#SO grateful he hates going outside unless its straight to the car.

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter eight: somethings missing

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: the group deals with Daniel and his antics, max and Charles fight for the championship, reader is actively fighting her car.

Warnings: hospitals, drugging, talks of infertility, no consent medical procedures, anxiety, talks of abuse, mentions of depression, sexual innuendo

Notes: this one was hard to write tbh. There was just a lot going on. Also I feel like I’m getting bolder. I blame it on the face I’ve been on A03 a lot the last week.

Previous <-

7.5 <-

Masterlist

Moving day could not come fast enough.

Turns out Daniel is more perverted than they expected. They found him spying on them multiple times.

Mostly just enough for stolen kisses. Once on them doing things when they thought he was gone for the night. Turns out he lied.

That being said, he is a caring friend and made safety the number one concern. None of them posted anything about where they were. Daniel never had anyone over. He checked his locks and windows multiple times before bed just to help them sleep.

It was a relief to finally have their own space again. More space compared to the original apartment. Dating a world champion definitely has its perks.

The security is much better here also. More cameras around the outside. Not being able to come up unless personally invited and cleared with the front desk of the building.

They felt themselves being able to relax. Something they drastically needed before the start of the season.

~

The 2022 season came around fast. Already two races in and redbull was ready to dominate.

Much to Charles misfortune.

They didn't have hard feelings about anything, though. They all celebrated each others highs and consoled in the lows. The rest of the grid wondered how they managed.

Unless, of course, it's Daniel who knows exactly how they manage given the Brit slipped about his phone password and never changed it.

The third race of the season had just concluded. It's her first, Charles second, and Max third. Not exactly sure how she managed to get up there, but she didn't care.

As celebrations ended, she found herself going back to her room to get ready for the press conference. Occasionally, being stopped by fans on her way.

Charles spots her and is jogging in her direction. "Off to get the champagne out of your hair, I assume?"

"Correct. I'm leaving it everywhere else, though, for later." She winks. Her confidence had been getting better lately. The boys doing their best to help her come out of her shell. It also helps when the hate and nasty comments get to much for her. They make sure to stick her back together.

Her and Charles take a corner, and every sound goes underwater. It didn't matter that it had been six years since she'd seen him, her father looked exactly the same as the day she left.

Air left her lungs. Her hands shakily fumble for anything to help hold her up. Grateful that Charles is there to help her stay on her feet.

He's wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans. His face has more wrinkles now. He looks more built than she last remembers, yet he remains the same.

"Chéri? What's wrong?" Charles is scanning over her body and trying to follow her gaze. His eyes land on the figure moving towards them.

Then she's running with Charles in tow. The Monegasque is trying to put pieces together, but nothing comes to mind. That wasn't the man who'd given them the box. Was it..? No way. He absolutely refuses to believe her father had managed his way here.

"I need to know what's going on so I can help." He cradles the girls face. Her eyes are distant and moving rapidly to assess her surroundings.

"It's him- need Seb." She pants. Her words mildly slurred from her body's current lack of control.

Charles’ plan to text them is foiled by the figure - her father - now coming around the corner. Heading straight for them at a rapid pace.

Charles knows he's not going to get anywhere fast enough, and he'll just follow anyway. Instead, he takes the girl and tucks her protectively behind him.

Charles feels himself recoil in disgust. The entirety of this man drips unpleasant things. He tries to put up a brave front as he feels the girl behind him shaking like a leaf.

"Do you need something?"

"I actually want a picture, with just y/n if you don't mind." The man's voice is coarse and unpleasant to listen to.

"We're actually on our way to a press conference, but possibly later." Charles smiles unwillingly. Hopefully, playing along with whatever this game is will get him to go away.

Charles is taken off guard when he's shoved abruptly aside. He curses himself for trying to look relaxed, letting himself be moved so easily.

He tries to pull her away by her shoulder. Force her to keep walking until someone can help them. But she's frozen in place. The proximity of her father and his disgusting hands on her biceps makes Charles broil with anger.

Charles makes a move to get in between them, but he's too late.

A hand has left her arm and into his pocket. A blunt needle comes back at her so fast that even as Charles pulls her, it still makes contact. The contents spilling into her.

It is cold and unpleasant, and she hates it. Her father is just laughing as Charles drags her to safety. "You should have come home! Now you'll have to come back.”

Charles tries to hold the needle where it lands until he can pull it out. The awkward angle it entered below her collar bone makes if difficult.

Her body is failing. She wants to blame it on shock, but this feels different. The energy she's gotten good at controlling now surges with a lack of purpose and a heap of vengeance.

Charles can feel her skin heating up as he drags her to the redbull motor home.

He's thankful when he spots Christian and yells out to him. The team principle is volting to his side when he sees the female driver unresponsive.

"What happened?"

"It's a lot to explain. We need to get her somewhere safe, and then I need to find Sébastien." It's a demand and he's thankful Christian can tell he is trying to figure things out.

They successfully get her into her small driver room. Then he's calling Seb and texting their group chat.

When he receives confirmation that they are on their way, he turns his attention to the comically large needle stuck in his lover.

"Somone came at us while we were walking. I tried to pull her out of the way, but it didn't matter. He was too close." Charles is on the brink of tears now and Christian can see it.

The older man does his best to slide the needle out, wrap it in a towel, and throw it away.

Max and Lando come barreling through the door seconds later. Terror hitting both their faces as they set eyes on their sick looking lover.

She's lost color in her face, she's sweating more now then when she races on a blistering hit day, her body temperature is burning, and her eyes are rolling into the back of her head.

Seb also runs through the door and halts in his tracks. "Was it... was it him?"

Charles just shakes his head. Then Christian is yanked outside the room by Seb. The door clicking behind them.

All three of them get to work trying to soothe her. Max starts running a cold shower to bring her body temp down. Charles is patching the hole in her collar bone, and Lando is perched right next to her, talking and running his fingers in patterns despite the burn.

It doesn't matter, though. She isn't waking up.

~

They end up taking her to the hospital. Praying they don't take her away from them if they find something unusual.

She's woken up a few times, but her panic just made the doctors put her back under. They said she was drugged, and they needed to flush her system. Again, they hoped it stayed that way.

The press conference didn't happen. Neither did any other media, for that matter. The paddock was closed down due to the security issue.

Seb had done his best to explain to Christian that her father is a madman and had made threats but now was acting on them. The team principle is now working with security to try and figure out how to keep him away.

The boys left the room in shifts. Usually having to send a runner to go get essential items for survival.

They watched over her with vigor. Trapped in the ICU for three days. Only leaving when they were forced out by the nurses for the night.

Max was the one to greet her when she woke up. His fingers thread through her hair in hopes of keeping her from thrashing and trying to get out.

It worked.

"I feel awful." She rasps. Her throat is dry from lack of use and lack of liquids. She lets Max's piercing value eyes ground her as she gets her bearings. "Why am I-"

"It doesn't matter right now. You're alive, and that's what counts." Max brings her knuckles up to his lips, placing a soft kiss against them.

Now that she's awake, Seb forced the boys to take proper showers and eat a real meal. Claiming that she's going to need them at their best.

Hanna stays with her while they are gone. Something she didn't know would be best until a female doctor came in with unexpected news.

"Have you ever had a menstrual cycle before?" She asks carefully.

The girls eyes dart between Hanna and the doctor. "I'm not sure, actually. I've never bled before if that's what you mean."

The doctor sighed sympatheticly. "While we were running some tests, we did an ultrasound. We wanted to make sure you weren't pregnant, and we needed to also treat the baby just in case. We found that your uterus and ovaries have been removed."

The girl looks at Hanna. The older woman is on the brink of tears. "Thank you." She says. "Can you give us a moment please?"

The doctor nods her head politely then leaves the two alone.

"I'm confused. What does that - Can I not -"

Hanna shakes her head. The only confirmation she needed. Then she's mourning something she didn't even know she lost until now. Something she didn't even know she wanted.

Her father had put her through a lot as a child. She was drugged and unconscious for weeks sometimes.

Another thing he stole from her.

~

Seb is comforting an emotional Hanna when the trio returns. All of them are frantic now. Desperate to get into the room.

Seb stops them before they can get there. "Be gentle with her." Is all he says before letting them in.

She looks like she's not in her body anymore. Like her mind is in another place.

All of them file on around her. Max and Charles are taking the chairs, and Lando slides himself onto the end of the bed with her.

"He took something else." She stared at the wall. Lando touches her arm but gets no reaction. “My reproductive organs are gone.”

Their faces are shocked. Her period isn't something she brought up. They just assumed she's private about it or it's irregular because of everything she's been through. Now, it makes sense. Why she's never run out of hygiene products and why she never complains of cramps in her lower abdomen.

They don't mourn for her, but with her.

"It doesn't change the fact that we love you."

~

Going home felt scary. Like somehow he would be there waiting to snatch her up.

Max is hyper aware of everything. Charles is attempting to hold off any media that wants the story. Lando is dutifully keeping phones away from all of them. Then there's her, sitting, breathing, wondering if she deserves to be here with them still.

The bed is her new home. She spends her days recovering there. Everyone else is bustling about as she waits for the hours to slink by.

Max is the first to drag her out of bed. Well, not drag, more like man handle. He picks her up out of the comically large mattress and tosses her over the laps of the two boys on the couch.

She doesn't protest. Even as Max slides himself under her to join them.

"It's movie night and your turn to pick."

"Didn't I pick last week?"

"... we skipped three weeks to make it your turn again."

The boys shake their heads at Landos' poor excuse. It's a miracle they managed to come out to the world on their own.

They don't end up watching a movie. Instead, they just talk. The four cuddled up on the couch together. The comfortable atmosphere making her nerves settle.

And she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she can make it through.

~

The next race comes around far too quickly. She's not fully recovered, but she knows she wants to race.

Christian takes his time with her. He doesn't know everything, but he knows enough. He made sure to tell her that her health and safety is their number one concern.

She convinces him that she's fine.

The weekend goes smoothly until Q3 of qualifying. The car decides to not stear as she tries to take a corner during a flying lap, sending her straight into the wall.

Nobody understands what happened. She had seen it coming and tried to adjust, but nothing helped. She felt useless.

All these times, she could have prevented these terrible outcomes, and yet it feels as though something is actively working against her.

Her race engineer and Christian are quick to reassue her that it's not her fault. Logically, she knows that. Mentally and emotionally, she keeps blaming herself.

It's almost as if the car is trying to kill her.

The same thing happens on Sunday during the race. The brakes malfunction, and she hits the wall at speed that makes the crowd go quiet.

Thankfully, she's fine. The boys continue their race, knowing she's okay.

The next race is filled with more of the same. All four wheels of the car manage to puncture and leave her stranded along the track. Then, during the race, she struggles to deaccelerate.

It's unsafe, and her team knows it, but she refuses to retire the care. She manages to cross the line in third in a heap of exhaustion. Nobody knows how she managed that one.

The notes have started showing up in random places around Monaco. She feels like she's being watched all the time.

They tried to go out to a party one night just for her to end up with a spiked drink and an unknown male figure trying to take her somewhere else.

The boys were quick to put a stop to that and take her home.

Race after race, it seems as though everything is working against her. She can't help her team or Max in regards to racing. She's left to just watch and celebrate whichever of the two championship contenders comes out on top of each race.

It's high, and it's low, and she is definitely ready for the much needed summer break.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @jjsprobablywrong

@chanshintien

[stusbunker]

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls​ who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock​‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion. 

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar. 

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately. 

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief. 

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

    Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do. 

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff. 

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

    Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

    Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession. 

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.” 

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good. 

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length. 

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

 Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

 While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​ @atc74​​

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Part 10: Spit it Out

[set-phasers-to-whump]

we are, we are, we’re gonna be alright

fandom: grimm

whumpee: nick burkhardt

hi this is a completely self-indulgent fic which i wrote for Me but like if you wanna read it go right ahead!! it’s some nick/hank bc. where the Fuck is the content for that. but it’s mostly in the second chapter while the first is more whump focused. anyway i hope u like this!! (title from afterlife by ingrid michaelson)

Chapter 1

Nick and Hank sprint through the halls of an abandoned apartment building, chasing down their suspect. He shoves over a piece of metal shelving, kicks an old ratty couch cushion at them, skids around corners, and jumps over junk with the practiced ease of someone who’s been living here for a while. 

Nick leaps over the shelving, and Hank slides under it. They both step out of the way of the cushion, doing their best to keep up with the suspect, who, unfortunately, has the advantage at the moment. 

They reach the opening of a perpendicular hallway. The suspect rushes down it, and Nick and Hank split up, Hank turning after him and Nick continuing straight on, in the hopes of trapping him between the two of them.

Nick races along, grateful for the lack of obstacles being pushed in his way. He sidesteps a cinder block - and his leg drops straight through the floor with a cracking sound. He collapses for a second, collects his bearings, then pulls his leg back out of the floor, feeling it twinge slightly as it scrapes the rough edges of broken wood. He pays it no mind, and gets back to his feet quickly, taking off running again. 

Sure enough, he spots their suspect at the end of the hall, hurrying off to the left. He doesn’t see Hank following close behind, though, so he speeds up even more, feeling like his feet barely even touch the ground. 

He catches their suspect in a matter of seconds, tackling him to the ground (there was that strange sensation in his leg again). They scuffle for a minute, but Nick quickly gains the upper hand. He’s about to cuff the man when Hank comes running up, breathless. 

“Nice catch,” he says, as Nick clicks the cuffs on. “Bastard threw a metal chair at me.”

Nick nods, then stands, pulling the suspect to his feet. He has to pause a second as his leg starts to hurt - that’s the adrenaline starting to wear off, he knows. He ignores it as best as he can, hoping it’s not hurt too bad. The two start walking back down the hallway, Hank pushing the suspect along, Nick lagging a little behind.

“You okay?” Hank asks. Nick knows he’s limping, and he can feel now that something is definitely wrong. Nevertheless, he says, “I’m fine,” and wonders if Hank believes him at all. 

They’re not more than halfway out of the building when Nick’s leg gives out from under him, and he collapses to the ground. 

“Nick!” Hank fairly shouts, stopping in his tracks. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

Nick grimaces, just barely biting back a groan of pain. “Think...I might’ve hurt my leg,” he confesses, taking a steadying breath that trembles on the exhale.

“How bad?”

Nick shrugs, not wanting to say quite possibly broken. “Not too bad.” He shuts his eyes against a wave of pain. “Don’t know if I can walk all the way out of here, though.”

Hank thinks for a moment. There’s no service in this building, and Nick is insisting he’s not hurt that bad. While Hank doesn’t believe that line for a second, he also knows there’s little point in arguing. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he decides. “I’ll go put Mr. Downey here in the car, you wait right here.”

True to his word, Hank is back in slightly over sixty seconds. Nick knows because he’d counted. Anything to distract him from just how bad his leg is hurting. Broken, he thinks. Great. 

Hank gives him a hand up, pulling Nick’s arm over his shoulders and starting off at a very slow walk. 

Nick sucks in a deep breath as his hurt leg touches lightly against the ground. Hank notices, but Nick doesn’t tell him to go slower, or stop, or do anything as reasonable as pick him up and relieve the pressure on his leg, so, naturally, Hank takes matters (and Nick) into his own hands, picking him up as carefully and gently as he can, trying not to touch his hurt leg and make it worse while also supporting it enough so that it doesn’t move around too much. 

It’s a testament to how much Nick must be hurting that he doesn’t even protest beyond a quiet, “hey-” which is cut off by a sigh of relief when his injured leg is relieved of its duties.

Hank walks as evenly as he possibly can out to the car, and deposits Nick into his spot in the passenger seat. He apologizes to the suspect for the delay, not really meaning it since it was chasing him that got Nick into this situation in the first place. 

That done, he asks Nick if he wants him to call an ambulance as soon as they get back to service. Nick, predictably, shakes his head no. 

“Just get us back to the station first. Drop Downey off, and then maybe we can drive there.”

Hank doesn’t argue, just glad he won’t have to force Nick to the hospital against his will.

The ride back to the police station is dead quiet. Hank hates the silence, but doesn’t dare break it. When they arrive, he wordlessly removes Downey from the backseat and maneuvers him towards the front doors. 

Meanwhile, Nick leans his head against the cool glass of the window. Thus far, he’s done a pretty good job of sucking it up. He’s scarcely made a sound. But his leg hurts. He’s sure it’s not the worst pain he’s experienced, overall, but at the moment, semantics like that do absolutely nothing. It hurts now, and it hurts a lot, as though it’s on fire, a feeling only reinforced by the hot tears that have begun to run down his face. He takes a shuddering breath, fogging up the glass, and hopes that Hank will be back soon.

Hank throws open his door about five minutes later, having passed Downey off to Wu practically as soon as he’d seen the man. He owes him a box of donuts and a week’s worth of paperwork, but honestly, he’d have agreed to just about anything if it would have gotten him out of there and back to Nick.

Who looks absolutely miserable. He’s crying, on its own a rare sight, and seems barely aware of that fact. Some of the color has drained from his face, and, now that Hank really looks, his leg is definitely broken. He has a pretty good idea of what that feels like, and he’s amazed (but not entirely surprised) that Nick is keeping it together this well. 

It can’t hurt to ask one more time, he reasons, and once again poses the ambulance question. They are sitting right outside a police station, after all. Nick only shakes his head, and he looks so pained and so sad that Hank doesn’t even care. He thinks he’d probably drive to Canada right now, if that was what Nick wanted. 

—

Hank parks as close as he can to the Emergency entrance of the hospital. “We’re gonna have to walk,” he warns. “Unless you-”

“I know,” Nick says, and before Hank can stop him, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. 

Hank rushes around to the passenger side just as Nick takes a step. His leg folds up under him, and Hank grabs him, wrapping arms around him and pulling him close to prevent him from collapsing to the ground for the second time today.

Nick’s hands latch onto Hank’s jacket automatically, like he’s trying to hold himself up by that force alone. Hank feels them shaking through the fabric. 

“I could run inside and see if they have a wheelchair,” Hank offers. Nick shakes his head, face pressed firmly into Hank’s shoulder. 

“We have to get there somehow, man,” Hank points out.

Nick shrugs halfheartedly, not moving. Hank gets the message that he knows Nick is far too...Nick to actually say out loud, and picks him up again, being, if it’s possible, even more careful than before. Nick still makes a terribly fragile pained noise anyway. It’s the first real sound he’s made, and Hank mentally shudders to think how bad the pain must be for Nick to just let it out. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Hank says, over and over, walking slowly up to the entrance. “You’re okay, it’ll be fine.” Nick only grabs his jacket tighter in response.

As soon as they get inside, Hank gently deposits Nick on one of the waiting-room chairs. He joins the thankfully-short line of people at the desk, and explains their whole situation as quickly and clearly as he can to the person behind it, who hands him a clipboard of papers to fill out, promising they’ll get Nick in as soon as they can.

Hank sinks down into the chair next to Nick, who is staring intently at the floor, leg held out at an angle like he doesn’t know what to do with it, clearly not having heard a word of that conversation. 

“They’ll see you as soon as they can,” he repeats, and he begins to fill out Nick’s paperwork while Nick himself continues staring at the floor. Hank generously pretends not to notice the tears that are once again tracking their way down his face. 

—

About fifteen minutes later, Hank is flipping idly through a magazine while Nick is back being examined. He hates not having any idea what’s going on, and the front-desk person had apologized profusely but insisted that Hank wasn’t allowed back with him. He knows, logically, that Nick will be fine, but he can’t stand not knowing for certain.

It’s perhaps half an hour later when a nurse pushes Nick out into the waiting room. She gives Hank a warm smile and hands him a small paper bag, explaining the painkillers it contains. She disappears for a second and comes back with a pair of crutches, which Hank also takes. 

“He’s been given a mild sedative,” she explains to Hank, who is looking at Nick, who is looking at absolutely nothing. “He had a displaced fracture, which means that the pieces of bone on either side of the break were misaligned. We performed a minor nonsurgical procedure to realign them, but it can be painful, hence the sedative. It’ll wear off in a few hours, and he’ll probably sleep for most of that.”

Hank thanks her, gives Nick the bag (at least he’s aware enough to grab it), places the crutches across the armrests of the hospital wheelchair, and heads back to the car. It could have been worse, he thinks to himself. At least he didn’t need surgery.

Chapter 2

Hank drives the two of them back to his house, practically without thinking. If Nick minds this, he doesn’t speak up about it. Not that he’s doing much speaking up about anything. In fact, Hank realizes, he’s sleeping, his cheek pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass. He looks utterly exhausted, and if he were anyone else, Hank might tack on cute, but it’s Nick so he can’t. He just gives him a little smile (which he obviously can’t see) and shakes his head fondly. 

By the time he pulls to a stop at his house, Nick has woken up and is, predictably, insisting he’ll be able to make it inside using his brand-new crutches. 

It’s not a very far walk, so Hank somewhat reluctantly hands Nick the crutches, watching critically as he attempts to balance. Surprisingly, he manages to make it to the front door, which Hank has already unlocked, seeing as how he’d reached it a full minute before Nick and his crutches. 

Hank ushers Nick inside, directing him to his bedroom and not giving him a chance to protest. Nick, thankfully, is out of it enough to not question Hank’s decision, and he promptly flops himself down on the bed. 

And then nearly falls off when the weight of his cast, hanging off the bed, pulls him down. Hank pushes him back onto the bed and heads to the closet to grab another blanket. 

He’s gone for scarcely twenty seconds, but when he returns, Nick is already asleep again, head turned so his face is pressed into the pillow. Hank gently drapes the blanket over him, smoothing it out and tucking it in slightly in a way he never would if he thought there was any chance of Nick waking up and asking him what the hell he was doing. 

--

Two hours later, Hank is stretched out on the couch, watching a wildlife documentary and eating a slice of his favorite pizza (he’s earned it, he thinks). He’s wondering whether he should go check on Nick again when a quiet noise from his bedroom makes up his mind for him. 

Hank stands in the doorway of his bedroom, watching as Nick slowly wakes up, looking around in confusion and mild alarm when he doesn’t immediately recognize where he is. 

“How you feeling?” Hank asks from his position in the doorway. 

Nick blinks at him a few times, processing, before he asks, “why’m I here?”

Hank shrugs. “You broke your leg,” he offers. 

“Oh. Yeah,” Nick agrees. He reaches down a hand to touch his leg. “I don’t remember getting this,” he says, as his fingers brush against plaster. 

“You were pretty out of it already, and they gave you a sedative.”

“Why?”

Hank tells him. Nick winces. “Glad I don’t remember it,” he decides. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty,” Hank says. “I didn’t think you’d be hungry, but there’s a couple slices of pizza if you want them.”

Nick shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“You wanna come sit on the couch?” 

The moment the question leaves Hank’s mouth, he’s kicking himself. No, he doesn’t want to. His leg is broken, he doesn’t want to move. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Oh. “Okay,” he says, and hands Nick his crutches.

Several minutes later, they’re both on the couch, and another wildlife documentary is playing on the TV. Nick’s broken leg has been stretched carefully out onto the coffee table, and he won’t say that it hurts, but it hurts. 

Hank knows, of course, and he wordlessly hands Nick two of the pills that the nurse had given him, along with a glass of water. 

Nick stares at him for a moment. What do you expect me to do with these, he seems to say. 

“I know it hurts, man. Just take them.”

Nick heaves a sigh, but accepts the offerings. He swallows the pills and makes a face. 

“Was that really that bad?” Hank asks teasingly. 

Nick shrugs, looking suddenly morose. “No,” he admits, but the tone of his voice tells Hank there’s something else on his mind. 

He doesn’t push, though. Just moves a tiny bit closer and shifts his legs up onto the table to join Nick’s. 

Nick falls asleep yet again shortly thereafter, his head dropping to the side in a way Hank knows will make his neck ache when he wakes up. He frets for a moment over what to do before deciding fuck it, and carefully rearranging Nick so he is lying across the couch, his leg propped up by a small stack of pillows. He grabs the blanket from the bed, refills the glass of water, and sets out two more pain pills on the table. 

He stares at his sleeping best friend for a moment, simultaneously trying to encourage and stop himself. Before he gives it too much thought, he thinks, oh what the hell, and bends down to press a light kiss to Nick’s forehead. 

It’s ridiculously soft and gentle and it makes his face heat up the second he pulls away, but he looks down for just a second and swears he sees the faintest of smiles wash over Nick’s features. 

It’s gone in a second, but it’s there, and Hank smiles in response, feeling strangely happy despite the day’s events. He collapses into a chair, intent on keeping watch over Nick until the morning. 

—

They both wake up the next morning sore and hurting - Hank from falling asleep in his chair, and Nick for obvious reasons. There’s a quiet second where they both just look at each other - clothes wrinkled from sleep, the book Hank had been reading splayed across his lap, a crease on Nick’s face from where it had been pressed into a pillow. 

What I wouldn’t give for this to be my every morning, Hank thinks, as Nick pushes himself up on his elbows. His arm slips out from under him, and Hank reaches out instinctively, helping him up. 

Nick turns and looks at him, his face unreadable but soft in the early-morning glow that pours through the windows. He smiles, a soft, still sleepy, slightly pained smile, and presses his forehead against Hank’s. “Thanks,” he says, so soft it could hardly even be called a whisper. 

“Anything,” Hank tells him, and maybe that’s too much, but he means it, and then Nick is kissing him, soft and quick, a little unsure and tasting of morning breath and absolutely perfect. 

Hank pulls away first, blinking in mild surprise. “Thanks,” he says, and then thinks to himself, could you have said anything dumber?

Nick grins, a full-on smile with not a trace of pain in it. “Anything.”

hi yeah this might have been ooc but i don’t care i love them and i wanted to make this Soft so i did and nobody can stop me....anyway if you read this i love you (and also you are now legally obligated to drop me an ask saying if you think i should re-dye my hair to dark brown/black before senior pictures or not)

[helpinghanikan]

Suspicion of the Mask

Matt Murdock x reader

Sum:  It's dangerous for anyone to walk the city at night. Like many in your situation there was a savior. A savior with a familiar voice.

AN: This is pretty self-indulgent (Any warnings in the tags)

         It only takes a second for the entire world to freeze. The couple walking a few feet ahead was suddenly too far away to scream to and the pressure under your right shoulder blade was the only thing organic in this world.

           Alleyways were always a danger and a big no-no when walking home at night. Matt more then once talking about a client he had who was assaulted in one of the many alleys you’d pass. A non-direct way of begging you not to make the same decision, take the long way around on the sidewalk. But when work lets out late and your apartment is just so far away. A quick short cut was nothing to sneeze at, save maybe three to four minutes that could be spent in bed or the shower.

           The couple ahead was supposed to be your little canary in the cage. Make sure the area was safe as you walk a respectful distance behind them through the darkness. When they turned that corner the organic press behind you finally spoke.

           “Don’t scream, don’t say shit…” It was a male that hissed that behind you.

           It’s hard to think of a time you had screamed louder.

           It’s best not to think about what your attacker originally wanted. Now, with his victim already screaming, he had gone into panic mode. Hand against your head, fingers in your hair, side of your head slammed into the alley wall.

           “STOP!” You scream as if he would listen to you.

           At no point, between the first grab to being flat on your face, did you ever shut up. From screaming to death threats to profanity you bared your teeth and yelled. It’s a wonder what would have happened had you shut up after the first scream. That maybe that first scream could have been just enough to scare him away instead of making him panic. Instead he slams you against the wall three times before you finally stop.

           In a more dramatic scene they’d say you had heard your nose crack. That the blood running down your lips was copper on in the back of your throat. Or that you had started crying when a third person had entered the fray just before it was too late.

           This wasn’t that dramatic scene. No solid details could be pinned down, just trying to stay in the waking world instead of falling into the next.

           The final slap comes when your name is spoken.

           “It’s okay now,” the same voice says keeping you close. “You’re okay, I got you.”

An arm is cradling around the back of your neck. It’s hard to say what point this new guy had got his arms around you. Face turned into a chest that was just as thick as the concrete. He was likely trying to be comforting; but when you look through a hazy view into a red eyed man with actual horns it’s hard to feel comfortable.

           “Go away,” Your hands press against that too solid chest. Hitting against padding, pressing into his neck. “get off, get off, get off!”

           Everything you’ve heard about Dare Devil can be boiled down to either a god sent or a horror story. Had you lived on the words of Karen you might’ve been more grateful. She was one of his biggest cheerleaders, though. The entire situation was the equivalent of meeting your friend’s Pitt for the first time by it snapping while connected to a chain.

           To his credit he does let you go. Scrambling away on hands and knees, purse still in your shaky grip, you escape down the alley.

--

           Mr. Taxi man has been glances back at your every fourteen to sixteen seconds your entire ride home.

           How did you look from his perspective? A battered girl pushing into the taxi’s back seat. Rattling off an address One eye was already swelling. Nose, absolutely broken and dripping on your shirt. Staring through the window to avoid making eye contact with him.

           “Hospital is just a few blocks…” He offered, already proving to be more invasion then the average driver.

           “Just take me home please.” You said hoping he’d take the hint.

           He does, staying quiet, but continues looking back at you.

           Your now cracked phone was in your hand. Little bits of glass rubbed out onto your thumb. Trying to avoid the caring man, staring into the dark void of cracked glass and potential companionship.

           Having a small friend group of lawyers has its advantages, but it can also be annoying as hell. A simple fender bender and Foggy is throwing around numbers and ideas of a lawsuit, all talk quieting down when you explained the lady was probably around when dirt became a thing. Karen was another outlet, but she had subtly started to lose her chill. Calling her and you’d have an ambulance at your door and probably an interview with three different people including her.

           The third member of your little ensemble contact stared from your phone screen. A picture taken when he was asleep; head resting on an upward palm. Suit jacket off, tie loosened. His glasses were resting on top of his head and mouth slightly opened. He had been snoring when you looked up at him. It was likely he hadn’t heard your phone click and didn’t know the picture was your profile for him.

           “This is it, Sweetie.” Mr. Taxi says. Car pulling into park. “Unless…hospital is nearby.”

           The hospital wasn’t nearby. He knew that and so did you, but something says he would have sped through the streets to help you.

           “Thank you,” Money is passed between the seat towards him. Not bothering to check how much you gave other than it was more then needed.

           Glass presses into your thumb when you hit the call button. You’re through the first ring and almost up the flight of stairs when Matt picks up.

           “Hey, hi, how are you?”

           Just at the sound of his voice had your dam had started cracking.

           “I’m…I’m something. Are you busy right now?” Final step and there’s your door a few feet away.

           “No, just playing with papers. Is something up?” He asks.

           “Not really. Just…would you mind coming over? Please?” Any attempt at keeping him out of the loop before he arrives went out the window when your voice quivered just enough.

           “I’ll be right there,” He hangs up before you can try and reassert yourself.

           It’s a loft style apartment where the entire space was open with the “bedroom” separated by half-walls. Couch against the half-wall, desk against the other. Entering and you’re staring right at the kitchen area at the far corner. Bag and jacket tossed onto a counter that you can’t even pretend to know if they landed or not.

           Your outward window showed a straight shot down a stretch of road. A view with nothing but dotted lights and a wave of blaring horns just outside the glass. Look hard enough and there are the silhouettes of the people inside: two shapes coming together as one in front of their window, another with a waving arm and a bent elbow towards their ears, a third was just leaning forward in the window staring at a similar view as yours.

           So many people, and not one heard you scream.

           Blood was mostly wiped from your mouth and under the nose, leaving a little smears like you had gotten too excited with the ketchup.

           Matt must have dead sprinted from the office to make it to your door in under a half-an hour. It was actually pretty amusing to imagine him running down the street. Using the people he crashed and bumped into as some form of a map to get him there. Panting in his gray sweater, regular jeans and untied shoes. He had even left his cane and glasses at the office.

           You only had a few seconds before those rough hands were on your face. Although an office worker they were rough and worn from those work outs with a boxing bag. Somehow his thumb managed to find the one, miniscule, bit of blood under your nose.

           “That’s not good,” He says, way too calmly.

           “No, it’s really-.”

           Something between a pop and a crack sounded through the apartment. Hands you would usually seek comfort from are both holding the sides of your heads. Thumbs pressing on either side of your nose and quick, painful pressure from either side.

           “JESUS FUCK! WHY?” You screamed pulling away holding your face.

           This bastard was trying to turn you towards him. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I fixed it, I’m sorry.” He says, pulling you close to you.

           “I fucking hate you.” Hands still to your face, entire body pressing into his. His arms are around your back, rubbing it gently with a soft ‘I know,’ and ‘no you don’t. That’s not possible,’.

           It started with a single tear, and then another, and then you’re crying. Hands to your face now to keep the tears from flooding the earth. It becomes body wracking sobs that you wouldn’t have notice he had leaned forward against you. Hands under your buttocks and thighs, lifting you in the air, legs around him like a tired little kid being carried back to the car.

           It took some weeks before Matt was completely comfortable in your apartment. Asking you to walk him around his first visit. Thinking back, it might have been some weird form of non-sexual foreplay to get you both closer to the bed without having to do the little “nice place you have” dance.

           He had yet to spend the entire night, blaming the loud cars outside your window and the bedsheets, he knew enough to navigate. Setting you down on the couch, both hands on your knees and kneeling down like the knight he likes to pretend to be.

           “What happened? Sweetie, please, what’s wrong?” It’s an ongoing theory that Matt learned all his pet names from married couples during church services. Men and women married longer then you’ve been alive who are either deep in love or waiting for the other to die. Depending on his mood. You now know the difference between ‘Sweetie’ and ‘sweetie’.

           You told him the entire story from walking through the alley to your savior who you had yelled at. Mathew eventually taking your hands in his to keep them away from your mouth while you sobbed through the story.

           “You really need to go to the police, hospital.” He says holding your hands.

           “Mathew…”

           “Just, at least a report. I can get Detective Mahoney here, you don’t even have to go in.”

           “Matt, please, I can’t right now.” If his hands weren’t holding yours they would have been holding your face again. “Please, not tonight.”

           “Okay, it’s okay, it’s okay now.” He says catching you when you weren’t even falling. “I’ll stay with you tonight, if you want.”

           In a normal night you’d have made a joke. “Great, so I can save you when he comes back for me.” You’d have said. Instead you just nod into his shoulder, wiping your nose into his coat fabric.

--

           “It’s okay now,”

           He had whispered that to you throughout the entire night.

           Days later and you can still hear it somewhere in the back of your brain. Supposedly two different voices becoming one. It’s impossible to tell who had said it when and where.

           “You can hardly tell,” Karen says after a few seconds of silence.

           Your face was a mosaic of green and brown lining one side             of your face. The eye on the same side was just as swollen, almost closed. Worst had to be your nose; slightly twerked from breaking and fixing without proper medical care.

           Gently your fingers touch over the injuries.

           “It makes you look tough. In a ‘you should see the other guy’ sort of way.” Karen was doing her best to make light of the injuries. The bruising was too bad to completely ignore.

           First time you saw the other guy was behind a two-way mirror. You hadn’t gotten a good look during the initial assault, but you heard the voice. Brought into a small room with only glass separating you from a man who had tried to bash your head into a wall. He was hidden somewhere in the line of men holding little numbers against their chests.

           One by one the men stepped forward. “Don’t say shit,” each said with the same enthusiasm as asking for food. When number four took his turn your hand slammed a vice like grip around Detective Mahoney’s forearm. “Him, it’s number four.” You had said and was immediately escorted out.

           The waitress stops by your table. Breadstick time.

           “Was there anything weird about the way Daredevil worked with you?” You asked.

           It was no secret that Karen had interactions with Daredevil. Mostly just a side comment when Foggy would try and shame her for her lack of chill. A few of her pieces involving it all was framed in the office.

           “He’s intimidating. We only met at night and most of the time he was beating someone up while I was running away.” Karen says.

           “Funny, he was beating someone up while I just laid there.” You said, a forced laugh coming from both of you. “His voice, though. It sounded weird.”

           “Sounded like the typical white guy.”

           “Well, yeah, but didn’t he sound familiar to you? In any way?”

           “What are you talking about?” She asks.

           “He sounded like Matt. He, he sounded just like Matt.” You bluntly said. The whole point of bribing Karen to come out with you for food.

           “You got hit pretty hard,” She says. As though your face wasn’t proof enough of that. “He maybe sounded like him, but you were under serious stress. Next person you talked to was Matt and maybe that combined the two.”

           “But he smelled like him,” You argued, watching your friend tear a bread stick apart.

           The look Karen gave you would have been hilarious if you weren’t trying to get her to see your point. “And what does Matt smell like?” She asks instead.

           “Sweat,” You say. “He always smells like sweat.”

           Either the man had some sweat gland issue who he was running everywhere. More specifically he smelled slightly like salt. Like you could taste him on the tip of the tongue just by being too close.

           You were of the lucky few who caught him before the sweat set in. Mere moments after a shower or in the middle of the night. Starting together in an embrace before he travels across to the other side of the bed. Curled up in an almost fetal position, his back towards you. In those moments he still had a trace smell of salt, but mostly of leather. Like the smells of the world was pounded into him through the years and became a permeant part of his being.

           That’d be too long (and sappy) to explain, though.

           “Oh my god, he does.” Karen laughs a little. Unaware that you had probably just ruined the next time she’s in the same room as Matt.

           “So, you see my point?” You try to bring it back around.

           “Yeah, Matt has gone this long without learning about deodorant.”

           “No, that the other guy, that Daredevil, smells like Matt. That he sounds like, that he sounds and smells just like Matt.” Desperation to not sound crazy was starting to make you sound insane.

           Karen leans forward and says your name calmly. She was going into Lawyer mode, a specific state to be feared by lawyers and their general law knowing co-workers can transform to. This specific she had used on their defendants known to ignore advice, assume they know better or (overall) are just too stupid to read between the lines.

           “You are aware Matt is blind,” Karen rests her case.

--

           Karen was your best bet at having a clear look into your theory. With everything Karen had been apart of, everything she’s ever discovered or seen, she’d be the closest you’d get to a clear opinion. And your theory was shot out of the sky like a duck on the first day of hunting season.

           A few days in and your bruises started to turn into paler shades of green. Supposedly this meant they were healing. This didn’t stop you from flinching and hissing lowly when Matt got too close to the face.

           You’ve taken refuge in his apartment for the time being. Sticking close to his side during the day, taking an Ambien at night for the expected sleep problems. He always kept you in mostly arm reaching distance in the day. Both of you thinking you can keep the other safe if the bastard showed his face again. The more likely scenario is you’d trip over each other trying to keep the other safe.

           Matt’s side was to you now. Staring straight ahead as he moved his hands over cooking utensils. His sweat pants tucked into thick socks and wearing that hoodie. The same hoodie he wore that night.

           “Where were you about a week ago? When that dick-bag tried to grab me.” You asked.

           He pauses. “I think I was at the office when you called. Foggy was still there when I ran out.”

           “Where were your glasses?”

           He completely stops preparing the gourmet meal, tilting his head slightly where your voice was coming from. “What?”

           “Your glasses. You always wear them when you’re out.” This was sounding worse the more you added. Might as well keep going. “And you weren’t wearing them when you got to my apartment.”

           He left his station to walk towards where you were sitting. Your legs already pulled up to your chest.

           “I can’t walk around without my glasses on?” He asks, sitting down on the other side of the couch. Already embarrassed you only shrugged.

           He unintentionally let the silence sit. “Sweetie?” He asks.

           “Sorry, I shrugged.” You said.

           “Oh, okay. Is something wrong? Did something else happen?” He asks.

           Your right leg stretches out towards him until your toes touched his legs. His hand slides down your foot and gently holds the ankle. Thumb rubbing over the knuckle on the side of the ankle.

           “Nothing else happened, he didn’t do anything else to me. He didn’t get the chance.” Every close friend you came across after the attack gave you the same sad, knit eyebrows look and the silent question. “That devil guy stopped him.”

           “I’m glad he did, I’m really glad he did.” Matt has the audacity to say.

           “Where were you?” A stupid, stupid question.

           “I told you, I was at the offi-.”

           “No, where were you?” You’re crying now. Voice trying to compensate for the lump in your throat that’d turn into a full-on sob if you weren’t careful.

           It was that stupid little kid part of your brain that had created that theory. That somehow Matt would have pushed through himself and save you just from…what? Force of will? Love?

           Simply put you were one of thousands saved every day by a set of beyond belief people. It was unfair to expect yourself to be any more special then the other thousands. It was unfair to put Matt on the same level as that set. It was unfair to expect any of that.

           His gently hold tightened briefly. Pulling your ankle towards him, pulling it between his side and the back of the couch. Your other leg coming to his other side. Your hands pressing under your backside to scoot closer as he did the same.

           “I’m right here, I’m here.” He says, almost laying over you.

           Your arms are around his neck, hiding those pathetic tears into his shoulder.

           “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” He says. Keeping you from looking towards a specific wall.

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 10

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: All the usual and then add: referenced sexual abuse and torture (both physical and psychological). Not overly graphic, but it’s very angsty. A/N: As mentioned in a note earlier, this got really dark. Please read with caution. On a more happy note: thanks to all who’ve been reblogging and commenting! It means the world to me <3

10 - A wrong Step

You’re moved often, sometimes by car and other times by train but apart from that, there’s not a lot to actually complain about considering you’re a prisoner of Hydra…and your ex. The food your keepers serve is decent, consisting mainly of water next to some sort of stew or porridge if lucky (stale bread if less fortunate). Not only is there always a relatively soft surface to sleep on, they even provide a musty blanket too which is enough to stay warm enough to prevent getting sick. Sometimes Brock interrogates you, trying to charm or guilt you into spilling the secrets you’ve learned about the Avengers or to explain what you can do, other times it’s one of his co-villains that takes the place of bad cop. They all end up screaming at you, though, because you keep quiet while pretending not to know anything. You talk back to Brock, deny that your actions were based on anything but coincidence and what you’d seen in the news…even when he threatens with letting the others take over for him.

“They won’t be kind,” he promises as he leans uncomfortably close to you, “they’ve got ways to make ya talk.”

Glaring at him, you shrug. “Won’t change what I say.”

“No?” Strong hands grab your shoulders so hard the bones in your joints grind against each other painfully – the man is healing unnaturally fast. “Ya’ll end up singing for us. For me.” The hatred in his smile is replaced by a twisted tenderness. “Ya used to hum when cooking for us, remember? When ya were sad…the one from Dumbo. I always knew when it’d been a bad day. Ya should be rehearsing that one now.”

Gods, you hate his guts. Detest the twinkle in his eyes as he grins even now, thinking he can scare you into submission or weaken you by reminiscing about the time spent together. Fuck you. Those days are gone, and nothing will bring the feelings of happiness back. No matter how desperately Brock tries to use the past as a way of getting under your skin, you won’t forget what has happened since. He has tried every day. The man has talked for ages about the dinners shared, the walks along avenues in the evening, the soft touches that used to leave you sighing with bliss in the mornings of lazy Sundays. Creep.

Forgetting to think, you spit in his face.

The punch leaves you wheezing for air as the room disappears in a haze and you try to hold down the stomach contents. Blinking tears away, you stare emptily at the ceiling, only slowly realizing that you must have been knocked onto the floor.

“Bitch.” The dark shape of Brock blocks the light above you as he kneels over you. The spit is still glistening on his face. “This will cost ya.”

…   Romanoff’s PoV   …

“This is my fault! I should’ve been there!” The stoicism of Happy is crumbling day by day, reaching a new low this afternoon.

Jarvis is good, old fashioned spy-work is better. And still neither have yielded any results yet which is setting all people present at the compound on edge to the point where no one dares speak louder than a careful mumble…especially near Nat.

She hasn’t, despite Sam’s worries, killed anyone or even threatened with hours of torture. However the spy has lost her signature composure, honed through decades of work in the hardest of businesses where there is no room for mistakes or softness. They can only watch as she paces the rooms of the Compound unless she’s tapping away angrily on a keyboard to gain access (legal or not) to mainframes, surveillance systems, anything potentially containing information on [Y/N]’s whereabouts.

“You were with Pepper as you’d been told to,” Stark comforts the distraught Head of Security slash friend, “don’t beat yourself up.”

“But –“

“Shut up!” The groan is louder than Natasha had intended but is as such quite efficient. Running a hand down her face, she tries to calm down. “None of you’ve done any wrong, okay? We knew there was a risk…I knew and still underestimated it. Now there’s nothing we can do about what has happened so let’s focus on what we can do.”

What is left? They’re already using their networks, cashing in favours from old acquaintances on both sides of the law, and running every shred of evidence in all the databases they can think of. Still, the trail is running cold now that it’s been days. Checking the clock above the wall where the date is displayed in bright blue, digital numbers, Natasha feels her guts tighten. Eight days, two hours, and 15 minutes. [Y/N], where are you?

A pling from Clint’s phone isn’t what makes her look. It’s the soft “ooh” as the archer and best friend sits straight, for once abandoning the leftover pizza from the night before.

…   Rumlow’s PoV   …

Bruises litter the skin of [Y/N], itching at his conscience like a mosquito bite.

Brock had used to run his fingers softly over the smooth surface and watch the tiny hairs rise as goosebumps erupted along the path he’d chosen. Little bumps of pleasure that he could smoothen with kisses that inevitably would grow hungry just like her sighs.

Now the sighs are replaced by guttural cries when his hands land on the love of his life. Oh, he still loves her, she just doesn’t see it right now. Doesn’t see why Hydra is important and that his own actions will bring them peace. A better world. A simpler world. [Y/N] will understand eventually, and then the bruises will fade away to leave room for pleasurable shivers.

Tilting her head, the scarred man dries away the salty tears, smearing away they clean paths they had created down her cheeks. “Shh, it’ll be ‘kay, baby,” he coos, pretending not to see how she cringes, “just tell me, okay? Tell me what ya’ve seen.”

The scared woman swallows her sobs before she answers with a slow and hollow voice. “No matter what you do…it won’t change my answer and still you wouldn’t believe me.” She still doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanna trust ya, I swear,” Brock promises. He means every single word. “We gonna get through this, we used to be so good together. I want that again…don’t ya?”

But [Y/N] hesitates. Anger flares through the would-be boyfriend so hot that he loses control. Her throat is soft and wiry under his palms even as it begins to spasm at the grip of his fingers. The words coming from her bluing lips don’t pass the barriers of rancor emboldened by the flickers of panic in [Y/E/C] eyes. Only as the orbs roll backwards does he let go, huddling down with an ear to the chest, nose buried in the warmth of the breast as he listens for the frantic heartbeat to regain its strength.

… Reader’s PoV   …

The scream that jolts you awake is raw and desperate, worse than the pain that has been blessedly absent for the longest time since you learned the truth. Until now. Rocking back and forth in the little bunk mixes with the natural roll from the ocean outside the hull of your current prison and soothes the panic as if you were a baby swaddled and safe in its mother’s arms.

Nothing could be further from the truth, though, and you hear the pounding of boots nearing. Breathe. The grey light of dawn blurs the horizon, taunting you with the impossibility of freedom. Breathe. The metal tumbler rolls as the door to your cell is unlocked. Breathe…don’t show him. There’s no squeak of hinges here on the ship, just a shift in the air to tell that the only way in and out has been opened to let in Brock.

“Morning, baby,” he drawls, voice almost perfect now that the last bandages are gone, “bad dreams?”

You know better than to ignore him or to flinch when he sits down and wraps you in an embrace that once would have been kind. It makes you want to scream and fight, to claw at his face even if the difference would be invisible with all the scars, but at least it would be better than the pitiful complacence that’s keeping you alive physically while grinding your soul to dust. And still, the warmth of Brock’s arms are soothing in a twisted sort of way because as long as he’s caring for you, there’s no new pain.

“Why don’tcha tell me what ya saw this time, huh?” His lips are soft now when he kisses your forehead.

I can’t. “It it was ju-ust a nigh-nightmare.” Calm down. Get control of you voice, girl. “Just a nightmare.”

The gentle caress on your back stop as the man sighs deeply. “Baby, I know when ya’re lying.” Strong fingers tangle in your hair and yank so hard your throat is exposed and you have no clear view of Brock’s face. “Where’s the honesty? The trust?”

This time it’s impossible to supress the shiver as he licks a stripe from clavicle to chin. He’s done this before: kisses, licks, touches. None of it wanted and still never crossing the line where you wouldn’t be able to supress it. Maybe that’s the point? To tiptoe the line as a show of power, that he could rape you but chooses not to. Maybe you’re supposed to be grateful, feel like you owe him. I don’t owe him shit. As if Brock can read your mind, he lays you down and settles heavily between your legs, his abdomen crushing against yours.

“Ya know,” he hums to your cleavage as he pulls at your dirty shirt, “the boys really want to get to know ya better…it’s just me stopping them.” He kisses away the fresh tears as his words remind you of what you saw in you vision. “But if ya don’t want to help me out…why should I help ya?”

Your skin crawls at the obvious threat. I could tell him…tell him something. Anything. “Please don’t,” you plead shrilly from fear, “I’ll tell you, I promise! Don’t let them near me!”

There’s a hesitation to Brock’s fondling, inviting you to go on, and you begin to make up a scenario right then and there about how Hydra will keep working in the shadows although all subgroups constantly are on the run from the Avengers, from governments, from a man with a ruined eye. Anyone!

“CIA, FBI,” you babble while trying to think of other agencies in the hopes of pleasing the man who’s staring down at you with renewed intensity, “more…much more…they’ll find some of y-your erm places and kill…kill Hydra people, but capture most alive and th–“

“Stop.” A finger rests on your lips, but you don’t dare to move to get rid of it. “The man with the eye.” Fuck. Breath sticks in your throat as you realize the mistake. “Ya mean Fury.”

“I don’t know!”

But you do and Brock can see it in your eyes. A grin spreads on his face, tugging at the scars until his right eye is almost hidden in the uneven mass of red and pink and tan. Tasha, please.

The redheaded hero isn’t there to save you as Brock claims the prize after having waited so long for you to mess up. No one intervenes as screams are pushed from your lungs with each snap of his hips that breaks down your will to fight together with the dams that kept the horrors contained in the back of your mind. There’s nobody to help you recover afterwards before they drag you into another room where you’re strapped into a chair with a headpiece full of wires to connect with your greased-up skull.

[rogers-metaphor]

Lessons in Falling in Love: Chapter Seven

Permanent warning/disclaimer:  this will be a story that contains smut, will have cursing, and other themes like these. So, if you’re under the age of 18, please skip this story. Also, everything in this story is completely fictional and not based on real life!!!!!!!! It’s for dramatic and entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Thank you to everyone that has read, commented, reblogged, or liked my story. This one is a labor of love and i appreciate every single one of you. Obviously this chapter has some references to Joe’s family. I used all fake names, because as i state in the disclaimer, this is a work of fiction. Also its an AU. Just wanted to remind anyone reading. Hope you enjoy!!! P.S. do you think Ben will be in this story more?? ;) 

previous chapters: One, Two, Three , Four, Five, Six, 

my masterlist

That was the first of many times Joe would say it, and each time it brought Selene the same amount of joy as the first. She was his girlfriend, and she loved it.

Even though they had to keep their relationship a secret it brought a bit of a thrill. There were many times she’d surprise him in his office, and sometimes they’d have a quickie, before she’d sneak out like nothing had happened. She liked surprising him as much as he liked surprising her. Whether it be a homemade dinner after work, or a coffee in the middle of the day. She spent most of her weekends sleeping over and staying at his house. It made her feel like they were serious. Any small argument was quickly resolved with an apology and a kiss, though that barely happened in the whole first month of them being official.

Soon it was October. The weather started to get colder, and mid-term tests were being prepared for and taken. Her favorite month was full of stress and anxiety of passing these big steps. She hated school, she wanted it to be done so she could do what she had been preparing for. Joe was there, he was always fair with his grading, and she was great in history, so she didn’t have to worry in his class.

Selene was happy that Joe wanted to do all her favorite things for October. She made him watch scary movies, even though he wasn’t the biggest fan. He mostly got scared and he hated that. She was there to hold him close when they heard the wind shift outside, even if she was spooked too. They pumpkin picked with Gwil and Nova, and painted them to put on her front porch. She was excited that Gwil was hosting a halloween party for his friends. Which her and Joe would be attending, together, as boyfriend and girlfriend.

When the party was in full swing when she stood in the crowded kitchen grabbing two drinks. She quickly tried to get out after filling her cup and Joe’s, and she ran straight into a greek god… or at least that’s what his costume was. They both moved in the same direction twice before giving up and laughing.

“Sorry.” his voice was deep, distracting.

“You’re fine.” she laughed, and as they both go to move again, they run into each other.

   “Love, if you’re trying to get my attention, you have it.” he muses and she scrunches her nose at his fail of a pick up line… if that’s what it was.

“I-“ she starts, her face flushing red. He smirks, “Is that really the best you can do?” she asks raising a brow.

“No.” he looks her up and down, and she finds herself blushing again. She froze up, not knowing what to do. “I’m Ben.” he introduces himself, holding out his hand before realizing she had her hands full.

“I’m-“ she begins but Joe is quickly moving behind Ben.

“Babe, I thought you got lost.” Joe chuckled, moving between the two, “Oh, sorry man.” he said toward Ben and Ben looked between the two. Joe took his drink from Selene’s hand and she giggled at his haste movements. “I’m about to kick ass in beer pong, if you want to come watch.”

“Yeah, lets go.” she smiles, her eyes finding the bright green ones before being pulled away by Joe.

She watched as Joe and Gwil dominated the pong table. She caught the green eyes in her sight just a few more times before the end of her night, drunk and ready to sleep. Her and Joe got a ride to his place and drunkenly ordered pizza. Eating it and passing out soon after.

In the morning, as usual, Joe was up before her. Even if she was up before him, she liked to pretend she was sleeping, because this is when she’d catch him being his sweetest. Because whether she was asleep or not, he would softly leave her with a kiss on her cheek. It was a simple gesture that meant a lot to her, and she would warm at it every time.

Sunday’s were her favorite days, because they had their own little ritual. Football, take out, movie. Relaxing on his couch or in his bed until she’d make her way home, to start the week again.

“Thanksgiving break can’t come soon enough.” she groaned.

“Do you have any plans for that week?”  he asked, reaching his fork over to her lo mein noodles. She shook her head, frowning at him.

“You have your own.” she snapped, “I’m not close with my family so i planned on staying home.”

“Would you want to come meet my family?” he asked, “As much as I’d like to stay home for the week and sleep, with you, I haven’t seen them in a while.” Her face lit up, and she nodded.

“We don’t just sleep.” she raised her eyebrows and they both giggle. “Where do they live?” she asks.

“Upstate new york… it’d be a bit of a trip.” he shrugs. “I know you like long car rides.” he smirks and she nods.

“I would love to.” she leaned into him, kissing his lips briefly before returning back to her noodles.

….

With finals a few weeks away she was grateful to have a week break. She was ready to relax and sleep and spend more time with Joe. Though, meeting Joe’s family was nerve-wracking she was happy he was ready for that to happen.

Joe had his moments, where it seemed as if he’d freeze, as if he was nervous to continue their relationship. Though, in those moments Selene would second guess them,  he always brushed it off as worrying about his job. She would brush it off, because at the end of the day, Joe was there with her.

She began feeling more and more for him. With every kiss her heart still fluttered, her stomach would swarm with butterflies. It would happen any time she even got to see him. Their laughter was always loud and seemed to be constant. When they were together it seemed to never end. It was all new to her, but she seemed to fit the mold just right.

The trip upstate was long, mostly because there was a lot of holiday traffic. By the time they made it to Joe’s sister’s house, it was already dark. She shifted nervously, as Joe jumped out of the car, walking around the other side to open the door for her. He reached out his hand and she took it, giving her the little boost of confidence she needed.

His sister, Camille was immediately warm, and welcoming bringing her into a hug before she made it through the front door. She ushered her inside faster than Joe could greet her. She took her under her wing, showing her around the house. Her two small sons raced to Joe and she watched as they attacked him with hugs, falling to the floor and laughing loudly. Selene watched as he asked them how they were, and how school was going. He was great with kids, it was simple to see immediately. He kept them busy as Camille showed her the rest of the house, and where she and Joe would be spending the next two nights. A furnished basement guest room, with a huge bed and private bathroom was better than any hotel she’d ever been in.

After settling in, they got ready to go see his mom. She didn’t live much further away from his sister, and the ride was spent with Joe and his sister catching up on work and the kids. Though selene was nervous again, she settled in the back seat with the two boys and asked them about their favorite movies and what else they liked. Science, baseball, and music were their favorite.

His mom was also instantly warm and welcoming. Like her daughter, she greeted Selene with a big hug, and welcomed her inside. She set up a small dinner, mostly with finger sandwiches, a cheese plate, and a vegetable tray. Something small to prepare them for the next day’s festivities. Wine for the adults was served with fruits and cookies for the kids, that Selene took from.

His brother, John and his wife and their son joined them soon after, and everything was easy and smooth. Everyone got along each joining in to mess with Joe and tell embarrassing stories. Joe kept his arm around Selene’s waist most of the time, unless he was pulled away by one of the three boys. It became natural for Selene to join in the conversation, and maybe the wine helped but Joe’s constant affection didn’t hurt either.

She felt something deeper for him in those moments, laughing and carefree. She felt like her heart would beat out of her chest at any moment. When he played with the kids she wouldn’t stop smiling. That was the first time she had a vision of a possible, serious future with Joe. It was scary and intense. Like she’d never felt before, she had to catch her breath as he came over to her.

“Stop staring at me, weirdo.” he mocked, and she giggled kissing his lips.

The night ended with everyone saying their goodbyes for the short time, the next morning would be busy and everyone needed rest from traveling.

“I love your family.” she yawned, after a hot shower she sat with Joe on the bed, still in her towel. “I think I’m going to stay here with them.” she giggles.

“They definitely seem to like you.” he yawned in return.

“Thank you for bringing me here. Isn’t this like a step in our relationship?” she asked and he poured out his lips with laugh.

“It is.” he hummed, leaning in to kiss her forehead. She quickly got into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt despite the freezing temperature, she liked to stay cold, unless she was wrapped in Joe’s arms. Which she curled into as soon as she climbed into bed.

The next day was as busy and hectic as she thought it would be. Selene helped Camille make a big thanksgiving breakfast before Joe was even up. When he made his way to the two, greeting Selene with a kiss, he commented, “Selene up before 12… this is scary.” she elbowed him as she began to make his plate.

They ate breakfast and watched the big parade on the tv with the kids. It was a perfect morning, and as Selene got ready to go to his mom’s house again, she felt overwhelming happiness. She felt like part of the family.

When they got to his moms it was back to cooking and helping out. The guys settled with the boys and watched football while the women worked on dinner and drank wine and talked. Selene could feel she was getting tipsy and tried to eat more food to counteract the massive amount of wine she consumed.

When dinner rolled around everyone gathered around a beautifully set table and said grace. It was wholesome to be there, as everyone again caught up and told stories to each other about past thanksgiving’s. It was a lot of fun for Selene, who went in anxious and intimidated. Joe’s family was just like him, warm and welcoming.

“I hope you’ll be back for Christmas.” His mom comments, as she helped her clear the table. Selene beamed.

“I’d love to, if i’m invited.” she smiled.

“Well, I think Joey is really happy with you. If he doesn’t invite you, I am. Right now.” Selene laughed hoping she would be.

“Thank you so much. For everything.” she said, her heart soaring.

“It’s no problem, sweetie.” she sighed. “It’s about time Joe brought someone he truly cares about around. His last girlfriend… I don’t mean to gossip.” she stops herself. Selene was curious, but didn’t want to push.

“It’s not gossip.” she giggled, “I care about your son.” she adds and his mom beams at that. It was all Selene could ask for.

After sad goodbyes, to his mom and brother, they headed back to Camille’s for one last night before heading back home.

“Your mom mentioned your ex.” Selene says quietly. Her and Joe were cuddled into bed again. He laid against her chest, and her hands softly played with his hair. She noticed he shifted at her words.

“What’d she say?” he asks.

“Not much, really. Just mentioned her.” she shrugs.

“Can we not talk about it?” he sighs.

“Sure. Joe.” Selene says flatly.

“We can talk about tour ex boyfriends.” his tone is irritated. and she sighs.

“I don’t have any ex-boyfriends.” she retorts. “Why do you sound so mad?” he sits up.

“Not mad.” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to talk about it. I’m with you. I’m here with you. I brought you to meet my family… doesn’t that count for something?”

“of course it does.” she groans, “I was just asking.” she moves away from him.

Silence. He sighs. She rolls her eyes and he can’t see.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.” she mumbles.

“You can’t get mad at me and then tell me it’s nothing.”

“You don’t want to talk about it.” she snaps. “We had a great day, let’s not ruin it.”

“I just want to know why you’re upset.”

“Just because I would like to know what not to do.” she sighs, “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re doing everything fine.” he says, “You don’t have to be a contrast to her, I like you the way you are.”

silence again. Selene is taking in his words.

“Okay… don’t talk to me then.” he grumbles, shuttling off the light and turning away from her.

She feels like she was going to cry. She just felt like something was missing, like there was something he didn’t want to talk about. She just didn’t know why. Before she could stop herself, her tears rolled hot down her cheeks. Her heart is racing so fast it’s making her nauseous. It’s loud in her ears, when she hears Joe speak.

“She wasn’t nice to me. She never does anything you do for me.” he says quietly. “That’s why I don’t feel like I have to talk about her, because you do everything right already.” she rolls toward him. “You always surprise me. I’ve never had that before. I’m always the one putting in effort and you do that for me.” she sniffles, and he quickly turns on the light. “Are you crying?” he asks gently. He pulls her into him, and holds her tightly. It was enough to make her feel better already.

“I’m not used to someone caring about my feelings enough to ask me about things like you do.” he explains, “So, I’m sorry if i appear cold sometimes.”

“I just need you to talk to me.” she explains, “I just need you to express this to me before i second guess myself.”

Silence. He’s taking in her words, nodding and staring off. He looks to her, and his features soften.  He looks like he might cry, his eyes glazed over. Selene sat up, taking his hand in hers. She didn’t know why he looked so distraught, but she just wanted to comfort him.

“I-I promise I’ll work on it.” he sighs, and she nods. She’s concerned but it was enough. She took comfort in the feeling that he was being sincere.

“And I’ll work on it too. I know that I have my moments of distance but just know it’s because I’m scared.” she feels the most vulnerable she’s been with him, but talking to Joe felt like she was falling into a safety net. Like she didn’t have to worry about anything after. Like she could tell him whatever was going on in her sometimes overwhelming brain.

“Scared?” he asks, his eyes finding hers.

“That you’ll leave me. That you’ll just realize how much of a mess I am and go.” she feels her tears pick up again, her openness came at a cost.

“Baby.” he coos. “I would never.” Again his words sound sincere, and she feels her entire body warm. She can’t help the fact that she’s crying.

“It’s just what i’m used to.” she sighs, wiping at the tears. “I’m used to being shut down when I try to speak my mind… to any guy I’ve come close to being with. I’m used to being told my insecurities aren’t valid. I’m used to being told my worries aren’t valid. So when I worry about you, and you shut me off that’s what I go to.”

“I’m sorry.” he sighs, his hand slowly gracing the sides of her face. Through blurry vision, she finds his eyes and feels like everything is alright.

“It’s not your fault.” she half-chuckles, and sighs. “My brain just goes there, so I shut down. I just feel everything so intensely that I need to hear some assurance.”

“I’ll do that for you.” he nods. “I- I’ll always do that for you.” he kisses her forehead, and tilts her chin up before placing a kiss on her lips. Her hands find his wrists, that are holding her head in place. She felt better already, calm. He places his forehead to hers, his hands dropping to run down her back, bringing her closer into him. She felt the closest she’d ever been to him. Like the perfect ending to her perfect day, he says something she had been dying to hear. “I love you.” he says, softly. Quiet but strong. She could feel her heart rate rise as she took it in. “You don’t have to say it back, I just- You said you think people should say how they’re feeling and I’m feeling it. I’m really feeling that right now, like everywhere. I’ve never been so open and-“ he started rambling, becoming tense, his hands beginning to flail. She giggled.

“No.” she hummed, “I love you, Joe.” He instantly relaxed, melting into her and she did him. He practically pounced, kissing her more deeply than in the moments before. Then all over her face, leaving her a giggling happy mess.

Of course, her mind starts racing. The feeling that everything was to perfect and good to be true, came flooding in. She pushed it away, as joe’s lips moved down her neck. She had other things to worry about now.

…

The next morning was a mix of emotion, partly sad to be leaving his family, partly joyful to be starting this next chapter in her relationship with Joe. She hoped to be coming back for Christmas. Their ride back toward home was mostly quiet. Comfortably.

“I do have something planned for us.” he says, once they get closer to the city part of New York.

“What is it!?” she asks, she was trying to keep herself composed but she was excited.

“You’ll see soon enough.” he laughs. She pouts, though a smile spreads across her face.

It was only about 30 minutes that led them in front of a hotel, and he ushered her out of the car after grabbing their bags. The hotel was like something you’d see in a movie and she marveled at the place. As always, Joe would take her hand and pull her along with him. After checking in they went off to find their beautiful room.

Selene was greeted by a bouquet of beautiful sunflowers, though out of season, they were still beautiful and big. Again she felt like she could cry, just from the joy she felt. Joe watched as she moved around in wonder, taking in the fresh space they were in. A curtain covering a big window was thrown open with a view of the city below them. She squealed and squeaked at everything including the giant tub, that she immediately jumped into and sat in. She only jumped out to check how comfortable the giant king sized bed was. She threw herself on it, her arms reaching out for Joe who still watched her, a smile glued to his face.

“I take it that you like it.” he raises a brow.

“This trash heap of a place.” she scoffs, “Absolutely not.” she muses, and he chuckles, grabbing at her. She struggles to get out of his grip, failing and being pulled in. “This place is a dump!” she continues laughing hysterically as he got a good hold, climbing on top of her the two of them struggling to catch their breath. Eventually they start to calm down. She can’t help but gaze up at him. She didn’t know what to call how she felt as he gazed back at her. She could best describe it as being in love. She sighed, reaching up to touch his always soft face, taking him in. Her heart racing as it always did when he looked at her that way. Like he was in love with her too. Then it dropped, for just a second he looked upset, and her brows furrowed. “Wha-What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” he sighed, his face going to a half smile. “I just… really love you.” he said, she smiles, bringing him in for a kiss. “As much as I’d rather stay here in bed all day and night with you, I have a few things planned for you.” he slowly moves off her. “So get ready. Wear that dress I made you pack, I’ll be right here.” He looks down at his phone, “You got two hours to get all dolled up.” he says, his hands falling behind his head. She groaned.

“Men have it so easy.” she pouted sitting up. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather…” she stood up, beginning to pull at her top, a suggestive look prominent on her face. He pouted out his lips, his eyes squinted

“Tempting, angel.” he muses, “Now go get ready.” she scoffs, but heads off toward the bathroom closing the door before starting her beauty routine.

When she finally finished and entered the hotel room she was greeted by the same loving gaze from Joe and she blushed at it, as he stood up. He looked good in his black button down, and she moved toward him. She tried to pretend like the way he looked, and the way he looked at her wasn’t getting to her. Like it wasn’t making her heart race and her skin heat.

“We still have about 30 minutes if you wanna…” she muses, nodding toward the bed. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“You look really beautiful… and again… tempting.” he kissed her forehead before they turned to go a little earlier than planned.

Dinner was at a fancier than usual italian restaurant that Joe had reservations for. It was a dimly lit spot with beautifully set tables. It was romantic and she got butterflies holding his hand being escorted to their table. Dinner was delicious and she settled for penne and vodka sauce, while he got a hand made personal pizza. They shared anyway and drank a lot of wine. They even got a glass of champagne for each of them.

Following dinner was desert at an un-fancy ice cream parlor, in which a group of teens took what felt like forever to order. Joe and Selene walked hand in hand, eating their ice cream and happily talking about their night. Of course they people watched, and giggled together and he held her close to him as they made their way toward the hotel.

It was a romantic night, and though selene didn’t want it to end she was content with being back in the hotel room alone with Joe. That’s when slow kisses started, just taking in one another. Soft sighs and more “i love you”s. Selene was most excited about the giant tub with jets.

They both settled in the hot water with glasses of Strawberry champagne and candles lit. She had never experienced anything like it before. Her back pressed against his chest, they sat comfortably close. It was intimacy like she never imagined she’d have. She didn’t even care or want sex at that moment. She just wanted to stay close with him.

“Why me?” she asks, her insecurities peaking just a tad. “Why did i get so lucky?” she asks. His arms are wrapped around her and she lightly runs her hands over his arms.

“I’m the lucky one.” he says, “I love you.”

“How do you know?” she asks, “I mean, I know I love you. How do you know you love me?”

“So like… that first night we met, I was like… I need to know her. It was like an instant attraction. I’ve never felt that before.” he half chuckles. “I love how excited you get for small things… like when you spot the moon. You light up, and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

Silence. She was taking it all in, warming to the idea that maybe someone could love her for all her little quirks and things that she didn’t take into account. Like her excitement over the little things.

“I like that you listen to me.” she says, “When I get excited over these little things. You humor me when most wouldn’t.” he laughs and holds her tighter.

It was the perfect ending to her perfect night.

The cherry on top was climbing into bed together, warm and in love.

[honeyjimsfics]

Deep End

Another installment for Danny and Dash, this one taking place after “A Little Further.”  This is by far the most I’ve written.  Lots of Dash still being a powervers and being very convincing.  Also, I’m exhausted.

Danny let out a grateful sigh as he leaned against his locker.  “I mean, it’s just nice, ya know?  Getting in some quite time with the family gone?”

Tucker smiled, “I can believe that.  Another Ghost-Con, huh?”

He shrugged, “I guess.  This time in Wisconsin.  It’s just a get together of weird ghost fans, both the local and far out variety.  Mom and dad usually go just to try to sell their inventions and get more recognition in the ghost hunting community.”

“There’s a community?”  

“I guess.  Either way, it gets them out of the house for a few days.  Plus, Jazz decided to finally have a sleepover with her friends at their place.  Something about ‘enjoying my youth while I still can.’  Eh, I mostly think she’s just doing it so she has something to write about in her college essays.  So now I get a whole night to myself!”

“Huh, so anything planned for tonight?” Tucker asked.

“Not much, might just veg out, get a couple hours in on DOOMED, maybe order in some food from-”  

“Hey Fenturd!”

Oh no.  Danny’s face winced as he heard the voice.  He knew who it belonged to.  The same guy that turned his knees to pudding.  The same guy who’s face he couldn’t get out his head for a whole week after their last hallway encounter.  The same guy he couldn’t believe that he’d been messing and kissing around with.  He turned around to see Dash Baxter making a path towards him wearing his usual red letterman jacket and jeans.  Danny gulped.  Please don’t do anything weird in front of Tucker.  Come on Dash, don’t be that cruel.  “H-hey Dash,” he replied apprehensively.

“Aw why the long face?  Can’t I see my favorite dork every once and a while?” he asked as he heavily patted Danny’s shoulder.

“Heh heh, yeah...”  Danny said avoiding eye contact.  Jeez, he’s just touching my shoulder, why the hell am I getting warm?

“Now don’t get your panties in a bunch Fenton,” he teased.  “I’m just here to return your sister’s book, she left it at my place when she tutored me last week.”

Danny looked down towards Dash’s hands, there was indeed an algebra book in his grip.  Oh thank god.  “O-oh!  I’ll make sure Jazz gets this back.”

The book immediately fell from Dash’s hands to the floor, slamming to the ground with an emphatic thud.  “Oops, my bad Fenton.  Hahahaha!”  As Dash sidestepped from Danny, he grabbed Tucker’s hat and brought it down on his face.  “Good to see you too Tucker.  Heh!”  Dash then left down the hallway, high-fiving a nearby jock who managed to capture their whole encounter.

Tucker angrily rearranged his hat, “God, what a jerk.  Can’t you just zap him or something?  Just once?”

“No Tucker,” he replied as he picked up the book.  “No ghost powers on humans.  Not even Dash.”  Danny then noticed a bit of paper was sticking out from the algebra book, clearly a scrap from a notebook or something.  Opening the book he realized it was a note.

It was from Dash.

Lamppost at 3:30 sharp.  Don’t be late!

He wants me to meet him after school?  Why?  What?  What??

“What’s that Danny?”

Tucker’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.  “Eh-what?  Oh, uh, just some equations my sister had him do,” he said, closing the book.

“Oh, hah, what, did he get most of them wrong?”

“Ha, yeah.  L-like half of them.”

“Man, your sister has her work cut out for her,” Tucker said as they both began to make their way to class.

“Yup, heh.”  Me too...

The rest of the school day seemed to flutter by in a breeze, Danny being mostly preoccupied by his thoughts of Dash.  What could he even want from me?  Danny quickly turned red and shook his head.  Ugh, besides that.  I mean, there is no way I’m doing anything in front of the school!  Outside!  That’s just, I mean, he would never ask that, right?  As the school bell rang its final bell, Danny gathered his things and headed to the school’s library.  Sigh, might as well catch up on the homework, it’s only 2:30, I got some time.  As he entered the library he quickly settled in a nearby desk, pulling out several papers and books and tried to focus as much as he could at the non-Dash related problems at hand.  Several pencil scribbles and page flips later, he stared in confusion at one particular passage.  Confusingly trying to decipher what the author’s symbolism could be, he glanced at the clock on the wall.  What?!  It’s 3:38?  Shit!  Shoving all his belongings back into his bag he rushed to the front of the school and out to the front steps.  Bursting through the doors he gasped for air.  Scanning the air, he hoped to see no sign of a red letterman jacket.  

He had no such luck.

Danny saw Dash quietly leaning against the lamppost, arms crossed as he stared out towards the street.  Oddly enough, he wasn’t wearing his usual red jacket.  A duffle bag laid at his feet, with one of the sleeves of his jacket peeking though the zipper.  With out the sleeves to cover him up, Dash looked bigger, his arms no longer confined beneath a thick fabric.  Danny let the thought pass and trudged up to the lamppost.  “Uh, hey Dash.”

Dash stared straight ahead.  “You’re late.”

Danny’s stomach dropped, “S-sorry.  I was doing homework in the library and lost track of time.”  He hoped his excuse was reasonable enough.

Dash looked down at him for a moment, his brows furrowed in a knot.  He grimaced, “Whatever Fenton.”  He picked up his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “Come on,” he said behind him as he started to walk away.

Danny just stood there.   “Huh?”

Dash turned around, “What, you need me to hold you’re hand?  Come on already Fenton.”

“But where are we going?”

“My truck, where else?  Come on, I gotta throw my stuff into the back, hate lugging this stuff around,” he said as he shifted the duffle along his shoulders.  “I’m starving, so hurry it up.”

“Uh, ok,” he said, shuffling along side Dash.  Where the hell is this going?  Starving?  Wait, does that mean...  Oh jeez.  The two walked in relative silence as they made their way to the school’s parking lot.  Few cars were around, save for a couple staff cars huddled in a far corner.  Dash’s car seemed to be the only’s student car in the lot. Reaching the truck, Dash clicked open the driver side door, moving the seat aside to shove his duffle bag behind it.  Danny stood silently in front of the hood.  “Umm...”

“Ya know, the doors are open now.  You can go inside,” he said not bothering to look at Danny as he moved his duffle around.

“Oh.  Uh, ok.”  Danny opened the car door and hoisted himself inside.  The truck’s interior was relatively plain and clean, except for the papers and food wrappers scattered on the floor.  Everything else seemed made it seem like a car fresh from the factor except for the little plastic football glued to the dashboard.  Dash hopped into the car and slammed the door shut.  He looked at Danny and said nothing.

Danny swallowed the saliva in his throat, “Um, what are we doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing, Fenton?” Dash replied, his voice thick with intent.  He swung his arm over the passenger side headrest.  

Danny reddend, “O-oh.  Uh, um...Ok.”  Well, at least you’re sitting down this time.  And it’s sorta private...   Danny reached down and started to unzip his pants.

Dash burst out laughing, “Jeez Fenton!  What, didn’t get enough of my mouth last week?  Man, you should see your face!  Priceless.”

“I-wh-what?” Danny stuttered.

“Relax.  I ain’t gonna have you for lunch again.  Well, at least not here.  Pretty sure I pushed my luck to the limit last week.  Surprised no one caught us with you being so loud.”

“I wasn’t being loud!”

Dash side glanced at him, “Sure you weren’t.  Besides, I told ya I was gonna share with you, right?  So I was thinking of more of a...home meal?”  His smile widened.

“Wha...What?!  You mean your house!?”

“No dork, I mean your house.  My parents are home all the time unless it’s for one of my games.  And the hallway has its charms, sure.  But being able to fuck around with you in your own bed?  Make sure that every time you sleep in it you can’t stop thinking about what you did?  Oh, yeah, definitely your bed.”

The thought of Dash being under his covers, his bed filled with Dash’s scent burned him from the inside out.   “N-no way!  My parents are h-home all the time, just like yours!  What makes you think they wouldn’t notice?”

Dash just let out quite sigh.  “Fenton, I know you’re parents are gone for the weekend.”

Shit.  “H-how did you-”

“Your sister, remember?  She’s been tutoring me and during one of her insanely hard equations, she off handedly told me her parents were gone for the week for something about a weirdo convention and her one chance to regain her youth, or blah blah blah.  Look, either way, your sister isn’t home.  Your parents aren't home.  You’ve got a house all to yourself.”

Darn it Jazz!  “That doesn’t mean I want you to come over!”

The jock let out a groan.  “Really Fenton?  This argument, again?  How many times do we have to do this?  How many times do we have to make out in the hallways?  How many times do I have to experience you sticking your tongue down my throat first and swinging your little arms my neck?  How many times do I have to have your cock down my throat and you clearly pushing my head down to the frigging base?”  

Danny shut his eyes.  You don’t have to describe it like that...

Dash cupped Danny’s cheek with his hand.  It was rough and warm.  “You want me.  Just as badly as I’ve been wanting you.”

“Dash, you, you want me?”  Is he really saying these words?

The jock let his hand drop and sighed.  “It’s been a long freaking week Fenton and I have been dying to kiss you and push you up against the lockers again.  But we were pretty wild last time.  Figure a couple of days to get your breath would be good.  Gotta say, I’m pretty pent up.  Pretty sure you are to.  Seen the way you’ve been fidgeting in the hallways every time you see me.”

“Well, what do you expect?  It’s not like I can act calm around you anymore.”

“Ha, exactly!  I can’t either!  I just keep wanting more and more with you and I know for damn sure you do to.  That’s why you have a golden opportunity here Fenton.  So what do you say?  Want an after school snack?” Dash smirked.

Danny winced.  Ugh, he’s so awful.  But...Is it that bad to really just admit that I really having sex with him?  He looked towards Dash, his eyebrows were raised as if he already knew the answer.  To just let go and admit I want this jock of an asshole...ugh.  I can’t believe myself.  Danny let out a long sigh and looked out his window.  “I guess some...food wouldn’t be too bad right now.”  God, I really shouldn’t have said that, that was way too cheese-

Dash suddenly clasped Danny’s head in his hands and turned him towards himself.  His lips met Danny’s in a rough grind before pulling apart an inch or two.  “God, I’m so freaking hard right now, you have no idea,” he said in a low growl.  He then returned back to the driver seat and took in a calming breath.  With a twist of his keys, the engine coughed to life.  “Alright then, food at Fenton’s,” he laughed.

Danny coughed, “Um, ok.”

“Oh and Fenton?”  Dash’s voice was soft and quiet.

“Y-yeah?”

He smiled, “Put on your seatbelt loser.  I’m not getting ticket because you’re busy daydreaming about my cock.”

Danny’s face reddened as he scoffed.  He clicked the belt into place, “Jerk,” he said with a chuckle.  Dash just laughed again as they drove out of the parking lot.  

A few red lights later the arrived at Danny’s house, the red bricked building looking as obvious as ever with the ops center jutting out from the top.  Dash parked along the side of the street and turned his car off with a click of his keys.  “Man Fenton, your house still as crazy looking as ever,” Dash commented as he stepped out his truck.  

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before Dash,” Danny quipped as he grabbed his pack and started towards the front door.  He fumbled with his keys for a moment before opening it.   “It’s not much but this is the living roommph!” 

Wasting no time, Dash quickly shut the door behind them and immediately started kissing Danny.  Darting his tongue inside Danny’s mouth, Dash let out a quiet growl as he stepped closer to him, closing the distance between the two to only a few inches.  

Jeez, he sure is in a frigging hurry!  Breaking the kiss, Danny caught his breath.  “Can’t, can’t you slow it down for once?”

“Like I said.  Long week.  Where’s your room?”

“Ahh, it’s um, upstairs.”

“Well then, lead on Fenton.”  Dash eased his grip on Danny’s arms and instead let his hand form a solid hold on Danny’s hand.  

Danny blushed, “Gah, um...”

“God, you are so easy.  Knew this would get you all flustered.  You like that classic shit, huh?  Well, I’ll hold on to your hand and you lead me to your room, how’s that?”

Danny just looked away, “S-shut up.  Come on, it’s this way.”  The jock snickered quietly as the two headed up the stairs.  Danny couldn’t help the stray thought invade his mind.  His hands are really warm.  I mean, I’ve felt them before but this is...nice.  Lord, I’m pathetic.  Dash almost reading his mind gave his palm a light squeeze.  Letting the need to let out a small squeal pass, Danny lead the way to his room’s door.  “Uh, welcome to my room, I guess.”  

Pushing open the door, Dash quietly stepped inside and took in the scene.  A few space posters littered Danny’s wall, beneath which was a simple wire frame bed with a trunk at the foot of it.  A mostly cleared desk was off to the side and despite a few clothing items scattered along the floor the room was clean.  “Not bad, Fenton.  Plain and simple.  Like you.”  

Ignoring the obvious jab, Danny turned around the close the door behind them. “Yeah, thanks for the compliment Dash.  Didn’t think you could be so nice.”  As Danny turned his attention back to Dash, the jock somehow managed to already get on top of his bed without making a single noise.   

He was stretched out on his bed, filling most the space with his large body.  His head leaned against Danny’s pillows which were propped up against the steel bars of the frame.  He let out a sigh as his hand started to grope his cock through his jeans.  Dash lazily glanced towards Danny as he stretched and wriggled into a comfortable position.   “Well, what are you waiting for?  Come and get it.”

Danny gulped.  Seeing Dash taking up so much space on his bed, it made the jock seem so much bigger than he actually is.  The way he laid on his sheets his black shirt had already risen up a bit revealing a light blond treasure trail that disappeared beneath his denim.  Ok, that is way too much for me.  He looks like straight out of some porno or something.  Danny tentatively walked to the side of the bed, considering what he should do first.   Biting his lip and hoping he made the right decision, he let his hand graze and feel Dash’s stomach, each of the jock’s wispy hairs soft the touch.  Dash’s breath came out low and slow as he stared lustfully towards Danny.  I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt him like this before.  Usually my hands are wrapped around his neck holding on for dear life or pressed up against the lockers, I never get a chance to feel what he feels like.  He’s so smooth...  

“For fuck’s sake Fenton, how the hell are your hands so goddamn soft?  Like silk, man,” Dash said through gritted teeth.  The young man let Danny feel his stomach a bit more before becoming a bit impatient.  “That all you gonna do, Fenton?”

“Um... I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”  Really, I hadn’t.  

“Ya know, I think you can get a better feel if you were more like this.”  The jock grabbed Danny by the waist and threw him over himself.  Suddenly, Danny was straddling the young man, his hands on his pecs and Dash’s on his ass.  “See?  You can feel a lot more like this.  Just like I can,” he said as his began to fondle his butt.

Holy crap, I’m on top of Dash Baxter.  He’s in my bed.  He’s grabbing my ass.  How the hell are any of these sentences true?  “Y-yeah, you’re right,” he said absentmindedly.

“Well, come on.  Keep it up.  Feels nice you groping me like this.  Finally getting some in return.”  

Danny’s breath was heavy, he could barely think straight with the well toned jock beneath him.  Get a grip Danny!  Just calm down and go with it.   Steeling his nerves, he did his best to even his voice.  “Dash, can I, um, take off your shirt?”

“Pssh, don’t have to ask me twice.  Go ahead.  Undress me, Fenton.”  Dash’s last words were a mix between a dare and an order.  Danny followed suit.  Gripping the black fabric Danny lifted the young man’s shirt over his head and tossed it to the side revealing a well toned body.  A few years of football and training and some added fine genetics had left Dash’s body in prime condition.  His pecs were full and smooth and his shoulders were well defined, like he was chiseled out of marble.  His nipples were two delicious looking pieces of flesh, both hard from excitement.  Such definition had given him a strong V shape, as if his entire body was an arrow leading straight to his dick.  There was hardly any hair on him save for his fine trail of hair coming from his crotch.  Dash smiled, “Like what you see, Fenton?”

Danny could hardly speak, it was as if his mind was a dial tone at this point.  He simply nodded his head.  He let his hands continue to roam Dash’s chest, feeling every curve and mound.  His fingers brushed up against the jock’s nipples more than once, eliciting a few winces and inhales from Dash.  “Watch it Fenton, you’re gonna get more than you bargained for if you keep that up.”  

Like I’m not already over in my head at this point.   Danny took it as a challenge as he bravely pinched Dash’s nipples, giving each one a gentle twist.  Dash let out a low groan as he shut his eyes and threw his head back.  

“You fucker...” he said with a low growl.  “It’s your turn Fenton.”  Deviously, Dash grabbed the back of Danny’s shirt and hoisted it over his head, pulling him through and tossing the shirt across the room.  

Embarrassed, Danny covered himself with his arms.  “Dash!  Ask first or something!”

“Haha, what?  This is what gets you embarrassed?  You’ve done far worse.  Hell, I’ve done far worse.”

“It’s not that!  It’s just, I’m not as impressive as you,” Danny admitted.  You’re like a Roman solider or something, as if you didn’t already know.

The young man shrugged.  “No you’re not.  Doesn’t mean you aren’t still cute to me.”  Dash propped himself up so Danny was straddling his lap.

Dash reddend at his words.  Cute, really Dash?

“Wow, didn’t think your whole body turns red when you’re embarrassed.  Now that’s cute,” he said as he played with Danny’s butt again.  

“You are the absolute worst,” Danny spat as he wriggled from Dash’s gropes.

“Yeah yeah, I know.  Now come on, you’ve seen me shirtless.  Let me see what I’m working with.”  Danny sighed.  Reluctantly, he let his arms rest at his sides.  Dash let out a small whistle, “Fucking hell Fenton, looking good.  Small, sure, but damn are you smooth.  And sexy.”  Dash let his large hands roam Danny’s chest.  His hands alone almost spanning the whole width.  

Sexy, really?  God, why does his voice have to drop so low when he talks like this, it’s too much.  “You’re just saying that...”

“Am I now?  Would I just say that if I didn’t want to do this?”  Leaning forward and pushing Danny back a bit, Dash took Danny’s nipple into his mouth, flicking it and kissing it in a hungry attack.  

Fuck that feels so weird!  It’s like each lick is going all over my body!  “Dash!  Please, slow it down a bit!  It’s too much!  Ahh!”  Feeling warm and lightheaded, Danny kept on letting out moans with every lick and every twist.  The heat of Dash’s breath kept Danny completely on edge as he let out a warm breath on his nipple before giving it a soft bite.  The slight twinges of pain sending signals straight to his cock saying I want more.

“Heh, told you were gonna get some.”  Letting his hand drift to Danny’s crotch, Dash began to grope him through his denim, teasing and feeling the length of his cock.  “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, huh?”

“Unf, I g-guess you could say that.”  Damn it, his hands feel just as good as last time.  

“Well, can’t let you have all the fun now.”  Reading Danny from his clutches, Dash laid back down on the bed, settling his head on the frame as Danny straddled him once again.  The young man smirked as he unzipped his fly and let his crotch finally meet air.  

Oh fuck.  

HIs cock was securely in place in a white jockstrap, practically bulging from beneath the fabric.  While not entirely hard like Danny, he was clearly at half mast, causing his package to look particularly hefty.  Everything about it seem in proportion, albeit slightly big.  His balls alone seemed like there were barely contained by the underwear.  “It’s my turn Fenton.”

Jeez, does everything on him have to be big? It’s like he has a softball stuffed in there!  Danny could feel his heart race as Dash gazed at him, his eyes telling him what to do.  “You want me to uh, touch you?”  Danny struggled to make sure his voice didn’t crack.

“Yeah, Fenton.  I want you to touch me.  I want you to feel me in your hands.”  Dash’s voice came out soft and commanding, like an enchantment.  

Danny could only obey.  “O-ok.”  Laying himself down between Dash’s thighs, Danny was only inches away from Dash’s crotch.  Ok, ok, calm down you got this.  Dash did this to you and it felt great.  So how hard could it be?  Gulping nervously, began by letting his hands glide up the jock’s thighs.  Dash responded in a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.  So far so good.  Grazing his fingers up to the young man’s crotch, he let his thumbs brush up just behind Dash’s balls.  

“Unf, fuck Fenton.  Knew your hands would feel good there.  Keep on going.”

Hey, maybe I’m not so bad at this.  Feeling encouraged, Danny crept closer to Dash’s cock and groped it with his hands.  He could feel the heat emanating from it and the pure heft of it in his palm, it made Danny whimper with lust.  

Dash just let out a quick huff and smiled, “Fucking finally.  Like that feel, Fenton?”

Danny nodded diligently as he placed a small kiss on the cock just before giving it a slight lick.  While the fabric of the jockstrap was rough against his tongue, he could not deny the excitement building up in his chest.  Millions of thoughts were running through he mind at that moment but only one seemed to stand out among them.  

I really want to see his cock.

Giving in to his lust, Danny pulled aside the jockstrap freeing the cock beneath.  While the same length as his own, it was easily twice as thick with a pair of balls to match.  The head was a nice light pink color and it already had a small drop of pre coming at the tip.  Let his thirst overwhelm him, Danny pressed his face along the length of Dash’s cock, breathing in Dash’s scent and letting his tongue lap at his balls. 

“Holy fuck, Fenton!  Didn’t realize how fucking hungry you were.”  Dash then placed his hand on Danny’s head, his fingers running through his hair.  “Though this isn’t a bad look on you, I gotta say.”

That feels...oddly nice.  Comforting, even.  Relishing the moment, Danny moved his attention from the jock’s balls to his dick.  Brushing his lips along the length, Dash tensed from his touch.  He then trailed his tongue from one side to the other, lapping up the precome that was already leaking from earlier.  It coated his mouth with a slightly salty film, but it only made him want more.  Dash was now fully erect, his cock laying stiffly along his stomach.  Gripping it slightly, Danny began to stroke the young man, his other hand gently playing with his balls.  Dash moaned in response, grinding his hips in time with Danny’s strokes.    Seeing him feeling so good, it feels...rewarding somehow?  Like, I want him to feel good.  I want to know that I’m the one who makes him feel like this.  Is this what he felt last time?  After a few more strokes, Danny began to lick at the head of Dash’s cock, squeezing out a few more drops of precome in the process.  Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Danny took the head into his mouth, guiding it as best he could with his tongue.

“Fuck that’s warm.  Feels real nice, Fenton.  Real nice.”  Dash’s body seemed to completely relax in Danny’s hands, as he settled into the bed more.  

Only taking in a few inches, Danny began to bob up and down, savoring the taste of the young jock as he let his hand make up the rest of the work.  God, does he have to be so freaking thick?  My jaw already is getting sore and it’s only been a few minutes!  Letting it pop out of his mouth for a second, Danny focused on the base, letting his tongue trial a circle following the hairs gracing it.  “Dash...” Danny moaned as he began to touch himself though his pants.   

“Yeah, you like that don’t ya?  The taste of my cock in your mouth, the scent of my crotch?”  Dash’s voice was filled with smugness.  

Danny helplessly nodded his head.  Has me in the palm of his hands, literally.  I don’t think I mind that anymore now.  Taking the cock back into his mouth, continued his motion from earlier, only now trying to take a little more each time.  The furthest it seemed he could take was three inches into his mouth.  

“Come on, Fenton.  I know you can take more than that.  What, need a little encouragement?”  Dash then tightened his grip on Danny’s hair and thrusted forward, jamming his cock down his throat.  He held him firmly in place for a few seconds.  

Danny slapped Dash’s leg repeatedly.  Air damnit!  I need air!  Finally releasing him, Danny gasped and gulped for his breath.  “D-damnit Dash...” 

“Hah!  Need a break already, Fenton?  I was able to deep throat you just fine last time.  What, my cock too big or your skills too weak?  Which is itmmmph!”

Silencing his insults, Danny quickly kissed him causing Dash to taste his own precome which still coated Danny’s mouth.  “You’re such an asshole” he said through gritted teeth.  

Dash smiled, “Heh, yeah I am.  Now how are you gonna shut me up?” he dared.

Accepting the challenge, Danny shimmied the rest his body up to Dash’s chest, resting his legs on either side.  Saying nothing he unzipped his pants and took his cock out from his underwear and presented it squarely in front of his face.  With this, you jerk.

Dash smiled deviously, “That’ll work.”  Greedily, Dash took the cock into his mouth, eagerly slurping it down his mouth.  

The sensations ran all over Danny’s body, his entire being feeling like static.  With every movement of Dash’s head, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.  God, it feels just like last time.  So warm and inviting.  I just wanna go deeper and deeper.  Steeling himself and closing his eyes, he gripped the head frame of his bed and began thrusting into Dash’s mouth.   A muffled “Fuck yeah” escaped from Dash’s mouth before being replaced by more slurping noises.  Dash began to stroke himself as his mouth continued to get fucked by Danny, pre dripping down the side of his cock.  Holding onto the back of Dash’s head, Danny upped his speed, thrusting faster and faster.  Beads of sweat began to fall from his forehead as his body trembled and ached for release.  Barely opening his eyes, he glanced down towards Dash.  His face was flushed with lust as he saw him hungrily take in his cock.  The sight was too much.   “Dash, I’m gonna!  Fuck!”  He let the word hand in the air as he thrusted one last time down Dash’s throat, unloading his come.  He held Dash’s face close to his crotch as felt his cock spasm, once, twice, then finally letting go as the final white rope spurt and filled the young man’s mouth.  “Dash...” he moaned weakly.

Gulping down the cum in one go Dash licked his lips.  “We ain’t done yet, Fenton.  I’m fucking close and you are not missing one drop.  So get back down there,” he commanded.

Still hazy from the release, Danny obeyed and brought himself back to Dash’s cock.  Opening his mouth, he panted as he waited for Dash’s release.

“Here we go, Fenton!  Take it all in fucker!”  Gripping Danny’s head, Dash brought his open mouth right over his cock.  Suddenly, thick white ropes of cum shot from it, spattering Danny’s cheek.  Quickly maneuvering, Danny took the cock into his mouth and it was then thoroughly coated in white.  Pulling him down, Dash thrusted a few times into him, each time another shot of cum.  Danny gulped down what he could before releasing Dash’s cock from his mouth.  He cursed, “Fucking hell, Fenton.”

Exhausted, Danny rested his head in Dash’s lap for a moment.  He looked up at Dash to see him totally lost in bliss.  Huh, not bad for a first time.  Pulling himself together, he brought himself back up to Dash’s face, pausing only for a moment before kissing him.  It seemed to break the young man from his stupor as he laughed.  

“Looks like you missed some.”  He then licked away the shot of cum still on Danny’s face and gave him a small kiss.  “So, what do you say?  You still hungry?”

Danny just laughed as he settled into Dash’s chest, cuddling closer towards him.  He’s still an asshole.  “No, I’m full thanks.  Also, can we drop this metaphor now?  It’s been stupid for awhile.”

Wrapping his arm around Danny’s slight frame, he brought him closer.  “Oh a cuddler, huh?  Figures.  And sure, no more food innuendos.”

“What, what’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing.  Nothing at all,” the young man replied.

Danny scoffed as he nuzzled his face into Dash’s neck, “Well alright then.”  Maybe this isn’t so bad.  Maybe this will be just fine.  The two closed their eyes and shared a moment of exhausted bliss.  Which was then immediately broken. 

“Danny my boy!  We’re home!” Jack’s voice yelled.

Danny’s eyes bursted open.  Shit!  The hell are they doing here so early?!

Dash’s whole body tensed, “Fenton, what the hell.”

“Ghost convention was bust, had to leave early.  Just a bunch of fake ghost researchers in jumpsuits.  But hey, look at this new gadget we made on the way back!”  The voice boomed from below but stomping footsteps up the stairs didn’t make it seem it was staying down there.

Dash was in panic, “Fuck!  Fenton, what are we gonna do?!”

Well, we’re half naked in my bed, our cocks are still out, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing we can do...except...  Swearing a thousands curses in his head, Danny calmly took Dash’s face in his hands.  “Don’t make a sound.”

“Wait, what?”

Danny immediately turned the both of them invisible the second his dad threw the door open.  “Danny!  Huh, he’s not here.  Eh, maybe he’s at Tucker’s.  Jeez, kid needs to clean up in here.  His shirts are just on the floor and it reeks of sweat.  Told him to keep tidy while we were gone.  Ah well.”  Jack then left the room with a slam of the door.   

The two of them kept as quiet as they could as they heard a few pairs of footsteps fall further and further away, presumably into the basement.  Letting their breath go, Danny dropped the invisibility cloaking the both of them.  “That was a close one, huh?”  he said trying to calm the mood.

“Fenton.  Why couldn’t your dad see us?” Dash’s voice was quiet and controlled.

“Um...”

“Fenton, your dad isn’t blind, I know that for sure.  So why couldn’t he see us.”

“Uh...”

“FENTON.”  Dash’s eyes were livid.  

 Well, fuck.  This is gonna be fun. 

[ohsweetjoy]

ONE

Mostly written before Waverly was almost ONE

Ramblings in hopes to remember..

When they told me that sleep is developmental, I really didn’t understand. Shortly after Waverly turned 9 months old, I began to understand. 6-9 months were one of the harder seasons for sleeping. She always needed someone there so we did rotations so I could have a moment to myself. But then, she rolled away from me in a short 15 minutes. I didn’t know if I should just get up or lay there for her to roll back. Our bed incessantly woke her up. We finally got a better bed but should of done that sooner. She began sleeping independently a little more and I began to understand what sleep is developmental meant. It was such a growing leap from 9 to 10 months.

Though I haven’t even written about 6-9 months.. Six was October. I need to reread what I wrote..

Ok now writing like I’m talking to Waverly because its what my brain is doing..

You still are putting ‘snacks’ in your mouth.. fuzz, leaves, pine needles left from Christmas, yes I do vacuum once a week, my hair, actual snacks.. You held on to me for the first time and it was captured in a photo (b&w one below). A level of attachment that was very foreign to me.

You began sitting up unassisted and that was great as I could set you down versus propping you in a box or with two boppys and a blanket. I am scouring my brain to remember what you were doing. I didn’t write down things enough. I took pictures, lots of them.. This day and age where you will have a photo for every day.. maybe even videos. We survived a women’s retreat hauling too many things for the possible needs. I walked down the halls for your stroller naps. Still three naps then.

They grow up fast.. its an understatement. Warp speed ahead. You’ll be 20 before I know it. You began to go from sitting to being on your belly to back to sitting. And not really crawling but moving in circles. Your “Oh” was so cute. When I would hand you something – started with your doll The holidays were wonderful but now kind of a blur with the stressors of caring for Isaac and the dailys. We met new friends and took a break from some old ones, not that you even know them though. I miss those friends and I can only hope things can relax and you can meet more of the village, but maybe we moved. It’s hard to know what the right thing to do is. How to live… how to parent…

I feel that parenting you is healing me. Numb to love and care and getting into that is much more complicated.. My biggest prayer when I really held you for the first time was that I could love you. I did not do well at first.. Fighting against how I was raised and against cultural “norms” I believe you are the happy that you are because of how I respond. I want to be calm and gentle and that is not natural but it is much more comfortable to sit and explain something and even though you may not understand, you will. You are absorbing so much now..

We eat many meals together as you learn to chew better. Started at 7 mo with one meal at dinner and then adding 3 meals a day around 9 months.. now more snacks in between cause you want all my snacks. Trying so hard to be healthy but then we all eat our emotions. Many frustrating things in this world and it makes me sick and then some very personal things that push me back into the rush of following a social normalcy or not.. How I want to raise my kids in and out of the home goes against the grain of what many people think or want.. its vague and I’ll probably write about it all specifically later..

This is to be just a journaling of what you Waverly have been doing. How you have grown and changed so quickly and I cannot keep up.

So quickly went from just sitting to crawling to pulling to stand to wanting to be where brother is and he is basically running away from you. You love him so much and I hope he will love you too. Your attachment to me is still foreign but I have come to fully embrace it. I keep reminding myself how much of a privilege it is to be able to hold you for most of your naps. Contact naps. I never heard of the term until I learned that’s what we were doing everyday, unless a car nap.

Sicknesses.. at 6 mo and around 9/10 mo.. Thankfully they were mild but did require some good suctioning. Which you hated which was expected…

I suspect the flu from someone getting the flu mist or even someone going to the store when sick. A few days after having gone grocery shopping we were sick. A bad headache and congestion and a struggle to nurse at times because of congestion.. This was the start of bedtimes though because after going straight to bed for a few days, there was no more going to sleep on my lap downstairs. You became too aware. I would nurse you to sleep and try to leave but the springs in the bed would often wake you or your attachment. You got more teeth sooner than I expected which would increase your need to nurse or have someone with you.

At one point we had the dreaded c o v i d… a test showing antibodies to prove it as I refuse to get tested when we had the sickness.. A really bad sinus infection, but just one super bad day, and the cold over in a week.. Then the next month losing smell and taste the next month but with only some congestion and post nasal drip… I wonder if you lost you senses too? You really didn’t see phased at all. Lots of homeopathic remedies and baths which we learned we had to give you them during the day because they did not calm you down. There are remedies for cv! Losing senses for 6 days was obnoxious, but I am grateful for connections to many who know of a variety of remedies which helped. Regular chiropractor visits helped you to crawl better and not just drag your left leg with you or keep step crawling. Crawling so fast and everywhere leaving a trail of drool behind you. Molars are coming in and the waves of trying to bite me have risen. Lots of teething tablets and frozen fruit filled teethers help.

When you see a face you wave and say “hi”. It’s the cutest thing.. When I am asleep you went right next to my head and said hi.. I am not sure if that’s better than the sit up and “trust fall” back on me thing you were doing which you did do on my head once… usually your head on my belly as a pillow.

Lots about sleeping and eating.. trying to create a variety of meals and helping me to eat healthy.. We read books before bed and play with some toys. You love peek a boo but not in a normal form.. I think you like the words really and the silliness of how I come close and go far and again and again. We crawl around the ottoman and you are getting faster and faster. Now you walk with assistance and will be walking without it soon. Sunny days we try to go on walks.. even some rainy ones. Changes of plans sometimes break my thought process and we walk to the store and back in the rain. Good thing for waterproof covers and coats and how you can nap so easily in a car seat stroller.

You’ve learned to worship and raise your hands. You saw others and followed. And at that retreat for a day I felt the Holy Spirit thick presence like when I was in Africa. Hands raised and voices loud. God So Loved - Song by We the Kingdom It is a hard push to get socialization. I can’t just take you to the library for story time or drop in care so I can go swimming. A push for play dates, yet some too scared and others too busy. I am grateful for a solid group with many many kids. A beautiful normalcy in this chaotic upside-down world.

Will you and your brother get a long?

Isaac and Waverly are slowly almost becoming like twins and soon will swap roles, some already have.. It’s kind of weird. Isaac is developmentally about 18 months.. More or less depending on activity.. So the other day I was feeding Isaac puréed foods. And I handed Waverly a peeled apple so she can eat that and stop being so loud that was bothering Isaac.. I was on a walk the other day and someone asked me if they were twins. And unless somehow Isaac gets a growth spurt soon they’ll probably think that Waverly is older.

Getting outside as much as we can and hope to continue, though I am not counting the hours, 1000 hours outside sounds like a lot of fun. What more will you learn? What will you show me?

[gaysparklepires]

4. Visions

Read on AO3

I went back to school. This was the right thing to do, the most inconspicuous way to behave.

By the end of the day, almost all the other students had returned to class, too. Just Tyler and Beau and a few others—who were probably using the accident as a chance to ditch—remained absent.

It shouldn’t be so hard for me to do the right thing. But, all afternoon, I was gritting my teeth against the urge that had me yearning ditch, too—in order to go find the boy again.

Like a stalker. An obsessed stalker. An obsessed, vampire stalker.

School today was—somehow, impossibly—even more boring than it had seemed just a week ago. Coma-like. It was as if the color had drained from the bricks, the trees, the sky, the faces around me... I stared at the cracks in the walls.

There was another right thing I should be doing...that I was not. Of course, it was also a wrong thing. It all depended on the perspective from which you viewed it.

From the perspective of a Cullen—not just a vampire, but a Cullen, someone who belonged to a family, such a rare state in our world—the right thing to do would have gone something like this:

“I’m surprised to see you in class, Edward. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning.”

“Yes, I was, Mrs. Banner, but I was the lucky one.” A friendly smile. “I didn’t get hurt at all... I wish I could say the same for Tyler and Beau.”

“How are they?”

“I think Tyler is fine...just some superficial scrapes from the windshield glass. I’m not sure about Beau, though.” A worried frown. “He might have a concussion. I heard he was pretty incoherent for a while—seeing things even. I know the doctors were worried...”

That’s how it should have gone. That’s what I owed my family.

“I’m surprised to see you in class, Edward. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning.”

“I wasn’t hurt.” No smile.

Mrs. Banner shifted her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable.

“Do you have any idea how Tyler Crowley and Beau Swan are? I heard there were some injuries...”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Mrs. Banner cleared her throat. “Er, right...” she said, my cold stare making her voice sound a bit strained.

She walked quickly back to the front of classroom and began her lecture.

It was the wrong thing to do. Unless you looked at it from a more obscure point of view.

It just seemed so...so unchivalrous to slander the boy behind his back, especially when he was proving more trustworthy than I could have dreamed. He hadn’t said anything to betray me, despite having good reason to do so. Would I betray him when he had done nothing but keep my secret?

I had a nearly identical conversation with Mrs. Goff—just in Spanish rather than in English—and Emmett gave me a long look.

I hope you have a good explanation for what happened today. Roy is on the warpath.

I rolled my eyes without looking at him.

I actually had come up with a perfectly sound explanation. Just suppose I hadn’t done anything to stop the van from crushing the boy... I recoiled from that thought. But if he had been hit, if he’d been mangled and bleeding, the red fluid spilling, wasting on the blacktop, the scent of the fresh blood pulsing through the air...

I shuddered again, but not just in horror. Part of me shivered in desire. No, I would not have been able to watch him bleed without exposing us all in a much more flagrant and shocking way.

It was a perfectly sound excuse...but I wouldn’t use it. It was too shameful. And I hadn’t thought of it until long after the fact, regardless.

Look out for Jasper, Emmett went on, oblivious to my reverie. He’s not as angry...but he’s more resolved.

I saw what he meant, and for a moment the room swam around me. My rage was so all-consuming that a red haze clouded my vision. I thought I would choke on it.

JEEZ, EDWARD! GET A GRIP! Emmett shouted at me in his head. His hand came down on my shoulder, holding me in my seat before I could jump to my feet. He rarely used his full strength—there was rarely a need, for he was so much stronger than any vampire any of us had ever encountered—but he used it now. He gripped my arm, rather than pushing me down. If he’d been pushing, the chair under me would have collapsed.

EASY! He ordered.

I tried to calm myself, but it was hard. The rage burned in my head.

Jasper’s not going to do anything until we all talk. I just thought you should know the direction he’s headed.

I concentrated on relaxing, and I felt Emmett’s hand loosen.

Try not to make more of a spectacle of yourself. You’re in enough trouble as it is.

I took a deep breath and Emmett released me.

I searched around the room routinely, but our confrontation had been so short and silent that only a few people sitting behind Emmett had even noticed. None of them knew what to make of it, and they shrugged it off. The Cullens were freaks—everyone knew that already.

Damn, kid, you’re a mess, Emmett added, sympathy in his tone.

“Bite me,” I muttered under my breath, and I heard his low chuckle.

Emmett didn’t hold grudges, and I probably ought to be more grateful for his easy going nature. But I could see that Jasper’s intentions made sense to Emmett, that he was considering how it might be the best course of action.

The rage simmered, barely under control. Yes, Emmett was stronger than I was, but he’d yet to beat me in a wrestling match. He claimed that this was because I cheated, but hearing thoughts was just as much a part of who I was as his immense strength was a part of him. We were evenly matched in a fight.

A fight? Was that where this was headed? Was I going to fight with my family over a human I barely knew?

I thought about that for a moment, thought about the fragile feel of the boy’s body in my arms in juxtaposition with Jasper, Roy, and Emmett—supernaturally strong and fast, killing machines by nature...

Yes, I would fight for him. Against my family. I shuddered.

But it wasn’t fair to leave him undefended when I was the one who’d put him in danger.

I couldn’t win alone, though, not against the three of them, and I wondered who my allies would be.

Carlisle, certainly. He would not fight anyone, but he would be wholly against Roy’s and Jasper’s designs. That might be all I needed. I would see...

Esme, doubtful. She would not side against me either, and she would hate to disagree with Carlisle, but she would be for any plan that kept her family intact. Her first priority would not be rightness, but me. If Carlisle was the soul of our family, then Esme was the heart. He gave us a leader who deserved following; she made that following into an act of love. We all loved each other—even under the fury I felt toward Jasper and Roy right now, even planning to fight them to save the boy, I knew that I loved them.

Alice... I had no idea. It would probably depend on what she saw coming. She would side with the winner, I imagined.

So, I would have to do this without help. I wasn’t a match for them alone, but I wasn’t going to let the boy be hurt because of me. That might mean evasive action...

My rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humor. I could imagine how the boy would react to my kidnapping him. Of course, I rarely guessed his reactions right—but what other reaction could he have besides terror?

I wasn’t sure how to manage that, though—kidnapping him. I wouldn’t be able to stand being close to him for very long. Perhaps I would just deliver him back to his mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For him.

And also for me, I realized suddenly. If I were to kill him by accident... I wasn’t certain exactly how much pain that would cause me, but I knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

The time passed quickly while I mulled over all the complications ahead of me: the argument waiting for me at home, the conflict with my family, the lengths I might be forced to go to afterward...

Well, I couldn’t complain that life outside this school was monotonous any more. Beau Swan had changed that much.

Emmett and I walked silently to the car when the bell rang. He was worrying about me, and worrying about Royal. He knew whose side he would have to choose in a quarrel, and it bothered him.

The others were waiting for us in the car, also silent. We were a very quiet group. Only I could hear the shouting.

Idiot! Lunatic! Moron! Jackass! Selfish, irresponsible fool! Royal kept up a constant stream of insults at the top of his mental lungs. It made it hard to hear the others, but I ignored him as best I could.

Emmett was right about Jasper. He was sure of his course.

Alice was troubled, worrying about Jasper, flipping through images of the future. No matter which direction Jasper came at the boy, Alice always saw me there, blocking him. Interesting...neither Royal nor Emmett was with him in these visions. So Jasper planned to work alone. That would even things up.

Jasper was the best, certainly the most experienced fighter among us. My one advantage lay in that I could hear his moves before he made them.

I had never fought more than playfully with Emmett or Jasper—just horsing around. I felt sick at the thought of really trying to hurt Jasper...

No, not that. Just to block him. That was all. I concentrated on Alice, memorizing Jasper’s different avenues of attack. As I did that, her visions shifted, moving further and further away from the Swan’s house. I was cutting him off earlier...

Stop that, Edward! It can’t happen this way. I won’t let it.

I didn’t answer her, I just kept watching.

She began searching farther ahead, into the misty, unsure realm of distant possibilities. Everything was shadowy and vague.

The entire way home, the charged silence did not lift. I parked in the big garage off the house; Carlisle’s Mercedes was there, next to Emmett’s big jeep, Roy’s M3 and my Vanquish. I was glad Carlisle was already home—this silence would end explosively, and I wanted him there when that happened.

We went straight to the dining room.

The room was, of course, never used for its intended purpose. But it was furnished with a long oval mahogany table surrounded by chairs—we were scrupulous about having all the correct props in place. Carlisle liked to use it as a conference room. In a group with such strong and disparate personalities, sometimes it was necessary to discuss things in a calm, seated manner.

I had a feeling that the setting was not going to help much today.

Carlisle sat in his usual seat at the eastern head of the room. Esme was beside him—they held hands on top of the table.

Esme’s eyes were on me, their golden depths full of concern.

Stay. It was her only thought.

I wished I could smile at the woman who was truly a mother to me, but I had no reassurances for her now.

I sat on Carlisle’s other side. Esme reached around him to put her free hand on my shoulder. She had no idea of what was about to start; she was just worrying about me.

Carlisle had a better sense of what was coming. His lips were pressed tightly together and his forehead was creased. The expression looked too old for his young face.

As everyone else sat, I could see the lines being drawn.

Royal sat directly across from Carlisle, on the other end of the long table. He glared at me, never looking away.

Emmett sat beside him, his face and thoughts both wry.

Jasper hesitated, and then went to stand against the wall behind Royal. He was decided, regardless of the outcome of this discussion. My teeth locked together.

Alice was the last to come in, and her eyes were focused on something far away— the future, still too indistinct for her to make use of it. Without seeming to think about it, she sat next to Esme. She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. Jasper twitched uneasily and considered joining her, but he kept his place.

I took a deep breath. I had started this—I should speak first.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking first at Roy, then Jasper and then Emmett. “I didn’t mean to put any of you at risk. It was thoughtless, and I take full responsibility for my hasty action.”

Royal glared at me balefully. “What do you mean, ‘take full responsibility’? Are you going to fix it?”

“Not the way you mean,” I said, working to keep my voice even and quiet. “I’m willing to leave now, if that makes things better.” If I believe that the boy will be safe, if I believe that none of you will touch him, I amended in my head.

“No,” Esme murmured. “No, Edward.”

I patted her hand. “It’s just a few years.”

“Esme’s right, though,” Emmett said. “You can’t go anywhere now. That would be the opposite of helpful. We have to know what people are thinking, now more than ever.”

“Alice will catch anything major,” I disagreed.

Carlisle shook his head. “I think Emmett is right, Edward. The boy will be more likely to talk if you disappear. It’s all of us leave, or none of us.”

“He won’t say anything,” I insisted quickly. Roy was building up to the explosion, and I wanted this fact out there first.

“You don’t know his mind,” Carlisle reminded me.

“I know this much. Alice, back me up.”

Alice stared up at me wearily. “I can’t see what will happen if we just ignore this.” She glanced at Roy and Jasper.

No, she couldn’t see that future—not when Royal and Jasper were so decided against ignoring the incident.

Royal’s palm smacked down on the table with a loud bang. “We can’t allow the human a chance to say anything. Carlisle, you must see that. Even if we decided to all disappear, it’s not safe to leave stories behind us. We live so differently from the rest of our kind—you know there are those who would love an excuse to point fingers. We have to be more careful than anyone else!”

“We’ve left rumors behind us before,” I reminded him.

“Just rumors and suspicions, Edward. Not eyewitnesses and evidence!”

“Evidence!” I scoffed.

But Jasper was nodding, his eyes hard.

“Roy—” Carlisle began.

“Let me finish, Carlisle. It doesn’t have to be any big production. The boy hit his head today. So maybe that injury turns out to be more serious that it looked.” Royal shrugged. “Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. The others would expect us to clean up after ourselves. Technically, that would make it Edward’s job, but this is obviously beyond him. You know I’m capable of control. I would leave no evidence behind me.”

“Yes, Royal, we all know how proficient an assassin you are,” I snarled.

He hissed at me, furious.

“Edward, please,” Carlisle said. Then he turned to Royal. “Royal, I looked the other way in Rochester because I felt that you were owed your justice. The men you killed had wronged you monstrously. This is not the same situation. The Swan boy is an innocent.”

“It’s not personal, Carlisle,” Royal said through his teeth. “It’s to protect us all.”

There was a brief moment of silence while Carlisle thought through his answer. When he nodded, Royal’s eyes lit up. He should have known better. Even if I hadn’t been able to read his thoughts, I could have anticipated his next words. Carlisle never compromised.

“I know you mean well, Royal, but...I’d like very much for our family to be worth protecting. The occasional...accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are.” It was very like him to include himself in the plural, though he had never had such a lapse himself. “To murder a blameless human in cold blood is another thing entirely. I believe the risk he presents, whether he speaks his suspicions or not, is nothing to the greater risk. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are.”

I controlled my expression very carefully. It wouldn’t do at all to grin. Or to applaud, as I wished I could.

Royal scowled. “It’s just being responsible.”

“It’s being callous,” Carlisle corrected gently. “Every life is precious.”

Royal sighed heavily and his lower lip pouted out. Emmett squeezed his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, Roy,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“The question,” Carlisle continued, “is whether we should move on?”

“No,” Royal moaned. “We just got settled. I don’t want to start on my sophomore year in high school again!”

“You could keep your present age, of course,” Carlisle said.

“And have to move again that much sooner?” he countered.

Carlisle shrugged.

“I like it here! There’s so little sun, we get to be almost normal.”

“Well, we certainly don’t have to decide now. We can wait and see if it becomes necessary. Edward seems certain of the Swan boy’s silence.”

Royal snorted.

But I was no longer worried about Roy. I could see that he would go along with Carlisle’s decision, not matter how infuriated he was with me. Their conversation had moved on to unimportant details.

Jasper remained unmoved.

I understood why. Before he and Alice had met, he’d lived in a combat zone, a relentless theater of war. He knew the consequences of flouting the rules—he’d seen the grisly aftermath with his own eyes.

It said much that he had not tried to calm Royal down with his extra faculties, nor did he now try to rile him up. He was holding himself aloof from this discussion— above it.

“Jasper,” I said.

He met my gaze, his face expressionless.

“He won’t pay for my mistake. I won’t allow that.”

“He benefits from it, then? He should have died today, Edward. I would only set that right.”

I repeated myself, emphasizing each word. “I will not allow it.”

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t expecting this—he hadn’t imagined that I would act to stop him.

He shook his head once. “I won’t let Alice live in danger, even a slight danger. You don’t feel about anyone the way I feel about her, Edward, and you haven’t lived through what I’ve lived through, whether you’ve seen my memories or not. You don’t understand.”

“I’m not disputing that, Jasper. But I’m telling you now, I won’t allow you to hurt Beauregard Swan.”

We stared at each other—not glaring, but measuring the opposition. I felt him sample the mood around me, testing my determination.

“Jazz,” Alice said, interrupting us.

He held my gaze for a moment more, and then looked at her. “Don’t bother telling me you can protect yourself, Alice. I already know that. I’ve still got to—”

“That’s not what I’m going say,” Alice interrupted. “I was going to ask you for a favor.”

I saw what was on her mind, and my mouth fell open with an audible gasp. I stared at her, shocked, only vaguely aware that everyone besides Alice and Jasper was now eyeing me warily.

“I know you love me. Thanks. But I would really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill Beau. First of all, Edward’s serious and I don’t want you two fighting. Secondly, Beau is my friend. At least, he’s going to be.”

It was clear as glass in her head: Alice, smiling, with her icy white arm around the boy’s warm, slim waist. And Beau was smiling, too, his arm around Alice’s shoulder’s.

The vision was rock solid; only the timing of it was unsure.

“But...Alice...” Jasper gasped. I couldn’t manage to turn my head to see his expression. I couldn’t tear myself away from the image in Alice’s head in order to hear his.

“I’m going to love him someday, Jazz. I’ll be very put out with you if you don’t let him be.”

I was still locked into Alice’s thoughts. I saw the future shimmer as Jasper’s resolve floundered in the face of her unexpected request.

“Ah,” she sighed—his indecision had cleared a new future. “See? Beau’s not going to say anything. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The way she said the boy’s name...like they were already close confidants...

“Alice,” I choked. “What...does this...?”

“I told you there was a change coming. I don’t know, Edward.” But she locked her jaw, and I could see that there was more. She was trying not to think about it; she was focusing very hard on Jasper suddenly, though he was too stunned to have progressed much in his decision making.

She did this sometimes when she was trying to keep something from me. “What, Alice? What are you hiding?”

I heard Emmett grumble. He always got frustrated when Alice and I had these kinds of conversations.

She shook her head, trying to not let me in.

“Is it about the boy?” I demanded. “Is it about Beau?”

She had her teeth gritted in concentration, but when I spoke Beau’s name, she slipped. Her slip only lasted the tiniest portion of a second, but that was long enough.

“NO!” I shouted. I heard my chair hit the floor, and only then realized I was on my feet.

“Edward!” Carlisle was on his feet, too, his arm on my shoulder. I was barely aware of him.

“It’s solidifying,” Alice whispered. “Every minute you’re more decided. There’re really only two ways left for him. It’s one or the other, Edward.”

I could see what she saw...but I could not accept it.

“No,” I said again; there was no volume to my denial. My legs felt hollow, and I had to brace myself against the table.

“Will somebody please let the rest of us in on the mystery?” Emmett complained.

“I have to leave,” I whispered to Alice, ignoring him.

“Edward, we’ve already been over that,” Emmett said loudly. “That’s the best way to start the kid talking. Besides, if you take off, we won’t know for sure if he’s talking or not. You have to stay and deal with this.”

“I don’t see you going anywhere, Edward,” Alice told me. “I don’t know if you can leave anymore.” Think about it, she added silently. Think about leaving.

I saw what she meant. Yes, the idea of never seeing Beau again was...painful. But it was also necessary. I couldn’t sanction either future I’d apparently condemned him to.

I’m not entirely sure of Jasper, Edward, Alice went on. If you leave, if he thinks Beau is a danger to us...

“I don’t hear that,” I contradicted her, still only halfway aware of our audience.

Jasper was wavering. He would not do something that would hurt Alice.

Not right this moment. Will you risk his life, leave his undefended?

“Why are you doing this to me?” I groaned. My head fell into my hands.

I was not Beau’s protector. I could not be that. Wasn’t Alice’s divided future enough proof of that?

I love him, too. Or I will. It’s not the same, but I want him around for that.

“Love him too?” I whispered, incredulous.

She sighed. You are so blind, Edward. Can’t you see where you’re headed? Can’t you see where you already are? It’s more inevitable than the sun rising in the east. See what I see...

I shook my head, horrified. “No.” I tried to shut out the visions she revealed to me. “I don’t have to follow that course. I’ll leave. I will change the future.”

“You can try,” she said, her voice skeptical.

“Oh, come on!” Emmett bellowed.

“Pay attention,” Roy hissed at him. “Alice sees him falling for a human! How classically Edward!” He made a gagging sound. I scarcely heard him.

“What?” Emmett said, startled. Then his booming laugh echoed through the room. “Is that what’s been going on?” He laughed again. “Tough break, Edward.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I shook it off absently. I couldn’t pay attention to him.

“Fall for a human?” Esme repeated in a stunned voice. “For the boy he saved today? Fall in love with him?”

“What do you see, Alice? Exactly,” Jasper demanded.

She turned toward him; I continued to stare numbly at the side of her face. “It all depends on whether he is strong enough or not. Either he’ll kill Beau himself” —she turned to meet my gaze again, glaring— “which would really irritate me, Edward, not to mention what it would do to you—” she faced Jasper again, “or Beau will be one of us someday.”

Someone gasped; I didn’t look to see who.

“That’s not going to happen!” I was shouting again. “Either one!”

Alice didn’t seem to hear me. “It all depends,” she repeated. “He may be just strong enough not to kill him—but it will be close. It will take an amazing amount of control,” she mused. “More even than Carlisle has. He may be just strong enough... The only thing he’s not strong enough to do is stay away from him. That’s a lost cause.”

I couldn’t find my voice. No one else seemed to be able to either. The room was still.

I stared at Alice, and everyone else stared at me. I could see my own horrified expression from five different viewpoints.

After a long moment, Carlisle sighed.

“Well, this...complicates things.”

“I’ll say,” Emmett agreed. His voice was still close to laughter. Trust Emmett to find the joke in the destruction of my life.

“I suppose the plans remain the same, though,” Carlisle said thoughtfully. “We’ll stay, and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the boy.”

I stiffened.

“No,” Jasper said quietly. “I can agree to that. If Alice sees only two ways—”

“No!” My voice was not a shout or a growl or a cry of despair, but some combination of the three. “No!”

I had to leave, to be away from the noise of their thoughts—Royal’s self- righteous disgust, Emmett’s humor, Carlisle’s never ending patience...

Worse: Alice’s confidence. Jasper’s confidence in that confidence. Worst of all: Esme’s...joy.

I stalked out of the room. Esme touched my arm as I passed, but I didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

I was running before I was out of the house. I cleared the river in one bound, and raced into the forest. The rain was back again, falling so heavily that I was drenched in a few moments. I liked the thick sheet of water—it made a wall between me and the rest of the world. It closed me in, let me be alone.

I ran due east, over and through the mountains without breaking my straight course, until I could see the lights of Seattle on the other side of the sound. I stopped before I touched the borders of human civilization.

Shut in by the rain, all alone, I finally made myself look at what I had done—at the way I had mutilated the future.

First, the vision of Alice and the boy with their arms around each other—the trust and friendship was so obvious it shouted from the image. Beau’s wide silvery eyes were not bewildered in this vision, but still full of secrets—in this moment, they seemed to be happy secrets. He did not flinch away from Alice’s cold arm.

What did it mean? How much did he know? In that still-life moment from the future, what did he think of me?

Then the other image, so much the same, yet now colored by horror. Alice and Beau, their arms still wrapped around each other in trusting friendship. But now there was no difference between those arms—both were white, smooth as marble, hard as steel. Beau’s wide eyes were no longer gray. The irises were a shocking, vivid crimson. The secrets in them were unfathomable—acceptance or desolation? It was impossible to tell. His face was cold and immortal.

I shuddered. I could not suppress the questions, similar, but different: What did it mean—how had this come about? And what did he think of me now?

I could answer that last one. If I forced him into this empty half-life through my weakness and selfishness, surely he would hate me.

But there was one more horrifying image—worse than any image I’d ever held inside my head.

My own eyes, deep crimson with human blood, the eyes of the monster. Beau’s broken body in my arms, ashy white, drained, lifeless. It was so concrete, so clear.

I couldn’t stand to see this. Could not bear it. I tried to banish it from my mind, tried to see something else, anything else. Tried to see again the expression on his living face that had obstructed my view for the last chapter of my existence. All to no avail.

Alice’s bleak vision filled my head, and I writhed internally with the agony it caused. Meanwhile, the monster in me was overflowing with glee, jubilant at the likelihood of his success. It sickened me.

This could not be allowed. There had to be a way to circumvent the future. I would not let Alice’s visions direct me. I could choose a different path. There was always a choice.

There had to be.

[riding-alpacas]

Walking on a volcano

Making it home safe and sound I'm now sitting in mandatory self-quarantine for another 9 days. It took me a while to digest everything but currently I'm just grateful that I made it back and optimistic that we'll all tackle this situation together.

I don't have too much to do and can't go anywhere, so I'll just keep writing. There are a few more things I wanted to write about in this blog before I put down the virtual pen for an unknown period of time. One of these things is my last adventure I experienced before I packed up: A hike to the summit of an active volcano.

The little town of Pucón ended up on my radar for only one reason: You can climb 2,860 metres high Volcán Villarrica which has an active lava lake within its crater. When I arrived in town I immediately realised that I'd hate everything else about this place. It was another extremely touristy location and seemingly the centre for all adventure travellers who haven't done any of the usual shit (skydiving, rafting, canyoning etc.) in their life yet. My hostel was pretty awesome though: It offered private rooms in form of little hobbit houses! Cheesy, I know, but I always wanted to stay in one of those, so I took that opportunity.

A hobbit in Chile

The climb to the volcano can only be done with a guide unless you can prove that you have all the required gear and enough experience to tackle it on your own. They offered tours in the hostel but given that it was shoulder season I was hoping to find a group with only very few people.

During my stint in San Martín I accidentally bumped into Audrey - one of the girls that I spent some time with in Bariloche. We decided to move on together given that she had similar plans for Pucón. We went to a few independent travel agencies in a quest to find one that was affordable, reputable and not too busy. There weren't too many differences between all of them, likely due to the strict regulations that are in place for this kind of activity. Mawida Adventures offered us to do the tour even if it'd just be the two of us, so we chose them and booked us in for the next day.

The next day my alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning and I made my way to the meeting point. Luckily it was just Audrey, myself and our guide Ermin - nobody else signed up the day before. We packed up our bags and one hour later were the first ones at the lift. The real adventure basically started after a chairlift brought us up to 1,700 metres. From there it was a 45 minute walk through some grayish rocks until we got to the start of a glacier that covers the mountain. Crampons on and now it was time to zigzag through the ice. When we started our hike we were wondering why we had to wear helmets but it became pretty obvious now: The wind was constantly pushing little rocks from the top down the glacier. Even though they were the fluffy kind of volcanic rocks, they were pretty fast and sharp so you really don't want one of these falling on your bare head.

We were lucky with the weather

Great views from the start

Zig zag

The glacier wasn't as nice as Perito Moreno. It was covered in fine, black particles and there was no meltwater around. Apparently it goes straight under the ice. We still stopped at some impressive crevices though and had some little breaks in between to admire the view behind us. Towards the end the trail became extremely steep and it was more challenging than I thought.

Don't wanna fall into this one

Quite steep

Close to the summit the ice disappeared and we were walking through a rocky environment again. Audrey and I are both quite fast walkers so we were the first ones who made it to the top that day - and what a rewarding walk it was. The views were absolutely spectacular! But looking into the crater itself was also quite astounding. Rust-coloured rocks to the left, sulfur-coloured rocks to the right. Loud roaring from within the crater, gases  hissing out of it and what are these funnily structured rocks over here? Oh right, it's the ice from the glacier. It was an interesting world up there with lots of strange shapes to discover at every corner. At one point I decided to put on my gas mask as the wind started to push the smell right towards us. We admired the view - which included a feminist flag that a female guide positioned there a couple of days earlier on International Women's Day - and after 15 minutes we had to make our way down again.

No lava today

Did I mention the views?

This was an adventure in itself. When we climbed up we could already see some pre-grooved chutes. We were about to use them right now. Both of us were carrying around a little piece of plastic with us. It was now time to get them out and sled down the glacier! I was looking forward to this but it actually turned out to be a bit shit. Because of us walking up so fast, most of the slides were still very icy. I had a lot of trouble breaking with my ice axe and ended up crashing into some of these fluffy rocks halfway through the slide. I bruised my fingers and lost my ice axe but fortunately was still able to stop. The second part was a bit more slushy, so breaking actually worked but I have to say that I didn't enjoy this activity as much as I thought I would. I much more enjoyed the final section of the descent. It was very sandy and we could basically run down sliding our feet through the super fine ground.

Audrey getting ready to toboggan

Back in Pucón we were greeted with some drinks, grapes and cheese which was a nice touch. It was a good opportunity to catch up with our awesome guide Ermin who told us a lot of nice stories about the mountain, the town and how he ended up doing this kind of work. As a side note: Don't ever do a rafting tour when you're in Pucón. Apparently the guides are extremely underpaid.

For the following days I tried to find something that would bring me away from all the noise in the town. My first try was a little overnight kayak trip on one of the surrounding rivers. I quite enjoyed the kayak thing I did in El Bolson but unfortunately they didn't have enough people to do it.

My second option was to rent a car and drive 2 hours up to Conguillío National Park and do some hikes. I already had an eye on rental cars a few days before I arrived in Pucón. Apparently Hertz had a branch in town and when I checked, they always had cars available. The day I was finally ready to book, they didn't have any anymore. I thought this would be because it was quite short-notice now, so I decided to go to the branch directly and just ask. It turned out that the branch actually doesn't exist. Standing in front of the address I found a... craft shop. When I did a bit more research I noticed that I wasn't alone read some fascinating stories. Some people actually booked a car online, went to the non-existent branch and were later fined by Hertz for not picking up their vehicle. It's a mystery to me how something like this can happen to such a well-known global brand!

I wasn't ready to give up just yet and found another car rental in town. But when I checked out their fleet I only found some very old and small Suzukis - highly doubting they'd make it through 100 kilometres of gravel. That was the point when I gave up on option number two and decided to just head up to Santiago to sit down and think about what I'd do next.

The volcano wasn't the last and only activity I did in Pucón though. On my last day, Audrey and I decided to head to El Cañi, a little conservation area where you could find the infamous monkey puzzle trees that grow in the area. The seeds from these trees are sold everywhere in the streets of Pucón and unfortunately I missed to try them.

We did a little hike that I didn't have any expectations about and it turned out to be quite nice. After a super steep and slippery ascent over an old logging road we found ourselves in a beautiful lush forest, surrounded by a surprising amount of bamboo. Towards the end we also finally saw heaps of monkey puzzle trees and walked a little circuit that led us to seven different lagoons. It felt a bit like an enchanted forest - also because we got lost once, ran into some stinging bush and became very confused by the marks more than once. But we also met two cute puppies at one of the lagoons which made up for everything.

Monkey puzzle trees

More of them

Puppy!

I wasn't super keen on this walk but I'm thankful that Audrey convinced me to do it. It was a great way to escape the hustle and bustle and be out there in the quiet nature for a day.

You all know what happened then after I took the bus to Santiago. On the first day I was still optimistic and explored the city a tiny bit. My hostel was very close to the centre of the civil protests and I actually experienced these a little bit because my first night was on a Friday - the day the protests take place. The whole evening there was a lot of noise outside with firecrackers going off everywhere. We even had a pepper spray grenade being thrown into the yard of my hostel. Quite intense but I don’t think I was in danger at any time.

Police getting ready

I don't think they like their government very much

However, I mainly wanted to use the time to research what I’d do next, but instead I researched COVID-19 and made the very spontaneous decision to abort my trip. A couple of days later, Chile decided to close all their borders and the whole of South America is in a state of emergency now. I have heard a lot of stories from travellers who decided to stay and are now being kicked out of their hostels and moved around by the police. Sounds like I made the right decision.

In the next few days I'll write a few more articles about some other random things. Hopefully one day I can continue travelling through South America and bring this blog back to life.

[mooosicaldreamz]

i was going to ask for faberry but then i promised myself i wouldnt be That Person™ but like..,,,,.,. no one asked for faberry.... I Must. i'll take anything you're willing to write and also im sorry

i don’t know what a faberry is but this is set in the summer between s1 and s2 and i didn’t do a ton of research about the state of affairs at the beginning of s2 because i’m not a LOSER and I DIDN’T LISTEN TO I FEEL PRETTY/UNPRETTY AND CRY. nO ONE SEND ME ANY MORE FABERRY PROMPTS BECAUSE I HAVE ENOUGH. thAnk YOU. FOR ur TIME. for the feels, enjoy this tag. also, this is for my 1k follower extravaganza. what are all you ppl doing here anyway?

“Rachel, sit down,” Kurt yelps, yanking Rachel back into her seat. The whole club’s at the shady carnival that sets up in the Kohl’s parking lot every summer in Lima, where all the rides are run by suspiciously tattooed, bearded men. Finn and Puck are starting a fight in line, having been cut off from boarding the ride with the rest of them. Santana laughs loudly at the affronted look on Rachel’s face.

They’re all shoved into this strange bear-shaped contraption that spins and spins until someone (usually Quinn) gets sick. Mercedes next to Kurt, Kurt next to Rachel, and Quinn in the enviable position of being between Santana and Rachel, in the very back of the bear. The furthest from the exit.

Before the ride even starts moving, Brittany is torquing the center table to get the bear to spin on its axis, and Quinn closes her eyes as Rachel and Kurt whisper fight over how Finn is behaving today. He’s being petulant; what else is new? Rachel and Finn are trying to pretend that they aren’t dating, maybe out of respect for Quinn, but it’s obvious and Quinn wishes it were something more than annoying, that she could - feel anger, or betrayal. But there’s not much more than the numb feeling that’s followed her around since -

The ride starts, Brittany starts spinning even faster, Santana joining in. She places her hands on the table in front of her, watching as the room spins faster and faster until she has to close her eyes. To push back against the nausea, she presses down on the metal of the table, and the burn on her palms from the friction is almost enough. She still throws up the minute she stumbles out of the damn thing, and only Rachel stops for half a second to look - well, something.

-

The Himalayas ride is next. The ex-con operating the ride is refusing to let Finn on the ride, because he’s “too tall” and Finn is too afraid to start a fight with him because the man is massive and has a face tattoo. Santana and Brittany settle into their car, Kurt and Mercedes into another, and Puck and Quinn and Rachel stare around at each other before Puck spots a single female rider and grins at her until he’s in her car.

So that’s how she ends up on the outside seat of the car with Rachel clinging to the other side.

“How are you feeling?” Rachel asks, while they wait for the rest of the riders to file into their seats and for Finn to stop distracting the operator with his whining. There had not really been a height maximum on the ride, and Quinn’s certain that she’s even ridden this ride with Finn before - so she feels a certain thankfulness to him. Well - some thankfulness, because when she takes a glance at Rachel, she looks pitying and sad.

“I’m fine,” Quinn says. She is fine. She is fine.

“Right,” Rachel says, shifting in her seat and looking around the ride and further onto the carnival and further onto the Kohl’s parking lot, overrun with people and children and young parents pushing their babies in strollers. “I meant…I’m asking about…”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly want to talk about that with you,” Quinn says. Rachel blinks, nods. The ride starts moving then and Quinn can’t help but laugh as she watches Rachel cling harder to her side of the car’s handrail to prevent herself from sliding up against Quinn. Rachel looks flabbergasted by the noise, her eyes going wide.

“Just let go,” Quinn says. “You’ll break your arm if you try to fight it.”

So Rachel does let go, and Quinn opts to ignore the rush of warmth that floods through her when Rachel’s body settles against hers and stays firmly pressed there as they go up and down and all around.

-

The fun house is not much fun. Santana refuses to go on it because she “needs some food” aka she hates clowns and the funhouse is clown-themed, and of course Brittany goes with her, and Kurt begs off to go buy some cotton candy with Finn, who the operator claims will smack his head on a doorway. Puck rushes Mercedes straight into the spinning walkway, ready to catch her if she falls, and Kurt lingers at the entryway, talking to the operator - who Quinn really thinks he should not be attempting to flirt with.

So it’s just Rachel and her, in the mirror maze. It’s quiet in there, populated only by the sounds of distant children shrieking, the mechanical groans of the building around them. Rachel’s staring is louder than all of that, though, and Quinn directs a glare at her, hanging out by her shoulder for “navigation purposes.”

“What is it?” Quinn asks, finally, after she bumps into a third straight wall and decides to just stop and let whatever Rachel needs to say come out. It’s exhausting, all of a sudden, to have to stand, so she rests against the mirrored wall and tries to give a good glare. Rachel looks softly back, however.

“I just - well, I’m worried about you,” Rachel says. Not unkindly, but it grates at Quinn - she feels hot all over all of a sudden, like she wants to cry and yell and -

“Don’t,” Quinn snaps. Rachel doesn’t even seem fazed.

“It’s been a month since - ”

“What part of don’t doesn’t make sense to you, Berry?” Quinn asks.

“ - and I know that Santana and Brittany have been doing Cheerios and Puck has been - Puck - ”

“And you’ve been gallivanting off with Finn,” Quinn says, happy to take ahold of something that will derail this ridiculous conversation, will get her out of this stupid maze and stupid town, will get Rachel out of her face and Quinn can just be numb and she doesn’t have to think about anything.

“I’m not going to start a reductive argument over a boy with you, Quinn, when I’m concerned about you and about how you’re handling giving Beth up for adoption,” Rachel says, and Quinn freezes. Something cold and numbing sweeps into her hands and she has to clench them. She turns around, finds herself looking straight into the mirror she had bumped into. Rachel is right behind her, looking - so sympathetic and kind. Not even her mother looks as her like that. And it makes Quinn so mad.

“I care about you, Quinn,” Rachel says. “I just want you to - be okay.”

And she reaches out to touch Quinn’s hand, still clenched, still empty-feeling and like the nerves have gone fuzzy. When Rachel’s soft, smaller hand connects with hers, fire bursts into fill the spaces between the bones and muscle and it feels like she might explode suddenly. Her blood is rushing around in her head, there’s something warm building up in her chest, and she can’t breathe, can’t handle this -

She looks in the mirror again, where Rachel is staring at her plaintively. When she looks at herself - well, she just sees blonde hair and hazel eyes and that’s all. There’s no expression, no special thing, nothing worth remembering and easy to forget and leave aside. But Rachel, somehow, is looking at her like there’s something.

When she turns back to look at Rachel, a strange feeling shocks through her. A bolt, an urge, to tip forward and to slide her hands into Rachel’s hair and to -

“I have to go,” Quinn says, tugging her hand free and feeling for the wall behind her to find the edge so she can get out of this maze, and go home and stare at the ceiling and not think about - think about this.

“Quinn,” Rachel says, following after her, but Quinn makes it out of the maze quickly then, dashes past Puck and Mercedes, out of the Tunnel of Love and into the sunset.

-

When she manages to get home, manages to stop feeling like she’s shaking, she lies on her bed and closes her eyes and lets herself think, just the littlest bit, about that strange feeling that had shot through her. She had never felt it before - or rather, had never thought to identify it for what it was. She wants to kiss Rachel Berry. She likes Rachel Berry. And it’s all a mess, because Quinn? Quinn’s nothing, a former pregnant high schooler, not even a mother, barely a daughter, has nothing to her name - will be stuck here in Lima for the rest of her life. Not unless she somehow manages to battle back, but - that all seems so far out of reach right now, cloistered in her bedroom.

For the first time in a month, she lets herself cry.

[superprincesspea]

The Honey House, Chapter 27

Fight or Flight

MASTERLIST

Rae slid her Glock from its holster. She knew Negan wouldn’t be in this barn just like she knew she wouldn’t shoot him if he was but she liked the weight of it in her hand. So with a racing heart and a fistful of pistol Rae crept past the bales of hay, her eyes scanning any potential hiding spaces until she was certain, Negan was gone.

Gone. Bile rouse in her throat as she turned around on autopilot, one foot stretching out in front of the other until she was sprinting from the barn, calling Tim’s name. She ran around the corner blind, colliding with Zuzu who was happily zipping around on a scooter that Tim had found before Jacob or Negan had ever existed.

“I told you to stay inside!” Rae scolded, her tone harsh with frustration that was trying to find an outlet.

One large tear rolled down Zuzu’s cheek, paving the way for a waterfall of followers and Rae felt more than a pang of regret as she abandoned her little niece and ran towards the front gate. How could she have let Negan escape? How could she have been so careless? She couldn’t even control a child so how had she expected to control a man like Negan?

“What’s going on?” Carly called, shifting her baby from one hip to the other, her eyes searching out Zuzu like a good Mother would.

“Negan’s gone!” Rae choked, any control she might have had now long lost. She was afraid. She’d been too harsh and now she didn’t know what might come of it.

“Tim took him,” Caryl replied quickly, her eyes darting around Rae’s face while the words seemed to echo across every wall and weave between every blade of frosted grass.

“What?”

Carly’s face fell, her words stuttering, “he said you knew. He said you’d asked him to take care of-”

“When?” Rae interrupted, already running to the red coupe that Negan had given her.

“He put Negan in one of the cars about fifteen minutes ago.”

Rae slid into the soft leather seat, the idea of Tim’s betrayal pounding her heart to a different tune as she reached into the glove box to find the keys gone from their usual spot. She wanted to think it was a coincidence as she yelled, “someone find me the keys for the goddamn car!” But when she ran into the house, upending the contents of her dresser drawer, to grab the map of Alexandria she realised that much like Tim and Negan, it was gone.

“Fuck!” Rae shouted, her hands shaking as the drawer clattered to the floor. A million different emotions were racing in competition and when her gaze landed on the bed, the comforter pulled over to one side, climbing under the covers seemed so tempting, letting the inevitable happen would be as easy as lying down and closing her eyes.

Grandma’s voice brought her back from hopeless feelings but when Rae turned wanting to find comfort she realised Grandma sounded less frightened than she looked, her face was pale, her hand worrying an old dishcloth. “What’s happening? What haven’t you told us?”

Rae took a deep breath, a moment to gather her thoughts, “nothing. Everything is gonna be okay. I’m gonna make everything right.” She smiled, she thought she almost sounded convincing and maybe that’s all it took to be a leader, smoke and mirrors and the whatever it took to stop you crawling under the covers.

She kicked the drawer out of her way and as she walked through the door Grandma stopped her, “we’re all counting on you and we’re all here for you.”

“I know.” Rae jumped down the stairs, hurrying outside, she knew just how much everyone needed her to make the right decision. “Did you find the keys?” she asked, keeping her voice even as her people all gathered below the porch steps, their eyes wide like children. She supposed it was her own fault that Negan had escaped, she hadn’t told anyone the real stakes and in trying to protect them she’d made them useless.

Carly held her baby in front of her like a safety net, her words a whisper almost masked by the breeze, “they’re gone.”

Rae knew they would be. She knew that she’d kept them in the glove box just like the map had been kept in her drawer, the only thing she didn’t know was how long Tim had been planning this. “Okay,” she held her chin up, her shoulders straight, “nobody comes in or out of these gates except for me, I want the children inside and everyone on guard duty, do you all understand?”

“What about Negan’s men?”

“If they come here looking for Negan tell them he’s with me and he wants them to wait for him at the other farm. Do not let them inside.”

“What if you can’t bring Negan back?”

It was probably what everyone was thinking and Rae didn’t answer it. She grabbed a rifle from one of her people, walking to the gate with conviction, as if the question was a ridiculous one. When the gate opened wide enough she slipped through, running as fast as she possibly could and knowing the answer was ‘I don’t know.’ If Tim took Negan to Rick then she had no idea what would happen next except that it would change everything.  

There was another car, a spare she kept hidden across the fields for moments not unlike this one and as she ran towards it every passing moment felt like a lifetime. She worried she wouldn’t know which way to go without a map, she worried she’d be too late but more than anything part of her worried that Negan would hate her for what she did to him today.

By the time Rae had made it to the car her lungs were burning, the taste of blood filling her throat and her worries had only intensified. She grabbed the keys from the glove box, her eyes filled with unshed tears as the engine spluttered to life on her fourth attempt.

It might have been stupid, it might even have been the wrong decision but Rae had planned on freeing Negan. She’d hoped that despite everything she didn’t know about him she knew enough to know he would never truly hurt her, at least in the physical sense. Emotional was something else. If she thought about it then she’d been a fool to put even the smallest amount of stock into a man guarding her feelings, it had never worked out for her in the past so why would it be different now? Negan had made her feel special, he’d taken her away from the world for a brief snapshot of time and she was grateful for that even if it had all been a fabrication. He’d told her there would be no poetry in being with him and he’d been right.

///

Negan worked his wrists and ankles against his restraints and Timmy might have been a little dweeb but the fucker sure knew how to tie a knot leaving any attempt at brute force utterly  useless. He had nothing more than brush burn where the rope was starting to slice through the tender skin of his wrists and as he lay on the backseat of the old sedan he wondered if it was Rae who had given little Timmy the go ahead to do her dirty work. He pictured the fire in her eyes when she’d shoved the taser in his chest and chuckled despite the sticky situation. Rae had been angry enough to chop off his balls, she wouldn’t have sent him away without a farewell ‘fuck you’. No, Timmy was working alone.

Negan watched the trees whizzing past the window, row after row as he decided not to accept his fate, “I need to go to the little boys room.”

“Hold it,” Tim spat with what sounded like sadistic satisfaction.

Negan held his tongue and with as much charm as a man hog tied like roadkill could muster he crooned, “I wish I could but I know how far we are from Alexandria, Timmy boy.”

Tim ignored him, his hands at ten and two and his eyes glued to the road.

It occurred to Negan that Tim hadn’t looked at him once, hadn’t spoken unless spoken to. Perhaps he was scared, either scared of Negan or scared of what he might do if he got started. Negan knew the second feeling well, he also knew how to push the right buttons to get a reaction. “What kind of man lets another man piss himself? Unless you like that? Maybe you wanna sit in a car with the stench of my piss for the next couple of hours. Fuck, maybe I should shit myself too? How about it Timmy? You can admit it, we’re just two men shooting the fucking...” Negan laughed, “shit.”

The car slammed to a halt, Negan couldn’t stop the way he fell into the footwell just as much as he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.  

“Maybe I should just kill you right now?” Timmy spluttered, “I don’t think Rick cares if you’re alive or dead when I bring you to him.”

Shit. Negan hadn’t planned on Timmy actually growing a pair of fucking balls here. He wanted him angry, not murderous. “You’re gonna kill a man because he needs to take a piss. Now what would Rae think about that?”

Timmy smiled, “she’ll probably be glad you’re finally gone. Then she won’t have to sleep with you in exchange for whatever it is she thinks you provide.”

Negan gritted his teeth, his hands balling into tight fists, “either kill me or take me to the little boys room but let's not try to pretend she didn’t wanna fuck me because we both know that she did.”

Tim pulled a pistol from his belt, sliding the safety with his thumb before pressing the barrel to Negan’s temple, “maybe she did but not anymore. You’re nothing now, you’re pathetic and when I give you to Rick he’s gonna give us all the help we need.”

“If you think you can trust that fucker Rick Grimes then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought. He’s a liar and he wouldn’t think twice about slitting your throat. Or Rae’s. So do me a fucking favour and kill me now because I don’t wanna see Rae, Grandma and Zuzu being killed in the middle of the night by that merry band of assholes.”

Tim hesitated, weighing his options before his face creased back into a snarl, “I don’t wanna hear your bullshit and if you try anything then I will kill you.”

Negan didn’t say anything. He held his tongue again and it worked. Tim pulled Negan from the car by the scruff of his neck before turning to lead the way into a clearing by the side of the road.

“You expect me to hop along like this?” Negan nodded to the rope that bound his legs. “Jesus Christ Timmy you are one inhumane motherfucker. You tie me up, shove a gun in my face and you can’t even let me walk to the john like a fucking man?”

It must have struck a chord with Timmy because no matter how tough little Timmy tried to be he was still just the dweeb that followed Rae like a lost puppy.  “Remember what I said,” Tim warned, waving the pistol in Negan’s face before he crouched on one knee, loosening the knot.

As soon as the rope was slack Negan did remember Timmy’s threat he just couldn’t care fucking less nor would he waste a golden opportunity to give little Timmy one swift knee to the face. Blood burst from his nose, his glasses hit the tarmac and it felt damned good. Negan laughed, even if he ended up being shot for his effort it was worth it to get one satisfying hit on the little prick.

Tim fell to the road, his nose pouring blood and Negan didn’t even consider stopping his attack. He had a whole boat load of pent up rage that he’d been savoring for this fucker and now he had the perfect excuse. He kicked him in the stomach and Tim rolled over with a groan, drawing his pistol in a pathetic attempt to line up a shot. Negan kicked Tim’s arm, the impact sounding out with a satisfying crunch followed by the bang of the gun, the bullet whizzing into the tree’s.

As Timmy began to scramble to his feet Negan kicked the pistol from his hand like he was kicking the football in a field goal and it flew through the air, over a short rail separating the road from a long ditch, landing in places unknown.

“You’re one dumb little fucker,” Negan couldn’t help but taunt, even with his hands literally tied behind his back he was about to kill this dweeb. He was going to stomp him down like an oversized roach and the blood lust was insatiable.

Timmy pulled a knife, it was a small thing made for gutting fish rather than men but he slashed it anyway, catching Negan’s chest in the process.

“Motherfucker,” Negan shouted as he noticed the slit that ran all the way across his leather jacket. Not deep enough to do any harm but deep enough to ruin the jacket. With his face twisted into an even angrier line Negan advanced on Timmy who’s eyes were like two saucers, his knife suddenly shaking in his hand. Tim thought better of a second attack instead sprinting towards the trees where the pistol had disappeared.

Negan chased him, no knife in a knife fight was one thing, no gun was another. He charged after Tim as hard as he could, shoulder barging him over the railing, the momentum sending them both tumbling down the side of a steep hill.

If he’d have been a cartoon character he’d have had a ring of stars twinkling a halo around his head. Instead, Negan had spots clouding his vision and he couldn't tell if he’d been out cold or just momentarily stunned as he lay still, letting his body register a list of injuries. His head was throbbing and his arms were uncomfortable under his weight but other than that he was okay.

When he rolled to his side Timmy was just lying there, motionless amongst the undergrowth and whether dead or unconscious Negan didn’t give a flying fuck.

He pulled himself to his feet, spotting a roamer clawing his way through the trees before he noticed Tim’s knife lodged in the grass. The sound of the gun firing had no doubt lured the dead and there would surely be more so he wasted no time before attempting to saw through the rope that was binding his wrists. He had barely begun when he heard the rumble of an engine.

“Shit,” he muttered, slowly standing and scanning the undergrowth for the pistol as he continued hacking away at the rope. He listened to the sound of a car door opening then slamming shut and what came next made his heart stop, the knife slipping from his fingers.

“Negan!”

It was Rae’s voice and he stood motionless in the wake of it before pulling his shit together, grabbing the knife and ducking behind the nearest tree. He couldn’t risk her capturing him again and he wasn’t going to fight if he didn’t have the advantage, if the end of the world had taught him one thing it had certainly been that. He peered around the trunk of the tree, scanning the road until he spotted her telltale red hair and the muzzle of a very large rifle.

She called his name again and he wondered for a moment why she wasn’t calling for Timmy only to decide it was because maybe she didn’t really give a crap about Timmy. The idea inched a smile across his face, maybe there really was still hope for him and Red.

One of the roamer’s was gaining on him and his hiding place was up if he didn’t want to get eaten alive so he only had one choice. “I’m here baby,” he admitted, kicking away the dead man that dived for him and finishing it with his boot when it tumbled to the ground.

“Negan?” Rae gasped and when he turned he could see her slowly climbing down the side of the hill, her rifle slung over her shoulder and her voice wary as she asked, “where’s Tim?”

Negan crept to a new hiding spot, making sure to keep Red in his line of sight “We had a fight, he’s out cold,” he said, he didn’t say the part where he might be dead, it wasn’t going to do him any favors. Instead he finished slicing through the rope, shaking it from his wrists as he watched Red finally make it to the forest floor. She crouched down, placing her fingers against Tim’s neck before shaking his shoulder and whispering his name.

“You ask Timmy to take me to Rick?” Negan prayed the sound of his voice wouldn’t give away his exact location. He was far enough away and there were enough trees to cause confusion.

Rae’s eyes darted towards him but he remained hidden, crouched behind a fallen tree. “No,” she called, standing, bringing her rifle in front of her. “I don’t trust you Negan, but I don’t trust Rick either. I know you might not believe me but I was gonna let you go, I don’t wanna be part of a war that might get my people killed.” She paused, her shoulders slumped and her voice had a broken edge, “I want you to leave and never come back, I don’t wanna see you or your people again.”

Negan wiped his hand over his face, his heart pounding, “you breaking up with me, Red?”

She held her rifle higher, her eyes searching down the scope like a trained riflewoman, “I’m not playing, Negan.”

“Neither am I, baby doll.” He rolled the knife in his hand and the snap of twigs catching his attention. He turned his head he could see more dead filtering through the trees, enough to be a problem and enough to cut a path right between himself and Rae. “You see that, Red?” he called, standing up and keeping cover away from prying green eyes.

She shifted her rifle towards the dead, her eyes darting everywhere else, “where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter. We both know I’m not coming back with you right now so you better get your ass up on that road and into your car like a good girl before you get hurt.”

She hesitated, taking several steps forward and he wanted to spank her ass for even thinking about putting it on the line, “you can try and catch me Red or you can get Timmy to safety. He’s not gonna make it without you and you haven’t got time to fuck around baby.”

Rae glanced at Tim, huffing out a sigh before throwing her rifle back on her shoulder.

“I’ll stay here while you get to safety and I want you to know, this shit ain’t over between us Rachel Honey.”

“Are you threatening me?” she demanded and he could just picture the look that would be resting on her face.

“I’m just saying, I’m not finished with you, not by a long fucking shot sweetheart.”

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