“You seem to have it all mapped out and not a college course in sight.”

“Nope.  Thanks, both of you.  It’s...it’s been a hard few months and I couldn’t see a way out of it all.”

There was a noticeable slump in Gordon’s posture and the light went out of his eyes as the memories of his recent trials flooded back in.  It broke Virgil’s heart to see how on a knife edge his brother still was and he knew he and Scott would need to keep a close eye on their younger sibling for a long while yet.  At least Gordon had a goal to work towards again; they both knew his steely determination and drive to succeed. Once he had set his sights on a challenge nothing would stop him, the Olympics had proved that.

“Any time.  And don’t be a stranger.  If Dad starts getting on your case again or you just need to talk to someone you know where I am.  I’ve been told my couch is pretty comfy too if this new schedule of training and flying lessons allows you any time off.”

“Admit it, you just want me back for my cooking” Gordon smirked.

“Maybe…” Virgil gave his best puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from both his brothers.

Any further chatter was interrupted by the sound of the apartment door crashing open, announcing the return of Jeff and Alan from the grocery store, followed by Alan’s shouts that if they didn’t get out there quick there would be no chocolate chip left for them.  Both knew better than to treat this as an idle threat so with a hurried goodbye to Virgil they departed to claim their portions.

 xoxoxox

Life soon settled into a new routine.  Jeff still rarely made it back for dinner, they couldn’t expect miracles over night, but he was getting better at being home before Alan went to bed at least.  Gordon suspected that had something to do with the ‘discussion’ Scott had with Jeff the night before he returned to his Air Force base.  The voices that drifted through the firmly shut study door had shown a flare of temper from both sides and Gordon had been grateful Alan was already in bed and so not around to witness the argument.  It was just as well Tracys were good at putting on a front, by the morning of Scott’s departure the tension had been firmly suppressed and Alan had been able to say goodbye to his eldest brother without any hint of bad feeling spoiling the moment. 

Where life before the Olympics had been a mix of school and swimming, so life for Gordon going forwards became a mix of physical training and flight theory with time in the air thrown in at the weekends.   He passed the WASP officer aptitude test easily enough but the next available selection course date wasn’t until after his birthday, leaving him with several months to focus on gaining the appropriate endorsements on his pilot’s licence to allow him to transport himself to and from his father’s intended island base.  

Gordon wasn’t bad at flying but he didn’t possess the raw natural talent of his youngest sibling.  He was competent and thorough with a steady hand but he couldn’t miss the looks of pride Jeff directed towards Alan as yet again the youngest of the family performed a manoeuvre as if he had been at the control yoke since birth.  It didn’t stop at looks either, all too often Gordon found himself on the receiving end of an unfavourable comparison only this time it was against his younger brother as opposed to his older ones and the arena was cockpit rather than classroom performance.  Evidently, for Jeff, old habits were hard to quell.

This time though Gordon wasn’t facing his troubles alone.  Scott would check in with him occasionally until an overseas posting took him out of contact but Virgil was his real lifeline.  Virgil made sure there was never more than a week between calls and often the gaps were smaller if he sensed Gordon slipping back and becoming more distant.  The brother who had taken on the role of counselor seemed to have an uncanny intuition when it came to Gordon’s mood.   

The extended time around his father however was still proving difficult and Gordon found himself eagerly boarding a flight to Denver to catch a much needed break.

As ever, Virgil was there to meet him at the airport.

“Good flight?”

“It was ok.”

“Not tempted to crash the cockpit then?”

Gordon just rolled his eyes and carried on out to the taxi ranks.  To his surprise though Virgil directed the cab to take them to the smaller private airfield out of town rather than the apartment.

“Sorry Gords” he got in response to his querying look.  “You know Dad said you gotta keep up your air time and this was the only runway slot I could get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the deal.”  One of the conditions of a weekend with Virgil was that he got some time in the sky to make up for the lesson he was missing with his father.  “Are you alright with me taking up your baby?”

“I trust you” Virgil shrugged.  He wasn’t quite as in love with and overprotective of his plane as Scott was of his, but neither was he going to let on to Gordon that he had had a long and in depth discussion with their father about Gordon’s ability and competence before he had agreed to help with Gordon’s pilot education.

Gordon always thought it odd that Virgil had a plane but didn’t bother to run his own car, although the longer he spent in the air the more he could see the appeal.  Scott of course had always loved flight and it was no surprise to anyone that a big proportion of his allowance went on maintaining a craft that screamed billionaire playboy.  Virgil’s choice was more subtle and practical, if operating your own private plane counted as practical; perfect for hopping around the country from his central base in Denver to visit family on his own schedule.  Despite also being in possession of big enough allowance to afford it John had neither car nor plane having declared that flying commercial was much more sensible for his main coast to coast journey and he wasn’t one for pleasure flying; he was much more interested in what lay outside the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of a mere plane.

At the airfield Virgil maneuvered his little hopper out of the hanger he stored her in and then passed control over to Gordon.

“Go on then, show me what you can do” Virgil prompted after giving Gordon a quick rundown of the specific take off speed and other essential details he would need to operate the plane safely.  He settled back in the co-pilot's chair, exuding a calm confidence despite itching to keep his hands on the controls; Gordon might be his brother and Jeff had given assurances that all would be well but Virgil was still uncomfortably aware that he has supervising an unlicensed novice pilot.  

His fears were soon dispelled once Gordon started going through the motions in textbook fashion including performing his own pre-flight checks despite having watched those same checks being performed just a few minutes earlier.  A short burst down the runway and they were up in the air.  It wasn’t graceful and Gordon lacked the finesse that came with experience but Virgil was pleasantly surprised at the amount of  progress Gordon had made in such a short space of time.

The problem with flying though is that unless you are practicing something like aerobatics then just keeping a plane in the air is actually pretty easy, it’s the take off and landing that takes skill.  They weren’t making a journey so there was no real navigation to do beyond avoiding the restricted airspace and corridors used by the commercial flights and the weather was clear so flying by instruments was unnecessary.  All in all it was a thoroughly untaxing lesson, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time together.

“So how’s your project going?” Gordon asked as he banked to avoid flying directly over a village.

“It’s okay.  I’m on track to be done by the summer.”

“What will you do after that?  Move back to LA or stay out here?”

“Neither, hopefully.”  Gordon gave his brother a questioning glance of surprise.  “Got to get space rated for Dad’s project.  Me and John’ll be heading out to Tracy College for that, just waiting for confirmation of a course place.”

“Space rated?”  He had realised John would need to undergo astronaut training in preparation for life on a space station but most of the project specifics were still a mystery to him.

“Yeah.  Someone’s got to be able to play taxi service for John and I might need to take a rotation on call monitoring; he can’t live off planet forever.”

“Sounds like plans are really coming together for it.  Does this mean Scott will need to get space rated at Tracy College too?”

“Scott…”  There was a heavy pause and Gordon took his eye off the sky to regard his brother.  Virgil’s brow had furrowed into a frown and when he spoke again there was a heaviness that told of hidden arguments.  “Scott isn’t joining, he’s sticking to the Air Force.”

This surprised Gordon.  In the few conversations he had had with his father about the project, usually confined to a cockpit where Alan couldn’t overhear, Scott was talked about like Virgil was, as a committed member of the team. His role as first responder and pilot of the envisioned rocket plane had been presented in terms of undisputed fact.  No wonder the topic made Virgil look stormy, he was a peacemaker and if Scott wasn’t fitting in with their father’s vision Gordon could imagine that the arguments had been many and explosive.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  Oh.”

“So what’s going to happen there?  Surely you can’t manage with just the three of you?”

“I don’t know.  I’d like to think there is a contingency plan but Dad seems so sure Scott’s going to change his mind and do it.  They’re both as stubborn as mules though and neither wants to give up their dream.  It’s a good project, the tech looks amazing and we could really save lives.  I can see Scott’s point though, he’s made a life for himself away from Dad and, well, you know yourself what Dad can be like for giving orders.”

Gordon knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those orders, particularly when they were at odds with your own plans.  At least Scott had the advantage of physical distance as a buffer to the disapproval and if push came to shove, if Jeff cut Scott off as punishment, the Air Force pay was enough to live on even if it meant Scott had to change his lifestyle to suit the lower budget.

Gordon made the final approach back towards the airfield, diverting the full attention of both brothers to monitoring the landing.  As with the take off it wasn’t polished and it wasn’t pretty but it was safe and Virgil found himself once again admiring just how far his brother had come in such a short space of time.  He wondered if, given time, Gordon would join the team.  Jeff hadn’t made any mention of Gordon taking on a role in the rescue organisation, even if he was now allowed to know of its existence, but there was no denying that having an extra pilot on books could only be a good thing.  Maybe one day he and Gordon would fly together, the more time he spent with his brother the more he enjoyed the company although, Virgil reflected, if they were to fly as a team he would be happier if Gordon took the co-pilot’s position.

With the plane back on the ground and safely returned to her berth in the hangers Virgil pushed all thoughts of Gordon joining the rescue business out of his mind; unless their father issued the instruction there was no point even considering the option.  And anyway, Gordon was heading off to the military like Scott had so who knew if he would even want to join the project.  Better to just let their father know that the required flying lesson had gone without a hitch then settle back to enjoy the weekend. 

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

➜ Warnings: Slowburn.....

➜ Notes: Who’s ready for 20 chapters of slow burn?

He can’t go any harder.   He can’t go any faster.   “Sir! Sir! Stop, please! Stop right there! Stop!”   It’s a sight to behold — a blonde college student pedalling hard on a bike with all his mustered strength while a horde of suited men are hot on his tail, sprinting fifteen miles per hour and shouting at the top of their lungs in desperation. He’s made them look like the idiots that they are.   People turn around to stare, morning interrupted by the ruckus. Yet he is undeterred, zipping through the crowd, ignoring the eyes of his fellow peers and as he cuts through campus. A black sleek vehicle on the road has its wheels screeching on the asphalt, trying to keep the boy on the bike in their line of sight. They continue to chase him, screaming out his name.   It’s dangerous. He knows it. But their hysterics make him laugh.   He feels free like this, running away, thighs burning as he pedals.   The wind caresses through the strands of his crazy hair, causing his oversized shirt and grey sweatpants to flutter. His clothing is baggy, bed head's a mess, the scruff all over his chin never once giving hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, a polished appearance, shiny cars or luxurious watches to his name.   Just a bike and himself.   And that’s enough for Taehyung.   “Sir, sir! Stop! Please!”   Now only if he had less surrounding bodyguards, or at least less suffocating ones that don’t make him want to hurl himself out the window just to get a nice view of the blue sky. Then everything would be perfect.

At the exact same time and half-across the capital, the plane touches against the tarmac.   The aircraft eventually slows on the runway, engines whirring, white noise loud but inviting as people begin to stir awake, happy to have finally landed and eager to get off. The two pilots wave to you happily as you leave, head stewardess glaring for some reason from the corner of her eye unbeknownst to you, and with your luggage, you cut through visitation and immigration booths. Stopping at only one spot, the person behind the counter looks at your passport and simply says “welcome home” before you’re cutting through the baggage claims, straight out the airport doors.   There’s nothing else you need.   Just your one suitcase and you.   “Where are we off to this afternoon?”   The female taxi driver turns around from her waist, flashing the brightest of smiles despite somehow looking fatigued. You read out the address and she hums, pulling away from the curb.   “Are you visiting?”   “No...this was actually my hometown.” You look out the window, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu from suddenly being propelled back to a place that is so familiar and yet foreign to you. “I think I’m staying here for a while.”   “Oh, that’s nice. I hope you don’t mind me asking so many questions. I just really like hearing people’s stories.” She glances in the rear view mirror and you welcome her friendliness. For a long time, you’ve forgotten that this is your home. “Did you miss it?”   “Sort of.”   A lot has changed in nine years. The buildings are different, old ones demolished, new ones built that are sleeker, taller and reaching the height of the sky. But at the same time, it’s still small. Maybe it’s because the skeleton of the city, the foundation, hasn’t altered. Or perhaps because you were shorter and tinier back then and the city seemed so large, scary even.   Though now there are billboards plastered everywhere, advertising products you aren’t familiar with, music leaking out from bustling shops and restaurants, and people you don’t recognize walking around and that you would never come to recognize. Colour seems to explode all around you, the city alive, streets breathing.   “—should really find another job. I mean driving a taxi isn’t terrible, but it’s not what I want to do forever. I have a degree in Human Resource Management. Honours actually. Wonder if I can do anything with that though.” The taxi driver taps her fingers against the wheel. “The economy’s bad these days.”   “Oh, can I actually get off here?” You unknowingly interrupt her life story, peering out the window.   You remember the avenue well — a hot dog food truck on the corner next to the department store, a toy store still standing tall; it’s one that you used to go to on your birthday to pick out your own gift. There’s also new cafes that have opened up, business buildings that make it foreign. There really isn’t a reason for you to get out now, but for nostalgia sakes and ...your intuition that tells you should get out here.   “Sure thing.” She signals to switch lanes, looking over her shoulder and smoothly parking into an empty spot a few meters away. “That’ll be twenty two dollars.” Once you pass her the correct amount of bills, she smiles. “Have a good day and good luck.”   “Thank you. Good luck on finding a new job too.”   The woman thanks you and with your suitcase by your side, you shut the taxi door, looking around at the metropolis, listening to the sounds of the concrete jungle, engines of buses whirring, honks of cars in the distance…   Everything is almost unrecognizable.   The suitcase drags behind you as you walk down the street. It’ll take longer on foot, but you enjoy the surroundings, taking it all in. Your life has always been face-paced. It’s nice to slow things down.   But you don’t notice the bike zipping towards you. The blonde man just a year younger than you are, pedalling hard and looking over his shoulder, having lost the sleek vehicle for now.   Though what is noticeable and what catches your eye is the soft baby blue colour of his bike.   He comes closer to you. One more glance is taken. The boy’s ready to zip across the street. But he’s far too preoccupied to pay any attention to another car speeding down the road, the screech of their wheels, the driver who is distracted.    He simply pedals off the curb, going onto the road.   “Look out!”   On instinct, you grab his arm, right at his elbow and you pull him towards you. With a huge tug, his body collides against yours, but you catch him in your arms, shouldering his weight and holding him up so he doesn’t fall. His bike drops over to the ground in a crash. The speeding car zooms past, fast enough that the wind whips your hair, honk deafening to your eardrums.   You let go of the boy and he’s shocked, knees weak. His legs almost buckle and people around have slowed down to watch the commotion. “You should be more careful. Are you alright?”   Leaning down, your eyes meet his.   “Uh….I-….uh….”   Taehyung is starstruck.   In the meanwhile, your eyes flicker upwards. “License plate zero two nine five seven five…” You immediately dig into your pocket, dialling the number without even looking. “Hi, I’d like to report a reckless driver going southbound on Imlings Avenue and ninth street. Yes. They were speeding. I think they were going at least twenty over the limit. Yes. No. Well, they almost hit a cyclist, but kept on driving.”    You tell them the colour and model of the car before taking your phone off your ear for a second, staring directly at Taehyung again. “Do you need an ambulance, kid?”   “I’m f-fine,” he chokes out, stuck gazing at you.   There’s something familiar about you that he can’t quite put his finger on.   “He’s good. Yes. Thank you.”   You just saved his life — you’re a hero. Yet, you act completely nonchalant about it, indifferent to the bystanders staring. He’s baffled. The way you pulled him in like he weighed nothing. The way you take care of business without batting a single eyelash. Taehyung is in love.   He’s never met someone so sexy before.   “Hello? Kid, are you alright?”   You’ve hung up, now waving your hand in front of his face, making him crash down to reality.   “Uh...what?”   “The police will be on the lookout. Someone might come here soon to check up on things, so you should stick around. I can be your witness.”   “I...um...need to actually get going. It’s….ur-urgent….” He remembers why he was here in the first place and while Taehyung’s eyes are still glued onto your face, unable to be torn off, he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. But running away doesn’t seem so pressing anymore.   “Oh, well….you can always go to the station later then. I think the CCTV over there might have caught it all but if you need me to fill out a report. Here.” You dig into the front pocket of your suitcase, ripping some paper from a traveling pamphlet that was given to you. Grabbing a pen from your jacket pocket, you bite the cap off to scribble down your name and number.   Taehyung’s busy ogling at your mouth and the way you coolly uncapped the pen.   “Here. Just call this number if you need. You should also be wearing a helmet — it’s a law and you can get into trouble without it. Stay safe and be careful.”   “Uh-huh.” His eyes fall down to the paper, taking it while swallowing hard.   It’s an out-of-body experience for him. He almost died. But he’s never felt more alive than now. The thing is though, he’s not an adrenaline junkie. Not in the least bit. His blood runs hot for another reason…..   Taehyung snaps out of when he reads the name you’ve scribbled next to your number.    Then he reads it twice, double checking that his eyes aren’t deceiving him. And they aren’t.   “Y/N….?”   His head whips upwards, but by then, you’re pulling your luggage, wheels rolling on the sidewalk and over the ridges. Taehyung watches as your backside gets smaller and he barely remembers to pull up his bike again.   On the other hand, you’re less awe-struck than he is. You’re just glad you were there at the right time, the right place, able to save a homeless man from meeting his demise.   //   It feels out of place, awkward for you to march up to the resident of the head of state like this, lugging your backpack and suitcase with you. You look more like a student who took a gap year to travel across the country than someone who’s supposed to be here.   You would’ve dropped off your belongings first, rented a place like the responsible adult that you are, but he told you to come here before doing anything else. At the news of you arriving back home, he’s urgently seeking you out and you wonder what could be so important — it could never be because he actually misses you. Such a thing is impossible.   “Hi, are you looking for the tour of the Blue House? Unfortunately, the group just left five minutes ago and this is our last one for today.”   “No, I...uh...actually...” You dig into your jeans back pocket for the lanyard. It’s old, but still visible and you flash the security badge. “I’m looking for the head of the secret service. Is he around?”   The room that you’re brought into is spacious and luxurious, golden furnishings that remind you of being inside a castle. The windows are large, looking to a garden, but here at the back of the house, it’s secluded. Your suitcase has been taken and you’ve been searched before stepping in here. You muse that he’s taken quite the promotion since you’ve last seen him. He seems to have some kind of status or importance.   After a moment of gandering, the double doors open.   You stand, coming face to face with an old man standing tall and proud. “How was the flight?”   The doors close behind him. “It was good. Are you off work?”   “I’m always working.”   His hands are behind his back, putting a meter distance away from you. It’s been years, but there’s never a hug spared, not even a smile or polite handshake that would be offered in greeting a stranger. No one would know that he’s your family, that this old man’s your father.   “There’s a reason you wanted me to come here right away.”   “Yes. Take a seat.”   ….   Taehyung tracks mud into the house.   He’s about to hear an earful from someone, maybe his dad or his stepmom, but he doesn’t want to hear it and he won’t wait around to be caught for that to happen. He walks quickly despite feeling eyes pinned to the back of his head. It’s suffocating here, though no one dares to say anything about his troublemaking antics.   The boy has his hands in his pockets, strolling down the hallway towards the kitchen to raid some free food. But as he turns the corner, someone comes towards him from the other end of the corridor.    The tables have turned. Now he’s the one who notices you first.   “Y/N?”   He knew he’d see you again. But maybe not so soon.   “Oh, you.” Your feet halt and you look at him with a frown. “What are you doing here? Are you allowed to be here?”   “I should be asking you that.” He laughs, wholly relaxed unlike earlier.   You don’t know how he got here...until the realization dawns on you.   He’s the person that your father talked about, the reason why he wanted to see you in the first place. This homeless man isn’t homeless at all. And as you look into his eyes, the way they’re a warm brown shade reminding you of dark caramel, childlike and mischievous, you realize truly nothing has altered in the course of nine years. He’s taller, shoulders broad, face lost its baby fat and more sculpted. He’s less like an aggravating rascal, but the rest is the same.   It’s Kim Taehyung.   “You remember, right?” He comes closer, taking a slick step towards you, leaning down to connect his eyes with yours at the same height. He’s flirtatious — that’s different and foreign.   “Pardon me, I’m sorry, remember what?”   The man with the blonde strands flopping over his eyes blinks and his strong brows furrow in concern. “You...don’t remember?”   “Did we know each other?”   He scoffs, leaning back onto one foot and crossing his arms. “Did we know each other,” he mimics in a mocking tone. But when you give no response, his lips fall into a straight line, gaze morphing into something grievous and serious. “You can’t recall?”   “I’m sorry….” You shake your head. “Is there something I should know, Mr. Kim?”   “Mr. Kim?” he murmurs in exasperation and steps forward again as if to corner you. Taehyung refuses to give up. He insists on jogging your memory again. “We used to dig holes in the ground to get to the other side of the world and I flung dirt at you, remember? I glued your seat and stuck tape in your hair and put salt in your water and replaced your whip cream with dad’s shaving cream. And you never cried once. Remember, dumbo?”   The name makes a muscle in your cheek twitch.   Taehyung wears the biggest shit eating grin, smile spread into his cheeks, not letting it go. Your expression remains impassive as the memories come back. But they were always here. The moment your dad said his name aloud, you already knew. And you’re wholly unimpressed.   Without thinking twice, you walk forward, not allowing him to block your way. Your shoulder shoves against his, but your strength isn’t calculated and he’s pushed to the other side of the hallway, caught off guard. He smacks against the wall, wheezing as the lungs get knocked out of his body. You mumble an apology, lingering for a second.   Trying to play dumb didn’t work. Maybe someone out there could actually get away with not being able to recall their memories, but for you it unfortunately doesn't work like that.   It’s not like you’re traumatized or damaged over the memories. Just slightly annoyed. He’s always been that little fruit fly buzzing around your head near your ear that you couldn’t get rid of.   “I remember.”   Taehyung bullied you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, dumbo, are you listening?”   You turn your head with dead eyes. The seven year old has rounded cheeks pinched red, cute eyes and a playful smile. But he’s not a cherub. He’s a demon in disguise. “You’re annoying.”   “Well you’re ugly,” he bites back with his tongue sticking out.   You walk away but he follows after you diligently like a dog — too bad he’s not as cute. You would’ve preferred a dog. “Where do you think you’re going, huh, dumbo? I’m talking to you! You’re no fun. You’re boring. Boring. Booooring. Boooooooooring.”   At eight, you’re taller than he is. But unlike what your dad’s taught you, Taehyung has no regards for age at all. He’s not respectful. He doesn’t stay quiet. He’s not well-mannered. He’s a troublemaker. What others have called ‘a punk’.   You continue, only to be forced to a stop, colliding with an invisible barrier. Your face is pushed up against the transparent surface and from being caught off guard, the force is enough to topple you off your feet. You fall onto your butt. The floorboards welcome your small body.   Taehyung laughs his head off.   “I can’t believe you actually fell for it!”   He’s chortling, snickering, in absolute hysterics.   You give up, laying on the ground with your arms to your side, staring at the ceiling lifelessly before your eyes flicker to him, watching him have his fun.    The doorway remains stretched with plastic wrap.