#Not to mention the dozens of friends I've let down

[sonofshu]

ㅤ

[peachdues]

HEARTBALM

Kyojuro x Reader (modern AU NSFW)

A/N: I have COVID brain fog and it shows. You legally can't hold how bad this is against me. But if you somehow like it, likes/reblogs/comments, always appreciated! I promise I'm saving Netherwood for when I've recovered lmao.

This is like a Frankenstein-fulfillment request of several of my 2K event requests. So if you asked for Kyojuro and any of the prompts involving “please let me cum in you” or “woah, woah, I’m here. I’m right here,” congrats! This is for you. I’m sorry it’s ass.

CW: angry/possessive Kyojuro • mentions of toxic/slightly verbally abusive ex boyfriend • ex boyfriend gets decked • explicit sexual content • breeding kink • creampies • car sex • MDNI.

Everything was too loud and too close. You swore you felt a dozen pairs of eyes burning holes into you with such intensity that you were surprised you were still standing, rather than folding over like a piece of Swiss cheese. The judgment in their gazes felt like a blade against your throat, the cold sting imploring you to fold, to disappear.

There was no air in your lungs, so before you could choke in front of all of your ex-boyfriend’s cronies and friends, you turned and did as cowards did; you ran.

You pushed and shoved your way through the thick crush of bodies that had gathered in this small, off-campus house for the last party of the semester, the last chance for them all to let loose before their lives became a flurry of final exams and papers and discarded coffee cups in dimply lit corners of the campus library. You’d thought it would be your chance to relax, too, after the hair-pulling stress that had been the last month and a half of your life. Stress, that had been expounded upon by the simpering, smarmy asshole you’d once called your boyfriend, who now stared after your retreating form with a vicious grin, apparently pleased to have gotten under his former girlfriend’s skin once more.

There was a buzzing beneath your skin that would not quiet, that seemed to only grow hotter and more incessant as you navigated the maze of bodies and tables set for beer pong in this labyrinth of college-aged debauchery. In the three minutes you’d been darting and ducking around what had to be half of the Ubayashiki University student body, you’d not seen a friendly or familiar face once.

Where was Kyojuro?

You needed to find your sun. You needed your kind, supportive, and steadfast best friend who’d been glued to your side ever since freshman orientation, when you’d shyly approached him and asked if you could eat lunch beside him, feeling too nervous to risk approaching anyone else. He’d laughed, warm and welcoming, as he made room at his table for you, welcoming you with such sincerity and kindness that it was no wonder that you and so many others were drawn to him.

And though Kyojuro treated almost everyone as though they’d been best friends for years, you had been the only one in your orientation group that he’d allowed to truly get to know him. Whether it was during a morning stroll through the campus green as you made your way to your early morning classes, or pressed up against the greasy wall of the grill as you waited for the fry cook to call out your orders, the walls Kyojuro had so carefully crafted to conceal the tempest of passion and fire that raged beneath his dazzling smiles and loud, booming laughs began to peel back, and you saw him for what he truly was.

Truthfully, the more he showed you, the more you wanted; he was a riddle you would never tire of working out, a puzzle you hoped never to solve, even as the pieces fell faster and faster into place.

As your circle of friends grew, your bond only strengthened. It was Kyojuro you called when you found out your beloved childhood dog passed away, hardly able to speak through the tears as they streamed down your face. It was Kyojuro who had all but sprinted from his residence hall to yours, well across campus, with three pints of your favorite ice cream in tow, and who’d let you eat your fill until your stomach was full and the emptiness in your heart had subsided.

And it was you who Kyojuro had called to come join him as he’d smoked a rare cigarette, hands shaking with both his hurt and his anger after a particularly nasty call from his father.

And yet, you’d never dated; you’d never escalated your friendship beyond a few, charged moments that had been marked only by a series of almost and never anything completed.

He wasn’t a fan of your ex-boyfriend; that much he’d made clear. Though Kyojuro had never been one to be unkind towards anyone, you hadn’t missed the way his eyes tightened any time your ex let a door slam in your face or ignored your hand in favor of his phone. Kyojuro hadn’t been shy to let you know that he thought you deserved better ��� far better.

You’d wanted to ask him whether he thought better was with him, because you knew deep in your heart, if he asked, you would be his; but you never built up the courage to ask, and so you quashed these feelings down deep, hiding them away in a locked chest never to be opened.

Then, you’d finally broken up with your ex only a month prior after discovering he’d cheated on you with no shortage of other students on campus, everyone but you apparently having been in on the cruel joke. Kyojuro had been one of the few steadfastly in your corner, insistent that you’d done nothing wrong, no matter how many times your ex tried to claim you’d pushed him into sleeping with half the student body.

You hadn’t seen your ex, not since you’d coolly told him the pair of you were over, all those weeks ago; not until tonight, when you’d nearly smashed into him while trying to get a drink from the makeshift bar in this strange house you’d never been in.

“Well, well,” your ex-boyfriend had crooned, hand gripping your elbow and keeping you trapped there with him and his smirking pack of hyenas looking at you like you were something to devour. “Did you miss me that much, gorgeous?”

“Get off me,” you’d tried to growl, though the slight wobble in your voice defeated any attempt of yours to be threatening, instead leaving you to come off as a scared little girl, cornered somewhere she shouldn’t have been.

Your ex’s eyes were malicious as they raked over you. “Did you wear that for me, darling?”

He was referring to the red sundress you’d worn, the one you knew made your curves look downright sumptuous, but now you felt like it was a neon sign that read “HARASS ME,” given the hunger in your ex’s eyes that sent your skin crawling. You’d worn it for yourself, to feel confident, only now, you felt like a piece of fruit ripe for plucking, and you’d somehow fallen into the greediest hands on campus.

By divine luck, your ex’s grip on your forearm loosened and you yanked back out of his reach, forgoing the red plastic cup containing whatever grotesque combination of alcohol the party hosts had come up with in favor of putting as much distance as possible between yourself and your ex.

You’d come with Kyojuro and your friend Tengen, but now you couldn’t find either and it only made you feel more lost; more vulnerable. There was a buzzing in your ears that drowned out the pounding base of the music thumping through the blown-out speakers haphazardly set up in the house’s den. Your vision tunneled, and you wondered whether anyone would notice if you dropped to the floor and screamed; if anyone would care.

Stumbling blindly, you smashed into something warm and sold, and it sent you staggering backward.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, eyes still wide and unfocused as you moved to push past whatever or whomever you’d smacked into, uncaring at the way your torment was surely etched into your face.

“Woah, hey, hey,��� a warm hand closed around your arm as you tried to shove past the body, steadying you, locking you into place. “Y/N, look at me.”

The familiarity of the voice and the touch did not register, and you only continued to shake your head, muttering your apologies.

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m here. I’m right here.” Kyojuro caught you by the arm as you tried once more to shove past him in your haste the leave the party you’d stupidly decided to attend. A hand gripped your chin and firmly but gently turned your head up to meet a pair of ochre eyes, running over you in concern.

“Kyo,” you breathed in relief, feeling yourself melt slightly beneath the steadying warmth of your best friend.

Kyojuro’s mouth was set in a hard line. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You uttered the name of your insufferable ex and Kyojuro’s eyes darkened. “What did he do?”

His hand gripped yours and you were grateful for the way it helped anchor you and kept you from spinning out under the anxious whirlwind of your thoughts. “Nothing, he’s just being an asshole – please, Kyo, can we leave?”

You felt slightly guilty – after all, it was you who’d suggested you all come to this party in the first place, and now you were the one wanting to leave less than an hour later, but it was too much. Surely, your best friend wouldn’t hold your fickleness so terribly against you, not when it wasn’t your fault in the first place that you’d been sent careening toward an anxiety attack.

Kyojuro didn’t hesitate as he nodded. “Just let me find Tengen and I’ll let him know. I’ll drive you home.”

You smiled faintly in relief, squeezing his hand appreciatively before letting him go. The way Kyojuro’s fingers had lingered against yours had made your heart flutter, chasing away thoughts of him, your ex, and replacing them with a shy curiosity that made you want to know what those fingers would feel like if they touched other parts of you.

Or, it may have been the little alcohol you’d ingested coloring your thoughts; after all, you’d hardly eaten that day in preparation for getting properly soused at the party you now were so desperate to leave.

You retreated into the kitchen, near the open door that led out to a finished, in-ground pool in which several other attendees were already swimming, some without clothes on, too lost in whatever beverage or drug they’d ingested to care. You’d thought yourself safe, amidst a crowd of admittedly drunk party-goers, but it seemed not even the threat of onlookers would keep your abrasive ex at bay.

A hand grazed your rear end, and it sent every hair on your body standing. “Why in such a rush to leave, gorgeous?” A sickeningly familiar voice purred in your ear.

You spat your ex’s name with as much vitriol as you could muster as you turned to face him. “I told you not to fucking touch me.”

Your ex placed a hand mockingly against the wall, next to your head as he leaned in close. “What’s wrong, baby?” His breath was rank with the stench of stale alcohol, and it made your stomach churn. “You used to like being manhandled.”

Your face hardened. “Not by you; not anymore.” You swatted his hand away from where he’d boxed you in, eager to put this party and him behind you, where they belonged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me –”

Your ex’s hand seized around your wrist, its grip tight – too tight. “Just hold on, you haughty little thing,” his tone was kept light but the look on his face was menacing. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You pulled at the hold he had on you but to no avail. Though you were surrounded by other party attendees, you felt alone, more isolated than ever, as countless eyes pointedly ignored your struggle. You were about to open your mouth, to shout, to curse your ex out, when your ex’s hand suddenly released your arm.

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

Wide-eyed, you looked to see Kyojuro’s considerable fist wrapped tightly around your ex’s forearm, its size dwarfing the limb beneath to look like a mere twig. Kyojuro’s eyes, normally so inviting and open, had gone hard and black, his jaw stiff with his ire. Though the cold rage contorting your best friend’s face was not directed at you, its sudden manifestation from your otherwise sunny, warm, and gentle friend made you recoil.

“Kyo,” you started, voice low in warning as your eyes darted between the lethal anger simmering on Kyojuro’s face and the infuriatingly smug look on your ex’s, as he smirked at the burly blonde.

“I don’t think this concerns you, Rengoku,” your former boyfriend simpered, a challenge lighting his eyes as he jerked his chin towards you. “This is between me and her, pure and simple.”

Desperately, you glanced around the room hoping to find any of your other friends who could step in, who could intervene before things turned too ugly. Mercifully, you locked eyes with Tengen, who was just on the other side of the pool, grabbing another drink. Eyes wide, you looked back and forth between Kyojuro and your silver-haired friend, hoping he understood your silent plea.

A curt nod from your friend communicated he had, and Tengen quickly began pushing through the throng of people who had begun to coalesce around the edge of the pool as they watched the pair of men engaged in a stare-off beside you.

Kyojuro raised his head slightly, looking down upon the man you used to claim to love in disgust. “Any yet she told you to leave her alone. Are we having listening problems?”

A sardonic smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Your ex’s eyes cut back to you, a sneer curling his lip. “Figures,” he spat, his tone full of acid. “Not even a month broken up and you’ve already spread your legs for him like a fuckin’ whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the surrounding spectators as Kyojuro stepped closer to your seething ex, their noses nearly touching as he held his stare.

“Say it again,” Kyojuro said quietly, all traces of that mocking smirk long-gone, replaced only by a malicious glint in his eyes that promised swift violence that had your hand jumping to grip his arm in warning. “Go on.”

Your weak tugs at Kyojuro’s bicep did little to divert his attention. For one, terrifying moment, you feared that blows were imminent, until a painted hand shoved between the two men, pushing Kyojuro back by his chest.

Tengen.

“As much as I hate to break up the fun, I’m sure you don’t want the entire school witnessing you getting your face pounded in,” The silver-haired senior said coolly to your drunk ex.

Kyojuro allowed himself to be pushed back by his friend, though he refused to break the tense stare he held with the man he’d marked as his opponent. “We can work this out anytime, it doesn’t have to be here,” he taunted with a jeering smirk. “But stay the fuck away from her.”

“Don’t try and fucking tell me how to talk to my ex-girlfriend,” your former lover spat, taking an unsteady step towards the three of you. “Why’re you standing up for the bitch, anyways? The whore has kept stringing you along for god knows how long without putting out –“

His drunken ramblings were cut off by a sickening crunch of bones beneath a fist that seemed to echo through the crowded backyard. Onlookers stared in shock as your ex staggered back, hands flying to staunch the crimson now coursing from his broken nose, curses thick and garbled slipping from his mouth as it filled with blood.

“Shit.” Tengen breathed, his eyes wide.

A dozen pair of eyes turned towards you and your best friend, round with shock as an uncomfortable buzz settled into the thick, night air. Kyojuro was panting, the skin of his knuckles stained with blood from his split skin and that of your ex’s as he stared at your flame-haired friend.

“I warned you,” Kyojuro’s tone was almost jovial but its cheerfulness was undercut by his glower. “Watch your fucking language when speaking about a lady.”

Your hand clenched at his bicep once more. “Kyojuro, let’s go.”

Your tone snapped him out of whatever cold rage in which he’d been simmering and his amber eyes lifted to meet yours. You did not wait for him to follow as you turned sharply on your heel and stormed out of the house, eyes resolutely focused on the door in order to avoid acknowledging the way dozens of pairs of eyes followed your every step.

---

Your feet hit the pavement of the street outside, the night air cool on your heated skin. You heard the steady beat of your friend’s footsteps behind you, and you whipped around, eyes blazing, and blood boiling.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed once the two of you were far enough away from the party and any nosy on-lookers as you stalked toward Kyojuro’s car. “Were you trying to get yourself arrested?”

Kyojuro did not answer, the scowl on his face turning into something menacing beneath the flickering lamps lining the crowded street.

“I was handling it just fine, you know, but you had to step in and turn it into a fucking pissing contest –”

“Stop talking, Y/N.” Kyojuro finally snapped, his voice a low growl.

You only seethed. “Who the fuck do you think you are –?”

Your fiery companion only placed a hand firmly at the small of your back and pushed you forward, your feet nearly stumbling to keep yourself upright as he guided you towards your car.

“Kyojuro –” you began, testily.

“Shut up, Y/N.” He cut you off severely. “Just – be quiet and get in the fucking car.”

Something about his tone coupled with the stormy look on his face quieted any further protest you may have had, and you allowed him to forcefully guide you to his car. Kyojuro wrenched the door open and pushed you down into the passenger seat, even taking the time to fasten your seatbelt for you, the brush of his hand against your waist searing into you in a way that made you squirm.

As embarrassing as you found it, you could not deny that your friend’s protectiveness over you stoked something hot and molten in your gut; made your thighs rub together, as your stomach fluttered.

Kyojuro was silent as he drove, the air between you cackling with electricity.

“Have you calmed down?” You asked sarcastically after several minutes of tense silence, unable to stomach the quiet any longer.

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I can’t believe you dated something like that,” he ground out, eyes fixed hard on the road ahead of him. “The way he spoke to you just now – that doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

You fidgeted in your seat, fingers playing with the band of the seatbelt as the weight of Kyojuro’s accusation settled.

“That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Your shoulders curled inward, and you suddenly felt like a cornered animal; you resented him for it. “What does it matter, now? We’re done. It’s over, and I’m not going back.”

Kyojuro pulled sharply off an exit, following a bumpy road to a quiet, darkened overlook that abutted a state park. He stopped the car, slamming it into park as his hands remained tightly curled around the steering wheel, his breath hard and fast in his nose.

“Why did you date him?” His tone was almost accusatory. “He was an asshole from the start, and yet you dated him for almost a year.”

You bit your lip and Kyojuro’s eyes followed the movement closely. “Because I wasn’t sure of another’s feelings.”

Kyojuro exhaled sharply, turning his body more towards you, his eyes locked onto you with searing intensity. “And this other – did you ever confess your true feelings?”

You hesitated for only a moment, shaking your head slightly. You chanced lifting your gaze up to meet his, gulping slightly at the heat which you found there.

There was a beat, and then the two of you surged towards one another over the center console of his car, drawn to one another like a pair of magnets. Your mouths met in a fiery clash of lips and teeth, Kyojuro’s tongue sliding seamlessly into your mouth to dance with yours. His hand rose to tangle in your hare, ensnaring you against him and his fervid touch and desperate lips.

He moaned your name against feverish kisses, his lips only breaking from yours to dance across your jaw, your neck, any part of you he could reach.

He wasn’t close enough; you tugged at the collar of his button down, trying to pull him atop you, to feel if his chiseled body felt as rock-solid as you’d always imagined.

“You’re impatient,” he chuckled against your throat as he sucked his mark into your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

Your fingers, buried deep in his flame-colored hair, tugged, insistent. “Yes. Don’t you dare stop now.”

Warm hands gripped your waist and hauled you up out of your seat. Somehow, you were folded in just the right position to be passed over the console of his car, and Kyojuro swiftly tossed you into the back seat of his car. As you panted for breath, the skirt of your sundress rising high up your thighs, Kyojuro clambered over his own seat to join you, pinning you half between the backseat and the car door.

Before he reconnected your lips, Kyojuro’s hands found his way under you once more, deftly maneuvering you until it was he who sat against the backseat of his car, and you were straddled in his lap, chest heaving and cheeks pink.

“Was this your goal?” You teased, and to your delight, you felt something hard begin to press into your groin as your breath mixed with his, a slight fog beginning to condense on the windows. “To have me at your mercy?”

Kyojuro leaned up slightly, brushing his lips against the fluttering pulse point in your neck, smirking against your skin. “If you’re asking whether I took you out of the party with this in mind, then no,”

His hands smoothed up and down your sides before sliding behind you to squeeze your ass, rubbing firmly as he rolled his hips up into yours.

“But if you’re asking if I’ve planned to have you this way at all… then I would say,” he cut himself off as he kissed his way back to your lips, holding back the tantalizing feel of his mouth against yours for a fraction of a second. “That has always been my goal, beautiful. From the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

He kissed you softly then, teeth lightly nipping at your lower lip before he pulled away once more to look over you.

“But I want far more from you, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your heart fluttered in your throat as your legs clenched. You knew there were several meanings to his words — both in terms of the physical and with regard to your long-term relationship.

You settled on his lap, arms looping around his neck as your breath mixed with his, anticipation fluttering in your stomach.

“Kiss me, Kyo.” You whispered, your eyes lowering to his lips.

He regarded you with a half-lidded, lust-filled expression of his own. “Where?”

Your fingers wound in his hair, pulling softly in a way that made him moan. “Everywhere.”

Sturdy yet nimble fingers worked their way up to the buttons on the bodice of your sundress, undoing them with a swiftness you’d not realized he possessed.

The last button undone, Kyojuro brought his hands to the loosened folds of your sundress and pushed them aside, warm hands grazing the sensitive skin beneath.

“Christ, woman,” he groaned as your bare breasts were revealed to him. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled, inwardly glad you’d forsaken wearing a bra beneath the dress, though you certainly hadn’t intended to wind up like this — perched in your best friend’s lap, his growing bulge digging into the sensitive spot between your legs as he leaned in to take one pert nipple into his hot mouth, his hand covering the other breast and rolling it beneath his fingers.

Not a single part of you could bring yourself to regret the decision, however, not as Kyojuro’s teeth grazed your sensitive bud, your head falling back as you pressed your chest against his face, begging him for more.

Kyojuro moaned against your breast, his hand steadily working the other as he nipped and sucked at you, covering your chest in splotches of purple and red, your skin bearing the mark of his teeth as he claimed you.

You ground down against the rigid bulge nestled between your thighs, breath hitching as he pressed against that sensitive spot between your legs, causing a rush of your fluid to surge forth and coat the flimsy lace of your thong.

If you weren’t careful, you’d risk leaving evidence of your desire smeared right on the front seam of his pants. But if Kyojuro cared, he certainly didn’t show it as his free arm looped around your waist to push you down, forcing your groin to mash tightly against his.

Your hands moved desperately down Kyojuro’s front as his mouth continued to work your breasts, until they reached the top of his pants. You fumbled with his belt, determined to loosen it and free the hardened bulge straining against the crotch of his pants.

“You’re so,” Kyojuro panted, his hips twitching up against your touch. “Eager, my flame.”

Your ears perked at the affectionate nickname. “Your flame?” Your lips swept to the side to suck at the side of his neck.

Kyojuro’s head tilted to the side, allowing you more access as he pressed you harder into his face. “Yes, my flame,” he nipped lightly at your pert nipple, just as his fingers slid between your thighs to dance along the sensitive skin between your leg and hip. “Because you make me burn.”

His fingers grazed the front of your thong and Kyojuro groaned at the wetness he felt seeping through the thin lace.You nearly hissed at the contact, grinding yourself against his fingers, beseeching your best friend to give you more, to touch you where you needed him most.

“Kyo,” you whined, head falling back.

“Oh fuck,” Kyojuro slid two fingers beneath the crotch of your underwear, dragging them right up your drenched slit. “You’re wet — so fucking wet.”

“I just want to slide right in,” your friend teased, and his fingers easily breached your entrance, working deep into your opening as you mewled for him. “I bet you could take me just like this.” 

His thumb brushed against your clit as his index and middle finger worked your core, making you stiffen stop him as your breath labored. Kyojuro swore again as he curled his fingers upward, feeling the way your velvet walls clenched around him.

“K-Kyo!” You gasped. “I can’t wait — I need you. Need you now.”

“Then I guess we agree,” Kyojuro growled against your lips as he shifted you beneath him. “Because I can’t wait to be inside you, either.”

Kyojuro spread you out beneath him, against the worn cloth of his backseat. He fumbled above you, trying to contort his large body in the small, cramped space of the back of his car.

His hands moved to loosen his belt and shove the tops of his pants and briefs down his hips, just far enough to let his leaking, stiffened cock spring forth, its tip smacking against his belly. Your mouth watered at the sight, at the thickness of his length, far more than you’d ever encountered before.

Kyojuro smirked at the awe on your face. “Trust I know how to use it, too.”

You flushed dark at the boldness with which he spoke, though your voice somehow remained steady. “Then prove it.”

Kyojuro covered you with a low growl, his hands flipping the skirt of your dress out of the way as his fingers slid your thong down your legs, chucking it to the side. He tugged you forward over the seat, a buckle of a seatbelt digging somewhat uncomfortably into your back, though that discomfort was quickly chased away as Kyojuro lined himself up with your entrance and pulled you sharply down, impaling you on his rigid length.

Your scream choked off in your throat as he shifted to press one leg up against the back rest of the seat and used his hands to hold your other open, keeping you spread wide for him. His thrusts were wild and frenzied, though his motions were somewhat limited by the spatial constraints of the backseat of his car. You didn’t care, however; not as his cock pistoned into you so deeply, you swore you saw stars; not as his coarse base ground against your sensitive clit, Kyojuro’s name falling in a repeated whine from your lips.

Kyojuro tried to brace his feet against the rear door for leverage for his thrusts, but each haphazard movement only caused him to grow more frustrated.

He tried to distract himself by pressing his lips bruisingly against yours, but it was not enough. Your flame-haired friend slammed his hand against the roof of his car in frustration.

“Fuck this,” he growled against your lips before he pulled out of you and away. You whined at the loss of his body heat, so warm and all-consuming. The ache between your legs had become nearly maddening as the empty walls of your core now clenched around nothing.

Even in the dark, Kyojuro’s eyes glowed, like pools of molten ore threatening to burn you with their heat as he reached blindly behind him and jerked on the handle of the car door, using his foot to kick it open.

He slid out, his stiffened cock still standing proudly above the loosened waistband of his pants as he rose to his full height. Reaching back into the car, Kyojuro wrapped his strong, warm hands around your knees and tugged you across the backseat toward him until your ass was on the edge of the seat, your legs dangling outside the door, toes just grazing the gravel below.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Kyojuro’s voice was harsh yet commanding, and your compliance was automatic. Your legs instantly wound around his waist, locking at the ankles against his lower back.

His hands then dipped below where you still lay against the worn seat of his car, splaying across your back. His grip secure, Kyojuro hauled you up and out of the back seat, his arms readjusting his hold as his hands came to rest under the skirt of your sundress, fingers kneading the fleshy curve of your ass.

You decided you’d gone far too long without his lips against yours, and so with a needy moan, you slanted her mouth back over his, sighing happily into him as his lips parted to allow your tongue to sweep in and glide alongside his.

So intoxicated were you by his kiss that you did not realize Kyojuro had walked you around to the front of his car, his headlights still beaming bright through the dark of the night air. A startled gasp broke your kiss at the warm press of metal against your back as Kyojuro laid you over the front hood of his car. Your cry of surprise did not seem to faze him, for Kyojuro only moved his lips to sweep across your neck with needy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Much better,” he grunted against your skin, his tongue flicking out against the hollow of your throat.

“K-Kyo!” You hissed, though you found it difficult to actually feel irritated toward the fiery blonde pressing you against the hood of his car – especially given the way his hips ground and bucked against yours. “We’re in the open!”

Kyojuro’s mouth pulled off your neck with a groan as he lifted his head to glare down at you as you panted and blushed beneath him. A hand reached between your bodies to grip the base of his cock, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull as you felt Kyojuro begin to drag the leaking head of his length up and down your slick folds, teasing.

“If I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to do it the way I want,” he warned, his voice roughened by raw desire. “I’m not letting myself be held back by a damn car seat.”

Any protestation or witty response you could have lobbed back at him died on your lips as Kyojuro pressed the tip of his cock firmly against your clit. Your head fell back against the hood of the car with a cry, your hips bucking up against his, begging him to take you and end the torment between your legs.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you that isn’t my name or how good my cock feels, got it?” Kyojuro bent low and took your nipple between his teeth, sucking at it harshly. “Answer me.”

A thumb and a forefinger replaced the head of Kyojuro’s erect length at your clit and squeezed once, in warning.

“Yes!” You yelped, your thighs tightening around his hips in a desperate but futile attempt to clench shut. “I understand – Kyo, please –”

Your begging was cut off with a scream as Kyojuro sheathed himself back into your dripping heat in a single, fluid stroke. Before you could catch your breath, Kyojuro began circling his hips, rolling them heavily against yours.

“That’s it, baby, just feel me,” He murmured, teeth grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.  “God, you feel like fucking heaven.”

“Kyojuro,” you moaned, your eyes rolling heavily back into your skull. “Oh god, more –”

Kyojuro’s answering groans were loud and unrestrained, tempered only by the squeak of his car hood as he brought one knee up to rest upon it, bearing more of his weight down upon you as his thrusts grew harder and harder.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes shut tight. “Fuck, I can’t get enough, I need more –”

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force as he tiled them further, tugging you flush against his groin with your backside nearly suspended above the car hood. Your moans melted into loud, high-pitched cries as you thrashed against the front of the car, the heels of your feet digging deeper into the steel of Kyojuro’s backside to press him closer, deeper into your velvet heat.

The new angle allowed Kyojuro’s cock to reach parts of you you hadn’t known could be explored, stretching you in ways you hadn’t realized could be stretched. How you’d managed to go so long without knowing the euphoric bliss that was Kyojuro’s body was a mystery you weren’t sure even the most revered philosopher could solve. All you knew, however, as the thick tip of Kyojuro’s cock pressed against something so deep within you it made your eyes roll back and your jaw slacken until drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, was that you could never have anyone else. No one would ever be capable of fucking you the way Kyojuro was right then, and you didn’t think you’d even allow them to try.

Despite your brain having been largely reduced to a puddle of gray matter in your skull with every lurid drag and push of Kyojuro’s cock into your soaked cunt, you forced your mouth to form a single, desperate command.

“More,” you begged, the word slurring off your tongue, breaking up the series of nonsensical babbles that had poured from your mouth the minute Kyojuro decided to mold your insides to the shape of him. “More.”  

“Jesus fuck,” Kyojuro’s jaw was clenched tight enough to crack his teeth, sweat running down his neck and sliding between the mass of his pectorals.

Broad hands slid to the back of your thighs and pushed them up and back until your knees kissed the hood of his car. The new angle allowed Kyojuro to pound even deeper into you, though it simultaneously rendered you utterly helpless to accept the battering of his cock as it rammed so far into you, you swore he would bruise your organs before the night was over.

The new position meant that Kyojuro’s base was pressed flush against your clit, the coarse hair of his groin circling against your sensitive nub as your own slick gathered, making a mess between where the two of you were joined. The stimulation made your toes curl, even as your feet flopped helplessly against Kyojuro’s broad back.

Whatever coil you felt winding tight in your gut, Kyojuro felt gathering as well, given the whimpers and moans that lilted from his lips in strings, his lips working a frenzy against whatever part of you he could reach.

“P-please, Y/N,” his voice broke through the pleasured haze in which you’d found yourself floating as you plummeted back down to earth; to him. “Please let me cum in you. Please.”

“God fucking – please,” Kyojuro groaned, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. “I need to fill you. I need it, I need it.”

You didn’t doubt the sincerity of his need; the dull thwap of Kyojuro’s heavy balls against the underside of your ass made it clear your friend was pent up, and desperate to find his release. And that release wouldn’t be nearly as pleasurable if he was forced to waste it over your stomach or breasts as it would be if you allowed him to fill you to your brim.

The answer was easy. “Y-yes,” you found your voice after a moment, though it came out as more of a squeak. “Give it to me, Kyo, please!”

Kyojuro’s lascivious groans deepened, the sounds falling from his mouth more akin to shouts of pleasure. His pace quickened though his rhythm grew sloppier. Kyojuro brought the leg still anchored to the ground up onto the hood of the car and positioned himself in a kneel, spreading his thighs wide and allowing his hips to weigh down heavily against yours as he pinned you in place, rolling into your heat.

“Fill me up, make me yours!” You were babbling now, half-delirious with pleasure and over-stimulation as you felt your orgasm build, the tight coiling in your belly promising to unleash the most powerful climax you’d ever had. “N-no one else has – no one else has – ngh – finished inside!”

A warm hand slid up to your throat and squeezed lightly as Kyojuro’s hips snapped against yours, his groans quieting to mere vibrations in his chest. “Not even – fuck – him?”

You didn’t need to ask him to clarify. “Never!” You gasped, limbs turning to liquid against the light pressure he applied against the sides of your throat. “Only yours – only yours to f-fill!”

Your affirmation made Kyojuro shudder violently above you, and before you knew it, Kyojuro was spilling forth within your core, giving you every drop of his hot seed as his hips rolled heavily into yours.

A broad hand slid down from your throat to rest against the bottom of your stomach and pressed down.

“Take it,” Kyojuro somehow had the presence of mind to speak, even deep in the throes of his climax. “F-feel how much I’m filling you up – oh fuck.”

You could. The weight of his hand against your lower belly pressed your front wall against the spurting tip of his cock as he unloaded deep within your core. And it was precisely because of the way you could feel him painting the inside of your walls that you felt yourself tip over your edge, that coil in your belly not merely unwinding, but breaking wide open.

With a sharp cry, you came, a rush of your sticky pleasure spurting forth from you and soaking Kyojuro’s lower abdomen and groin as he continued to pump into you, every twist and churn of his base against your clit only prolonging the sweet, torturous pleasure you felt as you screamed for him.

Kyojuro’s high finally ceased, as did yours, but that did not stop your flame-haired friend from continuing to pump into you, as though chasing yet another dizzying high.

“Kyo,” your cry was shrill was your nails sunk into the ropey muscle of your best friend’s back, your teeth gritting against the flicker of overstimulation flaring to life as Kyojuro’s rough base continued to grind right against your clit.

“I’m sorry, my flame,” and to your shock, you noted the desperate whine in his tone. “I can’t stop, I need more – c-can’t stop –”

You felt his cum squelching over where you remained connected, its sticky warmth dribbling down your inner thighs as Kyojuro continued to plunge his still-erect length in and out of your full cunt.

“I want to get you pregnant,” Kyojuro confessed, his eyes burning as they flicked between where he appeared and disappeared inside you, to the way your tits bounced with each of his punishing thrusts, and back to your face. “I’ve been dreaming about it since I met you.”

“C-can’t tell you h-how many times I’ve imagined filling you with my seed until – fuck – you’re carrying my child.”

Some small, rational part of your brain genuinely did not know whether he was serious, and an even smaller part was baffled that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care one way or the other. The only reaction you gave him, instead, was a struggle of your legs against his grasp until he allowed you to wrap them around his hips to hold him close as he chased his second release of the night.

“Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll pull out,” Kyojuro grunted, though, with the way he continued to thrust even harder into you, you doubted his ability to do so. “Just say the word.”

Admittedly, it was probably too late to worry about that, given that you could still feel the traces of his cum trickling out of you as he continued to ram his length into your spent core. But even if that ship hadn’t yet sailed, you knew you could not let him pull out; could never, not when he made you feel this good.

“Don’t you dare pull – ah – pull out,” you managed, legs tightening around his hips to keep him pinned against you. “I want it – I need it, Kyojuro. Give it to me.”

Your words were enough. With a strangled shout, Kyojuro came once more, his excess cum leaking out of your stuffed cunt, its hot stickiness trickling between your cheeks and pooling on the car hood beneath you, staining faded red with milky white. The cant of Kyojuro’s hips still did not cease as he continued fucking his seed right back into you, and you could do nothing but spread your thighs wider and accept it, mewling softly with your lips against his collarbone.

Kyojuro remained tense above you for several more seconds before he relaxed, his weight pressing you fully against the car hood as he collapsed against you. You both remained quiet for a moment, working to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” your friend breathed after a moment, nuzzling your sweat-slickened neck affectionately.

You nodded, unable to stop the wide grin which formed on your face. “One would think you’d been waiting a long time to do that, Kyojuro,” you teased, arching your neck to expose more of your throat as his lips traced delicately across it.

“And if I have?” He murmured, pausing to suck lightly on the sensitive skin below your ear. “What would you say then?”

You threaded your fingers through unruly, golden hair and tugged lightly, pulling his face from the dip in your neck so that he would meet your eyes.

“I would say,” you began seriously, suppressing a giggle at the way Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed. “That you should probably take me home, then, because I’m not nearly done with you.”

Your fiery friend answered with a growl, low and deep in his chest as he rolled his hips into yours once more, his cock twitching back to life.

Instead of pressing you back against his car, Kyojuro instead flipped you to your stomach, your breasts smushing against the windshield of his car, the sweat clinging to your skin certain to leave behind a lewd outline of your body against the glass.

“You should probably buckle up then, my flame,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Because I’m afraid I can’t wait until I get you into my bed to have you yet again.”

[leascorner]

j.s. | Welcome home

Summary: After a mission, Jake gets some well deserved break at home. However the week might not turn out how he had planned.

Pairing:  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x childhood bff!f!reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death and near death experience, mention of break-up, probably inexact american army facts, ever most likely inexact description of Texas, mention of food, two idiots in love, happy ending

Word Count: 9.2k

A/N: I've said it before, I will say it again. The only trope that I can write/read about Jake is a childhood/best friends to lovers, don't fight me. I also see Jake as an older brother to two half-sisters his mother had with a very good man, after his father abandonned them. This is my canon.

Anyway, this is way too long and way too chaotic but I just couldn't stop writting so enjoy!

Masterlist

Y/N was literally hopping up and down with impatience - or perhaps was it the three cups of coffees she had drunk to be able to keep up with the 2-hour-long drive to the airport in the middle of the night. She was standing on the arrival floors, on her tiptoes, trying to locate the person she was picking up. The flow of travellers coming through the arrival doors was continuous, so many blond heads coming through and none of them was his.

Her childhood best friend’s flight had landed a dozen of minutes prior; 3:28 a.m. was the time she received a “be right there, see you soon” text. Ever since then, the seconds had been going past very - very - slowly and with every second passing, Y/N chest had got narrower from anticipation to the point she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It hadn’t been more than a year and a half now that they had seen each other in the flesh. Of course, there were the texts, the emails and the FaceTime calls, but it was never the same.

“Jake!”

The sea of people in front of them seemed to split in half to let them collide in one another. The said Jake let his bag fall to his feet to catch a flying Y/N, lifting her from the ground as if she weighted nothing. Her hands found the back of his neck and her head found the crook of his neck, reuniting their bodies as if they were only one mind.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sniffed her hair, intoxicating himself from her perfume.

Jake let her down reluctantly when he realized they were in the way of other people reunions. After swinging his bag over his shoulder and dragging her near a row of seats, he finally took a good look at her, dark circles under puffy red eyes and hair all other the place. He dried her tears softly and kissed the top of her head, something he was sure he hadn’t done since they were in high school and that fucker of Chad had broken up her heart - thinking of it now, it seemed like it was a lifetime away. However, he knew that in this moment there was no sadness in her tears. She was crying probably a little happiness to seeing him again, but most certainly a lot of relief to have him alive in front of her.

He took another step back to have an even greater look at her. Y/N was exactly how he last saw her one year or so ago, and exactly how she looked like even all the other times he had to leave. She did not seem to age, and he was sure that the fine smile lines she was now wearing had always been there. It brought comfort to his heart to know that whatever would happen, she would always be waiting for him. He knew it was also selfish, but he had made peace with those thoughts a long time ago. These were moments that he was collecting in his mind for when he was somewhere overseas, fighting for his life.

“My my, did you grow up a few inches?”

“Oh, shut up!” Y/N laughed and tried to nudge him in the ribs. Jake easily grabbed her right elbow to bring her closer in another embrace, so very glad to be home, even only for a little while.

Ventilation was swinging litters of hot air into the car's cabin as it was a rather chilly night for October in Texas. The full moon was lighting up all the roads in front of them, just as if it was making sure they would get home safely.

During the drive, the main discussion turned around how excited everyone would be to have him there. Y/N and her parents were the only ones to know about Jake’s surprise visit; they had only known for about three days before his flight landed that he unexpectedly got a week of leave. They would surprise his family later that day for lunch - only after they both had a rather long nap to make up for the sleepless night.

Jake had seen his family a couple more times than Y/N this past year and a half. Even if he considered Y/N to be family, this wasn’t exactly the rule of the administration. Blood family had some more privileges, like sometimes visiting for the holidays. His mother and one of his little sisters also visited him in Singapore when he was stationed there for an exercise in the Taiwan Strait; they had booked a vacation to be able to see him there. Y/N, at that time, had been unavailable - she had her own life after all.

It was what Jake found the more difficult; to keep up with her life. Most of her friends were common friends from high school. With her going to a different university and later with her different jobs, some of her friends were total strangers to him. However, they all seemed to come and go into her life, leaving more or less damage.

“I am sorry about you and Nick.”

Y/N finished getting back to the right line of the highway and removing the blinker, before glancing quickly in Jake’s direction. He was looking at her, with an expression she couldn’t quite read, but that she understood as some kind of gladness. She sighed while turning her focus back on the road.

“You can lie better than that, Jake.”

“Well, didn’t like the guy so…”

It had been a couple of months now than her longtime boyfriend Nick and she had broken up. What confused Jake the most was how this was not a topic for discussion. She hadn’t called crying; she did not seem to be angry. She just announced it to him like it was nothing and directly switched subject. He hadn’t found a way to bring it back on the table, so he asked their friends and family. They all had the same answer; she was doing fine. She seemed to have continued her life just like nothing had happened.

“Was it him-”

“It was me,” Y/N cut him off quickly abruptly, leaving Jake with an uneasy feeling. She sighed again, probably realizing how harsh her tone had been. “This wasn’t working out anyway.”

Though she could not see him, Jake nodded back acknowledging her response. He still felt like there were more to it, but he understood that now wasn’t the time to discuss it. Ever since they had known each other - and it went back to kindergarten, they hadn’t had many secrets for one another. And if they had, it was never anything major.

So, he shook off this feeling and gently grabbed her hand resting on the gearshift to squeeze it softly.

“I do am sorry, though.”

“I know.”

It was nearly six in the morning when Y/N pulled up in her parents’ driveway.

The porch light was on, welcoming them, making sure Jake knew he was expected, and it made him smile fondly. It still felt surreal somehow; after everything, he was home. Getting out of the car, he breathed the fresh air of Texas like he hadn’t breathed in years.

Y/N was already opening her trunk, getting out a duffel bag that seemed to contain some clothes for today. Jake jogged toward her before she was able to get his own khaki bag out. She rolled her eyes, smiling, when he gently slapped her hands away to take care of it.

“Mom set up a spare bed in my room,” Y/N informed him while walking to the front door. “Just like the old days.”

And nothing in the house had changed either.

The hallway was still a drive along memories with all sorts of pictures hanged upon the wall. Y/N’s parents wedding portrait. Y/N’s baby pictures. Y/N on the day of the start of her first kindergarten year - just before they met each other. A couple more of first day of school pictures - this time with him in it as well. A couple of family vacation pictures. And along with them, a couple of pictures of events he wasn’t even there to attend. Y/N’s university graduation, her parents’ thirty-year anniversary celebration party, her first promotion celebration dinner…

The kitchen was still on the right, the living room on the left and straight ahead the stairs to the bedrooms. Y/N’s bedroom still had Justin Timberlake poster hung up on the walls along with some pictures of friends and family. The teddy bear he won for her at the funfair when they were not even ten stood on her bed. Jake swore that if he opened the dresser, he would still find the shelf that was for his stuff back then.

Without many words, both of them got ready for bed. Y/N took the en-suite bathroom first and when Jake got back in his sweatpants, she was already in bed, cuddling Mister B the teddy bear. His chuckle made her look up to him with sleepy eyes and quickly look away when she realized he didn’t wear a shirt. He kissed her on her forehead before tugging her more tightly in her sheets and turning off the bedside lamp.

“Do you remember when I couldn’t sleep unless someone was holding my hand?”

Jake only hummed in answer, and even in the darkness of her room, his hand found hers instinctively. Their fingers intertwining immediately, he did just as he had promised when he was only just a kid; he never let it go.

“Son,” Y/N’s father spoke from the other side of the kitchen, “don’t worry about it.”

Jake shook his head, smiling, before proceeding with what he was already doing: loading the cup he had used to drink coffee in the dishwasher. Ever since he had been up earlier that morning, Y/N’s parents had pampered him with all their attention while also being busy preparing lunch. Every time he asked if they needed help, they would assure him he just needed to stay put in his seat.

It had always been like this, for as long as he had remembered. Whenever he had gone over when Y/N and he were still in middle school, her parents had always taken good care of him, making sure the crust of his PB&J sandwiches were cut off, putting on his favourite beddings when they were having a sleepover, drying his clothes in the air dryer when they came home soaking wet from the park. He felt loved in a different way than he did at home, where he had a hard time adjusting to his new family dynamics with his two younger step-sitters. Growing up, they continued on listening to him and caring for him. Y/N’s father was the one he went to for advice before he enrolled. Ever since, and with the little time he had with them every time he came home, it still hit him in the face how much they loved him like he was their own son.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked once more.

This time, they did not have time to answer. Y/N appeared on the doorstep, changed out of her pyjamas, hair still wet. “The shower is all yours, Jake.”

She watched him go as if she had to make sure he remembered the way to her room. She hadn’t really realized yet that he was really here, with them, and feared that he would just disappear at any minute or that she would just wake up from whatever dream she was having. Somehow this also seemed to be all too familiar, like a play they had rehearsed a hundred time before. It broke her heart a little to know this was most likely not going to happen again before a very long time, that it could actually never happen again.

Y/N got this thought out of her head as soon as it came. She didn’t need to think about this. Not now. Not ever. She just needed to enjoy whatever time she had with him at home.

“He looks good,” her mum stated once Jake had made it to the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, he does,” Y/N spoke softly, eyes lingering to where Jake had been only a couple of seconds before, suddenly wondering if he was really as good as they thought.

When Jake got back to the kitchen the entrance clock had just struck eleven. Only sixty minutes until he would be reunited with his family. It never felt more real, but he couldn’t quite realize it. He was so used of being far away from them, totally disconnected from their realities, hearing their news after everyone else. Yet, he had always found them as he had left them, eyes watering to see him home or gone.

He joined Y/N on the vegetable preparation. Washing, peeling, cutting kept him busy while the anticipation started to build up. All while Y/N’s father asked him about what new manoeuvres he had learned. Being an aviator himself, they could talk about flying for hours to Y/N’s greatest damn; she had the biggest fear of flying - and perhaps the fact that Jake nearly crashed them while flying an old aircraft he had restored with her father when they were teenagers had something to do with it.

“These boys,” Y/N’s mother sighed playfully as Jake and Y/F/N were debating whatever solar planes were the future of aviation. Y/N smiled as she shared a knowing look with her mother, who was getting ready to lay the table in the dining room.

“Mom, hold on,” Y/N called before reaching inside the cupboard next to her, “you are missing a plate.”

“Why? Is Mark coming after all?”

Y/M/N’s face went white in only a second as she realized what she had just said. Not knowing what to do else, Y/N handed her the white plate. Looking sideways to Jake, she hoped he hadn’t heard - she didn’t want him to find out like this, when his whole family was going to be here in the next thirty minutes.

It was already too late though; Jake’s attention had of course switched to their awkward interaction. Her father was quick to step in, wiping his hands on a cloth and moving towards his wife.

“Of course he is, darling. Let me help you bring those into the dining room.”

Y/N watched them disappear before quickly turning back to the carrots she was now cutting in a Julienne, praying Jake would just drop the subject. Ever since she had learned that Jake was having a leave, she had planned their reunion to be perfect. She had purposely lied to his family, pretending to have a very big news to share with them so they all agreed to gather even if the atmosphere was not good. She had made them promise to bury the hatchet, for “her” and most absolutely for Jack. Whatever touchy topics they would have to talk about, they could do it after.

“Why wouldn’t he come?” Jake still asked and, at that moment, she knew that whatever she would tell him would never be sufficient to not draw his suspicion any further. She couldn’t lie to him even if she tried.

“Just been busing with work lately, you know how it is.”

Without letting him time to ask more questions, Y/N went for the stoves to make sure the sauce was still reducing as it should have. She could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes on her back and could only hope he would drop the subject.

“Jake, son,” Y/F/N had just gotten back from the dining room, “would you mind giving me a hand with the roast?”

After taking a last look at Y/N, still very focused on stirring the sauce, Jake turned to her father. It wasn’t until she didn’t feel his eyes on her that she turned to look at him. She watched as her father made him took out the turkey so he could put some more butter on it. Out of the corner of his eye his father gives him a reassuring wink signalling her he had got this.

The bell rang at the exact same moment Y/N put the last plate of hors d’oeuvres at the centre of the table. Shooting a look across the piece, she saw her father squeezing Jake’s shoulder in what seemed to comfort him. She smiled shyly, trying to hide her own nervousness. Thanks to her father, Jake had nearly forgotten about the earlier incident about Mark and the reason he wouldn’t have been able to make it. He hadn’t asked any other questions, and they hadn’t given away other secrets. All was well in the best of all words, or so she still tried to convince herself. It was all that mattered.

“Just like we said, you both stay here, and we’ll bring them for you.”

Y/N watched as her parents disappeared in the hall. She turned to Jake who she now realized he was close at her side - she knew from the way his lips were set in a tight smile that he was somehow nervous. When noises started coming from the hall, Y/N grabbed Jake’s hand without thinking. She needed him to know she was there, that she would always be there, just like they promised when they were younger. It would take much more than a thousand of miles and a few hiccups to take them apart. As if he was thinking the exact same thing, Jake squeezed her hand back.

Jake’s step-dad was the first to enter the dining room. Y/N saw his eyes go from herself to Jake right next to her side, his eyes lighting up in realization. Yet, he didn’t say anything, holding a finger to his lips to let them know he would stay silent while moving further into the room as if nothing had happened. He and Jake had never been particularly close; he was a good man, a good husband, and a good father to his daughters, but Jake’s fatherly figure had always been Y/N’s father.

Next to enter the room was Jake’s youngest step-sister, Sophia. She immediately spotted him, letting out a cry and running into his arms. He crushed his sister in one of those same hugs he gave Y/N when she picked him up from the airport. It warmed her heart to see them like that. Sophia was still very young when Jake had enrolled; she was only just a kid and had grown up with the lack of his older brother. She was looking up to him so much that Y/N had sometimes to remind her that he didn’t have only qualities. He was her hero in so many ways…

Sophia’s reaction got the rest of the family - his mother, Olivia, his other step-sister, and his step-brother, Mark - in the dining room quite quickly. There were a lot of “Jake!” shouted from across the room and loads of tears, happy smiles, and hugs.

“I can’t believe he is here.” Sophia cried again; this time she was in Y/N’s arms. “And I can’t believe you lied to us.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Y/N smiled, tugging a string of her hair behind her ears before bringing her in an even closer hug if it was possible. She wasn’t sure she had seen her this happy in her life, she realized.

Y/N was an only child with a very little family. Over the years, Jake’s family had grown to be her own as well. As children first, as they were always all together at either one’s house or the others. As teenagers when his step-sisters weren’t babies anymore and they had started to be able to play more with them. She remembered helping his mom getting both of his sisters ready for school, all of them celebrating Christmas at her parents or going dress shopping for Olivia’s first prom.

Ever since Jake had been deployed on the West Coast and later overseas, they had grown even closer. There were brunches on Sundays, just the three of them, where Sophia would file them up on her latest dating adventures. There were lunches at Olivia’s office after they had taken a midday yoga class. There were breakfasts with Sophia before her classes began. Y/N had always made sure they were alright, as if she had to do it for Jake.

So far, the lunch had turned out great.

Jake had told them all about his last position and this group of pilots he had been joining overseas. Everyone had started feeding him bits and pieces of what had occurred ever since the last time he’s been home. Olivia and Mark had managed not to fight, which was a miracle in itself, per Y/N’s opinion. Jake’s mom had finally stopped crying. And Sophia seemed to have forgotten about those hard choices she would have to make once she graduated from college at the end of the year.

At least, that was the case until Jake asked about it.

“So, any thoughts yet about what you’ll do next year?”

“No, not really.”

Y/N had already seen that look on Sophia’s face. It was the same one she made when she was hesitating between an avocado toast and pancakes at the place they were used to going to brunch; every time she had been making this face, she had ended up with ordering both. Sophia eyed her tentatively and Y/N immediately shook her head no, silently pleading her not to do whatever she was thinking.

Today was not the day. Jake had only gotten back from abroad hours ago, they would have enough time to discuss it in the next couple of days.

“I am thinking of enrolling,” Sophia stated abruptly.

Boom.

The bomb had landed.

Y/N sighed, mentally cursing Sophia for needing whatever validation from him. They all had talked about this extensively for months on now. Decide to enrol was one thing, accept that one of your relative would do the same was another. She knew how Jake was; he didn’t look like it at first sight, but his family was his everything. He had made the selfish decision that could result in them losing him forever, yet he wouldn’t accept that she’d do the same.

From the deathly silence that came after Sophia’s statement, Y/N rested the cutlery on the side of her plate, bracing herself for whatever had to come. Her attitude made Jake immediately turned to her. She had never seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows this deep before. She didn’t know if it was from dread, disappointment, or anger.

“You knew?”

Jaw tight, Y/N didn’t answer, and Jake huffed - of course, she knew. How could she not? She was here, with his own family, when he was thousands of miles away fighting for his country. She was here, only a ride away, when he couldn’t even remember the last time he had enough telephone network to FaceTime them. She was there, physically with them, when he was just a ghost, present for a few days a year before disappearing for months on hand.

Y/N tried to reach out for his left arm to try and calm the whole situation down, but he moved ever so slightly she couldn’t touch him. The fire in Jake’s green eyes was incandescent. He was angry, with Sophia, with her, with everyone. And to know he didn’t even know half of it…

“Let’s not start now,” his older step-sister stepped in to try and reason him.

“Why?” Jake retorted immediately. “Wanna updates me on what is going on with Mark as well?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer and as she couldn’t seem to find something to say, she then closed it and lowered her head. She and Mark had officially announced a few weeks before Jake returned that they were going to take some time apart. They had been married for nearly three years and they were having a rough path. They had started couple therapy, trying to make things work. Y/N couldn’t count the hours Olivia had spent on her couch, crying and eating ice-creams.

Y/N knew exactly how she felt like. The deception of thinking she had found the love of her life only to realize it was more complex than this. The sadness of loving someone and it still not being enough for the two of them to be happy. The paralyzing fear of being alone, of never being well enough.

She needed a shoulder to cry onto and a lot of love, and not to be reminded of what a failure she thought she was.

“I am sorry,” Sophia mumbled. Y/N wasn’t sure to whom she was apologizing. Jake? Them?

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it?” Jake half-shouted, pointing her finger at her like he was accusing her of the worst betrayal.

“Don’t say anything you’d regret, son.”

Y/N’s father word seemed to put some sense into him as he leaned his back against his chair, folding his arms against his chest. The distress on Sophia’s face was now palpable and she was on the verge of crying from Jake’s quite violent reaction. Though she didn’t expect Jake to be totally supportive, Y/N had not expected him to reject the idea that much either. She had thought that he would’ve still listen to her reasons, maybe try to talk her out of it, but finally make peace with the idea. Just like they had. Just like they all had when he was in her shoes.

Olivia had regained her composure and wrapped an arm around her sister’ shoulders. The look she sent Jake probably refrained him from attacking again his little sister. Instead, he chose another target for his anger.

“How can anybody be cool with this?”

Before Jake’s mom could speak, Y/N called him out. “Why could you do it and not her, Jake, huh?” She wants to be like you so bad, don’t you see?

“That’s not the same thing.”

Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes.

It made her even bitter. For all the things he hadn’t told her when he had no reason to hide it from her. For him being hurt that they didn’t want to discuss as such important topics over the phone. She would have liked to be sorry to hide all this from him, yet his reaction had only comfort her on her choice.

“You’re being unfair.”

“Am I now?” he laughed. “Excuse me for putting my life at sake and not wishing for me sister to do the same.”

“Did anybody ask you to? If anything, we would all have loved to keep you by our side.”

“Oh, I see. So, this is all my fault, right?”

The daring look he offered her made her heart jump in her chest. Her stomach was in fire; consuming her from the inside. She was tired from the sleepless nights she had for the last few months. And sad about the outcome of this lunch. And disappointed in him. And quite frankly done with his attitude.

Sighing, she gave in and looked away, throwing her napkin on her plate at the same time. Whatever this was, it was too much for her to handle. “If you’d excuse me,” she announced as she moved her chair back. “I am not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N-” he called after her, grabbing her arm to make her stay. She gave him a pained look before abruptly pulling away from his grip.

“Welcome home, Jake.”

Jake’s face appeared once again on her phone screen.

Big bright smile, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, forehead sun-kissed by the first rays of sunshine of spring. The picture had been taken one of the few times she had fly out to California to visit him. They had such a good time that Y/N used to hold all those memories close to her heart. Now, she couldn’t even look at it.

She couldn’t count the number of texts Jake had sent nor the number of messages he had left on her voice mail. She hadn’t read nor listened to any of them and had even decided to turn off her phone at some point during the night. She needed some time alone to take a breath and to swallow the disappointment that was forming a lump in her throat.

Despite the emotional roller coaster this day had been, she hadn't fallen asleep until late in the night, turning over in the sheet nonstop while thinking of all the comebacks she could have said to his face. And like every other night for months now, when she had finally managed to get some sleep, her worst nightmare had woken her up a couple of hours later.

It only made her feel worse and she cried all the tears in her body. It was like whatever emotion she had retained in the last year had come back to her like a wrecking ball. She was angry for all sorts of reasons all linked to Jake one way or another. She was also very sad of the situation she found herself into, of Jake having spoiled their reunion, of the spectacle she had given in front of her loved ones.

So, when she turned on her phone a few hours later, eyes still puffy and red from the lack of sleep and the crying, she didn’t hesitate to turn down his call when his smiley face appeared on her phone screen. At that time, she discovered the multiple texts and missed calls of her parents and Jake’s sisters. She sent them a quick group message, letting them know she was fine and that she would catch up later. Leaving her phone on the kitchen counter, she got ready for her day.

Her phone rang four more times while she was getting ready. She was now determined to let him know to leave her alone. She was still pissed, and she needed to compose herself. This was without counting on the doorbell ringing when she was about to answer her phone.

Stopping whatever she was doing, she made the few steps from the kitchen counter to her apartment door, opening it without even thinking who she would find behind. Much to her surprise it was the only person she didn’t want to see. Jake. Standing there, phone in his hand.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed when she nearly shut the door in his face.

He stopped it before it was fully closed and after a deep sigh, Y/N let him in without even giving him a look. She closed the door behind him, passing him - still without looking at him - and went to the living room. She leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms on her chest much like he had done during lunch just the day before.

Jake stood in the middle of the room, watching around him. It was the first time he was in her new place, the one she started rented after she broke up with her long-term boyfriend. It wasn’t much, only a one-bedroom apartment with a sanitized decor - she hadn’t had the heart to make it her own. It was close to her work and not a too long drive from her parents; it was all she really needed.

Y/N studied him in silence. He must not have had the memo about the Texas weather at that time of the year as he was only wearing a beige sweater, sleeves rolled up. It wasn’t much of a surprise he had forgotten how it was; he had spent so little time home in the last ten years.

When her eyes finally got to his face, she realized he was now staring at her. She tried reading him like she could before, but what she found in his eyes, she couldn’t interpret. Perhaps something had been broken between them. Perhaps there were only so much absence someone could handle. Perhaps they had let the miles come in between them for real this time.

She couldn’t tell how long they stayed like this before he finally spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Long gone was the hope she had that he would apologize.

Jake had never been one to be wrong; he was probably even the most stubborn person she had ever met. Though she liked this confidence in him, she also knew it was hiding something much deeper. His trauma of being abandoned by his father when he was still a toddler. The fear of his loved ones realizing what a failure he was, despite everything he had already accomplished. The fear of never being enough.

He had assured her it wasn’t one of the reasons he had enrolled, and she knew he was lying to her just as much he was lying to himself. But she wasn’t her twenty-something-self; she wasn’t going to protect his feelings anymore. Now that they didn’t have an audience, she could lay her cards on the table.

“Do you mean, just like you didn’t tell us about the ejection seat accident that you had six months ago?”

She saw his face drop ever so slightly before he regained his composure back. She wasn’t the only one keeping things from him, yet contrary to him, the things she was keeping a secret weren’t really hers anyway.

“How would you know?”

“Javy called me that time,” she stated dryly, memories of the call she got in the middle of the night flowing to her head. She still had nightmares about it most nights. “He wanted me to know in case your brain injury worsened, and they had to call your family.”

This secret, she had never told anyone and had carried the weight of it on her own until now. She had smiled and assured everyone that all was fine for the days - sixteen in total - they didn’t hear from him; how could he, he had been literally in a 24h surveillance at the hospital. She had had Javy on the phone to report every little detail he had of Jake’s evolution. She hadn’t had sleep for weeks straight and had nearly cried when Jake had called him after a very busy and unexpected mission he took part in - another way for putting he had just got cleared from the hospital.

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Jake! You got banned from flying for six weeks. Six fucking weeks!”

“And yet, it wasn’t the first time I ended up in the hospital, nor was it the last time. You know that’s part of the job.”

Y/N snorted.

Like hell she knew. The job description went with never being in the same time zone as your loved ones, missing every single milestone in their life, putting his very own safety at risk so they could all be free and safe, and omitting all details of the national security missions to which he was taking part. She was pretty sure though there was no line in his contract about lying about his health, especially when he could have died, to his family.

For some reason, this whole situation had made his absence even worse. She realized he didn’t feel safe to let them know when things had gone bad; if this time she had known, she couldn’t even imagine all those other times Javy hadn’t been there to inform her. It had awakened a visceral (and most likely also irrational) fear in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and she still wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Why is this such a big deal when you knew what was going in here and didn’t even tell me?”

If she hadn’t been this tired, Y/N would have probably walked to him to slap him. How could he compare his near-death experience to his sisters’ decisions? How could any of it be equivalent?

“This was not my truth to tell,” she only replied blankly.

Yes, she wasn’t very proud of hiding things from Jake and lying on purpose. But she wasn’t thirteen any longer and when people confided in her - when she promised she wouldn’t tell him anything - she wasn’t going to go running to her best friend to spill all the tea.

“Will you then tell me the truth about what really happened between you and the other dickhead?”

“I already told you everything,” she answered dryly, a little bit too quickly for it not to be suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

Y/N knew from the sound of his voice it was pure provocation. He gave her the same daring look she had just seen the day before - the same consuming flame was in his eyes - and she could see his infamous smirk dawning on his lips. She wondered why he wanted to prove just how right he was - how he was always right - so bad. It made her skin scramble how infuriating he was.

She didn’t answer right away and stared at him, arms crossed on her chest a little bit tighter to protect herself. Everything that was happening was only making her angrier towards him. He had ruined everything, and he had just decided to continue on doing so.

She had dreamt about him coming home for months and months, to have him by her side and now, she could only wish for him to go away. The anger, the pain, the animosity; it was all too much. She couldn’t keep up anymore.

“What do you want me to tell you, huh? How much of a great boyfriend and man he was, but that it still wasn’t enough? How much a horrible person I am for not being able to fall in love with a person that would devote his own life to try and make me happy?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but closed it as the words sank in. It all made sense to him suddenly. Why she seemed to be relieved it was all over. Why she didn’t call him after he broke her heart. Why, on the rare occasion he had discussed the break-up with his sisters, they had never talked badly about her ex-boyfriend. He didn’t break her heart. He never did.

She was the one breaking his.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, this time his voice much softer.

How could she? When it all started with his accident - that she wasn’t even supposed to know of. When it took her five years of a stable relationship to realize her longtime boyfriend had never have been the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When it took her half of her adult life to understand she had been lying to herself for almost all her life and that even now, she didn’t know her truth from her lies any more.

Knowing the truth, Jake didn’t know what to say. He wanted to feel sorry, he wanted to tell her he was. But was he really? It would be lying to say he didn’t exult when he had heard of the break-up... On the day she introduced him to Nick, they he had discussed - quite vividly - about the country actions in Afghanistan - one of the campaigns he had just come home from - and from that day, Jake had just decided he wouldn’t like the man. He hadn’t been very subtle about disliking him, but in his opinion, Nick had paid him back in his own coin: monopolizing Y/N whenever Jake had her on the phone, making her choose between the two of them when he had had the opportunity to fly her oversea. He still felt nauseous to recall how Y/N had seemed to only look at him every time Nick was in the room with them.

He made a few steps in her direction, going to comfort her, but Y/N only shook her head. She wouldn’t let any of this go so easily. It wasn’t because she had confided in him, that he now knew all the truth from her part, that everything else would be forgotten. There were still a lot of unspoken truth to uncover.

“Why are you really here, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason you got this leave, what is it?”

They stood less than a metre away, eyes in eyes. Jake never felt so vulnerable as every time she looked at him as if she could read his soul. He knew she was looking for something. Something he couldn’t give her.

Looking away, he answered, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Y/N slipped away before he could even react. He watched as she turned back towards the front door. She opened it without a word and looked into his eyes as she stood leaned against it.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

And this time, he didn’t even try to fight.

Javy: Hey, got Hangman on the phone today. You okay?

Y/N: Did he vent at you for calling me that one time?

Javy: Almost.

Javy: He wasn’t really angry though. Just frustrated I guess.

Y/N: I bet. Wasn’t really the nice little break he must have planned.

Javy: If there is anything to learn from all this it is that truth is better spoken from the person they apply to.

Javy: You should talk to him.

Y/N: Yeah well I’ll see about that.

Jake was very nervous, and he wasn’t very nervous a lot.

In fact, he was pretty sure the last time he was that nervous was when he had picked Y/N up for their senior prom. Just like every year since starting high school, she had been his date - though Chad nearly had taken her away from him, but this dumbass had broken up with her only a couple of weeks before prom. That year, for some reason, everything felt different. High school years were coming to an end, they were both going to different universities. Everything was about to change, and it would never be the same. Jake had dreaded taking their relationship to the next level. If only he had known that despite going to different universities, Jake enrolling and basically the two of them living their life in parallel, their relationship had made it.

More or less so... It had been three days now since the lunch at her parents, two since their other discussion - if he would call this an argument, he was still unsure - and today was the first time he was seeing her since then.

After spending time with his family, he was on his way to meet with some of their childhood friends. Normally, Y/N was one of them and she had been invited. But with the recent events, he didn’t know if she would be here. He had had time to reflect on what had been said and finally had apologized to her voice mail as she wouldn’t let his calls through. He had given her plenty of time and space, sending in only a couple of good mornings and good nights texts, just like he was used to. Yet he didn’t know what to expect.

When he spotted her already sat at the table he had booked, his heart started pounding furiously. It gave him hope not everything between them had been broken.

“Hey,” Jake greeted Y/N softly when he had gotten at her level.

Y/N only nodded, barely looking at him, before continuing her discussion with their friend, Monica, like nothing had happened. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing to greet everyone around the table.

In all those diners they had had with their friends when he had been home, she would have been sat next to him, so close but merely touching. He would have had his arm resting nonchalantly on the back of her chair. He would have whispered all sorts of things in her ears, and she would have laughed open light-heartedly at every single one of his jokes.

That night, she was sat as far as possible from him and he had difficulty focusing on the group discussion, his mind going back to her every time. He probably went the whole evening looking at her not so subtly in the hope she would like to give him a look. She did not.

“You good?” Matt, sat at his side, asked him after the main course.

“Yeah,” Jake answered though the little tremor in his voice didn’t reflect confidence.

“Just give her a little time. It’s just a lot, y’know.”

Jake only nodded.

The problem was indeed just that: time. His flight back was in two days now and she was supposed to be his ride. He knew she would be able to drop him off without speaking a word, while he sat there in the agonizing silence. He was sure he was not able to do it for a couple of hours, he couldn’t imagine what it would be to not have her speak to him every again. He couldn’t get back to combat with Y/N still mad at him. He needed to fix things. He had been able to do it with his sisters; he had to do it with Y/N.

Indeed, the lunch had finished soon after Y/N’s dramatic departure. His sisters hadn’t spoken another word to him, and Y/N’s parents had tried to maintain some semblance of a conversation. Jake had taken a quick walk to clear his mind before going to his parents.

He had sat down with Olivia first and then Sophia, so they could tell him everything that had been going on. He sat there listening to what they had to say until they were done. There had been a lot of crying on their side (only a tiny little bit on his side - most likely because he had a dust in the eye, he would say). In the end, they had hugged and laughed and remembered that they loved each other and that nothing could be more important than that.

He had realized Olivia seemed much more at peace, somehow differently but also similarly to Y/N’s. She had so many plans on her side - buying a house, planning a trip to Europe, getting a puppy – as if she had just discovered she could be a unique person outside her marriage and she genuinely was happier.

The talk with Sophia had been a little bit more sensitive. The idea of her enrolling made his blood boiling, but he had remained calm – or at least tried to - and listened to her reasons. If he was afraid to see himself in her, her reasons were solely different than his. She didn’t want this only to do like him; it was more that he had paved the way for her. He had made her promise to think some more about it - at least, graduate from college before deciding anything - and he had promised to be supportive. He would have some work on himself, but he would cross that bridge when he’d get there.

They had of course talked about Y/N and how she was carrying the whole family on her shoulders. She always made sure everyone was alright, answering her phone at 3 a.m. to pick up Sophia from a frat party gone wild, welcoming Olivia in her tiny apartment - giving her the only bed to sleep on the couch, despite her protest - the time she turned things round after Mark and she had decided to take some time apart. She even made sure their mother was alright when his step-dad was away for business, bringing her homemade meals that she only had to heat up and keeping her company.

If he always knew what an amazingly caring person she was, it only proved him right. He would be forever grateful she was the first person to have talked to him on his first day of kindergarten. He would be forever grateful for the woman she was. If he was honest with himself, it all made him love her even more.

He wasn’t ready to watch her from afar - well, from much far away than his current position - but he would do it (or at least try), should she ask him to…

After what seemed to be an eternity, the evening finally came to an end.

Jake didn’t get the opportunity to speak to Y/N though he hesitated multiple times to just call her out or walk to her and demand that they had a chat. She was currently bidding goodbye to everyone in front of the restaurant, and Jake was watching her attentively to ambush her just as soon as she was finished. He didn’t care if he would be rude to anyone by not saying thank you for coming and goodbye; he needed to talk to her.

After she hugged Monica and promised to let her know when she got home safely, she reached for her car key in her bag and made her way to her car without even looking at him. Jake took his luck and followed her. He called after her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

“Can we not?”

“Why?” she turned around suddenly. “Want me to tell you anything else?”

“Y/N, please.”

She only raised an eyebrow before turning back and continuing walking. Too bad for her, Jake wasn’t one to give up this easily. He followed her lead up to her car that she started to unlock to get in. A wave of panic got through him as he could feel her slip away from his fingers and he didn’t want that. If they didn’t have this talk now, he was not sure they would have it at all.

“I only have two days left,” he said, interposing himself between the closed door and her. “Please.”

Y/N froze at only a few centimetres away from him. She seemed to think about what options she had. Unfortunately for her, there just wasn’t much as she couldn’t make Jake move even if she wanted to. So, she chose the reasonable choice. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened.

“I-” he sighed, passing a hand on his face, frustration clearly visible on his face now. “There has been an incident. We lost two men.”

Y/N’s arms immediately dropped to her side; the mask she wore on her face cracked. She could have been angry he lied to her, yet again, but this time, it was too serious. People died. The command had given them time off because of it. It only reminded her it could end at any time. She really could lose him.

“Jake,” she sighed.

“I-”

His voice broke and Y/N didn’t hesitate to go in for a hug. Out of habits, his arms found her waist and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her perfume in, trying to ground himself and not totally lose it. She was his rock. There were no ways he would still be here if it wasn’t for her waiting for him at home.

He couldn’t lose her.

“I can only imagine the worry I cause you all,” he muttered in her hair. “I didn’t want to add anything to it.”

Y/N grabbed his face with both her hands and forced him to look at her. She wore a small frown on her eyebrows and determination in her eyes. While she was touched he wanted to spare their feelings, not knowing what was going on was even worse. She couldn’t count the number of times she had thought he was dead when an unknown number had called her phone. In order to support him the best way they could, they needed to know.

“Getting you back in one piece is our priority,” she started, voice bold as if she wanted him to engrave her words in his head. “That’s why we are keeping things to ourselves. We don’t want you to worry about us when you should be solely focused on staying alive.”

Jake half-smiled in return, which made Y/N relax a bit. Her hands fall on his shoulder as he kept her close to him, so close that there was no space between their two bodies. They had realized they wanted the exact same thing for one another: for them to be safe and sound.

“I worry about you all, all the time. I worry about you, all the time,” he confessed, his voice still low.

Jake reached out to tuck a loose string of hair behind her ear and Y/N instinctively leaned in his touch. It was like this between them, easy and pure. It always had. Sometimes - like these last past days, they were so caught up in life they seemed to forget what they had was so unique. Every time they had found their way back to each other.

“I left you alone while I am off, living my dream.”

“Don’t say it like you could have made any other choice, Jake.”

“I don’t regret it,” he answered right back. “Yet if I had to do it all over again, there are a lot of things about you that I would do a whole lot differently.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her heart rate slightly going up. If they often shared I-love-you’s more out of habits than anything else - though they were always genuine, Jake had never really expressed out loud how he felt about her, and from the electricity in the air - totally different from the explosive tension that had built up until now, she could feel there were more to it.

“It’s never too late, they say,” he smiled softly, his hand making it to the back of her neck.

Y/N hold her breath, searching in his eyes if he was being serious and if he was really wanting to finish the conversation they had started the night of their senior prom. If he wanted to do it right here, right now in a parking lot. It was a conversation that could have totally changed their life if they had it. A conversation for which they every so often imagined what they would have said if fear hadn’t stopped them.

If there were much younger back then, nothing now had changed at all.

“I’ve always been yours,” Y/N whispered. It would be lying if relief hadn’t wash over Jake. Of course he had known - he had always known - yet, hearing it was another thing.

“I know.”

Y/N’s bright eyes saw his eyes dove down to her lips, only a dozen of centimetres away she realized now, then back to her eyes. Her cheeks were burning up from the anticipation of what was to come. Yet, lost in each other’s eyes, none of them moved.

At that moment, the world could have stopped that they wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing else but them mattered.

“Well, kiss me then.”

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[unabashedllamamusic]

Yk what's fucking great about Mass Effect? In my two playthroughs so far (both femshep, one with a Traynor romance and one with a Liara romance), Shepard wants a normal family life. With Liara, it's lots of "little blue" kids, and with Traynor it's a house, white picket fence, two kids, and a dog. I feel like 99% of the time when a badass female lead wants children it takes away from their badassery or their independence, it's a way to tie them down and make them seem more domestic. Somehow (I credit Jennifer Hale's incredible voice acting), instead it feels more like Shepard wants to be normal. She spends three games getting thrown into insane situations that she didn't ask for, losing friends, literally dying, having an entire galactic war on her shoulders, going into a mission expecting to die TWICE, and all that on top of whatever trauma her background leaves her with. Bonus points if you do colonist + sole survivor, because that woman must be so far beyond PTSD. But even after all the shit she's gone through, at the end of the trilogy she can say with absolute certainty that she wants to experience a normal life- something she's never gotten before, no matter your background. The best part is she doesn't mention retiring, there's no reason she can't keep her rank and have kids at the same time, she was raised by active-duty officers in one background so it's definitely a possibility. This isn't the "female lead wins by giving up her powers and becoming a mother" trope, it's proof that she's still a normal human despite everything. That's also why I prefer Traynor's romance to Liara, Shepard opens up to her more and seems more human. The mix of flirtyness and honest vulnerability is incredibly normal, through all the galaxy's insanity.

In general, Shepard's trauma is often mentioned in passing but never really shown. No matter the background or choices you make, they've been through hell to begin with and go through it a dozen more times throughout the trilogy. Everyone around them is like "oh wow that must've been tough" but Shepard usually just brushes it off, or gives a line or two about how much they miss whoever it was that died. She definitely had a lot more nightmares than the game let on.

I've walked through a destroyed city once, and it's haunted me daily for five years. I can't imagine being in multiple cities, on multiple worlds, as they're being destroyed, and knowing stopping it is your job, not to mention losing a shit ton of friends + family, your unit, or just the occasional comrade (background depending)

[jenniferjareauwife]

Could you do a celeb reader x jj where the teams finds out who reader is and is shocked

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff

warnings: innuendo

word count: 823

summary: request above 👆

"Are you sure they're gonna like me?" I asked.

"Of course. They're gonna be jealous. Of me. Because I'm the one who get to spend my life with you."

"Don't they have some kind of prejudice against actors or something?" I looked in the mirror and fluffed up my hair a bit, about to re apply my lipstick before she stopped me.

"Babe. It's gonna be fine. This isn't a red carpet. They're coming to my apartment. It's fine."

"Yeah but-"

"None of them are gonna care if you're best dressed or not."

"Are you sure."

"I promise. They're FBI Agents. Not the founders of Prada."

"Ok." I let out a breath and flopped down on the couch.

"They're gonna love you."

Fifteen minutes later all of JJ's friends came through the door at once. They all froze once they saw me, stopping their laughter and their conversation. "JJ you said her name was y/n. YOU NEVER MENTIONED IT WAS Y/N Y/L/N!" I woman with blonde hair squealed.

"Well I didn't-" JJ started.

"You have no excuses." The woman rushed over to me. "Hi nice to meet you I'm Penelope Garcia. I loved you in Dune!" She had a huge smile on her face.

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you." I shook her hand and looked over at the rest of her friends who had their jaws hanging open.

"Ok guys. Stop staring. I have sandwiches out on the table and a few games picked out." JJ sat down next to me and put her hand on my back.

I tried to remain casual, like I didn't have a dozen eyes watching me from across the room. "Do they always stare?" I whispered to her.

"Just at you."

"Thanks." I sighed and leaned into her.

"They just didn't expect it to be you. You know? They're shocked that they're meeting a celebrity, and that I'm dating one." She kissed my cheek and pulled me into her. "If you're uncomfortable just tell me."

"Ok." I rested my head on her shoulder, smiling as everyone came into the cozy living room.

"Do you guys wanna watch a movie or play some games?" JJ asked.

"What's your next movie?" A muscular bald guy asked.

"I actually can't say."

"Come on. We won't tell anyone."

"I legally cannot say."

"What's your favorite color?" A woman with dark brown hair asked. "I'm Emily by the way."

"Um...probably purple." It was refreshing to be asked such a simple question again.

"Do you have any pets?"

"I have an Australian Shepherd named Elmo."

"I have a cat named Sergio."

"I've always wanted a cat." I gave JJ a small pout. "I've tried to convince JJ to get one but she says one dog is already too much."

"JJ!" Penelope gasped.

"What?" JJ tried to defend herself but her fate had already been decided. Penelope and Emily started attacking her on how she could say no to getting a cute little kitten. "Are you gonna defend me at all or no?" JJ asked.

"No. Because I agree with them." I shrugged and listened to the rest of their lovely points about why we should get a cat. "See? We could get a little ginger cat and you can pick the name."

"But-"

"Baby please." I gave her my best puppy eyes and everyone laughed. I felt more relaxed now. These were cool people.

"Ok fine." Everyone cheered so I laughed, hiding my face in JJ's neck. She stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. "See? They love you baby." She whispered to me. "You had nothing to worry about."

"Well I know that now." I tilted her head towards mine, pulling her in for a sweet kiss. I felt everyone's eyes on us but I didn't care. We would have to get used to it anyways, once we went public.

"I never would've guessed you were this lovey dovey." Morgan said with a laugh. "In all your movies you play such cold hearted characters."

"I like a challenge." JJ smiled and kissed my cheeks a few times after I pulled away. I looked back at her and pecked her lips before giving her my bedroom eyes.

"Ok guys, party is over." JJ announced.

"We've only been here for an hour." Penelope protested.

"Why are we leaving?" Spencer asked, confused as Morgan tried to usher him out of the room. "Guys?"

"It's ok Spencer. One day you will understand." Emily sympathized. I giggled as JJ pined me down to the couch, excitement rushing through me as I heard the door shut. Before JJ went any further she just stared into my eyes, leaning so close our lips were just centimeters away.

"I love you so much."

"Why don't you show me then?" She didn't wait a second to connect our lips in a passionate kiss. I knew it was going to be a long night.

[fanficsformyfaves]

All Too Well

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, Struggles With Sexuality, Mentions of Underage Drinking (DO NOT DO IT), Jealousy, Alcohol Consumption, Confrontation

PREFACE: Rhea and Reader were childhood friends, but after a kiss they shared during a party, Reader cut contact and never spoke to her again. That was until their high school reunion came up and the two finally see each other years later

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Liv Morgan is also Reader's best friend from a different school in this A/U!

Some surprise appearances by other WWE Stars!

Was feeling a little angsty, don't mind me

"Are you sure it isn't too...showy?", I say,

Looking at Liv's reflection in the full-length mirror.

"Are you kidding? It's literally perfect"

I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

Within a week from now, we were set to attend our ten year high school reunion and to say I had knots in my stomach would be an understatement.

High school was fine, in fact, I often catch myself reminiscing on how simple life once was.

Not having to deal with adult responsibilities like work, bills or rent and just living life as I wanted...but there was one thing that made me wish time moved faster.

Rhea.

We grew up in the same neighborhood and were inseparable. Always sleeping over at each other's houses and hanging out every day after school. Wherever she was, I was. You wouldn't see me without her by my side and vice verse.

"Check this out", she says,

Smacking her wrist and causing the whipped cream she had on the back of her hand to catapult into her mouth.

"What the fuck? How?", I exclaimed.

She lets out a laugh, almost choking on the sweet foam.

"Saw someone do it on YouTube. Try it"

I shrugged, spraying some onto the back of my hand and repeating what she did. Only my attempt resulted in the cream to land on the side of my mouth. She lets out a roaring laugh, falling back against the couch.

"I've got you", she says,

Gently wiping it off my face and sucking it off her thumb. Her eyes never leaving mine, whilst doing so. I couldn't ignore the sudden rush of butterflies that irrupted in my stomach. What the hell was that?

I awkwardly clear my throat and sipped on some water. She eventually noticed my silence and squinted curiously.

"You alright, babe?"

Her nicknames have now become lethal to me. It's not like we haven't jokingly called each other things of that nature, but this time felt different.

"Mhm"

"Okay", she replied unconvinced.

Just then the door bell, rang. Thank god.

"I'll get it. Must be the food", she says,

Gently placing a hand on my thigh, before sprinting off. I felt her touch linger even after she'd already left the room. My heart racing against the confinements of my chest.

As the day turned to night, we got ready for the party Sonya was throwing, when I couldn't get the zipper of my dress up.

"Women's clothing is a complete joke!", I struggled inside the bathroom,

"Need some help?", she asked through the door.

Why was I so nervous for her to see me half dressed? We've changed in front of each other dozens of times before.

Though I must admit, I had to look away as we did. Something about seeing her so intimately made my stomach drop to my feet. Like I would...like what I see.

But nonetheless, I reluctantly agreed.

"Could you?"

She steps inside and carefully tugs my zipper up and once she was done, I turn around, patting myself off. For a moment, she eyes me up and down with a smile she was clearly trying to hide.

"That bad?"

"Not even close. You look amazing", she says,

Taking my hand and playfully spinning me around. God damn it, there go the butterflies again. I pull back, smiling awkwardly.

"Shall we?"

"We shall", she says,

Stepping aside and letting me out of the bathroom.

The entire car ride was silent, except for the ambience of the engine running and the radio softly playing. It gave me more time to fully process what happened and what exactly I was feeling.

It was all so sudden, that my head spun trying to wrap itself around it. I was probably overthinking. Maybe, I'd just imagined the whole thing and was worried over nothing?

"You're awfully quiet", she disrupts the silence,

Pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Usually, we'd be screaming non-sensical lyrics over songs we put on, but you seem rather distracted", she interrogated behind the wheel,

"Um, probably the shots I took before we left"

"Well, I'm designated driver tonight, so, have all the fun you want, sweetheart"

Again with the nicknames.

We eventually got to Sonya's and made our way inside. The house was crowded with drunken kids from school, dancing terribly and talking way too loud. Tonight was guaranteed to be hectic.

"You made it!", Sonya yells over the music,

Before yanking me into a hug and making me chuckle at her excitement.

"I thought you'd ditch, since you weren't at school today"

"Nope, just decided to skip since it's the last day before spring break", I explained,

Pulling away.

She then pulls Rhea into a hug and plants a kiss on her cheek, making Rhea laugh.

I couldn't help but feel off about it.

But before I could even react, a hand turns me around by the shoulder and it was Liv, my friend from a different school.

"Hey!", I greeted,

As she squealed, jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist, like she usually does.

"Oh my god, I haven't seen you since last semester!"

"I know! I was swamped with extra-curriculars and tests", she said,

Hopping back down.

I look over and was met with Rhea's intense gaze.

"Rhea, this is my friend, Liv. She goes to the school down the road from us"

"It's really nice to meet you!"

"Pleasure", Rhea greeted,

Her tone dry and unwelcoming. I give her a look of confusion, to which she simply ignored me, before walking off.

Besides that slight hiccup, the night went on just as I expected. With me getting wasted and making a fool of myself with Liv in the sea of dancing people.

Every now and then, I'd catch glimpses of Rhea staring daggers into me and for some reason, I didn't really mind. As a matter of fact, I sort of enjoyed the attention more than I was willing to admit.

That was until Liv grabbed my hips from behind and began swaying them, which then caused Rhea to visibly scoff and disappear from view.

Even in my drunken haze, I could tell she was irritated, but I decided to let her cool off, before attempting to ask any questions.

I did eventually feel the drinks working their way down, so I pulled Liv in close.

"I'm going to the bathroom!"

"Kk!", she yelled back.

I began stumbling towards the bathroom and swung the door open, just to find Rhea sitting in the empty bathtub.

"Hey there, stranger. I haven't seen you all night", I slurred.

"Yeah, you noticed? I'm surprised with the spectacular company that's been entertaining you"

My eyes squint curiously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She sighs through her nose, looking away.

"Nothing"

It was now my turn to sigh, as I closed the door behind me and sat on the floor, beside the tub.

"Someone's jealous", I teased.

She didn't respond and merely scoffed once again.

"I saaaid someone's jealous-"

"And what if I was?", she interrupts.

In that very moment, any ounce of drunkness violently fled my body.

"What?", I chuckled nervously,

"What if...I was?", she repeated,

Sitting up and gripping the edge of the tub to bring herself closer to my face.

I was at a complete loss for words. Hit with so many emotions at once, that I froze in place, just staring blanky at her.

"What do you-"

Before I could complete my sentence, she cuts me off by crashing her lips onto mine. The strangest part of it all was the fact that I didn't pull away.

It felt...good.

I grab her face and pressed deeper into the kiss, whilst swiping my tongue over her bottom lip, tugging it slightly with my teeth.

Her own hands do the same and before I knew it, she pulls me into the tub, straddling her hips. I felt myself growing needier with each passing second, but before anything else could happen, she made her way down my neck, whispering.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting this"

That's when reality finally hit me. I was in love with my best friend this entire time and couldn't bring myself to admit it. I was in love with a girl. All the pieces of myself that I thought were broken were now starting to make sense and I just wasn't ready.

I hastily pull away, getting out of the tub.

"Where are you going?"

"We can't do this", I say,

Wiping the smudged lipstick off my cheek.

"(Y/N)"

"I'm sorry, Rhea, I can't", I rushed,

As she stood up to follow me.

"(Y/N)-", she steps out of the tub,

"Please", I pleaded with teary eyes,

Catching off guard.

"Just...I can't", I choked back a sob.

I rush out of the bathroom and left the party entirely, but as I ran home with tears streaming down my face, my phone kept blowing up with messages and incoming calls.

Some being from Liv, looking for me and others from Rhea, begging me to come back so she could explain. I simply turned my phone off and finally arrive at the steps of my house.

I was consumed with more emotions than I could handle. Confusion, helplessness, fear, but most of all, grief. I was now meant to grieve the loss of my best friend and possibly the love of my life.

That night was the last time I'd ever spoken to her.

Rhea would continue to try and get a hold of me, but a few weeks go by and she eventually got the hint.

At school, I'd take different routes to try and avoid her and when we did cross paths in the hallway, I'd just speed-walk past her to get to my next class.

Losing someone like her has been and still is one of my biggest regrets.

"Hellooo?"

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Liv's hand waving at me.

"What?"

"I asked if I should do an updo or have my hair down"

"Oh"

"Are you okay? You seem like a bajillion miles away right now", she questioned,

"I'm fine"

"Mhm", she crosses her arms,

"What?"

"Nothing. If you say so", she shrugged,

Turning back to the mirror.

"Liv", I urged warningly,

"It's just, are you sure this isn't about...Rhea?"

"What? No"

She sighs, hopping on top of my vanity.

"What?", I repeated,

"How long have I known you?"

"Well...a while"

"And in that while, do you really think I can't tell when you're lying?"

It was now my turn to sigh, as my arms fold over my chest.

"What happened was...less than ideal, but don't let that ruin your night. You deserve to have fun", she says,

Getting back on her feet and making her way over to the bed, as I shrug, watching her take a seat next to me.

"Who knows, maybe she still feels the same way", she nudges,

"That's not funny"

"I'm being serious! Who you are isn't anyone else's business, but your own and if you do end up telling her the truth, that should be your choice", she emphasized,

"Look, (Y/N), you're a total babe. Anyone would be lucky to have someone as sweet and funny and pretty and smart and-"

"Okay, okay, enough with the flattery", I chuckle,

Nudging her back.

"Hey and if all else fails, we can still get wasted"

"See? This is why you're my friend", I say,

High-fiving her.

The days came and went in what felt like a flash and before we knew, it was the day of the reunion.

With each moment that passed of us being in the cab, my heart grew burdened by anxiety. What was I supposed to do if I saw her? What if she came up to me? Would she tell me off in front of everyone? Was I prepared for that to happen?

Worst of all...what if she brought a date?

"Stop doing that"

"Doing what?"

"I see the hamster wheels spinning"

I sigh, relaxing into the seat. Liv then pulls out a cannister and sneaks it under my purse.

"You're lucky I came prepared"

"You really did", I say,

Twisting off the cap and carefully taking a swig.

"But don't over do it. I actually wanna dance a little before we black out"

We arrive at the high school and I was immediately taken back. The grass, the steps, the doorway. It truly felt like a blast from the past.

"Just as ugly as I remember!", I squealed,

Throwing a hand over my mouth, as Liv snorts, leaning against me.

The gymnasium was packed with many familiar faces, two of which were a set of twins I used to know.

"Yo, no fucking way"

"Hey, Jey", I greeted with a beaming smile,

"If it ain't miss (Y/L/N). Man, you still look good"

I playfully roll my eyes, as he pulls me into a hug.

"I haven't seem your ass in a minute, ma"

"No! I saw you a few years ago, when I came to one of Liv's matches"

"Like I said, a hot minute"

I laugh, pulling away to greet everyone else.

The DJ starts playing a song from way back when and Liv gives a mischievous grin.

"Oh god"

"You know the drill, come on", she drags me onto the dance floor,

And all of our friends followed suit.

As we started to dance, the gym doors open, catching my attention. My face immediately drops upon realizing who it was.

"What?", Liv turns to see and her own eyes widen.

"Shit"

There she was.

Only, I almost didn't recognize her. From the new black hair slicked back, to the expensive three piece suit and tattoos, my heart nearly gave out.

She was nothing short of breathtaking.

Her eyes immediately fall upon mine and it felt like everyone else disappeared. Even with her new entourage behind her, being rowdy, all I could focus on was the dejected look on her face.

I had only myself to blame. Had I not been a coward sooner, none of this would've happened. We wouldn't have cut ties, grown apart and gone our separate ways. We might've even-

"You good, uce?", Jey snaps me back to reality,

"Yeah, I'm fine"

"(Y/N)-"

"I'm fine, Liv. Really", I reassured,

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom", I let my friends now,

Before walking out of the gymnasium.

I knew this was all my own fault, but I couldn't help but tear up, thinking of all the things I could've done to change what happened. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than me.

I arrive at the bathroom and lock myself in the handicap stall.

With no one around to hear me, I finally let go of all the tears I'd been desperately fighting back. After allowing myself a good few minutes to cry, I grab some tissues to wipe off the makeup that was surely running down my face.

I recollect myself and exit the stall, but as I went to check on myself in the mirror, the door creaks open and it was none other than Rhea walking in.

There couldn't have been a worse possible time than now to run into each other.

"Sorry", she said with her head low,

Stepping back out.

"Wait, Rhea"

She simply ignored me and kept walking, to which I followed behind her.

"Rhea, could we please talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"Please", I begged,

She finally stops and turns to face me.

"I'm sorry"

"Alright"

"Rhea, please", I pleaded,

Taking a hold of her wrist and making her eyes pour into mine. Even being this close to her made my heart race against the inside of my chest.

I carefully let her go and she stuffs her hands into her pockets.

It was now or never. I could either just let her walk away and risk never seeing her again or make things right, so... I took a deep breath and began.

"I wanna start off by saying I understand that you're angry. You have every right to be and I don't blame you for it", I reassured.

Her eyes never leaving my face as I spoke.

"But before you go, I just need to tell you how sorry I am", I start to choke up,

"Nothing I say or do can ever make up for how I ended things...but I'm sorry"

Her gaze was still intense, but I could make out her eyes glossing over.

"I'm sorry for leaving you with no explanation. It was childish and stupid, but I promise, it had nothing to do with you. I was scared and I didn't know who I was back then, but I do now. I am a woman who likes other women", I wept,

As she takes a deep breath in.

"I am a woman...who was in love with her best friend", I admit.

The confession causing her face and shoulders to drop.

"She just wasn't ready to say it"

"(Y/N)", she exhales,

"But that doesn't excuse me just leaving you in the dark and for that, I am so so sorry", I cried.

"No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not someone like you. Someone so kind and so beautiful", I softly cup her cheek,

As she melted into my touch.

"I know I don't deserve it, but you'll have me, I promise I will never hurt you again"

She shakes her head with a tearful smile, taking my hands into hers.

"I am so proud of you", she says,

As tear rolls down her cheek and meets the tip of my fingers.

"You are?"

"That's all I've ever wanted to hear"

And for the first time in a long time, I felt...light. The years of shouldering this burden was gone and I could finally breathe again.

I was so caught up in what was going on, that I almost didn't notice the audience of our friends gathered behind me. Guess I just have to lay it all out there now.

"Guys", I start,

When I felt Rhea's hand grab mine to make me face her.

"(Y/N), you don't have to do this"

"I do"

If she was brave enough to come out all those years ago, it was now my turn to have that same courage. I turn back towards the small crowd and see Liv cheering me on with a nod.

"I love Rhea and I'm not hiding it anymore"

A fleeting moment of silence overtakes the hallways, before they all rush in to hug me.

"I'm proud so of you, kid!", Liv squeals,

Causing Rhea and I to laugh amidst the group hug.

"You're a g, (Y/N)", Jey joins in,

"You finally got the girl!", Dominik yells,

Making Priest playfully smack the back of his head.

They all pull away, allowing Rhea and I to face each other once more.

"Let's give them their space, guys", Liv say,

Ushering everyone back into the gymnasium.

Without wasting another precious moment, she pulls me in and kisses me with a newfound passion.

This was how it was meant to be.

[lxndonorris]

stand by your side - Sebastian Vettel

Y/N x Sebastian Vettel Theme: Fluff/Angst Seb comforts you in time of need x taglist: @wolfsbanesbite @game-set-canet word count: 770+

You're pacing through your apartment, letting out an audible sigh. You don't dare look at the clock hanging behind you on the wall just above the doorframe. But the dooming thought of the upcoming doctor's appointment won't leave your mind even for a mere second. You wouldn't have scheduled one if it wasn't totally necessary.

Yet, the mention of that appointment is enough to tie up your stomach and send shivers down your spine. Unwillingly, you check the time again—one more hour. Shaking your head in disbelief, you keep on pacing from room to room, holding your phone close to your chest.

At least your friend group is trying to support you and cheer you up. They don't know how much stress you're going through just for this damn appointment, but you contemplate telling them—maybe just one of them. But who? So many thoughts race through your mind—just too many for one person to get under control.

Then a sudden noise snaps you out of this state—a key—someone is opening the door behind you. Surprised, you turn around. Not many people have a key to your apartment, and you're expecting no visitors today.

The door swings open slowly and gently. It's one of your closest friends, Sebastian.

"Hi." He says this with a warm but coy smile forming across his lips.

"Seb? What are you doing here?" You are confused.

Just then, you notice him carrying a huge bag, a backpack, and a cup of coffee. How did he even manage to open the door like that?

"I'm just here; uh, I brought you some coffee. And snacks." He lifts his arms, presenting the bag and the cup in his other hand. "I've also brought a smoothy if you're not in the mood for a hot drink, eh?" He struggles a little bit with the load he is carrying, and that's when you regain your composure.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You say you are approaching him to help him.

"No, it's fine." He says, lying obviously.

Sebastian hands you the coffee and sets the bag of snacks down on the floor before he lets out a quiet sigh as well.

The coffee cup is still steaming, and you put it down on the living room table. How did he carry it with his bare hands?

"This is so hot." You chuckle slightly before turning back to Sebastian. He isn't only carrying a dozen things, but he is also wearing a thick jacket, a beanie, jeans, and a pair of sneakers—his usual casual clothes.

"Yeah, I just got it from the bakery." He points behind him, chuckling as well.

Still confused, however, you watch him for a while, not sure what any of this means.

But then he coughs slightly. "I hope this isn't too much." Sebastian says in a rough voice, motioning to all the stuff he got you.

Shaking your head, you let your eyes wander over the coffee cup and the bag full of your favorite snacks—chocolate and cookies.

"This is so sweet." You say it quietly. "But why?"

Your eyes meet again, and his gaze is warm and comforting. It puts you at ease, and you keep looking at each other until he shrugs softly.

"The others called and told me you had an appointment." Sebastian says and hesitates, saying the last word out loud, not in a demeaning way but in a loving way. "So I wanted to cheer you up."

A shy smile forms on his lips again, but you can't believe what he just said. Looking down at the floor, you try to make sense of it.

A thousand thoughts run through your mind again, but then they ´vanish in an instant when your eyes meet again.

"Thank you." You say, holding back a quiet sob, but obviously, he already knows.

"It's okay." He says, wrapping you in a warm hug. "You don't need to tell us; tell me anything. We care for you, always." Sebastian caresses the small of your back, and you embrace him fully.

You can't hold back all the tears filling your eyes, but that's okay. He holds you close to his chest, close to his warmth.

"That's what friends are for." He places a kiss on your forehead and squeezes you gently.

After a while, you talk about the upcoming appointment, and he assures you that everything is going to be fine. He offers to join you and stand by your side, and you cannot say no to that.

Even though you still worry about what the doctor will say, now you know someone will be there to hold you.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER TWELVE: Oh, Chaos!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You have an eventful day at work rekindling with a new acquaintance and dealing with a peculiar trauma case, but the most prominent thing on your mind is dinner with Matt, and you could really use some advice from someone who knows a thing or two about dates to keep you from canceling.

Warnings for this chapter: slight angst, self-hatred/doubt, mentions of past abuse, mentions of injury

Word Count: 5.3k

A/n: I'm sorry this took so long. I took an unexpected hiatus, and I couldn't break out of the writer's block, so this took close to a month to finish. I read this a dozen times, and I fixed what I could. This is rather "boring" compared to what came before and what I've got planned, but there is plot in there that will become important again later down the line. Just so you know what you're getting yourself into in advance. 'Kay, thank you!

Read Chapter 12: Oh, Chaos! here on AO3

Four missed calls, and twenty text messages. The chat is full of one-sided advances. ‘Claire’ is written on top, but her contact resembles an empty void in contrast. 

I don’t know what I did to deserve this radio silence, but I thought you would like to know I asked Matt out again. I like him. We’re having dinner on Friday. Do with that as you will. 

Hope you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. 

Call me when you can. Please. 

I’m worried about you. 

Love you. 

It has been like this since Matt called you when you least expected it. Whether he was looking for support, professional advice, or just the sound of your voice, you’re not sure, but it warmed your heart to know he thought of you and no one else, and he picked up the phone to call you. 

Before, you tried telling yourself that there isn’t much between you. You tried telling yourself that perhaps, it would never go anywhere and not to be disappointed because from the start, Matt has been too good to be true, but after sharing a glimpse of your past, you feel closer to him, and you don’t want to let him go. He is the first good thing that has come to you in years. 

Claire’s radio silence hurts. You don’t want to admit it, but sending text after text to your best friend and receiving not even a ‘read’ sign both concerns and upsets you. Ever since she took you under her wing when you came to New York, you’ve—sometimes involuntarily—shared your anger with her, your sadness, your pain, and those rare moments of happiness. 

She was the one who told you to go for it, so her behavior remains suspicious. You want to ask her; you want to confront her about everything and get the truth out of her, but unless she answers your contact attempts or shows up to work, there is not much you can do. You tried from the moment you got home to the second leading up to your next shift at the hospital. So far, nothing. A few days ago, you would have called the police and said that this was nothing like Claire, but now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe, and it is pissing you off when you should be excited.

Things are looking up. You don’t want to look down and ruin this for yourself, knowing there is a chance your thoughts will most likely turn against you again at some point. You have to enjoy it while it lasts. 

Glancing down at your phone, you walk down one of the hallways at Metro General. You shake your head. It’s been hours. Perhaps after you get off work, you will head to where Claire is staying. Just to check on her. The nagging feeling that shit is about to hit the fan won’t leave you, and it seems like the right thing to do, even if just to ask her what her problem is. 

She’s always so quick to tell you what’s good for you. She gives you advice you never even asked for, but you end up appreciating it regardless. She knows what she’s doing, and she is a lot smarter than you are most of the time. You know her as well as you possibly can after two years; Claire is hiding something, and that is unlike her. If she gets herself in danger because of something she feels like she can’t talk to you about, or if she has an opinion afraid to share with you, you need to know because it is important to you. Your mind is disordered and distorted; you are well aware that sometimes, you don’t see things as clearly as you should. Claire’s rationality is a blessing and a curse. You’re dependent on it.

“Hey, Doc,” a familiar voice sounds from the nurse’s station.

You stop in your tracks, looking up from your phone to the man standing across from you. You haven’t seen that face in a while, even though he spends a lot of time here—almost as much as he does at work. You doubt he ever goes home to sleep. 

Your face lights up, and you stuff your phone back into the pocket of your coat. “Ben!” you exclaim, your lips curving into a smile. 

“Long time no see,” he says in an attempt to match your delighted reaction.

You hate to admit it, but Ben Urich looks worse for wear. Dark circles under his eyes match the deepened wrinkles of exhaustion, and his lips are cracked in more places than one. His shirt shows the slightest of coffee stains he tries to cover with his visitor badge. You doubt he has had the time to do his laundry in a long time. And there is that expression of agony he usually knows how to hide, but the walls he once built around himself are starting to crumble. 

The sympathy you have for this man cannot be put into words—because your feelings are unpleasant most of the time, too, and unless you have been in an impossible situation, all you can have is empathy. You, however, are not a stranger to despair, and the people around you all seem to be carrying too much of it, too. 

You clear your throat, putting the file in your hand aside to shake his. “How have you been?” you dare to ask. 

He shrugs. “Could be better, but… I’m alive. Healthy,” he says. It’s a modified standard answer you do not buy for even a second. 

Your eyes soften, but you try to keep the mood light. God knows what he has been through since the last time you saw him on this very floor. “Yeah? That’s good. The Bulletin still giving you a hard time about the things you want to write?” You chuckle. 

“Ah, you know how it is.” Ben leans against the counter. “Readers these days are apparently more interested in celebrity scandals and gentrification than true crime.”

The pen scratches against the chart you have to sign. “Well, just know that you will always have a loyal fan of your true crime section in me, and I would tell that to Eric’s face if you ever need me to.” You offer him a smile of pure honesty, and his eyes actually light up this time. 

He chuckles. “Can I quote you on that?”

“That depends. Am I getting paid?”

“I’m afraid the only form of payment I have is cheap office coffee.”

“You’re in luck then,” you say, “I am a sucker for cheap office coffee because it’s still better than cheap hospital coffee.”

His face contorts. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you on that,” he says. 

Again, you chuckle. The question rests on the tip of your tongue, but only when the silence stretches out painfully long enough to prompt a drop of sweat to run down his temple, you ask, “How’s your wife?” No pain or pity in your voice—you know he doesn’t need it. 

Ben swallows in response, scratching his fingers through his hair. “Uh, hanging in there. They told me she’s had a good day today. Lucid,” he tells you. 

“That sounds like progress. You know, with her condition, every good day is a success.”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh… I agree. But… she’s not the only reason I’m here. Shelly called me here today to, uh, discuss my wife’s future at this hospital…”

The muscles in your shoulders tense and stiffen. You slowly lift your head. “Oh,” is all you can muster up to say. You know where this is going.

“Yeah,” he says. “I tried convincing her to keep her here a little while longer. But apparently, you guys can’t accommodate her much longer, and she wants me to look into hospice or some other form of long-term care.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

But what else are you supposed to say? You clear your throat. “I, uh… Shelly’s under a lot of pressure, you know? We’re having funding issues in every department, and she is just trying to make due, but… I know your wife’s been here for a very long time, and she’s dependent on the care. Alzheimer’s can be incredibly cruel, and I’m sure hospice is a lot more expensive than what your insurance covers if she stays here, so it isn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” says Ben. 

“Can I help in any way?” you ask. 

“Well, unless you can win the lottery or find a cure for Alzheimer’s in the next seven days, I’m afraid not.”

“Believe me, people are trying, but—”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “I still appreciate it. You’re one of the few doctors here who still care about the people.”

You shake your head, saying, “It’s not that easy. The system is rigged against us. We’re all aware of it, but some of us just… fall off the wagon because they think the only way through is to become what we hate the most. Selfish, egotistical money-makers always chasing recognition rather than caring about the patients we’re supposed to serve,” you explain. “These new fancy medical centers only those with millions in their bank accounts can afford are where all the funding goes, and those who cater to the underprivileged and uninsured—like us—have to suffer the consequences because we don’t chase after money. I would know; I did my residency at one of those hospitals, and I hated how some of these people treated their patients, so I always tried to use the resources we’ve got to help people, even those who couldn’t afford it. Of course, not all of my fellow residents stayed on that path with me. The more high-risk surgeries, the better the payout, even when unnecessary. Upcoding and needless tests were the standards we were held to. I’ve always hated that. Public hospitals are at the bottom of the food chain, and the patients end up pulling the short straw, but most doctors don’t start with the mindset that it’s just something we have to accept. That lethargy comes with time. And the system.”

“Kind of reminds me of that kook in the black mask,” Ben muses. “With his disbelief in the system and his…his twisted sense of justice.”

You scoff. “Well…”

Your mind flashes back to the other night in that alleyway. The way he interfered when he heard you in trouble. The cockiness he seemed to exceed, but it quickly vanished when he realized you may have risked your life to save someone else’s, but you were not going to leave another person injured. You don’t have a lot of trust in the justice system, but that man seemed… different; like the only way he could believe in justice is when he does something against the persistent injustice that so many turn a blind eye to. 

But it’s not just Hell’s Kitchen, which the Man In Black seems to gracefully ignore. He does what he needs to where he thinks he has to, but it is not just the system in his beloved city that is wired against the people it is supposed to protect and serve. It’s not just the justice system or society overall, it’s the government, too. And you truly believe he knows that, too, he simply does not have the manpower to fight all battles at once. No one has. 

Ben eyes you curiously, up and down. “What, you don’t agree?” he asks. 

You sigh. “I don’t think he has a twisted sense of justice, no.”

“Why? You met him?”

Saying yes would make you an accessory to his crimes. “I’ve heard the same things you have, Ben, and I think he really is trying to change something,” you answer instead. 

You find a sudden determination in his eyes as he leans closer. “You treat his victims, right? You’ve seen what he can do with his bare hands. Taking out entire syndicates that have been bothering Hell’s Kitchen for decades, going up against bad seeds and corporations, and he never backs down,” he says. 

“If you’re trying to say it’s a bad thing…” You trail off. 

“I think it’s a grey area. A fine line.”

“Well, as fine as that line may be, I don’t feel as much empathy for the people he puts in here because I’ve seen what they can do just a few blocks from here,” you state and close the chart in front of you on the counter. “I had to watch lives and families get destroyed. The ones responsible for serving justice either didn’t have the evidence, or they were too late, or the only witnesses died on my table, or—and that happens quite frequently, too—they just didn’t care,” you say. “The times I watched them make arrests, the legal system ended up failing the victims anyway. Now, I’m not saying I condone violence, but this city needs help. Depending on the area, police sometimes don’t even bother to check, and that pisses me off because a lot of the time, tragedies could have been prevented if first responders just got there on time. Or if the perpetrators involved in a crime suffered the consequences for their actions instead of bailing out the same day on a domestic violence charge. I know that the police can't be everywhere at once, but… A lot of people feel safer with this guy out there because they know he tries.”

Ben desperately scribbles along on a small notepad you’re not sure where he got it from. He’s not even wearing a coat. 

“It’s like David and Goliath,” you tell him, too animated to pay closer attention to your surroundings. “It’s a contest wherein a smaller, weaker opponent faces a much bigger and stronger adversary. I just… I don’t know. In this city, there are a lot of metaphorically weak individuals who don’t have the means to fight back against the big guy. Like I said, a system rigged against its people does not help the people live a safe and happy life in a city that makes them feel like all their advances are futile.”

“That’s excellent,” he murmurs.

You glimpse down at his hand, frowning. “It’s just my opinion.”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. I know a lot of people feel the way you do, and yes, that’s fucked up. But that’s why we need people like you to speak up. People with more influence than the little guy. People who serve the people.”

“Ben,” you try to get a word in.

“Hear me out,” he says. “If I can get Eric to sign off on it, I want to write a think piece for the public. About the man in the mask. About Hell’s Kitchen and New York, and the things no one likes to talk about. And I’d like to get you on the record.”

“With all due respect—and I do love the concept—I don’t think interviewing me would be such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Your pulse has inevitably gotten higher. Because if my ex finds out where I am, he’ll kill me. The thought screams like a banshee, echoing like the trajectory of a bouncing basketball. It takes you a moment to realize that the thudding is your heart. Dull, aching, and infused with a panic as old as time. 

You squeeze the pen in your fist, feeling the plastic crack under the weight. “I can’t have my name or face on the record,” you confess. “It’s a, uh… protection thing.”

The most human thing to ask would be, ‘Protection from what?’ You don’t have to read minds to know that those are the words forming on Ben’s lips the second you offer him an explanation that is not quite the truth. It couldn’t be further from it, but your truth is a tank and tanks can take down everything in their path without suffering as much as a scratch. 

You take the stage before he can ask—before you can ride yourself further into this pile of dirt and lies. “I treat people for a living, and my opinions out there… I need to protect myself if someone ever wants to file a lawsuit against me for prejudicial behavior because they could easily use an interview I gave as evidence,” you say. “I could lose my license.” Your license, and your life. 

He releases a strangled breath. “Yeah, no. Of course,” Ben says. “I knew that. But I could always refer to my source as anonymous. Most of the time, people don’t care about who said what anyway. They just want something to talk about.”

You want to scream. The alarm is blaring loud enough for the nerves in your body to hear it. The rage is so hard to swallow. Not at him though. It isn’t Ben’s fault that even now, you have to live your life as if it was never yours to begin with.

“But,” he adds upon seeing the look on your face, like a deer in bright headlights, “unless a certain Man in Black decides to leave another stranded criminal on my doorstep, Eric will never sign off on it. I’m sorry,” the exasperation in his voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. “I didn’t mean to jump this at you. I know you have more…important things to do than worry about an old journalist who knows damn well his best days are behind him.” 

The shake of your head follows in an instant. His confidence lies drowned in the invisible puddle at your feet. “You don’t always have to go with the flow of time,” you tell him. “If you want to write something, you should. People’s tastes change, but there will always be someone out there who wants to read what you have to say.”

Ben smiles at you. “Does that mean you’ll think about my offer?” he asks.

You return the gesture. “When I’ve done my important things, maybe I will.”

And chances are, you will think about it. You will think about it, and then you will cry over a bottle of wine and wish you were never born or that, once again, he killed you when he had the chance. You will wish that you didn’t run, and you will curse John and your entire existence to hell and back because without him, you wouldn’t have to guard your heart like a maximum-security prison, and you wouldn’t have to hide who you are like a secret from Pandora’s box. In the end, though, you know you will have to decide if he doesn’t forget what he offered you—and knowing Ben Urich, when he is allowed to write about what he wants, he won’t forget the sources he tried to recruit along the way. 

You look up suddenly when the sirens start blaring above your head. 

Attention all staff, Code Red, Emergency Department. Code Red, Emergency Department. Trauma team to the Emergency Department immediately.

“That sounds bad,” Ben comments. 

You turn back to him, but before you can open your mouth and excuse yourself from the conversation (and your internal self-hatred party), one of the nurses behind the counter picks up the phone with a knowing nod. A second passes and all color fades from her skin before her features contort. “I’m sorry, what?!” she damn-near screeches.

You frown back at her. “Hey, Evie,” — you snap your fingers — “What’s going on?”

She moves the speaker away from her lips. “Um,” she stammers. “Have you ever seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s 11 am!” you say, your eyes darting between her and the wall as if that would change anything.

Ben cuts in, “That doesn’t mean much in a city that never sleeps,” he says. “People are always crazy ‘round here.”

You scoff. “Apparently! I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotta–”

“Yeah, no. I know.” He nods, his eyes softening in an instant. “Go!”

With a grateful nod, you leave your work on the counter and head into a sprint down the hall. 

A life-saving surgery can take up to several hours. There really is no margin for error, so you tune out the noise of the world outside and focus on the chaos you have to control. You focus on what you know and what you have learned because if you don’t, the person you are cutting into with a scalpel could die at your very touch. For those few critical hours, you are nothing but a doctor, but the world doesn’t stop or disappear in real life when you cease to exist; when you come back after those few hours, the world is still falling apart, and you still have to go back home and face the reality you are forced to live in. But how can you think that when people are fighting for their lives every day before your eyes; when you can try as hard as you want to help them, but you fail more often than you do not? Mental scars often out-rule the physical scars of a trauma patient, and whenever you tell them it gets better, you feel like you are lying to them. Because it never gets better, it feels like.

People are dying and falling apart, and so are you, and it hurts that nothing ever seems to change, not even when you try to tell yourself that people are dependent on you and that your world can’t stop again because this is your job; you signed up for this. But you didn’t sign up for this kind of life. You fell in with the wrong person, craving a love like in the fairytales you used to read as a little girl. You missed the feeling of being loved because the people who were supposed to love you died and fell apart, and you were left fantasizing. It’s a downright mess in your head and everywhere around you, and you are continuously stumbling over the broken glass on your floor, falling into the shards and cutting yourself over and over again until you’re bleeding out but never fully dead. 

You spend the next six hours in the operating room, forgetting about Matt and the implications of your dinner. The one you asked him out to. You forget about Ben and his offer, and you think finally, finally, you can breathe. Human anatomy isn’t quite as complicated as this. The one thing you have been worrying most about, the person who has occupied your every waking thought for days now, fades into the shadows for a little while, but then you’re threading the needle through the skin of the man whose life you have saved, and your second to breathe turns into a riot.

Ben’s words return to your conscience; the masked individual he seems most fascinated with moves to the forefront of your fragile mind. He is all over you again, and it sends a thrill down your spine that positively terrifies you; it terrifies you that it doesn’t terrify you. He shouldn’t matter, and you shouldn’t lose another thought to him, but Ben Urich knows how to cast out a net to catch even the most unlikely adversary. 

You redial the last number on your phone. Standing in the emergency room that has grown quiet for the afternoon, you feel the weight of the world sinking back in. The clock keeps ticking closer to the end of your shift and inevitably, dinner. Forgetting is a blessing until you realize that thinking about it would have prepared you more, and now you barely have time. 

You want to cancel. You should cancel. Claire has not been picking up, and you’re worried about her. But she’s an adult, isn’t she? She pushed you into doing this, and then she bailed. A good friend would at least give you a reason for her change of mind. She hasn’t said a word because she refuses to answer, and it’s starting to leave a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“This is Claire. Leave a message,” her voicemail greets you. 

You sigh. “Hey, I don’t know why you refuse to pick up my calls, but I could use your help. I’m, uh, freaking out about this stupid dinner that wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for what you said, so the least you could do is call me back and help me pick a dress, maybe talk me off the ledge,” you say. Your voice cracks. “Please, Claire, call me back.” 

The silence is defeating. You put your phone down, staring at the paperwork before you. You have a lot more of that in your office, but you can’t be bothered to be entirely alone right now. Not when you are fighting a war with yourself inside your head. The one soldier you thought you could count on has retreated from the frontlines. 

You look up when your peripheral vision picks up on movement. “Trouble?” one of the nurses asks, motioning to your face.

“Depends on the definition,” you say.

“Hit me with it. Maybe I can help.”

You couldn’t shut up even if you wanted to. “Well… Do you know anything about proper date attire?” 

She grins, dropping whatever she was holding before to turn her undivided attention to you. “A date?” she asks. “Well, well, Doc. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, just… a guy I met. A good guy.” You smile sadly at the thought of those beautiful brown eyes, and the green forest that he hides in his irises whenever the light hits his beautiful face just right. The wrinkles, the dimples, and the faint freckles on his nose, too. He is so beautiful. 

She leans forward on her elbows on the counter of the nurse’s station. “The good guy who left your number here the other day?” 

You raise your eyebrows, flabbergasted. “Wh—” The blood rushes to your face, and you suddenly feel very warm as you gape at her. “Does everyone here know about that?” you ask, your voice bothered on a high-pitched siren of embarrassment. 

The nurse only smirks. “He is very handsome,” she states. “It’s hard to forget a face like that. And he’s come here twice. One of those times he sat by your bedside. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would marry a guy like that in a heartbeat. Bodies in the basement included.”

You hope he doesn’t have bodies in his basement. What if he does though? What if he is just another bad choice waiting to be made? What then? You can’t imagine it, and the things you’re feeling… you have only felt them in your mind because nothing you had was ever real, but you love feeling them now more than you thought possible. It’s the fact that you love that treacherous feeling so much that you feel like you’re not thinking clearly enough to make rational decisions. But you don’t want to make rational decisions, you’ve realized. Life shouldn’t be about that. You can’t turn the voice in your head off and make it stop screaming at you, but you know how to feel. If you only knew how to channel that without falling apart at the hands of your self-doubts though. If only you knew. 

You run a wary hand over your face. “Okay,” you murmur, closing your chart so you can look at your colleague. “Claire isn’t answering her phone and this date… it’s freaking me out. She said I had to get back out there, but she bailed on me,” you tell her. “I don’t know what to wear or how to behave because the place we’re going to is… fancy? And I don’t even know how to pay for it. I… I don’t know if I should go because the last time I was on a date… let’s just say it didn’t end well. So, if you could just tell me that this is a bad idea and I should take on a second shift instead so I won’t feel bad about lying to him, I would be forever in your debt.”

She shakes her head, not having missed a second of your rambling. “Oh, hell no!” she exclaims. 

You match her incredulity, propping your hands up on your hips. “Excuse me?” you ask.

Her head stops, and the way she stands there reminds you of your English teacher from high school. Tall, brunette, and sassy. “You are not bailing on that date like Claire bailed on you just because you’re experiencing anxiety,” the nurse tells you. She’s insistent. You doubt you will get a word in that isn’t an utterance of agreement. 

“You don’t understand,” you try to convince her, or are you trying to convince yourself? “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Did you miss the part where I said my last date ended in disaster?”

“So what? I’ve had a lot of disastrous dates.”

“That’s not…ugh!” It is your turn to shake your head, looking at the sterile wall as though it were a screen. 

A life built on a lie is not much of a life at all. You have as good a reason as anyone to bail on this date, and it’s not just a disastrous date. You didn’t pick the wrong guy off of Hinge and fall in love with him. What happened to you was different on a level you can’t easily describe, but it also shouldn’t define you; she’s right. Your insecurities are going to be the death of you one day.

“Let me ask you this,” she says. “Do you like him? Or do you just think he’s a really good guy because he was nice to you?”

Your jaw slacks. The Audacity. “I… I think he’s a great guy. Nice. Forthcoming. That’s all,” you answer. It’s not a lie, but it is not the full truth she wanted to hear.

“Uh-huh. I may not be a human polygraph, but I can smell a lie from miles away like a bloodhound. And you, Doctor, are lying and therefore interfering with your treatment.”

“I’m not a patient.”

“Are you though?”

You sigh. You should not have confided in her, but also, perhaps it was the best choice you could have made. 

“I like him,” you confess upon looking into her eyes. “Okay? I like him. He’s not just a good guy. He’s… different, and that’s why I like him.”

She stands up straighter, a newfound energy filling her veins. “That’s more like it. Now, let’s forget the whole ‘canceling and using work as an excuse’ thing. What’s the vibe?” she asks.

The change of subject throws you off for a second. You’re walking on eggshells, fragile train tracks you could fall off and electrocute yourself with if you only take one wrong step. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take risks. 

“Fancy-ish,” you answer. You don’t have any strength left to fight. “I don’t know. It’s dinner.”

“Dinner’s romantic. Put on a silk or velvet dress because those are the fabrics with less risk of becoming a sensory nightmare, possibly some jewelry, but you don’t need much more than that. He’ll fall in love with your personality first. The rest is just… for your confidence and his imagination.”

She looks so proud of herself. You can’t deny that it’s good advice. It’s not the sound of your voice filling a voicemail to the brim or a solely blue chat history; it’s something you can work with. 

You nod slowly. “If I didn’t have mountains of paperwork waiting for me, I would kiss you,” you say.

With a chuckle, she retorts, “Save that for your date.”

“I’m not kissing him.” You grab your pile of work. “It’s just dinner. I don’t even want to kiss him.”

On your way to the elevators, you catch a glimpse of her smirk. She’s not buying it. You don’t want her to. You don’t even trust yourself to tell the truth.

“I don’t,” you say, loud enough for her to hear but mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to kiss him,” you repeat because you don’t.

You don’t want to kiss Matt Murdock.

Except that you do, and you would do anything to make that happen—if your world wasn’t so unfair to begin with. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes

[mercy-burning]

(2) the fire. || THE DOCTOR.

in which a fire grows between the doctor and the landlord. content: strong language, alcohol, a hand injury/bleeding, kissing word count: 4.5k

series masterlist || main masterlist

———

Today, Spencer remembers why he never went to school for medicine.

It's not that he can't properly diagnose a problem and offer the proper treatment, though he'd be lying if he admitted to denying any insecurity over holding the powerful title of The One and Only Town Doctor, because what if he does diagnose something wrong, or he doesn't have all the information he needs and gives somebody the incorrect treatment? Then what? He wouldn't only have to worry about an eviction, but complete humiliation as well. He'd have to either locate somewhere else or just live out the rest of his "witness protection" in the Alaskan Wilderness, left to fend for himself. He'd likely die then, anyway.

Being this isolated from the outside world must have triggered my over-dramatic tendencies, he thinks with a shake of the head and a deep sigh. He closes the patient file in front of him and rubs his eyes, stifling a yawn.

He'd only read each file over twenty times each. But the better acquainted with Sardinia he was, the more accurate his work would be. It also might please Stanton to know he's at least making an effort to get to know the town a little bit. Not that it's his life-goal to please the man, but after his town tour last weekend, Spencer had sensed a fierce protectiveness in the mayor over his town and its residents. It was commendable, and definitely not something to interfere with.

At the same time, knowing everybody's business is, quite frankly, exhausting.

It's the price I pay for safety, I suppose...

Three knocks sound at the basement door, and Spencer sits upward, putting on his glasses.

"Everything alright in there, Doctor?"

The librarian's voice is a relief. "Yes, thank you, Roberta! I'm almost done!"

She shuffles inside and looks around, adjusting her long, patterned skirt. "You know... We're not technically supposed to let these files leave their home, but... You're the town doctor now, Spencer... If you need to take some home, you're more than welcome. That way you don't have to stay down here." She shivers at the thought.

"Oh, that's okay. I've read them all more than a dozen times over, I just wanted a refresher."

Roberta laughs with him, probably assuming he's exaggerating, but he says nothing and lets her keep her amusement. "Well alright, if you're sure. Are you heading out then?"

As if on cue, his stomach growls rather eagerly at the thought of sustenance. "I was just about to go to lunch, actually."

"Well there's no rush if you have more reading to do, Dear. If you'd like, I can make you a sandwich or something."

Spencer almost takes her up on it, but as his stomach growls again, it suddenly occurs to him that it's highly unlikely he'll run into Y/N in the library's basement.

In actuality, he doesn't have any concrete plans to seek anything out with her. It wouldn't be right, technically being her doctor and all. Not to mention, he was supposed to be detaching. Doing his job, indulging in friendly conversation when needed, but not allowing himself to form strong connections with Sardinia when he knows he'll just leave eventually anyway. It's easier, it's stable, and it's clean.

But for whatever reason, he can't seem to stop thinking about her anyway. It's obvious that she doesn't seem particularly interested in putting in effort to being his friend, not after the morning she showed up on his doorstep and injured her hand on his porch. Day by day he kicks himself for being so awkward. He didn't mean to keep interrupting her, but he also didn't want to be responsible for not doing his job. Intentional on her part or not, it was cold outside, she was hurt, and he did the responsible, professional thing by ushering her inside and tending to her wound. It really had just been an unfortunate turn of miscommunication and awkward first impressions.

And so, while he's aware that turning things around is probably out of the equation, Spencer finds himself constantly daydreaming about running into her or breaking something in his house so he has a reason to call her. He shouldn't even entertain it, but she's a knot in the deepest part of his gut that he can't ignore no matter how hard he tries.

It's almost as exhausting as reading the entire town's medical records over and over again.

"Thank you, Roberta, I appreciate it. But I think I could use some fresh air."

———

The generally considered "lunch hour" has just passed, leaving BAR in limbo as the cleaning staff prepares for dinner. A small group of customers sit in the corner by the lifeless karaoke machine, nursing beers, and as Spencer finds his way to the bar, his eyes drift to the woman behind it, all the way up on a ladder as she drills in some shelving.

"Doctor, what can I do you for?" Sonny greets as he sits down.

If Y/N heard him, she doesn't let on.

Spencer removes his coat and scarf and drapes them over the back of his chair, doing his best to hide the joy he feels at successfully locating his landlord. Not that there are many places here she could have been in the first place. "Uhh, water and a club sandwich?"

"Fries or chicken soup with that?"

"Soup, please."

"You got it."

As Sonny puts in the order, Spencer diverts his gaze back to Y/N. As she's reaching high and stretching up to grab a screw, he has half a mind to tell her to be careful, but he doesn't want a power tool thrown at his head.

The scariest thing happens just then.

"The second you tell me to be careful, Doctor, I'm evicting you."

He hesitates. "Did you know, the American Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons estimates that there are around 500,000 people treated for ladder-related accidents each year?"

She pauses and turns her head to look over her shoulder at him. "What did I just say?"

Spencer throws up his hands defensively, unable to hide his smirk. "Hey, I didn't tell you to be careful..."

She tosses the screw in his direction, and it rolls across the bar.

Sonny snatches it up without even looking, sliding over Spencer's water with the other hand. "And you just know that off the top of your head, or did you make it up?"

"Uh, no. I didn't make it up..."

"Sounds like a made-up number to me," Y/N mumbles, barely in earshot.

"I'm a doctor. It's my job to know these things."

"Well, I've been climbing ladders pretty much my whole life, Doctor, so you and your Ladder Statistic Surgeons can take the day off."

With a snort from Sonny and the sudden loud whir of Y/N's drill, Spencer leaves it alone, taking a few large gulps of his water.

Minutes pass, and even though his eyes are glued to the small box-TV in the corner, muted and playing some '80s movie he's never seen before, Spencer is earnestly aware of Y/N's presence behind the bar. She's humming to herself, something that sounds theatrical like a show-tune, and it serves as some pretty comical background music to the rather intense scenes playing out before him.

"Aw, man, Red Dawn again? Can't you play Lethal Weapon or something?"

Spencer looks to his left sharply, a little horrified at the fact that he hadn't seen or heard the presence of someone beside him.

"Do I look like a movie theater, Lionel?"

The kid can't be more than twenty years old. His deep brunette hair is longer than Spencer's— way longer, in fact; it cascades down the back of the chair and almost touches the floor. He doesn't judge, but the thought of having hair so long that it's constantly getting tangled and always nearly touching the floor sounds annoying and completely unsanitary.

"What if I buy you a copy?"

"No."

"I don't know, Sonny, maybe you should switch it up once in a while," Y/N offers, and Lionel cheers like a frat bro. "I know I wouldn't mind watching Mel Gibson while I eat..."

"My bar, my rules. And Mel Gibson's a jag-off."

Spencer thinks of Rossi at the insult, almost hearing it in his voice, and his heart aches a little of home. Still, he can't lie and say he isn't enjoying the bar banter just a little.

"Yeah, but a hot one," Y/N presses, stepping down the ladder and shuffling around some of her tools. "Anyway, shelf's all shiny and new. You need anything else repaired before I head off?"

"Nah, you're free. Thanks, Moonface."

Just as she rolls her eyes and starts berating him about the nickname, Lionel twists his seat to Spencer.

"You're the new doctor, right?"

"Yes, I am. Lionel? It's nice to meet you. I'm Spencer."

"Doctor Spencer..." He says it like he's testing something. Pondering. He squints his dark eyes and then looks him over. "My mom said you were dreamy, but I don't see it."

He feels his face getting warm, and then Y/N laughs. "You know who is dreamy..."

Lionel points. "Mel Gibson."

Y/N points back at him knowingly, and they share a smile, much to Sonny's chagrin.

The barman looks at Spencer, who can't help but laugh. "You wanna chime in on this, Doctor Spencer?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not qualified to diagnose dreamy." Then he glances at Y/N, catching her eye. "Only to offer ladder statistics."

Sonny laughs, and Lionel slaps his knee, but Y/N is holding Spencer's gaze as if to say, "well played." There's something else there too, but before he can place it, she's tearing herself away and packing up her things.

"I like this guy!" Lionel says. "I'll have what he's having."

"You don't even know what he ordered," Sonny counters.

As the two discuss, Spencer lets their words drone on until they're muffled background noise,  Y/N cleaning up her workspace. She doesn't catch him until after she steps under the ladder to reach for something, and then raises an eyebrow as she walks through the other side.

"You're not gonna lecture me about bad luck now, are you?"

"I'm not superstitious."

She smiles, to his surprise, and his breath catches at the sight. It's a beautiful smile anyway, but when it's directed at him, it feels like a reward he wants to achieve forever.

Before he has time to read into the feeling, a plate of food is set in front of him, and the spell between the doctor and his landlord has lifted. She goes to fold up the ladder, and he keeps himself busy by stirring his soup, waiting for it to cool.

He'd chosen it as a ploy to stay warm on this cold November midday, but he doesn't feel like he needs it anymore.

———

Y/N is avoiding Spencer at all costs.

She's glad he didn't see her almost slip off the ladder at BAR earlier today, but not because of the "told you so". No, she was more worried that he would genuinely come to her aid, and the close proximity would surely have her abandoning all reason and throwing herself at him. Because, let's face it, he is dreamy (Lionel doesn't know shit). And he's funny. And smart. And his hands...

Y/N lets out a rather aggravated grunt, thwarting the sharp sting of desire she feels in the pit of her gut, scrubbing a plate clean with a grip so vigorous, her fingers start to cramp.

You know, you could just... be nice to him, the Angel on her shoulder suggests.

What, and completely disrupt the snarky bantering nature on which we've set our foundation? the Devil counters back, stubborn as always. I don't think so!

The argument goes on for way too long. Y/N has furiously scrubbed all her dishes clean about five times over before she decides to promptly get drunk about it. She can't go to BAR, and she could make a run to the convenience store for a bottle of something strong, but... there's more risk involved out in public than in the safety of her own home, where there happens only to be a half-bottle of red wine that she keeps for when she's feeling frisky. And 'frisky' is exactly what she wants to thwart, so...

The options are very limited.

"God damn this stupid fucking small town bullshit," she grumbles through gritted teeth, harshly tossing the sopping-wet washrag in the sink and reaching up to the cupboard for her wine. "Whatever. Maybe... I just have to pull out the vibrator and get it out of my syste—"

Perhaps it's superstition, or irresponsible outbursts of frustration, or perhaps it's just plain bad luck that makes her slip backwards and fall on a puddle of water when she turns around, bottle of wine in hand. But whatever the reason, she can't help the maniacal laughter that tumbles out of her system the second her ass hits the floor. Her hand holds the neck of the bottle in a death-grip, but when she goes to set it on the floor, it shatters, staining everything in red. Sharp pain slices through her finger, and her laughter quickly stops with a hiss.

Staring down at the aftermath, Y/N slowly feels the pain growing and throbbing in her body. Her butt is surely bruised, her hand is hot and cascading with blood, and there's only one person qualified to help her.

"Fuck my life..."

She starts to laugh again, but grabs her phone and dials the first number she can think of.

———

What Spencer had told Y/N is completely true; he's not superstitious. Coincidences happen, and that's just how life works, but walking under a ladder or breaking a mirror won't bring you bad luck, just as surely as being in the right place at the right time is merely that— a coincidence. Good things and bad things simply happen, no matter how badly you want to believe there might be some cosmic reason for them.

That being said, as he charges up the driveway to Y/N's house, first-aid kit in hand, he starts to wonder if Sardinia has its own sort of superstitious magic or something. It's the fact that the one and only person that he's needed to aid since being here—not once but twice now—is the one person that doesn't seem thrilled over his presence. Not that everyone he met seemed absolutely ecstatic to have him there (save for Stanton), but everyone else didn't seem inconvenienced by him at least. And for whatever reason, he can't stop the burning need that simmers low in his stomach at her every sarcastic word, every roll of the eye, and every beautiful frown of her lips.

He couldn't make it go away. He couldn't make it make sense.

Why?

He manages to push away his frustrations when he opens the door to check on her, wiping his feet on the mat and calling out her name.

"Are you alright?"

As he removes his coat and steps inside to find her, heavy stomping sounds through the house, getting louder and louder until his landlord is in sight, her eyebrows narrowed and her hand wrapped in a blood-soaked washcloth. "What are you doing here?"

"I was with Roberta when you called her, she said you were hurt and you needed help, so I came—"

"She wasn't supposed to send you!"

"I'm... I'm sorry? Here, what's wrong? She said your hand might need stitches."

She looks like she's about to cry, her body going slack and her head falling back in defeat. "Yes, it does, because I fell on my ass with a bottle of wine in my hand, and sliced it open..."

"Y/N, it's okay. I can help you. Let me take a look."

He reaches out for her hand, but she snaps it away to her chest and huffs. "No! I don't want your help, okay?"

Spencer sighs, feeling himself getting irritated now. "What?"

"You heard me! It's... It's your fault anyway!"

He blinks. He can't believe what he's hearing. He wants to help her, to calm her down, but her words are so sharp and her tone is violent enough that he isn't sure any of his tactics would work anyway. He's spent a fair share of his time talking people out of scary situations, talking them off many ledges, but right now he feels trapped. He feels confused and maybe a little hurt, but also extremely hot, like his temperature is rising steadily with every second he's in her presence.

"Excuse me?" is all he can say.

"First you show up to Sardinia and ignore everybody, which makes Stanton send me to lure you out, and I bust my hand open on your door! And then you keep following me around town and fucking pester me about your stupid made-up ladder statistics, and it pisses me off so badly that I come home to unwind, and hurt myself in the process! You did this to me! So no, I don't need your help, I just need you to—"

"Y/N."

"Stop interrupting me!"

Despite her rising frustration and inability to filter out the ridiculous threads of reasoning that give her away now, Spencer keeps a calm, even tone when he continues. "I can leave and have Roberta come over to help you instead, if you want. I won't stay if you really don't want me to."

It's her turn to blink, her mind working hard to comprehend what he's just said. She looks exhausted and just about as confused as he'd been, picking at the washcloth wrapped around her hand.

"You... What?"

Everything makes so much more sense now. As she'd rambled on and on about how annoying she found him, a switch flipped, and Spencer knew exactly what her outburst had been really about. Suddenly, all the somethings he kept catching in her glances have become bright beacons, and he wonders how he'd missed it.

It probably has something to do with that rising temperature of his— too distracting to allow his brain to work properly.

Regardless, his brain is working just fine now, as he takes a step closer to Y/N. She backs away, but he keeps slowly walking towards her as he speaks.

"I understand. You've probably known Roberta all your life, and she's a safe, comforting person to confide in. I'm just a stranger. You don't like me, and you don't trust me, even though I am your doctor and it is my job to help you."

Her back is to a wall now, and she startles when she runs into it, realizing she's trapped. Spencer watches her swallow and try to avert her eyes as he keeps talking. His lips twitch into a smile then, remembering the day she hurt her hand on his door and how she could barely look him in the eye, and how he's missed yet another sign.

"But you are an independent, very beautiful, incredibly stubborn woman, so that makes sense..." Their faces are inches apart, Y/N's head tilted to avoid him. But that just won't do, so Spencer gently places his forefinger under her chin and adjusts her to look at him. Their eyes meet finally, and that fire burns bright in his belly and spreads through his entire nervous system at the matching heat in the depths of her stare.

He continues softly, his lips barely a breath away from hers. "So if it's what you really want, then I'll go."

"God, fuck you," she breathes, pushing herself forward and colliding their mouths together. Her sharp words echo so strongly that when her tongue slips past and makes contact with his, he can practically taste their sweet, sweet venom. He welcomes the sting and involuntarily growls into her mouth, pressing her firmly into the wall. He's never felt a violence quite as satisfying as the one she exudes.

It's a violence that amplifies the burn in Spencer's gut, the one that causes him to abandon all logic and reasoning in favor of indulgence. It had happened once before, with a particularly wretched woman he'd rather not remember, but this time is different. It's relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things, and absolutely life-altering all the same.

Her kisses fizzle out slowly, though not out of boredom or change of heart. In fact, Spencer figures he's stunned the poor woman into a simmering lust-driven stupor, a power that he hadn't gone searching for but accidentally stumbled upon while cradling her head in his hands. He's never considered himself an ambitious, power-hungry man, but as his fingers massage her scalp and he kisses her deep and slow, her mouth returning his energy with lazy, fiery laps of the tongue, it's the first time he's ever ached so deeply to claim something as his own. The feeling is addicting, plain and simple.

She seems to gain some semblance of control when he pulls back and pivots his head for a gasp of air, because in a split second her weight is pushing against him, forcing his feet backward. Still attached at the lip, they stumble through the house together until they find themselves in the kitchen.

When Spencer lifts her enough to sit her down on the table, she pulls away from his mouth with a hiss and then hits his shoulder with the palm of her hand. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" he asks breathlessly, dizzy on her kisses but slowly coming back to his senses as he remembers why he'd even come here in the first place.

"I fell on my ass, remember? It hurts!"

"Sorry," he says, helping her down and pulling her back to him through the empty belt-loops of her jeans. "I'll be careful."

"Some doctor you are," she scolds, kissing him again.

He breaks away a second later with a laugh. "You didn't want my help. Remember?"

"If I didn't hurt my good hand, I'd punch you."

Kiss.

"You should have that looked at."

Kiss.

"Probably."

Kiss.

He knows that he should stop and take a look at it anyway. He should be firm, yet still gentle and caring, and make sure her wound isn't already starting to get infected or worse. He has no doubt that she'd probably taken care of it to a good enough standard to avoid anything major, but in any case, it doesn't matter. Because it's his job to look after her.

But... fuck.

Her quick-witted, glorious mouth is too intoxicating. It's ruining him, completely demolishing any ounce of professionalism and sense of reason he might have once had.

And then her injured hand drags itself along his shoulder and down the front of his shirt, just for a second before she pulls it away again, inhaling against his lips.

She's in pain. But she won't stop.

Spencer pulls away and rests his forehead to hers. She tries to chase his mouth, and he wants to let her, but he can't.

"Y/N..." He says her name softly, trying not to focus on her pout. Otherwise, he might just leap forward again.

Their breathing is heavy, the air between them thick with a fire that still longs to burn bright, but is being extinguished by necessity. It's still fighting though, dancing in their eyes as every other part of their bodies slowly part from each other.

"My hand hurts," she says finally, holding it out to him.

She's still very obviously drunk on him, her words strung together clumsily as she sways to keep her balance. She looks dazed, hair tousled and lips puffy, all at his mercy. And so fucking help him, Spencer vows in that moment that he will see her in this state again, and he will not have any obstacles like wounded hands getting in his way of the job. It will be thorough and deliberate and he will not stop until the wicked words spewing past her lips have dissipated into breathless gasping pleas.

Just not today.

"Will you help me, please?" she asks softly.

He nods, gesturing for her to sit down. "Of course." Then, he notices stains of red littering his arm. Studying them, then her, then his arm again, Spencer can't help but laugh. "First you bleed on my porch, and now my favorite shirt?"

It isn't his favorite shirt really, but for the sake of their dynamic, it's worth the look she gives him. She scrunches her eyebrows in an adorable stabbing glare, her lips pouting again, and his heart races. "You're a doctor, get fucking used to it."

As he pulls up a chair and gets out his first aid kit, he shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes when he tells her, "That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble one of these days, Y/N."

"Hasn't yet."

When he finally does meet her eyes, she almost breaks down, her pupils flexing and her body going frigid as he gently grabs her hand without breaking eye contact. But then he glances down at her mouth, and back up again with a contemplative hum.

"It will."

He doesn't know why, or how he's even managing to flirt with her like this, but for some reason it comes as the most natural thing in the world. He likes making her react, he likes hearing her scoff at him and swear at him under her breath. He likes how as he tends to her gashes with tender hands, she watches him intently without saying a word. She'll wince when it hurts, and he'll apologize in a whisper, but she doesn't say anything, like she's refusing to give him the satisfaction.

He could play this game forever, probably.

When he's done stitching her hand up, he places it in her lap and looks up at her through his eyelashes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're lucky, it's a minor cut, and you cleaned it up pretty well yourself before help arrived. Just don't do any hard work with that hand for two weeks, and you can come back to see me then to have them removed. Sound good?"

"Mhm."

"Good. Then... I'll be on my way."

For the smallest of milliseconds, Spencer swears she looks disappointed. But as quickly as the look appears, it vanishes, replaced by an indifference that would have stung him otherwise, had he not just felt her desperation as it seeped into his bloodstream with every breath they exchanged.

He tries to hold back a knowing smile as she gets up to walk away. "Thank you. I should probably go see Roberta and give her a piece of my mind."

"That's a good idea, I'm sure she'd be glad to know you're okay."

Though her back is turned to him, he feels her eyes rolling and it makes it harder to hide his joy. He's practically radiating with it when he packs up his things and leaves, and he hopes she can feel it.

He doesn't know it, but she does.

[merakiui]

I just finished reading Thing, and the ending,,, it brought up some deeply buried fear within me because mY GOD-

It reminded me of a horror story a friend told me when we were little (we don't talk anymore but it stuck with me bc we were like 10)

TW: mention of animal death, murder, stalking

Basically it was about a kid who had a very loving dog, and each night before going to bed, he would reach under his bed to pet him, and the dog would lick his hand to let him know he was there. No monsters under the bed, just his loving dog.

One night, he keeps hearing this weird dripping coming from the bathroom, and it never happened before. It's a little freaky. Instinctively, he reaches down under the bed, pets his dog, and gets a lick as always. He's safe, probably just his parents who didn't close the faucet right, so it's dripping still. He gets up, goes to the bathroom. There's a weird smell in the air. Iron. And when he turns on the light, bile rises in his throat. The sound came from his beloved dog, hanging over the bathtub, slit throat still dripping fresh blood down the drain. The pristine white tiles on the wall are dirty as well, bright red spelling out "You're next".

His heart stops for a second. What the hell was that thing under his bed? What happened to his beloved dog? He makes a run for his parents' room. Surely they'll know what to do. He opens the door, calls out to them. But there's no response. Cautiously, he walks up to their bed, shakes his mother. She doesn't wake up, and he feels something wet and warm over his hand.

But he'll never get to find out what happened to them. Everything goes dark, and the boy is never found again.

So yeah, as soon as I read the line about reaching under the bed and getting your hand licked, it set off something visceral within me istg!!! If your plan was to scare me specifically, then it worked. >:((( (/j, I absolutely loved Thing, and I look forward to more yummy Skully meals in the future!! Putting him in a jar and shaking him in the meantime)

-🦈

AAAAA 🦈 ANON!!!! I've heard of a story similar to that! There are different variations, but most of them involve an intruder licking the unaware person's hand! There was a line from one that went "humans can lick, too," in reference to how the person thought it was a dog who licked them. >:D that story is truly haunting no matter what form it takes! Forgive me for scaring you!!! OTL

But despite the fright it induced, I'm happy you could enjoy Thing!!! >w< I was hoping it could be an unsettling, suspenseful writing despite only being 1k words. I'm not used to writing flash fiction (as I prefer writing longer works), so this was fun practice!!! And it allowed me to shamelessly write about that dog silly Skully licking you. <3 perhaps I'll practice writing more short horror stories with Skully. There are dozens of ideas flitting around in my head!!!

Hehe I'm excited to write more for him!!! But until then.... I'm shaking the jar alongside you!!! In fact, we're tossing it back and forth mwahahaaha!!

[zmbiesuga]

I'VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

matsukawa issei x m!reader (pronouns aren't mentioned but the intention is still there), established relationship

warnings: angst, really poor body image on mattsuns part including negative mentions of weight, hurt/comfort, cussing, use of pet names (baby, honey, pretty boy), matsukawa is referred to as mattsun and issei, the friends mentioned are not the seijoh four

notes: i projected a bit oops

mattsun had lost track of time. all he knew was that the light illuminating from his laptop hurt his bloodshot eyes, and if the soft sounds from it weren't the only thing keeping him sane, he would slam it shut in a heartbeat.

he doesn't know how he ended up in this position, really. he's not typically a sensitive guy, he's normally nonchalant, laid back. he walks the world like nothing can hurt him.

but then he thinks about what his friends said.

it was playful, at first. little jabs at his personality that he could rebuttal with ease. teasing them about their flaws, adamant on avoiding striking any nerves.

he just wished they would be as careful as him.

what got to him first, was the mention of his eyebrows. how they were too thick, that they didn't match his face.

which then led to the conversation about his jawline, how it was too triangular, too uneven.

and even though those comments hurt, he took them and bit his tongue. for his own sake. just shake it off, he thought, they're just joking stop being such a fucking baby

it was fine, really.

until they started talking about his weight. how he was too skinny, too tall, too boney. how almost nauseating it was that they could see how his ribs poked through his skin.

yeah, that's what got him.

from practice to home was a blur to him, but he remembers how he stormed to his room. how he sat in his own silence for a moment or so, before his body racked with violent sobs.

he cried. he cried until there was no more air in his lungs, until the sobs got caught in his throat. he gripped his hair and broke down for what felt like an eternity.

and even now, hours later, the thought of everything that happened makes him want to start sobbing again.

but he can't. the lump in his throat sticks there, not daring to move.

he really thinks he's fucking pathetic. to let such words get to him, he knows he shouldn't care. he knows they meant no harm. he knows they were just jokes. he knows he's not that bad looking.

right?

well, he guesses there must be some truth to their words if they poked and prodded at it. he guesses there's some truth if he's allowing himself to be this affected by it.

he doesn't hear you softly open the door to his bedroom.

you had grown worried, you tried to contact him over dozens of times within the past few hours, only to be left on delivered.

at first you were mad, you figured he was just ignoring you for makki or something unimportant, but once oikawa had told you that issei had left the gym in a sulk, you had just grown to be worried.

you slowly made your way towards him, the soft blue glow of his laptop being the only source of light in the room.

when you tripped over his sneakers is when he finally noticed you.

slowly, he turned from his laptop to face you. the cacoon of his blanket covering most of him. that's when you finally got a good look at his face.

his eyes were bloodshot, and his tears from earlier left stains of trails down his cheeks. the dried snot under his nose, his tussled hair and cracked lips showing his distress.

god, you swear, even like this he looks so beautiful.

"issei, baby, what's wrong?" you question, crouching down next to his bed. you reach your hand out, lightly stroking his face.

tears slowly begin to fall from his eyes again. you wipe them away gently with his thumbs.

the gesture alone sends him into another fit of sobs, you wrap your arms around him, rubbing circles on his back as you let him weep into the crook of your neck.

"i can't fucking . . . i'm so pathetic i'm sorry . . ." he blubbers, god he can't believe himself right now.

"nonono baby you aren't pathetic, you're allowed to cry. you're allowed to be upset," you reassure him, "take your time. i'm not going anywhere."

you two stay like that for a few minutes, issei composes himself the best to his ability, before sitting up and letting what happened fall from his lips in a hurry.

your face contorts in anger as he continues, not with him, of course. you couldn't believe what he was saying, what kind of friends were these people?

once he finished, you allowed yourself to speak.

"issei," you began, "what they said about you was absolutely ridiculous."

at first he's taken aback by your words, but then you continue,

"you are one of the most gorgeous boys i have ever laid my eyes on," you said, "your eyebrows aren't too thick, they fit your face perfectly. your jawline is perfect too, and even if it is asymmetrical, most peoples are. it's not uncommon and it certainly does not make you ugly."

you take a deep breath, cupping his hands in yours. giving him a reassuring squeeze before picking up again once more,

"and as for your weight," you began, "i just . . . the fact that they even felt the need to comment on that disgusts me. there is nothing wrong with your weight, as long as you are healthy that's all that matters. whether you be on the bigger or smaller side, as long as you are healthy that's all that should matter. ever. don't listen to the utter bullshit they spew because it's not true. you're a beautiful boy, you're my beautiful boy."

he starts crying again, but this time out of a warm feeling bursting in his chest. he pulls you in for a tight embrace, and you squeeze him just as hard.

"i love you so much." are the only words he's able to mutter before he falls asleep on your shoulders.

you then softly close the lid to his laptop, crawling under the covers with him and placing a kiss on his forehead.

sleep well, pretty boy. is all you can think before drifting off yourself

a/n: i just want to remind you guys that you are beautiful no matter what and you deserve good things. likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated!

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Homecoming

Yoongi x fem!Reader

A/n: Tried writing something for the first time based on this prompt. Let me know your opinions.

Warnings: Angst, non-idol au, first love, second chance trope, fluffy ending, mentions of sex, no smut

Word count: 1.5k

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

The cold winter air cuts through my thoughts like a newly sharpened knife and it takes everything in me to not turn back and run to... where do I run back? I just walked away from the only home I've ever known, only to realise it was all in my head.

I walk along the brightly lit festival-ready Manhattan streets. Fairy lights turn into hazy lines across my eyes as I feel the sting from the tears forming at the back of my eyes. I will not cry, not about this... not about him. Funny how life comes full circle, almost an entire decade ago I walked back from school refusing to shed a tear about the boy who shredded my heart into a million pieces and here I am, all the way across the world and a decade's worth of pain to my name, still walking back to an empty house with tears threatening to fall... all because of him, again.

Exhaling a deep breath, as if to tell myself I have breathed out the pain, I walk with more speed. Fumbling with the keys at the door to the house I refuse to call home. My legs give out the second the door locks behind me as I drop to the floor by the foyer, head on my knees, too many thoughts and emotions floating around.

After what feels like a lifetime of staying in that state I hear the door's locks turn around, and my head drops even further into my knees as I already know who is on the other side. I stay there, crouched down with my head bent, clenching my fists, as I hear the soft thuds of his footsteps. I stay still as I feel him crouch down next to me, knees lightly brushing each other.

"Just please talk to me...please" I hear his voice cracking and once again it feels like I'm being punished for giving my heart to him.

"What do you want me to say" It comes out more bitter than my heart intended and I can feel him flinch at my tone. Do not look at him, it will make things worse. "I don't know what I did wrong... I am trying to understand but I don't know and now-" he exhales a shaky breath, out of the corner of my eyes I see him rub his palms on his knees. "Now I feel like I'm losing you." My heart gives out for a second and I look up to see his tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes, his long black hair falling on his face, he looks wan and sweating in the middle of December.

"You're not losing me, I was never yours to be lost." My voice sounds alien to me as the words come out. The look on his face, as he takes my words in, feels like a dozen swords were stabbed right through me repeatedly. He looks distraught, scared and everything I am sure is mirrored in my own face.

"What do you mean by that, of course, you are mine. You are the only thing that's ever been mine" He pleads, tears rolling down his eyes as he reaches to hold my hands.

I move slightly away, "Please... You couldn't even tell our friends we are together. But then what are we really? We met two years back after all those years, started 'afresh' and ended up best friends who accidentally slept together once... that's all right. It was purely physical... at least admit that dammit!" I know I am being brutal, but I cannot be the one falling alone anymore. He is at a loss for words and I continue with a bitter laugh, "I've been asking for your acknowledgement since we were sixteen. Last time you let me go so fast... for what? because you wanted to look 'cool'. You came back and said you wanted to be friends... that night, you made out with me and told me we'd be fine no matter what. You promised not to hurt me again... but you never told me what we are. And then we slept together and you disappeared on me for two whole weeks... do you have any idea how fucked up that is. I don't think you even thought about it. You always escape when this arrangement became slightly complicated for you because I acknowledged my feelings and you couldn't deal with that. Actually, I was so sure you'll go running away the first chance you get... I kept myself in check this whole time just to not scare you away, but when it came out in a moment of passion you left me... without a single fucking word- only to return two weeks later for the school reunion. You were so fucking busy you couldn't even call me but today I find out you helped plan a part of that shindig... the cherry on the cake was when you pretended as if we haven't practically been living together for a whole year and you just screwed me and ran away... but of course, other people always mattered more to you right- back at highschool and now...."

By now the traitorous tears are streaming so fast down my cheeks, burning my face up. I don't even have the energy to reach and wipe them away. He puts his head down in defeat, and I see more tears fall down his cheeks too. He slowly wipes them away

"I know I messed up... I'm sorry" he sounds so little I almost miss it. I cannot get in myself to accept the apology but I hold myself back because I'm done explaining myself, it is high time he does it. Taking my silence as approval, he continues "You are right you know... about me being a coward who can't accept what this is." He lets a bitter deep chuckle, his face reeking hatred for himself.

"This is so messed up because I finally found the answer..." He looks at me eyes full of hope, a bitter smile still spread along his lips and my stomach flips on itself at the first ray of hope. I need to remind myself that the answer could be the end of us too. I just gulp down the bile rising to my mouth and look at him, this time he reaches to hold my hands in his and I let him- too tired for this fight.

"I ran away the other night, I got scared... scared that I messed up the only thing that was going right in my life. I wanted to do everything right this time around. You have no clue how much I hated myself for letting you go the last time around, high school was messed up." I let out a sarcastic chuckle, my heart still beating in my ears and my stomach tumbling with anxiety. He holds my fingers delicately as if it will break if he holds on tighter.

"I actually went home the next day-" my eyebrows shoot up at the new information, "- I was there last week, to talk to my parents. That night when we... after you went to sleep, I got a call from my mom saying she wants me to get settled- in a typical arranged marriage, she was being serious enough that she had already set up a blind date with someone she knew. I freaked out... and went to have a talk with my parents."

"That still doesn't explain the radio silence I received..." I am ashamed at how little my own voice sounds, there's so much new information spinning in my head and the anxiety keeps getting worse by the minute. "Yeah that was stupid on my part, I was very confused. I left and got on the first plane home, all through the plane I wasn't even sure what I was going home to do. I spent the entire 14-hour flight trying to understand everything and it clicked only as I reached home... I don't want anyone else but you. I realised I went there in that hurry only to convince my parents about you.."

He finally releases a breath after saying all that in go, my head is still spinning but I look at him with wide eyes, more tears threatening to fall down- this time with a glimmer of happiness. I was still unsure of how this will end and I hear myself say, "Andd..?"

He holds my hands tighter, clearing his throat before continuing, "And they eventually agreed. After 3 very hard and long sleepless days. I did not want to text you until I knew what I was doing for sure. When I did try to text you the day I was leaving to come back home... you had apparently blocked me.." It's my turn to look guilty, as my stomach does happy flips and I feel my heartbeat everywhere.

"I don't really blame you, from your point of view it made sense. When I couldn't reach you even after coming back, I helped plan the reunion in hopes you will be there. I hope that I can talk to you... make you mine officially..." At this point, I am sure my heart has given out, and it is getting harder to hide the smile creeping up my face, so I bite down hard on my lower lips. Involuntarily my fingers wrap around his, holding on for dear life.

"What are you trying to say... I'm tired of all this back and forth" I say, my nerves reaching new levels of high and hopes high up to the sky.

He moves close enough that there is only an inch between our faces and I try to protest but it gets lost in my nerves when he uses one of his hands to pull me on his waist and I see how sincere and scared his eyes look. I lower my face unable to manage all the emotions raising up my gut and he uses his other hand to make me face him again.

"I am sorry for being a dick, now and then. But this time... I am not letting you go. I waited 8 years in agony to meet you again, and another year having you so close to me yet out of reach. So... this is me saying I love you, with all my heart and soul. This is it for me... you're it. I love you and I'm never letting you go again."

By now my face is entirely wet and I'm sobbing loudly as he reaches to wipe my tears away with his thumbs. I just lay my head on his shoulder and cry for what feels like a good half an hour. He keeps patting my head and lets me cry. Eventually, I gather myself and wipe my tears and look at him, he smiles at me earnestly.

"Well... are you going to say it back or ?" He asks and although his lips are in a smirk I can see the fear behind his eyes. I smile myself and reach to hold his face in my hands before leaning in and closing the distance between us.

We've shared a couple of kisses before- some passionate, mostly hesitant; but this time it is reassuring. This is the kiss of love, of comfort and it is the kind of kiss that feels like home.

"You really are not gonna say the words anytime soon are you?" he asks in between the kisses. I look at him in thought for a minute before shaking my head in negative defiantly.

"You are going to have to work hard for it lover boy."

[starlightsalvatore]

avalanche / stefan salvatore x reader

hi hi !! a new fic, slightly different than anything I've put out so far! no romantic undertones here - just good old fashioned platonic love. I'm deep into my rewatch and was inspired by what a good friend Stefan is and here we are. I wrote this super fast and didn't really proofread so hopefully you enjoy !!

avalanche / stefan salvatore x best friend reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: language, mentions of blood, typical tvdu angst, overall fluffy friendship

The hum of the lights around you was grating, a constant reminder of just how much you could hear now, and you were worried it was going to be the thing to unravel you completely. If this were a week ago you wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the frequency, but this wasn’t a week ago. Every time you shut your eyes the events played out like a horror movie, each scene burned into your memory and igniting a fiery swell of pain every time the film rolled. You’d turned, at the hands of someone who used you to prove a point.

You’d thought the point would be your death… that after holding you hostage and letting your friends chase their tails for days on end the point would be your demise, another loved one ripped from their grasp in order to bend them to your attackers will but you’d been sorely mistaken. The point was making you just like them. The point was to ruin your life, not end it, because now you were frozen in time forever, a walking reminder of how they’d messed up, how they’d failed you. You were reduced to a lesson, your humanity stripped from you yet as you ripped cords from the wall and threw lamps on the ground to shatter you felt every human emotion on overdrive. Anger, fear, guilt… all crashing over you and weighing you down like an avalanche.

You hadn’t left the house in days… you couldn’t. Everywhere you went all you smelled was blood, all you heard was heartbeats and you were terrified. You had urges and desires coursing through your veins you were still struggling to understand and would never be able to rationalize. You never wanted to be the cause of someone else’s pain, the cause of someone else’s death and you knew the second you left your house it would only be a matter of time. Caroline had brought blood bags immediately following your transition, it was enough to keep you functioning and you’d consumed enough alcohol to kill a human a dozen times over in hopes of quelling the cravings for something warmer.

But they were still there, you knew they would be… you’d heard Stefan and Caroline talk about it enough as a human, you didn’t even need the crash course when it was suddenly your turn. You were driving yourself up a wall trying to wrap your head around how this had all happened, how seemingly in the blink of an eye everything had changed. Your best friends were vampires, you didn’t hate them, you didn’t think they were monsters, but you hadn’t wanted this for yourself. You supposed it was just another thing that was a matter of time. Everyone in your life was supernatural, everyone you loved and had laid your life down for dozens of times was just shy of human. Perhaps it was naive to think you ever had a choice, that you had the privilege to want anything.

You hadn’t wanted much before the Salvatore’s came back to town. You were the shy, reserved girl on the sidelines of your friend group… if your parents hadn’t been so close with everyone else’s you knew you would have never been in their orbit, but the childhood bond was difficult to break and you found yourself continually pulled along until you were right in the middle of a world you thought only existed in bad movies. You’d never thought about what college you wanted to go to, what you wanted to study or where you wanted to travel… it wasn’t that you were lost or without purpose, it was just that your parents did the best they could with a surprise kid they never intended on having, and you found yourself shrinking to be as little a burden as possible.

If you were being honest with yourself it wasn’t just the cravings that were keeping you locked inside… you didn’t want to face your friends, and you didn’t want to face Stefan. There was enough going on, everyone had gone through this and figured it out one way or another. There was no need to add your melodrama to everyone’s plates and you knew that as soon as you faced him he’d see right through the facade you’d desperately been trying to piece together the last couple days. The facade that portrayed you as being okay, in control and undeterred by the sourest lemon life had offered you. You knew you needed to push through and get over it, but you also knew you needed time to figure out how to convince everyone you were doing just that while you found your footing.

Stefan knew you better than anyone, as you did him… you reminded him of Lexi so much it hurt, and he brought out the new you, the one no one knew could exist before him. He was your best friend, and he made you fun. He shifted your perspective and taught you how to let go every once in a while… he taught you how to want. When he’d shut off his humanity and given in to the darkest parts of himself, when he’d closed himself off so entirely to Elena, it was you who brought him back. It was you who pushed yourself to the brink of your boundaries to pull him off the ledge, and it had been you who held him when he finally let it all back in… and when you lost your parents and wished more than anything you had a switch to flip it had been him to keep you afloat, to keep you from slipping back into that old version of yourself who was timid and quiet, the girl who went with the flow instead of stopping and considering what she wanted, and what she needed.

Another lamp went crashing to the floor masking a knock on the door and at the sound Stefan let himself in, quickly finding you in your bedroom surrounded by broken glass and still you hadn’t noticed his presence. It had been days since you’d checked in with anyone and while he knew you wouldn’t be in good shape he hadn’t anticipated finding you like this. So wrapped up in your own mind you were completely oblivious to your surroundings and he felt guilt for you being in this position, and guilt for being relieved to see you standing there in one piece.

“Hey, why don’t we sit down?” he asked softly, placing his hands on your arms from behind you and you were quick to react, spinning and pinning him to the wall by his throat before you registered it was him and you stumbled backwards shaking your head.

“Stefan… I’m- I’m sorry, I-” you started but you didn’t know how to finish… you tried to shake it off, to find some bit of calm confidence that suggested you were fine but it was pointless. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,” he replied, and it passed over your features so fast anyone else would have missed it but he didn’t… the way you winced at his statement. Nothing was okay, you weren’t okay, and he was quick to cross the room and pull you into him but you weren’t going down without a fight… as Stefan brought you out of your shell, helped you find who you really were everyone quickly realized that was someone who was stubborn and hellbent on seeing things through her way.

“What are you- I’m fine,” you said, pushing him off you and running a hand through your hair. “What’s with the drop-by?” Your breathing was erratic and you were losing your grip on the thread holding you together, with each passing second you were slipping further and further into everything you’d been trying to hold at arm’s length.

“You’re not fine,” he said, “it’s okay not to be, you don’t need to hide this from me,” he tried to reason and despite everything in your body language contradicting you, you dismissed him anyway.

“I’m not hiding, Stefan.” You let out a soft gasp as you tried to walk across the room only to have a shard of glass dig into your bare foot and he reached a hand out to stabilize you but you pushed him off once again. “It’s just glass, I’m not some fragile human anymore,” you said and the words knocked the wind right out of you. It was the first time you’d said it aloud. You weren’t human anymore. Suddenly it all hit you, the avalanche finally smothering you beneath its weight and you felt exactly what you had when your parents died… that wish to turn it all off and of course Stefan saw it clear as day.

“Hey, come on… take a breath,” he said softly, catching you before you fell to your knees. Your chest was heaving as tears welled and streamed down your cheeks, your desire to hold it together outmatched by the relief of finally letting go. He scooped you up and in the blink of an eye you were on the couch, in the only room seemingly untouched by your warpath. “You’re okay, I promise this is normal… you’re adjusting,” he reassured but it did the opposite and you let out a humorless laugh as you whizzed across the room and wiped at your tears.

“That’s the thing, Stefan,” you choked out. “None of this is normal!” Your arms shot out as if to gesture around you. “I died, but I didn’t stay dead. What about any of this is normal?” 

“Everything is heightened right now, and bottling it up isn’t-”

“Don’t you dare with the everything is heightened right now, don’t you think I know that? What choice do I have but to bottle it up? Everything is still going to shit, the wheels of time may have stopped turning for me but everyone is still in danger. My transition doesn’t change anything.” 

“It changes everything, it’s okay to acknowledge that,” he said, cautiously closing the distance between you as if you were a deer ready to bolt at any moment… and quite frankly, he wasn’t convinced you weren’t. “You are allowed to acknowledge that, you do have a choice.”

You laughed again, feeling like you were on the brink of hysteria as you paced in front of him. “I have a choice? When have I ever had a choice, Stefan?”

“You have to say it, you have to let yourself feel it or it will consume you… please, just let me in,” he pleaded, now right in front of you and when you looked up at him with wide terrified eyes he was certain his heart had broken at the sight. 

“I never wanted this, Stefan,” you whispered, voice wavering. “I never wanted to be a vampire.”

“I know,” he said, and this time when he wrapped his arms around you, you let him. He pulled you to the floor and held you close as you let yourself fall apart completely, finally letting go and letting yourself feel what you’d be desperately staving off and his hands soothingly moved through your hair, along your back, down your arms… trying to make you feel as comfortable and safe as he possibly could. 

When your sobs finally subsided and your breathing finally leveled out he pulled back slightly to cup your face between his palms, forcing you to look at him. “I am so sorry that this happened to you,” he said softly, voice thick with emotion and eyes watery at seeing you in so much pain. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better, and I am so sorry that you had your choice ripped away.” His thumbs swiped along your cheekbones, wiping your silent tears. “But I promise you, you’re going to get through this and you’re going to be okay. I will help you, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“What if I’m not okay? What if I’m…” you trailed off, not wanting to hurt him and drag him down with you.

“Like me?” he finished and you nodded softly, trying to look down at your hands but he didn’t let you. “Caroline and I will teach you… no one expected you to figure this all out on your own,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why did you shut me out?” 

“I didn’t… Stefan, I don’t know who I am anymore, I don’t know how to do anything anymore, I didn’t want to dump this on your-”

“I know who you are,” he interrupted, voice firm. “I will remind you every day if you need me to… and you are never dumping anything on me, please don’t ever think like that again.” 

You nodded, unsure of what to respond before curling back into his chest and letting out a soft sigh. “Thank you,” you decided on as his hand rested on the back of your head holding you close and you let the sound of his steady heartbeat ground you. 

“Sweetheart, you pulled me back from the depths of hell,” he chuckled. 

“Oh, so this is just repaying the favor?” you asked, looking up to narrow your eyes at him.

“Yeah, figured I owed you one,” he teased and you rolled your eyes. “You don’t need to thank me,” he added earnestly. “You’re my best friend, whatever burdens you burdens me. That’s how this works.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, laying your head back down, “but it was so much easier when it was always you in distress,” you replied and he squeezed your waist playfully causing you to jerk at the sudden attack. “Am I always going to feel this way?”

“No, you’ve been a vampire for less than a week… this is a major adjustment, it’s going to take time but eventually you figure out how to manage it. You’re going to be okay, you just have to give yourself room to grow… no more disappearing and going it alone.”

“It was a little dramatic wasn’t it?” you chuckled and he couldn’t help but join you.

“No, dramatic was breaking every lamp you own,” he replied and you let out a full laugh now. “Can I ask why just the lamps?” He hadn’t missed the fact that every other breakable had remained intact.

“The hum,” you replied. “It was getting on my nerves.” You both fully succumbed to your laughter over the ridiculousness and it felt good to feel something other than despair… It felt good to poke fun at the situation. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling you to your feet and smoothing your hair back into place. “You need to get out of this house, and I’m pretty certain if you don’t Elena is going to light this place on fire and smoke you out.” 

“Alright alright,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender, moving to head for the front door but he gave you a skeptical look. “What?” He only looked you up and down, which forced you to do the same to yourself.

“I love you, but you need a shower.” He pushed you back down the hallway and you grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a book, and hurled it at him with expert precision.

“Yeah, fuck off,” you replied, waving your hand at him before disappearing into the bathroom and you let out a sigh as you rested against the closed door. Nothing about this would be easy, and you still had a long way to go, but you felt better than you had in days.

[kinardsevan]

what are ur headcanons for buck and tommy's nuptials

I've said some of these before but:

Tommy does something small and intimate for the engagement. It's them at home, very sweet and very subdued. He spends weeks planning it with Maddie's help, recruits Eddie for the whole display he does (idk if it's flowers or some other craft, but there's definitely a display). Dozens of electric candles (because fire safety kids!). In my head, he uses the candles to spell out "marry me" (or some variation of that).

They talk about eloping, just getting it over with in a weekend, not because they aren't excited about it, but because they're not 20-year-old kids anymore. They just want to get on with the next phase (settling into marriage, whether that includes kids or just a bunch of dogs, building their house, making sure their advanced directives are in order), and being married is an important part of all of that. Still, their friends are not okay with this. Hen tells them how important her wedding was with her mom in attendance. Maddie reminds them that they can still do something small and intimate AND allow their family to celebrate them. Eddie, the consummate romantic, tells them that they can't skip the wedding because he wants all the romance without the commitment. Bobby and Athena tell them they'll support whatever they decide.

They have a short engagement, just like Bobby and Athena, and decide to get married in the backyard.

There's an argument over best men. First, they both want Eddie. Then, Chim intervenes and they both argue over him. Somehow, things really get switched up and Bobby ends up as Evan's best man while Tommy has Chim. Eddie gets to be the one that marries them. (Eddie might have lost his spot as best man for Evan because he misplaced the rings a few weeks before the wedding, but who's to say 👀)

When asked "who gives these two away", the entire 118 (and Maddie) says "we do". It's fucking emotional.

Jee-Yun is the flower girl and baby Buck (Connor's kid) is the ring bearer.

THE SPEECHES: Chimney definitely mentions Maurice. Bobby's makes everyone cry. Eddie manages to bring the mood back up by roasting both of them. Maddie also tries to give a speech, talking about how happy she is to see her brother so happy and settled, and how much she loves how Tommy has become a part of their forged family, but she can't get the words out.

HenRen find a moment in the midst of the reception to ask Tommy if his intentions are honorable again. He basically is like "look, I have cake. Can I enjoy my cake? You're literally at my wedding reception."

Phillip and Margaret are there, mostly out of a feeling of obligation to invite them, but Evan pays little mind to their attendance. It's the private speeches about love and marriage Athena and Bobby give him that night that mean more.

Evan went full Clipboard™ on the entire process, down to color coordination. Fall wedding, fall colors. (I'm imagining emerald green dress shirts under their tuxes - color scheme actually found here)

As always, Tommy thinks Clipboard Buck is hot, so he just lets him go wild on the whole thing.

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Goth Boss (7)

Warning: Angst, mentioned self-harm, mention of scars

summary: Tony stark x daughter goth reader. The avengers find out that Tony has a secret teenage daughter and make tony ask her to visit. But when they meet her the avengers find out why she was kept secret. ( could Bucky and Steve he terrified of how y/n looks since they are from a different time and seeing a goth girl for the first time scares them) (tony has a strained relationship with y/n as she grew up without him and he kept her secret)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

As the day grew closer and closer, Lilly not only found herself cooking in large amounts in fits of stress, it was okay May helped her pack up and donate all the extras for those in need, but was constantly going through her medical kits and reviewing first aid techniques preparing for the worst. Preparing for another year to begin like the last, and the year before that, and before that. She was preparing to do it all over again and to ensure her daughter survived just as she did last time. She even got cleaning supplies in preparation for cleaning up the possible blood.

As Lilly prepared, she watched her daughter dove deeper into her art and volunteering. A dozen new sketches and drawings a day and a new canvas every other day. She didn't dare look at what her daughter's artistic heart created she was scared of what she would find. Her art often showed her heart and true feelings.

She'd stay on her toes and prepare for the worst.

-

Peter saw it, too. How she was avoiding him and all their friends and throwing herself into her art and volunteering, not a minute to spare. Although he was unaware of the full history of the day, he was aware of her distaste for the day and how it agitated her to the point of no mention of it. She grew displeased with those who did mention it, and they gained her ire.

Ned was currently on the receiving end of it. Her glare was enough for him to run tail tucked between his legs and avoid her like the plague. He loved her and her friendship, but... no.

MJ was much more careful keeping quiet and her distance when needed. Leaving (Y/n) to herself as she wished believing she'd come back when she wanted or was better.

-

"You need to slow down," so she began walking slower." That's not what I meant, and You know it. Your schedule is packed to the brim there isn't a second to spare. You're running from one thing to the next. You're running straight into the ground," Peter said, taking her hand to fully stop her. " I'm worried about you. I don't want you to get sick or hurt. I'm not asking you to stop I'm asking you to slow down and take a moment breath"

"I'm..." (y/n) sighed " I can't, I'm sorry I can't "Taking her hand back she continued on without him and without looking back. Not knowing what else to do Peter just went on patrol hoping later on tonight she would be more willing to talk. -

"You're back earlier than I thought you'd be," Peter said as he swung into her room, closing the window behind him.

"The director shared your sympathies and sent me home early." (Y/n) said as she continued to sketch at her desk.

"Will you talk to me, please? I want to help you, but I don't know how, and you aren't letting me," Peter said as he kneeled beside her.

Before (Y/n) could even turn to look at him her bedroom door flew open revealing her mother holding a large medical bag. She looked at Peter, who was kneeling next to her daughter, unmasked, still in her spider suit. She looked further around the room and found nothing.

Peter began to stand and stutter.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked, and he shook his head. With one that knowledge and one more look around the room, she nodded and left, closing the door- but stopped. " I know you're Spider-Man, I've known for a while she didn't tell me I found out that time you slept over, you left your suit on the floor out in the open. I won't tell anyone. If you're staying the night, let May and I know."

And not the door is closed.

And Peter collapsed onto her bed grabbing his chest " I...oh god "

"You shouldn't be surprised. She's a smart woman"

"Can we talk, please?"

"We are talking"

"(Y/n), what's going on? Is it your birthday?" she flinched hard, scratching her nearly finished sketch. " It is. I want to help you, but you need to tell me how"

She sighed, balling up her drawing and throwing it away. Running her hands down her face " I don't know. I really don't know"

"I... My birthdays have never been good." she says as she starts to cry " I'm afraid something bad will happen like last year and the year before. I'm trying to distract myself so nothing bad will happen"

"Something bad happened last year?"

"Yes," she whispered as she tugged at her sleeves. In their entire relationship, Peter had not seen (Y/n) without her sleeves at least that is what she believed While he was aware that there were times she was in deep sadness, he wasn't aware of how deep and scaring the sadness was.

"I saw"

"What"

Peter sighed. " The night you slept over after you rejected Tony. I saw your wrist. That's what happened last year, right?"

There was a moment of silence as (Y/n) slowly turned to look at him. Then she burst into tears, sobbing as she realized he knew she was broken. She was in pieces far beyond what he had thought and what she had told him, and... he still loved her. He still stayed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed. Crossing the room, he stood her up and brought her to the bed to lie down. And laid with her, holding her for the rest of the night.

-

"I'll make sure they get up early enough to pick up his stuff on the way to school tomorrow" Realizing that Peter was going to spend the night Lilly had called his aunt to let her know and make sure she didn't worry.

"Thank you," May said

"I should be thanking you. You and Peter have been so good to us."

"I... I've just been worried about you guys that's all. Listen, I notice (Y/n) has been struggling and I don't mean to overstep or anything but do you think maybe she should talk to someone"

"Yes," Lilly sighs, " but we can't"

"Why?"

"You know who her father is. If she slips up and says her name, then those people go around talking Next thing you know, I got every news channel in America knocking on my door wanting to see Iron Man's daughter. I considered it before, but with who he is now... it is too big of a risk"

"You don't trust them"

"Sorry, but no, I don't, at least not with my baby. She's all I got"

"What if I helped you find someone? Someone trusts worth?" May could see not only (Y/n) spiraling but Lilly as well. They needed more help beyond what she could provide.

"If you can manage to find someone," she laughs bitterly.

"I do my best. For you and your daughter"

"May"

"Lilly?"

She sniffled " Thank you,"

-

When the day finally arrived, it went on as any other. It wasn't until the sunset that the atmosphere grew tense. Peter and May came over with Pizza for dinner. No one had the mindset to cook. They separated Peter and (Y/n) went to her room while May and Lilly stayed in the living room.

Peter and (Y/n) lay under her window quietly holding each other hands as they watched the city lights reflected on the window, New York didn't have stars.

"What's that?" May asked as Lilly joined her in the living room again, dropping a large black bag on the table. She sat down and sighed.

"Just in case"

She put her phone on the table, the numbers 9 and 1 already dialed, waiting for the last.

They continued to sit in silence.

In an Alley next to the apartment building, right under the living room window, was a parked SUV. His phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Hey, where are you?" Pepper asked

"Out"

"Obviously, when are you coming home?"

He sighed, looking up at the window. " I don't know. I...I'll be back tomorrow I got to handle some stuff."

"Tomorrow?! Tony! What are you doing that has-"

"Listen, I got to go. Don't wait up" he hung up putting his phone on silent and tossing it in the passenger seat. He continued to watch the window.

Just in case.

-

The day introduced itself with bright light and blaring horns from the morning rush. The light was particularly rude, shining directly into Peter's eyes. Finding the blanket, he tossed it over his head. Opening his eyes, he found that he had tossed the blanket over (y/n)'s head as well.

(Y/n)

His fingers brushed her cheek thumb grazing her lips. He leans forward having their forehead touched and then their noses.

"(Y/n)" he whispered She began to mumble and move as she woke up but he held her in place pulling her closer to his body. " (Y/n)"

"hmm"

"You're 17"

"What?"

"You're 17"

She slowly opened her to see Peter lying in front of her she gave him a gentle kiss. Then her mind caught up with her and she realized what he said. She bolted upright.

"I'm 17"

Suddenly, her bedroom door was open, and her mother and May stepped in. There was a moment of silence.

"Happy late Birthday. Now get ready for school you have that English test today" Lilly said ignoring her blurry vision.

"Yes, ma'am." (y/n) said as she stood up. " Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"I love you"

"I love you too"

As Lilly closed the door May pulled her into her arms and allowed her to silently cry into her shoulder. Rubbing her back, telling her to let it all out, she needed this.

-

Tony watched as those going about their day walked by the open alley he was looking for one person though. He watched with baited breath as more and more people walked by but not the person he was looking for.

Until he did.

She was smiling and laughing, walking hand in hand with Peter. She was the happiest he had ever seen her he's never seen her happy before . Lilly also Came out with May also smiling. The group separated May and Lilly, crossing the street while Peter and (y/n) continued down the street, all the while still grinning and laughing.

He finally felt relief as he listened to her laughter go down the street.

Starting up the car, he pulled out of the alley and drove in the opposite direction of (y/n). Stopping at the next light he pulled up right next to Lilly and May. May didn't see him but Lilly did but she didn't say anything as they locked eyes she simply gave him a nod and kept walking.

(Y/n) was 17.