#Now listen I’ve never been to the mental hospital but I did almost check myself into one this year

[ghostlycod]

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[princehrry-writings]

Legal Guardian

ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.

warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying

wordcount: 2481

harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella

masterlist

Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…

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It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.

The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.

Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.

A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”

Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.

“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.

“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.

From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.

“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.

“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.

“I will call security, sir!”

“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.

“She’ll be fine-”

“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.

How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.

“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.

Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.

“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.

“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.

“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”

“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”

The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.

“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.

“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”

“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.

“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.

“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.

“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.

“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.

“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …

“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.

Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.

“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”

“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.

“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.

“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.

“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.

“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”

The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”

All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.

“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.

. * .

*

“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”

“Thank you so much Ben!”

. * .

*

“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”

“Yeah mommy?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.

“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.

“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.

“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”

“That’s right baby, very good!”

“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.

“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.

“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.

“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.

“Do you want him to be?”

Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.

The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.

“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.

[yespolkadotkitty]

I have a request🥺 but only if you are interested!

I was daydreaming about Pero being dropped into our time… and somehow he ends up staying with you (idk, you find him on the street super confused but he refuses to go to the hospital, or he does but they release him to you?) and he falls in love with you but is too respectful to do anything because ya know, he’s very old fashioned. Maybe you fall asleep on him one day and he pretends he is your husband and when you wake up he’s just so content and relaxed like he never ever is. And then eventually he confesses he’s in love with you and obviously you are too, and we all know we’d literally demolish a medieval man’s brain with our sexual skills (at least that’s a weird flex I like to think about myself lmao) so there’s some amazing sex but also cuddling where Pero just can’t believe anything that’s happened and how lucky he is.

I just love a grumpy man who needs a shower and would kill to protect me 😭

I was STOKED to get this request!!! I hope you wanted a surprise multichapter because...

Words: 1,920

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Doctor!fem!reader

Warnings: A huge number of medical and hospital-related inaccuracies, swears.

Thankyou to my wife @songsformonkeys for the beta!!

*********

“....I think you’d better see this.”

You look up from finishing paperwork. It’s almost the end of your ten-hour shift. You slept for a half hour on the miserable hospital cot in the break room but it wasn’t a good half hour. Halfway through someone had dropped a packet of gauze on your face.

Ah, the glamorous life of a newly minted M.D.

You eye Matthias, the junior doctor. “Is it really urgent?”

He hesitates, squirming a bit. “It’s really weird.”

Well, consider your interest piqued. You sign off the paperwork with a scrawl and push back the chair. “Okay, you’ve got five minutes.”

He sighs in relief and leads you out of the curtained staff area into the hustle and bustle of the E.R. More curtains separate patient areas and beds. Somewhere, the sound of a baby crying pierces the air. Someone else curses violently as a bed is moved into a different position. A phone rings insistently.

“He says he fell out of the sky… on to a chariot made of swords…”

You roll your eyes. “Did you do a drug test?”

“Yeah, he’s clean.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Maybe a new drug you haven’t seen before, you think idly, checking your watch as you reach your destination.

“.... No, you listen, pendejo, not one heartbeat before this, I was in the desert, and now-”

Oh, Christ.

You pull back the curtain to reveal another junior doctor, Amy, conversing animatedly with a man who looks like he escaped from the Ren Fayre happening one state over.

He’s handsome. Which is a shame, because he’s also clearly a few sandwiches short of a picnic, or a horse short of a good Ren Fayre costume.

A fearsome scar bisects his left eye, shaving clean through his eyebrow. How his eye survived you’ll never know.

He.. smells. Like dry straw and too much sun. There’s sand in the crevices of his armour. His hair is as black as midnight. A scowl curves his pretty mouth into a sneer.

Amy jerks her head up at you. “Thank goodness.”

The stranger scoffs. “More white coats. You people must be rich, no? To be able to clean your clothes so often?”

You mentally roll your sleeves up. “Well, Sir, you clearly haven’t been to a hospital in some time.”

“Hospital?” he echoes, seeming to test the word in his voice. It’s deep and raspy, heavily accent, the sound more pleasing than you’d like to admit.

Amy moves a little. You pat her arm. “I’ve got this.”

She mouths omg thankyou and departs with Matthias.

“Sir-”

“The name is Tovar.”

You look down at him sitting on the bed. It creaks, not used to supporting such a broad man and what looks like honest to goodness chain mail. “Mr Tovar-”

“Tovar will do, si?”

You check your watch. There’s a Riesling in your fridge that you really hoped to drink tonight. “What seems to be the problem here, Sir? What’s brought you here?”

He gestures, exasperated. “I wish I could tell you, senorita. I fell out of the sky on to a… chariot fused from swords and a man wearing too little clothing insisted on an… what did he call it, an ambulance? And so.” He performs a little bow. “...here I am.”

You tap your foot and wonder if you should order another drugs test.

“Okay, Tovar, I’m just gonna do some observations.”

He acts bemused as you take one hand and track his pulse. It’s irritatingly normal. His skin is rough and warm. The hands of a blue-collar worker.

“Can you… roll your sleeve up?” You tap the… forearm covers he wears.

Tovar wrinkles his nose. “This is necessary?”

“I want to check you’re all right.”

“Meirda. Of course I am not all right, as you say. I have been taken from one place and thrown into another, like an unwanted rat carcass!”

“Please keep your voice down,” you instruct.

“Why? I speak the truth.”

“You may think it’s the truth,” you mutter.

You gaze at each other for what seems like an hour but is probably only ninety seconds, and then finally Tovar, if that is his real name, unbuckles one of the leather forearm protectors. It clangs to the floor, metal and leather laying there like an unclaimed prize, and it looks so out of place on the tiled hospital floor that you almost laugh.

“Happy?” Tovar asks.

“Delighted,” you say back, making sure your tone is super professional. You gently roll his sleeve up. His skin is tan here too, a sort of sunkissed gold, like wet sand at dawn. You wrap a cuff around his arm and he honest-to-God tenses like he’s never seen this kind of medical equipment before.

His BP reads normal.

Why is he so infuriatingly calm? Is he genuinely insane?

“Where did you get these clothes?” You ask, curious, wanting to test the weight of the chain mail.

He frowns. “A tailor, west of Seville. They are old now, si? A sellsword cannot afford new clothes more than every few assignations.”

“Assignations..?”

“To earn coin. I assume you earn with your.. Instruments? That you heal?”

You sigh. He’s beautiful, he really is, and you’d listen to him read a thousand audiobooks. But you’ve been on your feet for ten hours. “Okay, Tovar. You seem fine to me. I have to discharge you. Is there somewhere you can go? Someone you can call?”

His brow furrows. “Call? If I call William from inside this building he will not hear me, comprende?”

You shake your head. “All right then.”

You whisk out from behind the curtain and have a furious whispered conversation with the registrar, who won’t discharge him unless you’re sure he has somewhere to go.

You argue for a few more minutes and then the registrar suggests you discharge him to yourself and then drive him to the homeless shelter.

You close your eyes briefly.

“Or have one of the med students do it,” he suggests, returning to a massive stack of paperwork.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to call Matthias, but you hesitate.

Maybe because you want to spend more time with him.

It’s ridiculous.

But you don’t want to leave him just yet.

You swipe back the curtain. Tovar is calmly refastening his forearm armour.

“You’re sure you have nowhere to go?” you repeat.

He looks up at you with those antique-gold eyes. “I imagine there are many places I can go in this strange new world, bella. But I know none of them like I did my home.”

You sigh deeply. “In that case, you’re coming with me.”

He stands up warily, his knees bent ever so slightly, reminding you of computer-game character stances in character creation mode.

“And then what? You will keep me like a little pet? Your kitten, caged and awaiting scraps of affection? I was not built for this.”

You bristle. “As if I would have time to dote on you. Come on. I’ll do the paperwork on the way out.”

If you have to strap him into your car, you will, and then you’ll drop him at the nearest homeless shelter, and then you’ll forget all about him.

*****

Turns out, it isn’t that simple.

The two nearest shelters are full.

The rain is pounding down like a million hammers on your car as you drive back home, exhausted and so done with this shit.

Tovar protested heavily at both the car and the seatbelt (especially the seatbelt). He dominates the space in your little Ford and you glance over at him. He is watching the windscreen wipers with abject, naked fascination, like a child seeing something for the first time.

“Is it real?” he asks softly as you park. “This horse made of swords. The objects that move without a hand to command them. The light. So much light,” he mutters, pointing to the street lamp with glows amid all the rain.

“Yep, it’s real.” You shut off the car and round the hood, yanking open his door and releasing the seatbelt. “Looks like you’re my guest tonight. Tomorrow, the authorities get involved.”

“A guest, or a prisoner?” Tovar asks, scorn dripping from his tone as he stands, towering over you. You think for a second that you should feel afraid, but you feel only two things: mild annoyance, and the tiniest spark of… interest?

It makes you more tired.

“Look!” You shout, into the howling rain. “You can shut up and come inside where it’s warm and dry or you can sleep out here in the wet. Your choice.”

He stares you down for a moment, and then his shoulders slump, all the fight gone out of him. “You are in charge, bella.”

It’s the second time he’s called you that, and you try not to wonder if it means anything.

You trudge up the steps, Tovar’s warm, broad front close to your back. You buzz yourself in and Tovar jerks at the intrusive sound, but makes no comment.

Once inside your little sanctum, you throw towels at him. “I assume you know how to use a shower? Good,” you snap, without waiting for an answer, and practically shove him into the bathroom and pull the door closed.

Then you stomp into your kitchen, yank the Riesling from the fridge and drink some straight from the bottle. You carry it to your couch with a bag of chips and let out a long, long sigh.

At least you have forty eight hours off - but then you have to pull a double.

You love your work, but you’re exhausted a lot.

Tovar curses from the bathroom. You should go and check on him, but you truly, deeply, cannot be fucked.

There’s a bang and you think christ on a bike, what now? And you get up, drag yourself into the minuscule hall and knock on the door.

No reply. Fuck, what if he’s slipped on the wet floor?

You hear a groan. God. Better go in.

You knock again, louder. No response.

You creak open the door.

The Spaniard stands under the spray of water from your shower, gloriously naked, the armour and clothes and chainmail in a pile by the toilet.

His head is bowed under the spray of water and his golden body is littered with scars, some old, some new.

He groans deeply like a man who hasn’t washed in weeks. Like a man who has had a hard life.

And you must make some noise, because he looks up at you and smiles, utterly unconcerned to be seen naked.

“I have decided that I like this new world!” He shouts, his face lighting up.

This, you think as you try not to stare at his cock, must be what going mad feels like.

*********

Pedro pals, assemble!

@princess76179 @pintsizemama @briefgalaxycat @mad-girl-without-a-box @blueeyesatnight @mouthymandalorian @theflightytemptressadventure @starlightmornings @skvatnavle @knittingqueen13 @djarinsbeskar @nelba @agirllovespancakes @absurdthirst @usernamesarebitches @casualpalacebagelrascal @greeneyedblondie44 @leonieb @f0rever15elf @autumnleaves1991-blog @littlemissthistle @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @pascalsky @buttercup–bee @astroboots @mourningbirds1​ @songsformonkeys @tardisfangurl @the-ginger-hedge-witch​ @disgruntledspacedad @pedro4ever @thepoisonofgod @mrsparknuts @mrschiltoncat @pedro-pastel @lunarthoughts @officerbrowneyes @missredherring @myoxisbroken @read-and-rec @dornish-queen @abuttoncalledsmalls @wantingpedropascal @miuola @wheresarizona​ @ourmotherofyearning @danniburgh​ @jaime1110 @insomniamamma @the-feckless-wonder @sarahjkl82-blog @lunaserenade @alienprincesspoop @thirstworldproblemss​ @buckstaposition @lackofhonor @graveyardnails @keeper0fthestars @lilangeldevil006 @apascalrascal​ @kindablackenedsuperhero @heatherbel @thegreenkid @mstgsmy​ @jasterslegacy @thestrawberry-thief @engineeredfiction @ladylothlorien @poenariuniverse @idreamofboobear @yoditorian @mouthymandalorian @liviiii98 @bison-writes @silverwolf319 @frannyzooey @filthybookworm @chook007 @seawhisperer @luminescentlily @lunarthoughts @skdubbs​ @missredherring @dihra-vesa @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan

[lxngbottom]

Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

                    Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

 “What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink. 

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

                      Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself. 

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that. 

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction. 

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve. 

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, ���I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars​ @elusive-beauty​ @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent​ @fantasy-is-my-reality​ @princess-evans-addict​

[plaidbooks]

Hey 🥰 could I request working with Sonny and you two used to date but broke up, you remained friends but never really got over each other and your end up going through a pretty bad time with work or personal stuff and you’re struggling mentally and not eating etc and when he realises he comes over to your place to check ur ok and you just breakdown and he tells u he still loves u and that it’ll always be u 🥺

Some Space

A/N: I am so sorry that this took so long! I was so burnt out of writing, but I'm here now! I hope that this makes up for the wait!

This takes place before Sonny joins SVU--and his timeline is a little wonky to make this fic work, but oh well.

Tags: death, shootings, blood, disassociation

Words: 2590

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandplaid @reading--mermaid @dreamlover31 @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell

“So, do you wanna move in together?” Sonny asked while you cuddled on his couch. You turned to look at him, and his face fell as he saw your expression. “…you don’t?”

You sighed. “It’s not like I don’t love you, Sonny, because I do. It’s just…I mean, we’re still in our mid-20s. I want a little more, uh, freedom before I settle down, you know?”

“I’ve known since we started dating in high school that I was in for the long term. I was thinking of maybe…I don’t know, getting married…having kids…. Now that we’ve settled into patrol, I thought it would be the perfect time to take the next step,” he muttered.

You sat in silence, debating. You loved Sonny, and you did want to marry him…someday. Not right now. You’ve barely lived any of your life; hell, you lived at home still. Sonny had his own apartment, but you didn’t want to go from living with your parents to living with him. You wanted space, time to figure out who you really were. And you didn’t think you could do that with Sonny. If he couldn’t give you your independence, if you both wanted different things, then you were going to have to break up with him, as much as it would break your heart to do it.

“Listen, Sonny, I need to live my own life for a little bit, discover myself. I-it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise—”

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked softly.

Hearing the words out loud made tears form in your eyes. “I…yes, I guess I am. At least until I find myself…. I’m so sorry, Sonny. I’ll always care about you. We can still be friends?”

“Y-yeah…okay, sure. I…yeah…” he trailed off, unwrapping his arms from around you. You both sat there awkwardly, and the tension was thick. You stood, moving to grab your jacket, and Sonny followed you to the front door.

“This isn’t…goodbye. I promise you, Sonny Carisi. It’s just—”

“See you later?” he finished.

You gave him a smile, and a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

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

That was months ago now, and you had transferred out of Staten Island patrol, unable to see Sonny every day, those big, sad blue eyes trying to avoid your gaze. Now, you worked for Brooklyn, an officer in their Homicide department. You settled in quickly, and you found a cheap-ish apartment in Brooklyn.

It was nice living by yourself, and you highly enjoyed it. You missed Sonny dearly, but you thought it was too soon to reach out. Your heart still strained when you thought about the breakup, so you kept your distance. But it was getting easier and easier to let those feelings fade away in your new line of work. Brooklyn Homicide was a lot busier than Staten patrol, and you got along great with your partner, Drew Zimmer.

“We keep making these busts, and we’re gonna make detective in no time,” Drew said, grinning at you.

You smiled back as you shoved a cuffed perp in the backseat of your squad car. “Then we get paid halfway decently for doing much of the same as we are now.”

“Plus, normal clothes! Not this suffocating police uniform.”

You agreed, then moved to the front seat, Drew sliding in behind the steering wheel. You and Drew were close, but you never crossed a line. He was engaged to his high school sweetheart, something that made you slightly sad. Sonny was your high school sweetheart, and you wondered how different your life would’ve been if you moved in with him.

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

As Drew predicted, you both made detective later that year. You were officially the youngest detective, having moved up the ranks so quickly. You both went out for drinks to celebrate, and you had the wild impulse to invite Sonny. It had been almost a year since you broke up, and you could finally think about it without tearing up. But would he be okay with it? You fought the idea, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“Everything okay?” Drew asked, seeing the look on your face.

You shot him a fake smile. “Fine, fine. Just…thinking. Don’t worry about it.”

He gave you a hard, knowing look, as if he could read your mind. You had told him about Sonny, but you didn’t want to bring the celebration down. Instead, you took your glass and cheers him before taking a sip.

You jumped when your phone rang, and you pulled it out of your pocket. Your Captain’s name flashed across the screen, and you answered with a brisk voice. Drew watched and listened, then sighed when you said that you were both on your way.

“What do we got?” he asked, putting money on the table and standing.

You pulled your jacket on, heading for the door. “Body found in Prospect Heights. You okay to drive?”

“Sober as a fox.”

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

You both showed up quickly, seeing the officers who called in the body. Drew parked, and you made your way over. One of the officers started walking you both through the details when a gunshot rang out from down the alley that the body was in. Instinct took over as you hid behind a wall of the building, grabbing the closest officer to you and pulling them with you. Gunshots echoed in the alleyway as someone—or someones—unloaded on the entrance to the alley.

Drew was on the other side of the alleyway, and one of the officers was flat on their back, blood leaking from a bullet hole in their head. You ordered the officer next to you to call for backup, then waited until the gunfire stopped. Taking a chance, you snuck a quick peak. There were three individuals at the end of the alley, making their way quickly towards you.

You motioned to Drew, letting him know, before you reached your hand around the corner, firing blindly in an attempt to at least slow their advance. With the cover fire, Drew came halfway around the wall, actually aiming his gun as he fired.

“You got one of them,” he informed you. He got a few shots off before a bullet went through his neck, knocking him off his feet.

“Drew!” you screamed before whipping around the wall, shooting with deadly precision. There was only one man still standing—Drew must’ve got one before going down—and you shot him quickly. Then you dropped to your knees by Drew’s rasping form. You ripped off your jacket, pressing it to the bloody wound.

“Stay with me Drew, do you hear me? You have a fiancée to go home to,” you ordered, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “Call a bus!” you yelled at the officer, who was staring in shock.

Drew reached up, grabbing your wrist. “T-tell Steph I—I love her…please,” he gasped, voice weak.

“You’re going to tell her yourself when you see her, okay?” you said, trying to smile at him.

He shook his head. “Tell her…please. I-I—” Drew let out a death rattle before laying still.

“No! No! Live, damn you! You can’t die on me, Drew! W-we’re partners!” you screamed. But he was gone. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you leaned over him.

Time meant nothing as you knelt there. You had no idea when the ambulance arrived, nor when your Captain showed up. You’re not sure who moved you away from Drew’s lifeless body, and you didn’t notice how you ended up at the hospital. You were still covered in Drew’s blood as the nurses ran tests, making sure you were uninjured. Your Captain ordered you to take time off, and you didn’t hear him, didn’t argue. You blinked and you were home, sitting on your couch, a bottle of whiskey in front of you.

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

IAB had been delayed by your Captain, but eventually, you had to face them. You couldn’t recall what they asked, or what you answered. The first emotion you felt in days was fleeting anger; the body that you had been called to investigate was left as bait. The men who shot at you, who killed your partner and an officer, were part of a gang, attempting to become cop killers. It was all a ruse to kill whichever cops arrived on the scene. Drew, one of the nicest, most genuine people you’ve known, was killed for street cred. But your anger soon disappeared, just like everything else.

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

It had been a week since Drew died in your arms. You visited his fiancée—she had already been informed of her love’s death—but you had to see her, pass on his final words. You held her as she cried, but you had no tears left. You felt nothing; you were just a shell. You stopped eating, stopped showering, stopped drinking, even water. You stopped sleeping; you just passed out nowadays, at any and all times of the day, wherever you happened to be laying. Your Captain called you a few times, trying to get you into therapy, but you never left your apartment.

One night, there was a knock on your door. You moved on phantom feet, unlocking and pulling your door open. You felt a dull punch to the gut as Sonny stood on your doorstep.

“H-hey doll…. I heard about your partner, and I thought I’d check up on you,” he said softly.

You nodded, not even attempting to fake a smile. “I’m fine,” you said in a monotone voice, ready to close the door on him. But Sonny was quicker.

“No, you’re not.” And with that, he pushed into your home. “When was the last time you’ve eaten? Washed? Brushed your teeth? Anything?”

You had no answer for him, and he quickly went to your kitchen, pulling open your fridge. Normally, you’d follow him, but instead, you went and collapsed on your couch, your legs unable to hold you up anymore.

Sonny came out with a glass of water. “Drink that,” he ordered, then stood there until you did. “Most of your food has gone bad; I’m going to run to the store. While I’m gone, I want you to shower, okay?”

You didn’t nod, made no indication that you had heard him. He ran a hand through his hair, hating seeing you like this.

“Okay…if you can shower, please do. Otherwise, just at least…drink another glass of water, okay?” He took the glass from your hand, refilled it, then came back and handed it to you. “I’ll be right back.”

You were unsure for how long he was gone; you dimly heard him come back. Sonny went to your kitchen with full grocery bags, and soon, the sounds and smells of cooking emanated from within. He came out soon after—or maybe it was longer, who knows?—with a plate of food.

When he noticed the full glass of water in your hand still, he shook his head, then sat next to you. You didn’t fight him as he fed you small bites, nor as he raised the glass of water to your lips. You tasted nothing as you ate half the plate. Sonny was afraid to make you sick with too much food at once, so he put the rest back in the kitchen. Then, he pulled you to the bathroom. He undressed you, then himself, before guiding you into the shower. The hot water brought you partly to your senses, just enough to feel Sonny’s hands washing your hair and body.

“You may have to get your hair cut short—it’s pretty damaged from lack of care,” he muttered, trying to work the knots out with his fingers. You nodded gently, letting him care for you. Once done, he wrapped you in a towel, patting you dry. Then, he took your toothbrush and put paste on it before handing it to you, lifting your hand to your mouth.

“Brush,” he softly ordered, and you did.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Sonny tugged you to your room, where he dressed you in your pajamas. Then he pushed you down into the bed.

“Sleep, okay? I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep,” he promised.

You laid on the pillow, and fresh tears came to your eyes. “He died in my arms,” you muttered.

Sonny’s expression softened. “I heard, doll. There was nothing more you could’ve done. Just rest now.”

As promised, he sat next to you until you drifted off, your hand in his.

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

Sonny practically moved in with you after that, just until you could take care of yourself. He took you to a therapist, and a hair salon. He made you meals and made sure you drank water. At first, he would shower with you and made sure you brushed your teeth; those were the two things you started doing yourself the quickest. It took you a few weeks to break out of the shock-induced disassociation you were experiencing. Eventually, you started helping Sonny cook in your kitchen, and doing small chores around your apartment.

“Thank you, Sonny, for everything,” you said one night while you were eating dinner.

He smiled at you. “Of course, doll. I care about you.”

“I care about you, too. I—I should’ve called you earlier. I was just afraid that it was too soon.”

His smile faltered slightly. “I understand. I…it’s probably still too soon….”

“What do you mean?”

Sonny put his fork down, looking everywhere but at you. “Look, I’ve…I thought that enough time had passed, especially when I heard about your partner—” you flinched at the mention of Drew— “but when you opened the door and I saw how much it affected you, I realized that…I still love you, have always loved you. You were literally wasting away, and I couldn’t stand by and watch.”

You froze, not in shock at him, but at yourself. Because hearing the words out loud, you knew that you loved him, too.

“I’m sorry; you don’t need this right now. The last thing you need on your mind is—”

“I love you, too, Sonny. God, I love you so much,” you replied, throwing your arms around him, and leaning against his side.

He hesitated a moment before he wrapped an arm around your back. “Are ya sure? You’re going through some pretty traumatic stuff right now. Your emotions going a little haywire.”

“I’m sure. I-I was afraid to call you because I couldn’t handle seeing you. Because I never got over you.”

Sonny nodded. “I never got over you, either. Look, if you still want your space, I can live with that, as long as I don’t lose you again. I never want to lose you again.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either. I love you; I want to marry you one day. Let’s just…see how it goes, okay? I’ve learned a lot just in the year we’ve been apart—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips soft against yours. He felt so familiar, so much like home, and you realized how much you had really missed him. You kissed him back, holding him to you. He leaned his forehead against yours, lips brushing over yours.

“We’ll figure out the details later. Right now, I just want to get to know you again,” he breathed.

You nodded. “Please, yes. I want to remember you, Dominick.”

He pulled you closer, promising his whole self to you in a searing kiss.

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Motherly Instincts, Human Emotions, or Just a Quirk?

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x Reader

Summary: A feeling is haunting you and it seems to just get even more complicated as the number one hero Endeavor is now out of his hospitalization and the world is at an unease. Is it just your motherly instincts that you feel towards your beloved class 1-A? Is it just a normal occurrence of emotion within any person? Or is it your quirk now picking up something new that you can’t quite see yet?

What I listened to while writing: Detroit:Become Human soundtrack, especially Kara’s Theme.

We are finally here! The fifth season of our beloved My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia has finally arrived! And with that also comes some writings! I’ve been swamped with my new busy schedule that comes along with being in cosmetology school, don't ever under estimate those students because we sure go through a lot each day! Please enjoy this short, on the whim writing for a humble celebration.

Masterlist / request info in master list

A chill had risen up your arms as your typed away at your computer, the hurried and petrified voice of the news caster raging out even if your tv was brought down to a hushed volume. 

“Number one hero Endeavor is is currently defeating a villain. Much damage has been caused to the area. No fatalities as of right now....” Though whatever they had left to speak out to all of Japan or even the whole world did not matter as your chair had clattered upon the ground as you reached for your house coat. the bright light of the hall blinding your eyes as wisps of hair that had fallen from your hair tie floated amongst the wind you created with your nervous steps down the stairs. Shoto had fallen to the ground and your colleague was already there hovering over the teen, the rest of the class either crowding their fellow classmate or staring in shock to the news blaring from the tv.

That day the world changed and not even the world’s most naïve person could ever deny such a thing.

“Here is your jacket, Shoto...” You spoke out softly as you stood in front of the boy, hands reaching to straighten out the collar, the young man only silently standing before you expressionless as usual. Though you could have sworn you felt a tremor. Whether it was you or him, that could be debatable. “Just remember the time we set, ok? If you feel uncomfortable don’t be afraid to just excuse yourself so Mr.Aizawa and I can bring you straight back to the dorms, they will understand that if you have too.” assuring you hoped your words would sound to the boy, but that forever blank expression only looked back to you. 

“Ok...” he softly spoke out, you nodding your head as you stepped out from his path.

“Ok” felt like the only appropriate response as you watched him step up to the house, disappearing behind the very daunting front door. 

You didn’t want to come off as one of those crazy conspiracist types who always had a foul theory about a hero, villain, and their families, but with your quirk helping you feel the atmosphere or vibe of people, places, or things, you couldn't help but silently be one. Shoto always carried something awful, something that made your heart become heavy despite his neutral expressions. It always perturbed you to no end. It wasn’t like you have never felt this before either. With your previous job being interviewing and helping rehabilitate “troubled” children and mentally stricken heroes and now being the counselor of UA, it was something that always came. What bothered you though was that it was coming from the son of the nation’s number one hero, a family that would seem normal to all of Japan and the entire world because, well, it was a family of a hero. A had on your shoulder made you snap out of your racing thoughts, now looking over your shoulder and to Aizawa.

“Are you ok?” He questioned, almost a bit awkwardly. You didn’t blame him, your reaction to the atmosphere around was probably strange and maybe even frightening. “I know your quirk can...”

“I’m just worried...” You spoke out with a sigh as rested a hand over his before moving away from his touch to lean against the hood of the car, hands now sitting in your lap as you twiddled your thumbs. “And I’ve been picking up something weird, but who knows, maybe its just that this house probably too damn old and spooky” you tried to joke with a meek laugh, though he only stared with a knowingly look, yet did not press any further. You had to be thankful for that, he sure knew when to back off sometimes, maybe not when it came to his own homeroom students, but for you? He did and you didn’t really care to know his reason for why like whether or not he thought you were too weak to handle it or some other seemingly offensive reason. “Shit!” You exclaimed as a fowl hiss came from the side walk in front of you. There a scared cat arched and puffed it’s body out, though Aizawa paid no mind with a lazy look as he calmly approached the cat, slowly reaching out a hand to let the feral beast sniff, quickly gaining his trust. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as the man scooped up the cat in his arms, now leaning against the car next to you where his hands loved up upon the cat’s dirty fur, his black hair falling to hide the sides of his face. Sometimes you would sit there and imagine what he would look like with that mane of his trimmed and tidied during the sleepless nights you shared playing card games, doing paperwork together, or doing a quick patrol around the dorm to check upon the beloved students of class 1-A. 

“Huh, you sure your quirk isn’t taming wild cats?” You teased as you reached a hand to give the old cat a scratch under his chin. The little chuckle that rumbled through rumbled through you before he began to speak.

“I wish, creating a cat sanctuary of street cats seems like the life best suited for me..” He spoke out lowly with the purrs of the cat. You knew he was joking however which brought a small lift to the corners of your lips. 

It didn’t take him much thought to know that something was still bothering you as the cat jumped from him arms to land back to the ground with what seemed to be a small meow of thanks as it ran off into the night only leaving behind the pesky cat hairs on his all black costume, but he didn’t mind at all. 

“Look at you, covered in cat hair...” Your voice came out in a whisper which you weren't aiming to do as you reached a hand to try to dust away the short hairs in vain, though his rough hands wrapped around yours in order to stop you, a knowing look upon his face. That look made you sigh as you retracted your hands from his.

That damn man. He knew when to not press about things like he did to others, but when it got to a certain point in his eyes, he always intervened. You were foolish enough to think you would be able to suppress and hide it enough in order to trick those fatigued eyes of his. Not this time, the feelings that plagued your heart and continued to poke at you were too strong and too bothersome. 

“Shoto always carried things such as sadness, anger, determination, trauma, just a lot more than I could swallow sometimes.” You began to explain, now looking up to the house watching the shadows dance across one of the windows lit up by the soft light within. “And this whole area is filled with so many bad things...but right now it kind of confuses me” You said as your eyebrows scrunched at the new shift. “Change is happening, which is normal to see in a person once they go through the proper treatment or therapy, but judging by how bad it was before, it is going to take a lot...” You said with a sigh, lowering your gaze from the house, trying your best to shut off the swarm of emotions before you and to end your reading, now looking to Aizawa. “It just saddens me, Shoto seems so aloof, but that boy has went through so much, I guess I’m just worried from him, scared for him..” You explained.

“Doesn’t make since why he would come back?” He asked softly, you only staring back up to him to roll that thought within your head before nodding your head. Aizawa only nodded his head back, his arm now reaching to wrap an arm around your dropping shoulders, you now leaning your head against his shoulder. The embrace was comforting and you appreciated his understanding, but you still had such an anxious feeling in your gut. 

“I know this world preaches forgiveness and for us to fix the wrongs we commit in our life, but even for me who helps those people forgive and seek forgiveness, its still hard to do it myself sometimes. It also goes to show that even a family like this can hold all these...foul things” You explained further as you looked p to the moths and bugs that swarmed the streetlight up above and soon past their mindless flight and to the dull stars above. The tears pulled at the brim of your eyes, your chin beginning to strain with the sensation that came with crying. “These kids are like my babies...” you soon shakily spoke out, fighting back the horrendous expression you knew would come too with your tears as you looked to Aizawa “And right now I can’t fight off this feeling in my gut ever since the Endeavor incident..” Your trembled whisper almost seemed fearful. 

A door slamming made Aizawa’s head snap to the source of the sound where the both of you sat in the silence, bodies tense as you waited. Finally with a deep sigh his body relaxed as he looked back to you, a hand reaching to brush away those tears that could move him to tears if he was off guard, though sometimes that wouldn’t even work and that would definitely not go past you. 

Your hands reach to cup the lower, stubbled half of his face upon seeing that familiar wetness gently pool in his eyes, but it was not enough to fall upon his cheeks and betray his wishes of not wanting to cry. You guessed you were not alone with these feelings

“I know...” He spoke out quietly with a sad smile. “We just have to prepare them as best as we can. Shoto, Izuku, Eri, Shinsou, all the others” Aizawa continued on as he was no fully turned to you, hands holding your upper arms, one of them moving away to reach for a piece of hair that was caught onto your sweater to pluck it off and let it float gently down into the darkness of the night. 

“But they are just kids...” 

“I know, but they chose this path, besides, they have already accomplished and achieved so much. Who knows, maybe whatever is coming will be another thing these students will once again defeat and make us adults look stupid again” Aizawa was trying to joke, trying to lift that melancholy looked that wrinkled your face, but it was no use. With a sigh he stood up straight, those warm hands of his sliding away as he opened the passenger door for you, those eyes seeming to look even more exhausted if that were even possible. “Come on, lets get the car started, its almost time to bring Shoto home.”

Motherly instincts, human emotions, a quirks power....was it simply not a good mix or was it simply something big was coming? How those thoughts came in typhoons within your mind as you sat in silence in there car. 

How you will never be able to figure that one out....

[sohotthateveryonedied]

You Gotta Fend for Yourself

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Bruce is Tim's emergency contact. He gets a call to meet Tim at the ER.

“I’m looking for a patient.” The woman behind the ER desk looks bored as she eyes Bruce, takes in the pressed suit and diamond cufflinks. The way he fidgets, drumming his fingers on the desk and trying very hard not to look as anxious as he feels. It’s easier to reign in his worry when he’s wearing the cowl. “Name?” “Tim Drake.” “Give me a minute.” She types his name into the computer, and Bruce can’t help but wonder how she manages to type with such long fingernails. “Your son is in bed eight. It’s over there, against the far wall.” She points him in the general direction. Bruce considers correcting her on the fact that Tim is certainly not his son, but he doesn’t need to tell this complete stranger that. Let her think what she wants. He thanks her and goes where directed. His chest loosens when he finds Tim sitting on a medical cot, neither bleeding out from a gaping wound nor missing any limbs. Instead he’s playing some sort of racing game on his phone, indifferent to the bustling emergency room around him. An oxygen mask sits beside him, forgotten. He and Bruce should really have a conversation about the importance of listening to medical professionals. “Hey, kiddo.”

Tim looks up and his eyes go wide. “Bruce. You...actually came?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been gargling sand. “Of course I did. I am your emergency contact, after all.” Tim blushes. “I told them not to call you. You really don’t need to be here if you’re busy, I can get a cab home. And I’m sure I can talk the doctors into letting me check myself out without an adult, so—” “It’s okay, Tim. Really. You actually saved me from a board meeting.” Tim doesn’t look at all reassured. Bruce sits on the side of the cot beside Tim, who moves over a few inches. “Your teacher told me you went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of geometry.” Tim rolls his eyes. “I got a candy bar from the vending machine and the wrapper forgot to mention there were walnuts in it. It’s not that big a deal.” “Oh, sure, not that big a deal. You just stopped breathing for two minutes. Totally normal.” “I’m breathing now, aren’t I?” Tim takes an exaggerated breath. “See? I’m fine. And, for the record, it was the teacher’s fault. I had my hand raised for a whole minute trying to tell her that I couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t even look at me. Eventually I just passed out.” Bruce blinks. “You raised your hand? While your life was in danger?” “I didn’t want to be rude.” Lord, beer me patience. “I’ll get you an EpiPen to carry with you from now on.” “I usually have one, but I used it up a couple months ago and kept forgetting to ask my dad for another one.” A shrug. “Don’t you keep one in your utility belt?” “That’s for civilians.” Bruce’s eyebrows crease. “It’s for keeping people safe, not just civilians. You’re a person, so I want you to use whatever you need to keep yourself from dying in the middle of class. Got it?” Tim nods, a little sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” “Good. Now, how are you feeling?” Tim flicks the IV tube. “Cortisone and a shot of epinephrine earlier. I’ll be fine.” Even so, Bruce can’t stop himself from checking Tim over anyway, just to be sure. He needs to see that Tim is okay with his own eyes. He feels Tim’s throat for any residual swelling, checks his pulse. “Can you breathe okay?” “Yep.” “What about your mouth, does it feel numb or tingly? Any swelling?” “No and no.” “Are you dizzy at all, nauseous?” “You do realize we’re in a hospital, right? Surrounded by actual doctors?” “Yes, and I don’t trust a single one of them unless their name is Leslie Thompkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Bruce Wayne.” “You’re insane.” “Good. Maybe then you’ll stay alive long enough to see the new year.” Bruce takes out his cell phone and drafts the beginning of an email in his notes app. “I should call the school and give them hell for not looking after you. Or at least for not being more aware of their vending machine snacks.” He knew Tim never should have been allowed in a public school. That’s like locking the most perfect, innocent kitten in the world in a cage with rabid coyotes. Completely irresponsible. “You’re overreacting, B.” “You could have died.” Tim scoffs. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t even the worst allergic reaction I’ve had. My parents were terrible at remembering to tell the nannies about my walnut energy, so there were a lot of close calls.” Bruce should be more surprised at that information. After he sues the school for the wrongful almost-death of a student, he should sue Drake Industries just for the hell of it. “Where are your parents? Are they on their way?” Jack Drake is as disagreeable a man as disagreeable men get, but he’s always revving for conflict. Bruce will definitely be able to sway him to his side of this matter. They can bring it up to the board of education, draw up new regulations for the school’s allergy protocols. Tim scratches absently at the rash on his neck. Bruce swats his hand away. “Dad brought Dana on a business trip to Philadelphia. It was only supposed to last the weekend, but they decided to stay a few extra days.” “A few?” “Eleven, to be exact.” Yikes. Big yikes. “You at least called them, right? They’ll want to know you’re safe.” “I called Dad when I first got here, but he didn’t pick up so I left him a message. I’m pretty sure he got it, because Dana keeps texting me to make sure I’m okay and asking if they should come home early. Dad still hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s worried too.” Even as Tim says the words, it’s clear he doesn’t believe them. Never mind, fuck Jack Drake. Bruce can find another parent to start an alliance with—one who actually cares about their kid. Maybe Crystal Brown is free tonight… Bruce flags down a passing nurse. “Can I get some discharge papers for my son, here?” Might as well throw that in, give himself some extra authority. Whatever gets them out of here quicker. “Thank god,” Tim says. He plucks out the IV and swings his legs off the bed. “I’m sick of this place. You can just drop me off at home and I’ll be all set?” “Drop you off? You’re coming home with me, Tim.” Was that part not clear? “It’s cool, really. I’ll be fine after some rest. You don’t have to look after me.” “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Bruce thanks the nurse who brings over the discharge papers in record time. People really don’t appreciate nurses enough; he should donate a few million to boost their salaries. He pushes the clipboard into Tim’s hands. “Here, fill these out and we can get going. I’ll call ahead and have Alfred make supper.” “And then I can go home?” Bruce shrugs, eyes fixed on his phone screen as his thumbs fly. “You already have a room made up at the manor, so I don’t see why you can’t stay over tonight. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on you, just in case.” Anaphylaxis can be a tricky thing. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mother hen?” “Once or twice.” “Well, they’re right.” Bruce snorts. He works more on his email draft to the school, making a mental note to censor out the swear words during revision. He’s getting flashbacks to years ago when Jason had a close call with some shrimp at a party for a museum opening. Bruce nearly decimated the catering company for not putting out warnings for potential allergens. “Tim?” “Hm?” “How come I’m your emergency contact?” Tim freezes. He doesn’t look at Bruce and twiddles the pen, quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know who else to put? I figured it would never actually be needed, so it wasn’t like you’d ever find out about it anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll change it tomorrow so you don’t need to do this again.” “No,” Bruce says, a little too quickly. “Keep it. It’s...more logical for it to be me. And I really don’t mind.” “You sure? You don’t have to.” “I want to. Partners look out for each other, right?” Tim’s cheeks are flushed under the allergy-induced redness, but he nods. “Right.”

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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

Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

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

Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XV]

Word count: 5,674

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

Not the gif I wanted but I was too lazy to search for longer.

AO3 link

_______________

My ears rang with the grating sound of Judge Llewellyn’s voice projecting inside the courtroom. I glanced at my wristwatch. The session should have been over at 4.30pm but it was now past 5. Through the window closest to me, I could see that the sky had lost its orange clouds amidst light blue in favour of pinks and deep blues. Dracula would start calling me incessantly at any moment now, like he’d done yesterday.

Surreptitiously, I slid a hand on my trousers’ front pocket and grabbed my phone. I eased back on my seat to glimpse the screen from under the table. Jane Grisham’s client – my newest client as of yesterday, actually – huffed at my side but I ignored him; my problem was life or death, his was the possibility of ten years in prison which he well deserved. 

No messages from Count Dracula so far, except the ones from last night. I scrolled up the texts. Odd. I dared bring the phone closer to check if my phone was on airplane mode to justify this but I could see three bars at the top indicating that I had signal.

“Are we boring you, Miss L/N?”

I scrambled into a proper posture as I clicked the phone off and hurriedly put it back in my pocket. My eyes met Judge Llewellyn’s up in his pulpit and I forced an innocent smile at his chiding stare.

“Apologies, my lord. Please proceed.”

The prosecutor, a scrawny old man, raised a contemptuous eyebrow at me before he continued scribbling on a notebook. Llewellyn was nearing the end of the session, going over court dates and times, which was indeed boring, and I knew he would email the details later to make sure nobody made any mistakes, so his speech wasn’t as important as he thought.

I rubbed the corners of my eyes as much as my make up would allow to try and clear the sensation that I had sand in my eyes from lack of sleep. I’d gotten only two hours of sleep – that is, if I combined all the moments I nodded off when shuffling through files, otherwise I wouldn’t say I’d slept at all. I had spent the night staring at the window until sunrise, listening to every minimal sound that could indicate that Count Dracula had found me hiding in Mallory’s guestroom. When Mallory finally woke up earlier that morning, I had already gotten ready for work, stuffed all my things back in my suitcase, made us breakfast and sat down with a cup of untouched tea to mull over what I was going to say to Dracula. By the time Mallory and I left for work, I was confident with my little speech but as the day stretched on and exhaustion settled over me, I doubted that I was capable of many coherent thoughts. Facing Count Dracula when my head was a jumble and I could scarcely keep my eyes open wasn’t ideal but I had no other choice. My ten days were beyond over.

Llewellyn briefly interrupted himself as the courtroom’s door opened with a creak. He regarded whoever had entered the courtroom before resuming. Clicking heels approaching me made me turn my head just in time to see Mallory taking a seat behind me with the audience, a stern look on her face.

Without turning away from the court, I leaned back to give her my ear.

“St Thomas Hospital called me just now, they’re letting Renfield out,” she whispered. My foot bumped into the table as if I had just been shocked by high voltage. My mouth opened and closed. None of what Mallory had just said made sense. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dracula vouched for him to leave, he’s one of Renfield’s emergency contacts, apparently. The nurse told me that Dracula called them to say that you will be picking up Renfield after release hours tonight because you’re caught up in court duty. Renfield gave the nurse my number so I could notify you. Y/N, how did Dracula know you’d be in court until late? Is he stalking you?”

My head started spinning from the moment Mallory said Dracula had vouched for Renfied, and I failed to process the rest of what she’d said. 

Was he taunting me because the ten days were up? Was it a threat to Renfield’s life? A threat that he could hurt the people around me because I didn’t abide to his deadline? 

“We’re adjourned,” Llewellyn declared, and I shot up from my seat at once, gathering my things as quickly as I could before striding out of the courtroom with Mallory at my side; my client forgotten.

“Y/N, is he stalking you?” she asked again when we were at the Royal Courts of Justice’s halls.

“I don’t know! Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“You can’t keep seeing him if he is.”

“I don’t really have a choice in that matter, Mal,” I scoffed. She grabbed my elbow to make me look at her. Noting her scowl, I continued, “He’s a client, I can’t deny seeing him if he requests.” It wasn’t a lie but wasn’t the proper explanation either.

“Don’t play stupid with me, you know what I meant. Y/N, if he’s dangerous–”

“He is. He is very dangerous but I can deal with him,” I said, forcing my voice to sound strong to make me believe it, too. I untangled myself from Mallory. “I’ve got to go pick up Renfield. Talk to you later, Mal.”

  ______________________________________________________

“Miss? We’re here,” said the cabbie.

By his tone I knew he had said it at least once before and I hadn’t heard him. 

Renfield should be waiting for me inside St Thomas Hospital with his bags packed and a harmless, sane look in his eyes, at least I hoped. Count Dracula could be waiting in there, too, waiting for me to walk right into his arms. If I was smarter and less tired, I would give the cabbie Mallory’s address, but I couldn’t run forever. 

I rubbed my forehead. Exhaustion made it harder to evaluate all the possible consequences if I walked out of the car and into the hospital. 

“Can you wait for me here?” I finally said to the cabbie. “I’m picking up someone and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“No problem,” he said, glancing at the taximeter with a small smile in his mouth.

I considered my suitcase in the backseat and left, unconcerned. There wasn’t anything valuable in there to a cabbie, unless he had a secret propensity for crossdressing. 

My legs guided me through the hospital as if I was on autopilot while I cast furtive glances at every corner. More than once my heart sank when I saw a tall silhouette at the end of a hallway until I realised it was too short or too skinny to be Count Dracula.

Breathing was a hard task when I neared the psych ward but it was too late to turn back. People passed me, watery eyes and runny noses as a little girl complained that her dad sounded funny and asked her mother why dad drooled all the time and wouldn’t blink. The mother looked at me and I focused ahead of me, pretending I hadn’t heard any of that. 

Nurse Margaret greeted me with a warm smile when I stopped at the nurse’s station inside the psych ward.

“Wondered if you’d really come. Your fiancée said you were quite busy.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“My what?”

“Your fiancée,” she repeated, enunciating the word clearly like I’d missed it the first time. “He called earlier and said that Mr. Renfield will be getting his treatments from home now and that you’d come tonight to sign his release forms.”

“He’s not my fiancée.”

“Oh. I must’ve heard him wrong, then, but I’m sure he said the word bride…” her gaze was lost in thought for a moment.

“Where do I sign?” I asked with more than a touch of impatience. 

Margaret frowned lightly at my rudeness but retrieved a thin stack of papers from below her desk. Using a pen, she pointed at several paragraphs while she repeated without reading, almost word for word, what was written. Because Renfield had been committed on account of violent behaviour he would have to attend psychotherapy sessions inside St Thomas Hospital and see a psychiatrist every fifteen days – Nurse Margaret informed me that the normal procedure was usually every week but Renfield’s doctor had seen fantastic improvement and decided that fifteen days was more adequate in his case until he was deemed mentally healthy. She showed me where to sign and reminded me at each turn of a page that Renfield would be under my responsibility since I was permitting his release. When I was done signing everything, Margaret left to get Renfield.

Minutes rolled by and I paced around the waiting room like I was a caged beast, peering around corners, breath hitching in my chest whenever I heard a man’s voice. Clicking high heels drew me out to the hallway and I exhaled in relief upon seeing Renfield striding next to Nurse Margaret and a male nurse carrying a box. He was dressed in the very same clothes he had been wearing the morning he attacked me but they were clean and looked a little bigger on his frame than they did before. His glasses slid down his nose as he walked. They were too big for his face but he never wore another pair, even when I gave him new ones on his birthday. I smiled as he pushed them back over the bridge of his nose. Stubborn man. He smiled back.

“Happy to leave?” I asked him. 

“You’ve got no idea,” he replied, and surprised me by planting a kiss to my forehead. I froze for a second. He was usually awkward about physical contact with almost anyone. Therapy must have driven another man to crawl out of him. “You didn’t come visit me last week. How was the wedding?”

“Not great,” I said, staring into his eyes. They didn’t change, so I assumed he didn’t know what had happened. He could also be wearing his courtroom face which was just as good as mine, better even. 

At that, Margaret said her goodbyes with a warm smile and told us that Roger, the slender nurse carrying a cardboard box, would accompany us down with Renfield’s books. I noticed Renfield analysing me as I fidgeted inside my shoes and forced myself to stop. Roger tried to make small talk on the way out but I couldn’t give him more than a few words.

The taxi was parked in the same exact spot as before. The cabbie nodded at me, blowing out smoke before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it. My feet hurt as I hurried towards him and my worry subsided a little. I’d made it. Renfield was out and I hadn’t seen Count Dracula. It wasn’t a trap but I still didn’t understand his true intention by doing so. 

The cabbie opened the door for me and I entered the car, relaxing in my seat to feel the coolness of the window against my forehead. Roger placed the box next to me so when Renfield took a seat, it laid between us.

“Why am I out?” Renfield asked in the short pause it took for the cabbie to close our door and round the car towards the driver’s seat.

I stared at him.

“If you don’t know, what makes you think I would?”

“You’re his brid–” Renfield cut the word short when the cabbie threw himself behind the wheel. He leaned forward and gave the cabbie his address. When he spoke to me again, his voice was low over the sound of the car’s engine. “From my experience, the Count isn’t particularly kind and I know he would never do this for me, especially after my little outburst. There must be a reason for this benevolence.”

“At the wedding he said that you could have some of his things shipped from Romania to London. Maybe he has need of them now.”

Renfield gave me a lopsided smile. It was usually the smile he reserved for cross examining witnesses. A venomous snake just before it struck.

“The wedding. Something happened there, didn’t it?” He inquired. I chose to look out of the window instead of facing him. “You won’t look at me, which means I’m right. Please tell me you were smart enough to listen to what I told you.”

Surrender with arms wide open or he’ll hurt you and those around you. Listen to me. He will. 

I surrendered but not fast enough. Not fast enough to take back everything I had done.

“I really should have listened to you,” I confessed. “He did exactly what you said he would.”

“Even though he’s lived a long time, patience isn’t one of his virtues, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t lack of patience,” I muttered. “Actually, he’s been nothing if not patient with me. I went behind his back and it blew up in my face, and you don’t need to chastise me about it. I’ve got enough guilt as it is.”

“What did he do?”

A weird question from him. Finally, I met his eyes again and was surprised to find that I knew the man behind them. 

“Mallory,” I said as a means of explanation. There wasn’t much we could say with the cabbie listening. “She’s okay, though.”

“So are you,” Renfield said as he extended a hand and brushed my hair away from my neck. 

“For now. I owe him an explanation, which I was supposed to give it to him yesterday but work happened. I’m not sure how he’ll–” I regarded Renfield for the second time that night. “You’re worried about me?”

“Of course I am.” He frowned, seemingly offended that I had to ask. “I wear glasses but I’m not completely blind. You haven’t been sleeping,” he said as he tapped under his eye. Covering my dark circles with a decent amount of concealer obviously didn’t disguise it enough. “And you were fidgeting inside the hospital because you were afraid of encountering Count Dracula. Cowardice is a horrible look on you, Y/N.”

“You haven’t asked me what I did to Dracula.”

“It mustn’t have been good to drive him towards Mallory. And why should it matter what you did to him? It’s no excuse.”

“Oh, my god,” I murmured, staring at him in shock as I pieced it together. The kiss to the forehead, his concern, the completely sane look to his eyes... 

“What? Did you think I’d defend him if he hurt you?”

“He released you,” I said. Renfield’s frown deepened as he looked from me to the hospital like I had just stated the obvious. “He released you from him,” I spoke quietly so the cabbie wouldn’t hear it but Renfield did. His face paled until it was stark white in the car’s low light. 

“No…”

“Would you ever speak of him this way if he hadn’t?”

He shook his head.

Letting Renfield out of the hospital wasn’t a threat or a ploy to get me. It was a gift.  However dim the possibility, my brain latched on to the idea that it wasn’t simply a gift, but an apology. Being merciful wasn’t at all like Dracula. It wouldn’t fix what he had done but it was something. If he had freed Renfield out of the goodness of his heart or if he had done it for ulterior motives, it didn’t really matter. I had begged for Renfield and offered myself up in exchange and Dracula had dismissed my attempts. Before, he had never cared how much that hurt me. And now this; an abrupt kindness to make up for his deeds. 

“He wouldn’t– no,” Renfield grumbled. “Why– he, he can’t… he can’t do this to me. I’ll be alone.”

“You’ll have me,” I retorted.

“No, you’re his. I know you are. It’s in your eyes, and you want it, too. You’ll be like him and who will I be, hm?” His voice was thin but carried the weight of restrained emotion. “Nobody, I’ll be nobody. In a few years the both of you won’t even remember me.”

To my horror, twin tears streamed down his face. 

Dracula had called him weak once, and suddenly I understood why he could see Renfield like that. Renfield himself had said that he didn't exist without Count Dracula but I’d deduced he had been made to believe that as a slave. His weeping told of an abandonment I couldn’t understand, and hoped never would. As much as I dreaded the idea, some people can only fathom existence if they have a leash around their neck to guide them. Sometimes the leash is religion or politics, and least often it is a centuries old vampire. It comforted Renfield, I supposed, this feeling of unquestionable certainty, and to have that teared away debased him. 

Revulsion wrapped its claws around my ankles until it creeped up to my face in a scowl. It wasn’t Renfield’s fault that this world had made him like this and I shouldn’t blame him for wanting direction under a tight fist of a warlord, and yet I found that an ugly part of me despised him for it. Did that mean I shared something in common with Count Dracula? One of his defects? 

“It’ll pass,” I told Renfield, looking out the window. “You’ll find your footing again soon. And no matter what you think or what happens, I’ll remember you.”

Despite his desolation, I was glad that he was back to himself. If it made me selfish, so be it. Although I wasn’t sure I was more pleased that Renfield was himself again or that Dracula had done it for me. 

When we arrived at Renfield’s flat in Chelsea, he refused any help to carry his belongings out of the car, so he stumbled out with the cardboard box and his small suitcase. At my request, the cabbie waited until I was sure Renfield was safe inside his building and then I gave him my address. 

I fished my phone from my purse and skimmed through my texts. Still none from Dracula. My fingers started typing before I could really think about what I was doing.

  _____________________________________________________

Count Dracula knocked briefly on Lucy’s balcony door before opening it. She had been lying on her stomach, texting someone, but turned around to greet him with a kittenish grin. The bed’s covers were instantly thrown away with a swift movement to expose her legs. 

“Finally! I thought you were giving up on me,” she exclaimed, rising on the bed to stand on her knees. He allowed her to pull him closer by his jacket’s lapels but when she neared his lips, he turned his face slightly to the side and she kissed only the corner of his mouth. “Nobody ignores my texts, you know.”

“Alas, I did”– he raised an eyebrow– “but you were begging for me and I had to come to put an end to it.”

That elicited another grin from her. A few days ago he would have found it charming, it was odd that it didn’t get a reaction out of him now. He hadn’t spent time with Lucy ever since before the wedding, so maybe that’s all he needed to warm up to her again – time. 

“Tell me you’re taking me out tonight,” she goaded, pouting.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow morning?”

“Yes but–”

“Then no.” He pushed her back on the bed and she fell with a laugh. “I’d rather do this,” he murmured as he climbed on top of her. 

She wriggled under him, doing her best to incite him as she rubbed her neck near his mouth, her hips twisting in need as her legs wrapped about his waist to brush up against him. He let her touch him, and he waited for desire to rise. She whined when he didn’t respond to her advances. 

Nothing stirred in him. He rolled off of her, throwing an arm over his face. His arm was lifted not a second later and he glanced at Lucy as she wrapped it around herself to snuggle up to his chest. He patted her shoulder, gazing up at the star pattern stamped on Lucy’s ceiling. Releasing Renfield should appease Y/N, which is what he wanted, but so far there was no news from her. He couldn’t stay in his home pacing around as he waited for a call. And then Lucy’s text had arrived and he decided it was better to go distract himself. No use so far.

“Did you have fun on your trip?” She asked him softly.

“Up to a point.”

“Did you miss me?”

“No, not really,” he said. Lucy chuckled, as she always did whenever he was too serious. He wasn’t sure if she interpreted his seriousness as a joke or if she laughed it off because she didn’t know how to react. 

“But you’re here,” she continued.

“It seems so, yes.”

He could tell that she wanted him to say that he had missed her but he wouldn’t lie. If she was hurt, then it was for the best. 

Lucy quickly maneuvered herself so she could straddle him. His hands automatically went to her thighs as she settled in a comfortable position. 

“Okay, so you didn’t come here to talk or to take me out.” Lowering her body over his, she popped a button on his shirt. Then another. “We can do other stuff, more interesting stuff…” Another button opened and she splayed her hands on his chest, stroking his skin. She moved her hips back and forth over his and his body stirred in response. Ah, so he wasn’t completely immune to her, it seemed. When she leaned in to kiss him, he let her. He breathed in her scent, and the charm was broken as swiftly as it had begun. It wasn’t the smell of honey he so longed for. “You’re being weird,” Lucy mumbled against his lips before pulling back to observe him.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to relax, concentrating on wiping Y/N’s scent from his brain. He covered Lucy’s hands with his own when he felt a tug on another button. Her fingers persisted but a light squeeze on them made her stop.

“How come?” 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to fuck because god knows all you want to do is drink me but you’re barely touching me, and usually you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” She wiggled her hips. “You’re not even hard, and I’m really trying here, Drac.” He laughed at her pout. She had never looked so offended since he’d met her and he had said things to her that would make anyone’s blood curdle. “It’s not funny. I was right that time, wasn’t I? You really don’t want me anymore.”

He opened his mouth to answer her, then his phone vibrated in his pocket, and froze. Lucy narrowed her eyes at him and glanced at the lit screen shining through the fabric of his trousers. She plucked his phone out, swatting his hands away when he tried to take it from her, and pushed off of his lap. He gripped thin air when she scooted out of the bed. He clenched his jaw. Lucy’s bratty behaviour was something he had learnt to enjoy but he didn’t find anything fun about it now.

“Give it to me, Lucy,” he said, holding out a hand as he sat. She bit her lip and shook her head to the sides as the phone lit her face from beneath. “Fine, then. Read the message aloud, please.”

“ I’m heading home now if you want to talk. And thank you. ” She read, making a face. “Who’s Y/N?”

Dracula grinned. A thank you from her was enough to bring him contentment, more than Lucy’s playful nature ever would. That boy from the pub, Trent, was apparently correct in saying that doing something nice for her might draw her out. If Dracula knew the outcome would be so perfect, he would have spared him for that alone. 

“My lawyer,” he said, his grin widening. “Give it back to me, Lucy.”

She placed the phone in his palm with an eye roll before sprawling on the bed again.

“Is she the reason why you’re leaving me?”

“How could I leave you if we weren’t together to begin with?”

“Ouch.”

“I swore I’d be sincere with you from the start, and I also told you this wouldn’t become a relationship. Save your ‘ouch’,” he told her, smirking. 

Taking advantage that Lucy appeared momentarily distracted by his words, he opened his texts. Beneath Y/N’s text, there was an opened one from Chelsea. He deleted it without reading it. She’d given him her number yesterday and while he thought to discard it, he was glad he hadn’t. After all, it was useful so he could find out when Y/N would be leaving work and Chelsea, appealing to gain his attention, had kindly provided the information that Y/N would be busy with court until late. It gave him a small window to call the hospital until the message reached her that Renfield was being released. Cutting the servitude ties to Renfield was as simple as closing a door. It opened another so he could make his way back to Y/N.

A sniffle drew his attention up as he was typing. Lucy turned her face toward him from where she lied, batting wet eyelashes at him.

“Lucy… Crying over me?” He smiled. “Didn’t you tell me you couldn’t get your heart broken and that you would be the one doing the heart breaking?”

“I’m crying because I never thought someone would reject me.” She huffed, and he laughed again, earning him a light, playful smack on the shoulder. “It’s sort of absurd.”

“You’re irredeemably spoiled.”

“I know.” She wiped the tears before crawling into his lap and pushing his arms away so she could fit between them. His phone was cast somewhere among her pillows. Lucy’s curls bounced as she settled on top of him and he smoothed them, being careful not to accidentally pull one. The time he’d done that, Lucy had made his ears ring from complaining so much. “But you like me anyway?” He simply nodded. “Hm. Can I meet her?”

“What?” He asked, as if his hearing had failed for the first time in centuries.

“Can I meet Y/N?”

“Why?”

“I want to see what I’m up against.”

“It’s not a competition, Lucy–”

“Okay. But what if–” she gave him a malicious smile “–c’mon, imagine… If I like her too, then maybe the three of us–”

“Lucy–”

“No, hear me out. It’s actually brilliant, and it’d be fun. I’ve never done anything like it. And if you make her a vampire too–”

“Lucy, stop.” He shook her lightly, making her furrow her eyebrows. “It could be fun, yes. Terribly fun, actually,” he said as he considered the image Lucy’s suggestion conjured. “But it’s not happening. None of it.”

“None of it?” She repeated. 

“None, dear,” he asserted. A smile struggled on the corners of his mouth. He had come to see Lucy for one reason but now he wondered his true motivation. Had he known what he was doing, subconsciously? “I won’t come to see you anymore.”

She gaped.

“You’re going to let me wither and die, aren’t you?” she accused.

He chuckled, tilting his head.

“I trust you’ll find some inventive way to kill yourself before you reach old age.”

“You are my inventive way! You promised me eternal life, that I’d pretty forever–”

“Lucy…” he grabbed her jaw to make her stop talking and she whined, although her eyes twinkled slightly at his bruteness. “I really don’t care. I’ve made my decision.”

Tears appeared on her eyes.

“Oh, please, stop with the crying,” he requested, cupping her cheek so a thumb could catch a fat tear before it spilled. He licked it, savouring the salt of her hurt. “I’ve had to deal with vast amounts of it lately and I don’t deserve your tears. They won’t get you anywhere with me.” He sighed. “I don’t want you anymore, Lucy, but it has nothing to do with you. I’ve simply found what I was looking for in someone else. And in her alone.” He smiled. “Y/N is my perfect fruit.”

“You don’t have to be mean,” she grumbled. 

“You’ve never seen me being mean. I realise now that I said the same words to you once and I thought them to be true at the time but not anymore. I don’t regret our time together, Lucy, and I’ll enjoy remembering it years from now. This is goodbye.”

Delicately, he started pushing her out of his lap but she grappled on to him. If she continued being a brat he might have to pry her hands away. When he gazed into her eyes he glimpsed in them an unforeseen sobriety. He hadn’t thought she was capable of it. 

“You won’t make me a vampire. I don’t want to grow old, and I won’t, so before you leave me, will you give me death? A sweet, tragic death that will make people wail at my funeral and say “oh poor Lucy, gone so soon”? Pretty, pretty please?”

“Vain until your last moments, aren’t you, Lucy?”

“Always,” she proclaimed with a proud tilt of her chin. “Give me at least that if you’re going to dump me. What’s there to live for anyway?”

Dark eyes studied her face as he inhaled her scent. There was no fear tainting his senses. Lucy never feared anything from him which was what had drawn him to her at first, yet it wasn’t powerful enough to hold his interest. She didn’t want more out of life except for death. In that sense, Y/N and Lucy were entirely opposites. One couldn’t live forever if life’s eternal paths didn’t interest them; at least Y/N searched for something worth living for. 

“Are you serious?” He  asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded solemnly. “Death is not a caprice. You can’t take it back, Lucy. If this is your last hope that I’ll keep you, that I’ll suddenly change my mind at the last second, then you underestimate me.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said, widening her eyes at her own joke. Dracula’s expression didn’t change. “I am, Drac. And why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then do it,” she urged before brushing her hair away and exposing her neck to him.

Scars marked her neck and he bent forward instinctively, like it beckoned him closer. Lucy leaned in, her tiny chest heaving next to his, and he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Choosing to kill Lucy would leave only Y/N in his path, by doing it he would kill yet another bride, the one he was most certain would survive the metamorphosis. However glorious was that possibility there was nothing about Lucy that would make him want her as a companion. 

“As a last courtesy…” he whispered, laying his lips on a vein. Her pulse accelerated and the vein jumped, coaxing him to take it cautiously between his teeth. “Lucy, my darkling… I’ll be your easeful Death.” He smiled at his own quotation but she didn’t seem to quite catch it. Y/N would have understood it. She stimulated everything in him, and managed to ignite parts of him that had been long forgotten. He hungered for her like he hungered for blood. What did Lucy do to him? Nothing, nothing, nothing. 

His teeth cut through her and she slumped, melting into him. The taste of her blood was familiar and did not sing to him as it once did. He devoured her methodically. A flavorless drink, like an alcoholic’s bottle of choice. She didn’t move once, not even when death’s spasms should have seized her body.

Once she grew cold, utterly depleted of blood, he laid her on the bed, arranged the covers around her and fluffed the pillows. After considering it, he closed her eyes with the tips of his fingers and fixed the crown of curls about her head. Her dainty lips were slightly parted in her pout. A pretty picture for her mother to find – sweet and tragic, like Lucy had asked. He admired her for a moment and nodded in approval. It had been fun and if she wanted death, it was only right that he gave it to her.

Dracula’s shirt clung to the sides of his chest, dampened by the little blood that had escaped his mouth. He considered the dark swirls of hair on his chest muddled by red liquid; a shower was in order when he got home. His shirt made a muffled, wet sound as he buttoned it up.

His phone rested near Lucy’s shoulder. The screen was smeared with red but it was no trouble seeing through it as he opened Y/N’s message again. 

It would be late at night until he made himself presentable to her, and she would be tired until then. Killing a bride in favour of another also occupied his mind more than he expected. Y/N had ensnared him, completely. He was used to it being the other way around. He had given her time and in that time he had done nothing but kill to cleanse himself from her. It hadn’t worked. Perhaps it was time he did some reflection of his own, before they met again.

 Truce for now, we meet tomorrow. You’re welcome.

“She’s making me soft,” he muttered to himself. He eyed Lucy and rose an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you say so, dear?”

 .

.

.

A/N: Writing this chapter was a struggle, especially the last scene. Once again, not the right mindset for it in my opinion. For those who aren't familiar with what Dracula quotes, it's from Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats. As a treat, I'll let you all know that they'll be reunited in the next chapter... and that's all I'll say about that.

@festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @rheabalaur​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @dreamer2381​ @deborahlazaroff​ @illbegoinhome​ @saint-hardy​ @girlonfireice​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @iwasjustablur​ @crossoverqueen89​ @vampirescurse​ @blue-serendipity​ @sunscreenfeverdream​ @25ocurer​ @daydreaming136​ @hello-itsbarbie​ @princessayveke​ 

[90sheathlover]

Joker x Reader

THAT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN

Listen while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebySCofQeRs

Warnings: violence, kissing TW: mental hospital, mental health, mentions of self harm and suicide.

Six months before: You had done it again, you had gotten caught and were now on your way to Arkham Asylum for now the fifth time. When you got there you did the regular check up and inventory of the body marks, scars, piercings, ect. Then they had to ask you the medical and mental heath history questions. The doctor finally finished the rest of your sign ins and you were shoved in a cell, not to you surprise, in the maximum security block. But that wasn’t an issue you had people on the inside coming to get you out right now.

Back to now: You had been here for six months your “men on the inside” were compromised and shoved cells of their own. Today was a normal day at least you thought it was. You were escorted into the lunchroom and you went to get a plate of food for yourself it was one of the first times you had eaten with people in awhile because of the last time you had killed three guards and five inmates. There was a reason you were in maximum security. But today was different there were murmurs all around you as you got your food but you just ignored them until someone said quite loudly, “How does she not even notice?” And you had finally had enough you said loudly, “WHAT. What do I not notice? What big thing am I missing huh?” You looked around at all the shocked faces and you whipped around and you were met with a smiling face. The Joker. You were shocked that your paths had finally crossed but your face didn’t show any emotion or reaction. You simply said, “Do you need something or do you just intend on standing there?” Now it was his turn to be shocked he almost looked offended but replied quickly with, “Just want to ah ge-” But you cut him off saying, “Get by?” His eyes turned dark and he replied coldly with, “Yes.” With that you stepped back and let him walk through past the whole lunchroom whose jaws were still on the floor.

Later back in your cell you were laying on your mattress looking aimlessly at the ceiling. It was very quiet, it was nice you had become friends with one of the guards who checked on your cell every other hour or so and he had turned your cell lights off because you always enjoy the darkness. But this time he wasn’t able to and the silence was broken with the sound of chains and footsteps. The cell next to you was empty and you just assumed there was a new inmate filling it what you did not expect was the Joker to be shoved in the cell next to yours. 

He walked up to the bars that separated your cells and said in a taunting voice, “Well hello beautiful.” You just turned the other way and ignored him. But he kept on speaking, “You’re an interesting one I like you.” This time you replied, “Oh of course I’m sure that’s what you tell every other sex toy you use then throw away.” He replied still surprisingly calmly, “No you’re different because you’re strong no one stands up to me like that and lives but you’re different. You’re scars are beautiful the-” You cut him off angrily saying, “Don’t you bring those up. Ever.” He replies still calm, “Never be ashamed of your scars it just means that you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.” You shouted angrily, “STRONGER THAN MYSELF!? REALLY!? YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’VE GONE THROUGH AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’VE DONE TO MYSELF JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!” He just started laughing, laughing so hard he fell to the floor and then finally died down enough to get onto his own bed and lay down. You were shocked but you went to sleep far away from the bars and out of his reach. But somewhere inside of you told you to scoot closer to his reach. You looked over and saw he had scooted his bed right up to the bars closer to you and he was fast asleep with little snores coming out every once and awhile. It gave you butterflies and it made you scoot right up to the bars and hold his hand. You drifted off the sleep like that.

In the morning you woke up to someone holding your hand and you looked over to see the Joker and did a double take as all the memories flooded back into your mind. He was awake lying quietly, waiting for you to wake up. You turned towards him again and looked into his soft brown eyes and he said, “good-ah-morning toots, how’d you sleep?” You got butterflies again at the name and you tried to hide the blush that was creeping into your cheeks. He noticed and laughed and replied, “You got something on your ah face come here.” He motions for you to come closer to the bars. You come face to face with him and he reaches into your cell and puts his hand on your cheek and pulls your face closer to his. He leans in and kisses you softly at first but then you pushed into it deepening the kiss. You finally broke apart for air and he says, “You’re ah mine now doll.” You reply, “I see no problem with that.” He kisses you again and puts your forehead’s together. You whisper into his lips, “No problem at all.”

A/N: Hey this was a longer one i’ve been working on for awhile now I hope you like it PLEASE REQUEST THINGS ANY HEATH LEDGER CHARACTER OR HEATH HIMSELF PLEASE!!! again thank you to @ajokeformur-ray​ for inspiration to write love you erika

[twdbegins]

A Little R&R

__

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Some sexual references.

Word Count: 2,110

“Mmhm, well, you’re gonna see a noticeable change if you keep that up.”

__

Nobody has ever said that being a doctor is easy work. As a matter of fact, being in any job in medical field is probably one of the most demanding jobs there can possibly be. However, you had gone through a lot of school to become a doctor and while it was hard work, it was rewarding work. Nothing filled you with more joy than helping others. It was something that made you super passionate. It reminded you that, despite the fall, there’s still good in the world. 

With that being said, there were still times when the workload did sometimes get to be a bit much. At least before, when you were in a legit hospital, you had nurses and other doctors to provide their hands-on help. Now, it was pretty much just you. If you were lucky, Simon or another savior might be able to offer some minimal help, but in an overall sense, you were on your own. Another challenge refers to the more sanitary side of things. Since you weren’t in a hospital, the infirmary wasn’t as sterilized as you wanted it to be. You cleaned the infirmary from ceiling to floor every single day and as often as you could. You always deep cleaned your tools and sterilized them, but at the end of the day there was no way for everything to be completely clean. 

The worst part of it, though, was the fact that you had every single solitary patient. Obviously, if you’re the only doctor, then everyone is going to come to you. Some days you would have one person come in and some days you would have 40 people come in. It just varied from day to day. Your absolute least favorite day was check-up day. After you had been at the Sanctuary for about a year (and Negan realized you were there to stay) he found it necessary for every savior to have an annual checkup. Everyone. On the same day. 

The first year you had to do it was absolute hell. Everyone showed up at random times during the day and there was no order whatsoever. However, the next year, you put a system in order. Every savior would have to come at a specific time, starting with the highest in command to the lowest (this was per Negan’s request). So, Negan always went first, Simon next, and so on and so forth. You usually averaged about one savior every fifteen minutes. Which doesn’t sound that bad, but considering there’s an average of about 150 to 200 saviors, it makes out to be a long day of work. 

It was checkup day, November 11th to be exact. You had made sure to hydrate plenty the day before and get a good night of sleep, because you were not taking any breaks to try and get this over with quicker. Sure enough, you heard Negan’s familiar voice in the doorway at 6:00 A.M. sharp;

“Well, good morning, doc!” He chirped. 

You gave a smile;

“Negan.” You said acknowledging his presence.

Negan always went first because he was indeed highest in command. He also liked to just get it over with so he could still get a useful day of work. He knew the drill. He stripped off his signature leather jacket, setting it on the chair in the corner with his beloved Lucille. He had this rather unsettling smirk on his face. As much as you respected him as a leader, he could be quite disrespectful to you. Not in a “I don’t respect your feelings kind of way”, but he was known as a ladies man (his multiples wives as evidence to that). It didn’t at all offend or bother him to have a woman put her hands on him, in a professional way or not. He sat on the table as you began his checkup exam. He stayed silent for a little while, but you knew it wouldn’t last. As you were listening to his lungs and overall breathing, he spoke;

“You know, if you really want to see how I can handle myself, you can close that door and I’ll just show you.” He prided. 

You hushed him, waving a hand in front of his face. You couldn’t properly hear what you were listening for if he was talking. You stayed quiet as you finished listening to his lungs before you answered. You hung the stethoscope around your neck as you tested his reflexes.

“Now, that’s not a very professional thing to say to your doctor is it?” You said grabbing the reflex hammer off of the counter. 

He shrugged;

“I mean, doctor-patient confidentially, right? Or does that not apply anymore?” He asked. 

“No, it does...depending on who you are,” You said truthfully. 

You tested Negan’s reflexes on his knees, noting that his response was a little slow;

“Reflexes are delayed,” You said taking the back of his hand and checking for dehydration. Nada. “Did you drink last night?”

He nodded as you wrote it down on his chart. He was healthy as a horse. 

“Well, other than the reflexes, you’re good to go,” You said truthfully. 

Negan smiled;

“Sweet,” He said getting off of the table and retrieving his jacket and weapon of choice. 

“Will you send Simon in, please?” You asked.

Negan zipped his jacket;

“As long as you two promise to behave in here.” Negan said approaching the doorway and motioning for Simon who was right outside. 

Simon walked in, Negan giving him a slight glare as he left. Simon raised a brow and looked at you;

“What was that about?” He asked. 

You rolled your eyes;

“Turned him down. Again.” You said referring to his advances. 

That wasn’t at all an uncommon occurrence. Negan was always trying to pick you up and had even thrown a marriage proposal your way before. All to which you denied and continue to deny every time. It was kind of a running joke between you and Simon now;

“Shocker,” He said pulling you to him, “Mornin’, baby.” 

You gave him a quick kiss;

“Hi.” You replied. 

He sat on the exam table, eager to get this over with. He hated going to the doctor, although he was willing to make an exception. You checked his eyes and ears first, both in perfect condition. You checked his lungs and breathing next, as you had done with Negan.

“Take off your shirt, please.” You asked. 

He smirked as he lifted it over his head;

“Yes ma’am.” He set his shirt aside and winced at the cold metal of the stethoscope against his back. 

His hands were on yours hips, rubbing in circles as you listened to his breathing and heart beat. His heart rate was a little elevated, but that was most likely from the fact that he was raking you over. You were asking just some general questions (all of which you knew the answer to) along the way. You had your hands at his neck, feeling for any swollen or tender lymph nodes;

“Have you had skin irritation or any noticeable changes to your body lately?” You asked as you felt his neck gently, his skin sensitive to the feel of your touch.

He groaned;

“Mmhm, well, you’re gonna see a noticeable change if you keep that up.” He said. 

You pulled your hands away and tried not to laugh;

“Sorry. I’m almost done.” You said reaching for a tongue depressor.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” He asked curiously.

You shrugged and gave a questionable look; 

“Late for sure. Open wide,” You instructed, “Maybe midnight?” 

You checked his throat for any signs of inflamed tonsils or strep throat as he attempted to speak a response that was just muffled;

“Huh?” You asked taking the depressor away. 

“I said to come to my room when you do get off. I’ll be up.” He repeated.

You nodded, jotting the final notes on his chart;

“You don’t have to wait up for me.” You kindly said.

“Sure, I do. I want to.” He retorted.

You smiled, and sighed contently when you finished his examination;

“Well, my love, you are in perfectly good health.”

He laughed at your monotonous tone and slipped his shirt back on, before standing back up;

“Do you have any breaks today?” He asked.

“Nope. Straight shot from start to finish.” You replied.

He nodded with a slight grimace. He hated seeing you work yourself too hard. But you wouldn’t do it any other way. He kissed you again before leaving;

“I’ll see you tonight. Don’t work too hard.”

__

The day went by horribly slow. Person after person came through. You repeated the same tests over and over until you felt like you’d freaking pass out. Finally, low and behold, you examined the very last savior at around 12:15 AM. Basically 18 hours of straight work with no breaks. Honestly, it should’ve been longer than that, but some exams didn’t take as long as others. You were exhausted and drained. You cleaned the infirmary as usual, used the shower, and finally were lights out at 12:45. You locked up and straggled to Simon’s room, which felt like miles away. You walked into his room and, sure enough, he was awake and waiting for you. 

You looked tired, to say the least. He offered a comforting smile;

“Hey. All done?” He asked. 

“All done.” You affirmed. 

Your legs and feet had never hurt so bad in your entire life. You quite literally collapsed onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief that you felt in your soul. He sat on the end of the bed as you just took a moment to mellow out. Your feet were a horrible shade of dark pink, borderline red from the heavy blood flow from being on your feet all day.

“126. 126 saviors came through. That’s a personal record.” You said with a laugh.

Simon shook his head in disbelief;

“I don’t know how you do it. Anybody that you think will kick the bucket this year?” He asked slightly joking but also not. 

You scoffed;

“From a physical health standpoint, no. Mentally though, that new guy Derek might be in for it if he doesn’t change his attitude,” You stated honestly. 

“Oh, yeah. The tall redheaded guy, right? I think Richie got into a tussle with him a few weeks ago.” Simon said recalling the big fight that went down. 

You hummed in affirmation as you watched him trace circles on your leg lazily with his index finger. You groaned and rubbed your face;

“My feet hurt so bad. I feel like I’ve been standing and walking all day.” You growled. 

Simon got up from the bed and laughed;

“That’s because you have,” He grabbed a bottle off of the dresser and sat back down. You suddenly felt a cold presence and rubbing sensation on your leg. You looked down and let out a groan of relief upon realizing Simon was rubbing your legs and feet;

“You are an absolute angel, you know that?”

He smirked;

“I do my best.” 

His hands worked wonders on your aching lower limbs and appendages. You raised a brow;

“Where did you get lotion from?” You asked examining the dark red, label-less bottle. 

His hand gently gripped and slid down from your knee to your ankle;

“I have my ways,” He grinned; “I thought you outta know that by now.”

“You’re still full of surprises. I never know what tricks you have up your sleeve.” You laughed heartily. 

He still grinned;

“Yeah, well, I gotta keep it interesting,” He joked, “No, but I found this last week. I’ve just been meaning to give it to you.” 

The lotion’s scent was so good and so calming. You definitely could’ve fallen asleep right where you were.

“At least I know I’ll sleep good tonight.” You stated. 

“Speaking of, I think it’s time to call it a night.” He said rubbing the last bit of lotion in and returning the bottle to the dresser.

You groaned and rolled over to your side of the bed with him quickly sliding into his side. You rested yourself against his side, immediately feeling like you were about to fall asleep. Before you drifted off, however, he softly said a few last words for the night;

“You really do keep this place running,” He said kissing your head, “I love you. And I’m really proud of you and everything that you do.”

You looked up at him sleepily, kissing him softly before falling asleep in the arms of the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

[labnegativeone]

The heat of Robo-Fortune’s server room bares down on one Valerie “Valentine” ____, no noise audible in the room except for the clicks of her fingers on a keyboard. Despite the imposing atmosphere of the consciousless bodies lining the walls, Robo-Fortune’s central computer was...not particularly impressive, in comparison. Sure, it was large, but at the end of the day it was just...a big computer. The kind of thing that she’d have expected would be best suitable for....computing hundred-digit numbers. Not so much powering what seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be a largely sentient machine. As much as a certain scientist wanted to subvert that.

Her code is, truthfully, still kind of baffling to Valentine. It all makes...just enough sense for her to be able to work with it, if she needs to, but if she ever tries to truly *comprehend* it it all just falls apart in her hands. It doesn’t help that the computer keeps a backup instance of her AI running for security purposes, currently manifesting itself as a small, poorly drawn ASCII cat rambling around the screen obnoxiously. Valentine sighs. Yeah, that’s Robo-Fortune alright.

Now, to be fair, they aren’t actually medical scalpels. As for the body bag...blame Easter. It worked for her, I just mimic her style, and somehow it ends up working for me too. Who knows. As for the manual shutdown, sure, that would have been an option...but it wouldn’t have fixed the problem. That’s what I’m doing now. Brian’s at least managed to delineate where that...censorship was. Which means I can get rid of it easily enough...

...Hold on, where did that...? Oh. Right. Top of the screen here. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that. But I still...

One thing at a time.

Oh, so you all know about...that too, huh? Well. Luckily I haven’t heard from her in...quite some time, actually. I think it’s been something like two years at this point. Sure, I still want to avenge the Last Hope, but...I have something worth protecting here now. If I see her again, I’m not hesitating.

Wow, you’re really keeping them coming, Fortune. Okay, sure, whatever makes you happy. I’ve been wondering that myself, actually. I thought that setup Fortune had in her more hospitable room, where we usually gather for the asks, was the thing that was uploading these, but...clearly there’s wiggle room. Up in Lab 8, and I know I remember one with Fukua where there was nobody else around...

Ugh...Fukua...he’s really got her in a corner. It’s a shame you’re the only one here I can fix just by doing some reprogramming, Fortune.

(Surprisingly, I think I agree with that assessment, Valentine. Though I doubt we have the same ideas. Excuse me, but what are you doing, exactly?)

Hello, Brian. I figured you were going to come bother me about this. What do you want?

(...I’ll admit, you were a lot more surprised right now when I imagined this conversation in my mind.)

(Well, it’s good that you aren’t, I suppose. That indicates you don’t believe you have anything to hide. I can appreciate that...confidence, at least. So, let’s get to the point. What do you think you’re doing, Valentine?)

What does it look like I’m doing, director? I’m fixing your terrible decision. Look, I don’t know what it is that’s motivating you to do what you’re doing, but if you used that exposed brain of yours you’d realize that programming in a bunch of contingencies to keep your combat robot from functioning when the people around her are experiencing emotions is kind of a bad idea.

(What I installed, Valentine, was a filter for concepts that would be counter to her functions. If she got uppity and decided to, say, help the other two break out, that would be an obvious problem, yes? Or, if she was exposed to...certain concepts that might color the world around her in an unhelpful fashion.)

What-ugh, just listen to yourself! Pretentious-I don’t care what you intended it to be for, Brian. The fact of the matter is, it isn’t. Working. All it’s doing is shutting her down and causing problems. And this time, it was so bad that it full-on incapacitated her, because she’s realizing what’s doing it, and she doesn’t like it. I think a working weapon that might catch a case of the feelings is a bit better than one that’s slowly tearing herself apart trying to avoid a bunch of mental landmines. So I’m fixing it, director.

(And, of course, this idea has nothing to do with your softness for them, correct? I’d just be interested to know, Valentine. You can talk about doing it for her sake as a weapon, but I know you. And I’ve heard what you said to them. They’re not things you say lightly. So, I’d just like some confirmation that you’re not going to do something ill-advised, like take this opportunity to encourage her-or them-to break away from us.)

I’m not an idiot. Brian, I’m just removing that code, and just so that we don’t have to worry about her functions. You’re right, I do care about them, and that fact is part of what’s motivating me to do this, but I’d want to either way. Besides, you already took care of our escape plan. You said so yourself. Birdland isn’t going to come do some heroic rescue now either way, no matter how much Robo-Fortune is or isn’t shutting herself down.

(A good answer. But we’ll just have to see how well it holds up to scrutiny.)

*Siiigh* Whatever. Go ahead, root around all you want.

(OH, I WILL.)

.....

(....)

.....

(Come on, you have to be....)

I have to be what, Director?

(...Nevermind. I suppose you *don’t* have to be hiding something. Unless you’ve suddenly become a master of regulating your thoughts...the story checks out, Valentine. Alright, then. I suppose you have a point. Oh, but...if I were you, I would keep...hold on, scroll up. Yes, there we go. This section. That’s been there for some time now, and I assure you, it’s important.)

...And if I ask, will you explain why?

(No. No, not as of yet, at the very least. And, ideally, never, but I shouldn’t rule such things out.)

Great. Alright, sure. It’s staying.

(Wonderful. Carry on, then.)

....

((More under the cut))

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

Valentine finally releases a held breath as the director disappears. She knows he probably checked to make sure that she was going to carry out that request, as well. Of course, she wasn’t. Not in the slightest.

You know, she begins, she was a little worried about this before he got here.

There’s no response from the room, at first. Until something materializes next to her, a copy in every way save for the fact that she’s made out a gently glowing energy. Ghost removes her copied mask, a pleased, almost bragadocious grin on her semi-transparent face. 

““...””

Valentine shakes her head. She doesn’t have whatever experience allows Shamone to translate Ghost’s expressions so well, but she can tell that the dead woman is obviously riding the high of her deception.

Valentine types one final command and steps back as the machinery whirs. The update is sent out. It won’t be long before Fortune comes back online. She takes a look at Ghost, just out of the corner of her eye, and nods. Thanks, she says. Ghost responds as elaborately as usual, but her expression softens. She moves forward, walking in a manner that doesn’t quite look right, as though she’s moving under some other power and is merely going through the motions in the most literal sense. She moves one hand towards the keyboard, and types out her message.

> Anything for her.

Valentine nods in understanding, before moving to delete those words. Ghost briefly seems upset by it, but one look is all it takes for her to realize why. We don’t want him to stumble onto that, Valentine explains.

““...””

And with that, Ghost disappears. Valentine takes a moment to wait. And worry. She’s not sure if this is going to work. It feels like the odds are good that it won’t. But she has to at least try. And it feels a little selfish to say, but...

She needs to see the look on his smug fucking face if it does.

[elldell1204]

I Sing for Love - Jay Halstead x Reader

fofisstilinski: hi, i would like a jay halstead with prompts 3 - “Can you just shut your mouth?”, 60 - “But I want to hear you sing.”, 63 - “I think I love you.”, please, thanks

Thank you for this! ❤️ I didn’t reblog @darkdisrepair ’s prompt list to be getting them, but they kindly let me use them so definitely go and check them out. Their Upstead fics are like no other! They’re genuinely amazing. 😘 Anyways, I really loved writing this one. I did alter some of the prompts slightly to make them work in the sentence, by the way. Also, I’ve been playing The Last of Us II recently, and this fic was partially inspired by the scene of Ellie playing the guitar in the music store. I’ve linked it down below so you can listen to the song I mean, as it’s really beautiful and thought it’d fit nicely here. I hope you like it, even if it is a little long-winded. Enjoy! 😊

Warning: couple swear words, may make you cry :( sorry!

wc - 2,783

Click here for the song

Admiring the pile of untouched boxes in the otherwise empty corner of the living room, you took a moment to finally let it sink in. ‘I’m moving in with Jay.’ It was a seemingly simple event to anyone else, but for you and your best friend, it was a huge step forward in your hopefully long life together. Because you knew this was it. You had shared your heart, your mind, your soul with Jay Halstead, a feat you had never even come close to achieving with any of your other boyfriends, not that there were many.

It was scarily similar how alike you two were, yet at the same time, you were totally different. You were both quick-witted, divergent thinkers, aware of the true horrors of the world but in different lights. He had first discovered that when his father gave him ‘tough love’ as a child, a trait he vowed never to adopt. Next was when he saw the travesty that is war; tragic losses of friends as their lives are ripped from your hands by beings you could swear weren’t human, the methods of finding information that haunted you in the form of your worst nightmares, the survivor’s guilt that plagued your everyday when you came home to the widows of the men you fought so hard to save, but unfortunately it wasn’t hard enough. It was a miracle he was able to pull himself out of that hole, and still, he hasn’t fully. But with your help and Hailey’s, he’s surviving. Knowing him now, you weren’t surprised that Jay went into the police force after his active duty. Some say that Chicago is a warzone in itself, but he knew that he could endure this one. After all, the heart he possesses wouldn’t have allowed him to do something with his life that didn’t help others. One of the many reasons why you loved him. Every day he sees the scum of the world, but when he manages to help someone, it reminds him of why he does it. And he knows when he comes home to you, he’s safe. You both know that. Because you have each other, and you protect one another, physically and mentally.

You weren’t on the front lines like Jay was, but still you saw the suffering and agony the world withstands. You were an ASA, a dream you had since you were a child. From the age of three you were better at arguments than any other child on the playground, something your dad used to tease you lovingly for your whole childhood. He told you to “chase your dreams until they become reality, because you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t”. You had asked him why he seemed so forlorn when he said the last part, sat on your bed one night after he’d read you your story. That was when he told you about his dream of becoming a singer, an almost unachievable dream, but one he worked so damn hard for. You asked what happened, and he relayed how his mother became troubled with drinking and drugs after his father left, and so he, being the eldest child, had to work to provide for the family, and so his dream stayed a dream.

You remember saying “But, Daddy, you can still be a singer. I can be your audience.”, and you can still see the smile that spread across his face at your words, the expression being etched into your memory ever since. That was the night he decided to make you his protégé, teaching you how to play guitar and singing with you. This went on for years, and by the time you were thirteen, you were both playing along together, serenading and smiling without a care in the world.

But it wasn’t long before your world crashed down around you. You were seventeen when you got the call, walking out of school one afternoon, with the biggest of your problems being a boring geography assignment, when your mother told you to get to the hospital instead of going straight home. She wouldn’t – more like couldn’t – tell you why over the phone, and as you rushed to Lakeshore Memorial Hospital, your mind was racing with possibilities.

Your dad had collapsed at work, luckily not severely injured, but after running further tests, it was discovered he had stage four lung cancer, and there was nothing they could do. You barely left the hospital the next few weeks, sitting by your father’s bedside as he drifted in and out of consciousness, coughing one minute and throwing up the next. He managed to stay awake a few hours a day at the start, holding your hand and telling you he loved you, retelling stories from his childhood and yours. But when his lungs got weaker, he asked you to bring in your guitar and sing to him, seeing as he couldn’t do it himself. “Music makes me almost as happy as you do, my darling.”

So you did. You sang until your voice was hoarse, until you fell asleep mid-verse, until your fingers and thumbs were blistered. Your mother sat like a mannequin in the chair on the other side of his bed, holding his hand, treasuring the feeling. The feeling of the man you lost too soon.

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself. Everything that I’ve found here, I’ve not found by myself.” You sang, tears pricking at your eyes. You looked up, gazing over at the weak form of your father. If it wasn’t for the machine hooked up to him that was beeping quietly but steadily, you may have thought he was already gone. He was that debilitated, with his limbs laid straight, outlining his body, his eyes closed and his lips, that seemed paler than ever before, the only landmark in the vast ocean of ghastly white that had replaced the face once full of life and laughter.

You laid your guitar back in its case before moving closer to him, intertwining your fingers with his, scared at how cold they felt already. You looked over at your mother. She was silently crying, her eyes rimmed red and streaks traced down her cheeks, and she nodded her head at you.

You sniffed, letting the tears that stung your eyes fall as you stood, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your father’s forehead.

“It’s okay, Dad.” You whispered. “You can go now. Go be at peace. I love you.”

And after a deep breath, you turned to the doctor that stood at the doorway. “You can take him off life support now.”

You let the tear flow down your cheek for a few seconds before you wiped it away. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the sadness. You had a job to do.

You had officially moved in with Jay a few weeks ago now, but due to your busy lives, the only things you had unpacked were the bare necessities, most of which were already dotted around your shared apartment.

It still sounds weird to refer to Jay’s apartment as your own. You practically lived here before he asked you, anyways, seeing as yours was a lot smaller, in a worse neighbourhood and had a lot of noisy neighbours. It was practically the complete opposite to Jay’s, his being a two-bedroom condo with sweet Mrs Elizabeth Bailey next door who you often helped out by carrying her groceries or fixing a dodgy cupboard door. She was like a great aunt to you both, inviting you round for dinner or baking you some cookies every so often. Many a time had she told you about her late husband, Tommy, and their stories from their lives together. Both you and Jay loved to hear the tales of their adventures, and you were saddened that you never got to meet him. One night, you sat close together on Lizzie’s couch, Jay’s arm wrapped around your waist as you leant into his chest, admiring a photo album she had passed to you as she recalled the memories linked to each image from her armchair. She had surprised you when she suddenly said, “You two remind me of Tommy and I; hopelessly in love.” You looked up and smiled at her, a twinkle in her eye as she remembered her husband, and you felt Jay pull you just that little bit closer.

It was also that night, when you both returned to his apartment, that he asked you to move in with him.

And now you were rummaging through your stuff that was packed into boxes, pretty much half of your life stuffed neatly into them. Looking through each one, you realised how little each of the material items mattered to you now that you knew Jay. Apart from the photos of friends and family, the odd keepsake you’d collected over the years and meaningful gifts from various birthdays and Christmases, it was all just junk. At least you thought so until you spotted your guitar case tucked away into the corner.

You took a deep breath before reaching over and picking it up, getting to your feet as you carried the case over to the couch. You sat down slowly, your heartrate picking up even with your meticulously controlled breaths. You gently laid it down in front of you and opened it, lifting the lid like it would shatter if you went too fast. You hadn’t opened it in years, not since you closed it at the hospital on that horrible day. A droplet landed on the smooth mahogany, one that came from your eyes. It took you a while before you wiped it away, unsure if you were strong enough to touch the instrument without breaking down before it.

‘Pull yourself together, Y/N, it’s been ten years’ you thought. And despite telling yourself that you had mostly moved past your father’s death, trying to see the light from it instead of the darkness, you still had moments where you were majorly overcome with grief. But you knew you could do this. You had to. He would have wanted you to.

So you picked it up. You examined it, not that there would be any new marks or scratches with it being shut off from the world for a decade, and then laid it on your knee like a baby, your hands assuming the positions that were like second nature to you, like another language. And you strummed the strings. They were horribly out of tune, so you let out a sodden laugh at the sound before tuning it to perfection.

Now all you had to do was play. You had time before Jay got home, so that wasn’t stopping you. What was is the thought of playing the guitar your dad bought you, the guitar your dad taught you to play, the guitar that you played to him and with him as you sang together. You knew he wouldn’t want you to stop playing, but you couldn’t bear the thought of playing it without him there to listen.

So you closed your eyes and imagined he was there with you, listening and smiling, as your fingers found the first chord on the neck of the guitar and you played it. Then the next. And the next. And you were doing it. You were playing the song. Now all you had to do was sing. You saw your dad’s smile and you knew you could do it.

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.”

Then suddenly there was a loud smash of glass on the floor behind you and you jumped, spinning around violently to see Jay stood in the doorway over some shattered glass.

“What the hell, Jay?! You scared the shit outta me.” You shouted, a hand over your racing heart.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just wanted to hear you sing.” He smiled sympathetically, walking a little further in to lean against the chest of drawers in the corner.

“Shut your mouth. Like hell you did. You just wanted something to make fun of me for.” You huffed, frowning, as you moved to put away your guitar. You could feel the unjustifiable anger bubbling deep inside you at him hearing you, allowing yourself to be so careless as to let him in the first place.

“What? No, of course not. It was really beautiful, and I’ve never really heard you sing before.” He said cautiously as he came to sit beside you on the couch, taking a hold of your hands to stop you putting away the guitar. He could tell you were annoyed, and though he wasn’t sure why, he knew to tread carefully, as he seemingly had hit a nerve.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do it around other people, at least not since I was younger.” You said softly, feeling guilty for shouting at him.

“With your dad?” He asked. He knew all about the story with your father, minus the part where you sang to him before he died. You couldn’t bring yourself to relive that if you didn’t have to. But now you did have to. You couldn’t let Jay be in the dark about it any longer. All he had ever been was supporting and caring to you, and you felt ready to let him in fully.

“Yeah.” You whispered, not trusting your voice. You shuffled in closer to him, and he let go of your left hand to wrap his arm around you, and then you took a deep breath. “I, erm, haven’t played my guitar since the day my dad died. He asked me to play it to him whilst he was in hospital, because he couldn’t do it himself like before he got sick. And on his last day, I played him that song you just heard; it was one of his favourites. Not that he was conscious. He’d been knocked out cold with meds for days by then. After, we said goodbye and took him off life support. And I could never bring myself to play my guitar since.”

Silence followed, allowing him to process and you to recover. He kept rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, showing you support without using his words.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But wouldn’t he want you to keep playing? For him?”

“He would, that’s why I’m trying now.” You pulled away slightly and smiled at him. “He’d have liked you, y’know? He really would.”

“I’m sure the feeling would be mutual.” He returned your smile.

Every day he reminded you of the wonderful man he is; caring, funny, kind, smart. But he also showed you he loved you, that he trusted you. And so you did the same.

You sat up, retrieving your guitar and laying it on your lap once more. You glanced over to him and smiled.

“This was also one of his favourites.” You told him, and then you started to play.

 “Talking away,

I don’t know what,

I’m to say I’ll say it anyway,

Todays another day to find you.

Shying away,

I’ll be coming for your love okay.

 Take on me,

Take me on.

I’ll be gone,

In a day or two.

 Needless to say,

I'm odds and ends,

But I'll be stumbling away,

Slowly learning that life is okay.

Say after me,

It's no better to be safe than sorry.

 Take on me,

Take me on,

I'll be gone,

In a day or two,

In a day or two.”

 When you finished, you sighed deeply, a half-sad, half-loving smile spreading across your face as you turned towards Jay. He was sat in an awestruck daze, smiling back at you as you put your guitar away in the case. When you sat back up, he shifted closer to you, gently taking your cheek in his palm as he gazed into your eyes, running his thumb softly over your cheek.

“I think I love you.” He murmurs.

You scoff jokingly and roll your eyes teasingly. “Well, you better bloody love me, Halstead. We’ve moved in together.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his warm breath brush over your cheek.

“I do. I love you. And I’ll keep saying it, even when you’re sick of hearing it.”

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it, Jay, because I love you too.” You whispered, smirking as you leaned in to kiss him. He met your lips with his, kissing you lovingly, assuring that you knew you were it for him, as he was it for you.

[casey-v]

Trauma

Ethan x Casey

Here’s a one shot of chapter 13. The scene in the on call room didn’t feel like fluff, so this is mostly drama. This time it’s only Casey’s POV because for me it was too difficult to find out what was going on in Ethan’s head.

Disclaimer: characters owned by PB

Words: 2,3K

Casey stared at the door of the on call room that had just been slammed in her face. Hoping Ethan would come back, she just sat there and waited, not really able to capture what had just happened. But, of course, he didn't reappear. So, she left frustrated and wandered through the halls of Edenbrook, deeply immersed in her thoughts.

Why was fate messing with her like this? They had just started a wonderful relationship in which Ethan had finally opened up to her. Since Danny’s funeral, she had spent three nights at his apartment and every second of it was pure bliss. Being alone, outside the hospital, he was so relaxed and happy, it made her heart melt. Sometimes they had a wordless understanding that was amazing. When he was relaxed it was so easy to talk to him about nearly everything and they laughed together endlessly. And of course, they had......mmmmmh…..God, he felt so great.

And now a few minutes with his mother seemed to have ruined everything. That man in the on call room was a stranger to her. No, in fact, it reminded her of the Dr. Ramsey in the days of her early internship, when he was sometimes acting like a jerk and being rude and moody. She had thought that this man was long gone. But unfortunately, the encounter today brought him back and all the walls around him were back up again.

 Her feet had brought her to a certain office door. She didn’t know that this was, what she needed, until she was there. She hesitated and knocked. “Come in,” a friendly voice was heard from inside the office. When Casey opened the door, she saw Naveen’s face brighten up. Instantly she felt a little better. There was just something about him, that lifted your spirits. He was always good humored and positive, even last year, on his supposed deathbed. Ever since, they had a special bond and although they didn’t meet a lot, they were very fond of each other.

“Casey! So, rumors are true. You didn’t stay at home like I told you. But it’s good to see you.” He came over and hugged her.

“Good to see you too, Naveen. My landlord needed medical help this morning, so I brought him here and then I just stayed. It’s so boring at home and I like to keep myself distracted.” She smiled at him, trying to hide her current state. But he knew her to well.

“Well, if I may say it, you don’t look too good. Are you sure, this isn’t too soon?” He took her gently by her arm and led her to the couch to sit down. “Oh, it’s not work that is bothering me right now” She couldn’t keep her eyes from getting wet. Naveen sighed and rolled his eyes. “What has he done now?”

Through her tears she laughed. “Why do you think this is about Ethan?” Naveen had a sparkle in his eyes. “I know you and, most importantly, I know him, so this was easy to figure out. What happened?”

Casey’s expression darkened. “How much has he told you about his family background?” “A lot, I guess. Are you referring to his mom leaving?” She nodded and just spilled the whole story.

“She’s here. Came in this morning as a patient, unconscious on an opioid overdose. Ethan and I were in the ER at that moment. He was shocked. We gave her naloxone, then he just said something like ‘Nurse, take care of her’ and ran off. I found him later in an on call room, yelling angrily. He wouldn’t let me talk to him, just slammed the door in my face and left.” Naveen had listened closely, his gaze concerned. “I’m so sorry, Casey. I know he can be difficult at times. Ethan has this anger buried deep down inside of him, ever since his mother left him. Growing up with his father he never learnt to express his feelings or even worse, he never allowed himself feelings. He thinks he needs to be tough all the time. And then, when all those bad memories come rolling over him, he can’t deal with it.”

Casey thought a long moment about these words. Of course, it was perfectly clear, that Ethan had trouble talking about his feelings. But the last days had proven that he damn well was able to show his affection for her. “The thing is: Since my night in isolation a lot has changed between us.”

Casey blushed and didn’t dare to say more, but Naveen smiled and put his warm hand on hers. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything. Even if I’m chief of medicine I’m also your friend and you know that I always wanted to see the two of you together. Ethan has changed so much since you came here and I’m really happy for you. He almost lost his mind that night of the assault.”

“It was terrible for all of us, but for what it’s worth it also brought us even closer together. Despite all the aftermath of the attack the past days have been great. Today though, it feels that all of this has vanished.”

“It’s a lot to ask from you in your current condition, Casey, but he needs you right now. He probably hasn’t said it yet, but I can see that he loves you with all his heart. Please don’t give up on him.” Naveen squeezed Casey’s hand tightly.

“I won’t, I couldn’t. But the question is: will he let me help him?””

***

Later Casey went to check on Louise. She was stable but not yet in a good condition. Talking to her felt odd, so she kept the conversation short. “Mrs. Ramsey, do you want me to call anybody?” It took Louise some time to answer. “I suppose you could call my ex-husband, Alan Ramsey. He lives in Providence, though.” “Sure, I’ll try to reach him. Ahm, a psychologist will stop by later. And if there is anything else you need, just tell the nurses.”

***

The rest of the day Casey tried to avoid meeting Ethan, but talking to Naveen had given her confidence, that everything would work out for the best. She didn’t want to confront the attending during working hours, so she planned to talk to him at night. The more she thought about it, the more she realized, that she may have overreacted after his outburst and that he probably would be much better by now anyway. How wrong she was became obvious the moment she stepped out of the elevator and saw Ethan and Alan standing in the hallway, involved in a heated discussion. “That’s all there is to say, dad. And now I have work to do.” Ethan’s face was red with rage. As he turned around to enter his office, he directly looked at Casey. “Dr. Valentine, in my office now.”

At first Casey was too shocked to move. Alan took some steps backwards, deeply embarrassed by his son’s behavior. “Hello Mr. Ramsey,” was all Casey could muster before she followed Ethan.

 The door wasn’t even closed behind her when he was at her. “How dare you call my dad!”

“Excuse me! How dare you talk to me like this. This has nothing to do with you. Louise asked me to call him and that’s what I did. That’s how we take care of our patients. You taught me, that every patient is worth any treatment. How can you deny her visitors?” Ethan was silenced for a moment and rubbed his neck. He seemed to calm down a little. “You could have asked me to call him or at least warn me.” In contrast to him, Casey was just getting heated up. “Really? After your outburst this morning? You said, you had more important patients and didn’t want to deal with her. Get a grip, Ethan, you’re being totally unreasonable. You say she’s nothing but a stranger to you, but never on earth would a stranger affect you the way she does. You tell me not to run away from my PTSD while you've been carrying around your own trauma for 26 years. This has to stop now!”

Ethan was pacing up and down, yelling back at her. “Don’t you think I know that. Do you think I like what she’s doing to me? But I will never forgive that she left, just like that, without a word, not caring about me anymore.”

Casey inhaled deeply to get her voice under control. “You don’t have to forgive her; you just have to understand what happened. Now is the chance for closure. Talk to her. Not for her sake but for your own. Hear her story. You need to hear the reason for her leaving. It's not your fault that she left and probably also not your father’s fault either. Maybe she already had mental health problems back then, who knows. Everybody is a victim here. Maybe she just couldn't stand herself, couldn’t handle her life. That doesn't mean that she didn't love you. If you don't talk to her now, you'll maybe never get another chance.”

Ethan was sitting on the couch now, his face in his hands and mumbled. “Ok, I’ll think about it.” Then he glanced back at Casey, forcing a smile. “Do you want me to cook dinner tonight?”

She shook her head frustrated, her arms dangling loose by her sides. “That`s it? You just change the subject? I don’t believe it. No, I don’t want to be with you tonight. This day has been exhausting enough, I need to relax, watch a senseless movie, go to bed early, whatever.” She turned around and opened the door to leave when she heard his tight voice. “Only tonight?”

As she glimpsed back at him over her shoulder, she felt so sorry for him how he sat there, slumped down, observing her insecurely. In the past they had argued a lot about work related issues and she always stood her ground, but so far, she had never stood up for herself when it came to their personal relationship. Being patient and accepting his wishes was all she had ever done. But for once, she knew, she had to put herself first, although the urge to take him in her arms was almost unbearable.

“For someone so intelligent you can be so stupid sometimes. Of course, only tonight. Do you really think I’ve been waiting all this time only to run away after the first argument? I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, because the problem is, I love you, however bad you treat me. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. You're not the only one who is able to slam some doors. “

With that she turned and slammed the door as predicted. She knew this was a bit ridiculous, but it felt really good. Only then did she realize what she had just said to him. Her hand flew over her mouth. That's not at all how she imagined saying those three words for the first time. She lingered a while in front of his door, unsure what to do, before she went home.

***

Instead of watching a movie Casey ended up playing video games with Elijah. Killing dark creatures helped her let off some steam and she enjoyed spending time with Elijah. They had just freed themselves out of a dungeon when her phone rang. There was only one person who would call her at that hour.

“Sorry Elijah, I have to take this.” She grabbed her phone and went into her room.

“Hey!” – “Casey!?” Ethan’s desperate voice made her cringe. “Can I come up?” – “Where are you?” – “Right outside.” A few seconds there was silence. Casey had told him, that she wanted to be alone, but it meant so much to her, that he came to her.

“What do you want?”

“To be with you.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Ok, I’ll open the door for you.”

As he entered the apartment, she quickly pulled him past the grinning Elijah into her room and immediately found herself tightly wrapped in Ethan’s embrace. She smelled a mixture of his cologne and scotch. They clung to each other as if they had to shield themselves against a heavy storm. Casey felt his tears running down her neck. Soothingly her hand travelled up and down his spine. An eternity later he loosened his grip and touched her forehead with his.

“I’m so sorry, Casey. What kind of asshole pushes away the one person, that is always there no matter what?”

She lifted her hand and touched his cheek very softly. “Come on, let’s just go to bed.” Quietly they got undressed and crawled into the covers, her back against his chest, arms wrapped, fingers laced. Words weren’t necessary right now, the only thing they needed was to feel the presence of the other one.

As Casey was half asleep already, she felt Ethan’s whisper against her ear. “If I …, I don’t know yet, but just in case, …I mean …if I talk to her, would you come with me?”

“Is this a rhetorical question or are you really unsure of my answer?” She turned to look at him, their noses almost touching, and waited. He seemed to weigh his answer before he spoke again. “You know I’d hate to presume anything.”

Casey moved closer to put a sweet kiss on his lips. Then she sent him a warm smile and lost herself in his blue eyes, only lit by the moonlight. 

“Regarding me and you, Ethan, you always can presume.”

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

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[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Draco’s pet | d.m

Request: yes! @universallycutecakehoagie

Word count: 2,007

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader

Note: Sorry for going a bit MIA, but I had tons of assignments and midterms, and on top of that my laptop totally died :( But I’m back, and I have a lot of ideas for Draco and Tom imagines. So stay tuned. Love you all. xx

Draco had the worst day ever. Ever since the Dark Lord was back, and he was forced to become a Death Eater himself, everything was going downhill for him. He had troubles with sleeping, focusing or just being himself in general. He hated the situation he was in, and wanted to take her hand and run away. Somewhere far, somewhere safe. Somewhere, where they could be alone. Happily. 

When he got out of his last class that day, he wanted nothing, but go up to the Astronomy Tower and be with her. He hadn’t seen her all day, and truth was, he missed her jasmine scented brown hair and those mesmerising bluish-greenish always sparkling eyes. She was the complete opposite of him, but that was what Draco needed. She was everything he wasn’t. She was always happy, saw the good in everything and everyone and always knew how to make Draco feel better and safe. She was a Hufflepuff, but damn, Draco loved that Hufflepuff girl more than anything in his life. She was his Hufflepuff. 

“Cho” Draco called after the Rawenclaw girl, who was chatting with one of the Weasley twins. He knew they were friends, so she might have known where she was “Do you know where Angelina is?”

“No, sorry, Draco” she smiled at him weakly “Haven’t seen her all day. But try the library thou. She might be there, working on her Transfigurations essay”

“Alright, thanks” he nodded and left to find his girl. She had to be somewhere in the Castle. Last night they were together, sneaked out after the Prefects’ checked if everyone was in their own room, and went up to the Tower to cuddle and talk. She was oddly quite the whole time, but Draco thought it was only because of the hundreds of essays they had to turn in just in a very short of time. 

He was beyond terrified when he couldn’t find her neither in the library, nor in the Hufflepuff common room. He even checked the Hospital Wing, but she wasn’t there either. Draco trusted his guts. They had known each other for years, and he knew her better than himself. If something was wrong, or if she was in danger, he would have known it. So instead of running around the Castle like a maniac, he decided to go to the Room of Requirements and work on his mission. He made a mental note to himself, to try and find her before dinner. 

“Hey, mate” Blaise greeted his friend when Draco joined them at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He only nodded back and his eyes scanned the whole Hall, searching for the girl who had been missing for the whole day now. He frowned when he couldn’t find her at the Hufflepuff table, nor with the Golden Trio. Where on Earth she can be? Draco thought to himself and sat down to eat, but his appetite was gone when he thought about Angelina being hurt or worse. Being kidnapped by Voldemort. 

“Mr. Malfoy?” Snape’s monotone and deep voice pulled him back to reality. Draco looked up at his Professor with a questioning look on his face. He hadn’t done anything bad, as fas as he was concerned. “Could you please come with me? I need to discuss an important matter with you.”

Draco stood up and followed the man. For first, he thought they were going to his office, but they soon left the Castle and went to the Forbidden Forest. He knew they had to come here, so no-one could hear what they had to talk about. If they knew, Draco would have been expelled for long now. 

“He is getting rather impatient with you, Draco” Snape looked at his Godson with both worry and disappointment. He knew that the Dark Lord wasn’t playing any games, especially now, that he was so close to finally kill the boy “Can you do it?”

“I just need a couple of more days” Draco said “The cabinet is almost fixed, I’ve been testing it for days now. When it’s done, I’ll let him know myself”

“A week. No more. If you fail, he will not hesitate to kill you” and with that, Snape disappeared, leaving Draco in the Forest alone. He wasn’t scared anymore. After sitting at the same table with Voldemort, and having him walking around the house he used to call home, the Forbidden Forest was a sunny paradise with rainbows and everything nice. Draco was glad that he had the chance ti be alone. Everything was getting too much for him, and he still had no idea where his girlfriend was. He looked up at the clear sky, staring at the full Moon. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be out there, when there were lycanthropes at the edge of changing.

Draco was on his way out of the Forest when he heard a howl and a painful squeak. Before he could think, he was trying to find the source of the voice. Something deep in him told him to stay and try to help. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really done anything nice to anything or anyone in his entire life, apart from being overprotective when it came to look after Angelina. But that was it. He wasn’t the best person, and he knew it. And he desperately wanted to do something good for once. 

“Oh Gosh” he stopped when he saw a lycanthrope, laying on the ground with a bleeding leg. It was trying to stand up, but the second it almost succeeded, it was back on the ground again with an even more painful squeak than before. At first, it didn’t see Draco, but when he took a step closer, he accidentally stepped on a bough which alerted the creature. 

Draco’s greyish blue eyes locked with its yellow ones. There was something mild in its gaze. There was something oddly familiar in the way its eyes twinkled. It was like they were dancing. Every time Draco took a step forward, the creature crawled further. 

“Easy” he extended his arm, indicating that he wasn’t a threat “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you…”

Draco felt his heart beating in his throat. Only if Angelina knew what he was about to do. She would have flipped at him, telling him how reckless it is, and he should call for someone who knows better, or just leave the creature alone. They were dangerous after all. But he had to stay. At least, he had to try to help. He knew it was a human in the first place. Lycanthropy was not a choice by one individual. They didn’t ask for this. So Draco did what he thought would help. He talked to the creature.

“I can see that you are hurt” he said slowly, kneeling down on the cold ground a few steps away from it “I can see that your leg is bleeding. You must be in a lot of pain now.”

The creature looked at him with its head tilted to the side. It was listening to Draco’s calm and slow voice. 

“I want to help you” he swallowed “I am going to tear a piece of my robe and use it to clean your wound” he pointed at his robe and waited for any sign. A small whimp left the creature, so he did as he said. He tore a piece of his robe and slowly reached the injured lycanthrope. He gently cleaned it’s wound, but never broke eye contact. He wanted to be aware of every single move of his and of the creature’s as well. From that close, he could see that how similar the colour of its four coat was to Angelina’s hair. He was getting even more worried now. He still didn’t know where his girlfriend was, and yet, he was trying to help a monster instead of trying to find her. 

“Here you go” he checked if the wound was clean “Now I am going to use another piece to swathe your wound, so dirt will not get in and it will not get infected.”

He talked slowly, and made sure he didn’t made any quick movement which could have scare the creature. He was surprised of the softness if its fur. He always imagined them having a rather coarse hair. When he was down, he sat still and stared at the magical creature in front of him. It was looking at its leg, trying to move it, but it found it painful. 

“You are not that scary at all” he said quietly “They say you are a monster because you are different and you do bad things. That you hurt other people. But wouldn’t it mean we are all monsters?” He played with the sleeves of his robe, which was covering his dark mark “We are alike. I’m a monster too…”

Draco sat there for minutes, just watching the creature in front of him. But those minutes turned into hours and he couldn’t leave. Something kept him there. Sometime after midnight, he fall asleep, leaning back to a nearby tree. 

It was dawn when a whimper woke him up. He jumped up and watched as the creature started to turn back into it’s human form. He was desperate to see who it really was. He had to know they were alright, and didn’t need any more help. Draco had to grab a hold at the tree when he saw the witch in front of him. He thought he was only dreaming. Those beautiful blueish-green eyes were looking at him with so much shame, pain and despair in them.

“Draco” Angelina’s voice was raspy, and filled with pain. She was looking at a pale Draco, who was still holding onto the tree, trying to process everything he had just seen. 

“Angelina?” Draco let go off of the tree and took a step closer to the girl slowly. There she was, hair tangled, blood drained on her leg, and her clothes were torn, barely covering her delicate body. He wasted to time to run up to her and wrap his robe around the girl’s trembling body. He took her face between his hands and looked at her face closely, searching for any other injury apart from the one on her left leg “Thanks Merlin you are alright” he said and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing into her hair. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” She asked “Don’t you find me disgusting? How can you still touch me? Kiss me?”

“No, baby, no!” Draco shook his head and looked deeply in her eyes “It’s still you. My blooming little Hufflepuff. I don’t care what you turn into. I just want to keep you safe”

“But I’m a monster, Draco” a tear slipped down her cheek “I had hurt people. What if I will hurt you next time?

“I’m a monster too” he implied to the mark on his forearm “But hey, were are pretty hot monsters, aren’t we?” He winked at her and caressed her back with his fingertips. It made Angelina shiver and smile at the same time “Listen, we all hurt other people. We are not perfect. But I know you, and I know that you would never hurt someone on purpose. You are too pure for that.”

Angelina stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco. She always knew that she loved him, but what she was feeling in that moment was far beyond love. 

“Besides, I’d imagined you being my bet, but not quite like this” he winked at her.

“Oh shut up, Malfoy and kiss me again” she rolled her eyes and enjoyed her boyfriend obeying her wish. It was something magical in that kiss. Two cursed soul finding their piece of Heaven in each other. The light, brought by their love was stronger that the darkness in them. It made them even. It made them perfect for each other.