#Stitched Up Heart Hearts in Hell Tour

[finelinefae]

soft

synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.

word count: 2.1 k

contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend

A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘

. . .

My girls' in the audience tonight.

I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.

Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.

She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her. 

She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine. 

The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.

When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.

When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.

I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.

I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.

"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.

"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.

"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.

"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"

I laugh, "You always nearly cry."

"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.

We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.

We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.

She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."

I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."

She giggles, "love you."

I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.

The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.

She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?'  I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.

I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.

"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.

"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.

She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.

"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"

She smiles and kisses me again.

We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.

I literally have a crush on this woman.

And she's my fucking girlfriend.

What did I do to get this lucky in life?

"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.

She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.

"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.

I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.

"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You promise?" She pouts.

"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.

She gasps, "You have chub too!"

I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"

She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.

I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.

"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.

Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.

She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.

There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.

"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.

She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"

"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.

I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.

"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.

"I hope so," She whispers.

I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.

"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."

I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.

"Both," She says in between kisses.

This girl. 

[hitlikehammers]

on the radio

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, love beyond the boundaries of what it even meant to love before the spring of ‘86 ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, tour dates coincide with summer vacation because Eddie can't sleep without his Stevie thank you for your cooperation with this policy, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day fourteen: Love is being late to work because you can’t ever say goodbye in a reasonable amount of time (@sharpbutsoft)

more codependent rockstar!husbands of the je ne regrette rien variety, you say? oh, well, I mean: I guess ♥️

Steve can fucking taste freedom, he swears.

He looks at the list of student records he needs to close out to transfer to the high school before he can pack away the last of his office and sign the hell off for the school year—and start the summer tour cycle with his husband through the Midwest, up and down the East Coast, and then they’re fucking breaking Europe, got signed on to a couple festivals, and Steve is goddamn vibrating with excitement and shit, just: are there parts of your heart that like, fit together? Like bones where they connect and shit, or is it all just one piece?

Steve thinks is more like one piece, but he is gonna go with that it’s more like stitched together or something, just so he can fucking say exactly what he feels, which is that his whole goddamn chest—heart and ribs and lungs and all the other fucking bones and shit there—all of it’s seriously bursting at the seams just with so much fucking pride, okay, because his Eddie’s goddamn made it. This dream of his isn’t just gold records; it’s a plane across an ocean to play for tens of thousands of people who don’t even all speak their language and that’s…that’s just like…

Steve’s so goddamn proud he’s split between wanting to scream about it from the top of the school and maybe sob about it with all kinds of sappy declarations peppered in as he messy-cries, so: bursting at the seams. Heart in his chest so full it’s primed to just explode like a goddamn confetti cannon.

Though time has kind of served as testament to the fact that that sensation’s less exclusively about Eddie’s music, or his success, and more just about Eddie.

Eddie, and loving him beyond the boundaries of any understanding Steve ever had about what it meant to love before the spring of ‘86.

He’s almost through the ‘V’s at the end of his alphabet of names when he notes the time—shit, he almost missed it.

He reaches for tiny radio in the corner of his desk that literally just lives there for the purpose of Eddie and the boys doing interviews on local stations every so often, and tunes it in 93.9.

…elcome to most of the infamous lords of midwestern metal, Corroded Coffin, the DJ’s introducing and good, Steve sighs and flips through his…fifth-to-last folder—just in time, he can listen to the interview the guys are squeezing in before hitting the road, then he can get home while the band’s getting their flight to the first venue in Chicago, they’ve got a couple of days there and he and Eddie are planning to look at some houses; Erica’s out of high school they’re ready to make the leap, and Steve will take the 6:10 flight and head straight to the show like the often do, it should work perfect; it’s great to have you guys back but Jeff, I gotta ask, the maybe most…colorful?

You can say obnoxious, Lenny, if anyone knows, we do, Jeff’s shooting playfully, and Steve snickers, distracted by closer folder-number-five and flipping open number-four.

I would never, the DJ gasps theatrically to laughter, and Gareth’s muted holler almost like he’s here! and then he continues on; that does open the line of inquiry, though: where’s your notorious frontman, Mr. Munson?

Steve’s hand slips on the folder; he barely catches it before it falls to the floor.

Eddie…Eddie’s not, not there?

Steve tries to talk down the adrenaline response that’s never wholly died at the idea of the love of his fucking life gone missing, and worse, the idea of something happening to him while unaccounted for: Jeff was playful. Gareth was teasing. They have to at least have known somethingabout Eddie’s absence, Steve talks down his racing heart to something just a little anxious as he listens for clues, and doesn’t have to mine little hints or anything even, it’s clear and plain:

Eddie’s got a sore throat, so like the diva he is, he’s resting it before showtime, Dougie chiming in and yeah, two points to that: one, the only reason Eddie’d have a sore throat would have been fine by sun-up, yeah, and it was, because Eddie was all sunshine and manic energy when they parted ways that morning, and then two: Steve actually knows these guys well enough to be able to tell when they’re talking out their asses.

And Doug is maybe the worst liar of the three on-air.

Steve’s chewing hard on his Bic, trying hard to keep a level head about this: if anything drastic had happened, he’d have heard, they all have his office number, they all know where he is, it would—

Steve startles when he hears rubber squeaking down the hall outside the office; as far as he knows, though, he’s the only person here—everyone else takes at least a week free from this place after classes end, but Steve has a timeline, and a flight to catch, so y’know: sacrifices must be made and whatnot.

He barely gets to turn in his chair to consider getting up to check when the culprit and his perpetually-trashed Reeboks skids to a halt in the doorway.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie beams at him, a little breathless, hair a fucking mess but smiling so big, those dimples popped so deep: shit, if Steve’s heart hadn’t been quick already, that’d fucking do the trick.

“Eddie,” Steve stands, and meets him in the middle where Eddie’s already crossing to him, kissing him immediately and hungrier than the maybe-five-hours since the saw each other really fucking merits. “What, you, why aren’t you at the station?”

Eddie’s eyes flick to the radio as he clocks the question and of all the reactions Steve could predict from him, the fake-sheepish grin with the glimmering fucking eyes?

Probably could have guessed that one.

“I forgot something.”

“You forgot something?”

“Yeah, something important,” he nods fervently and Steve frowns.

‘Babe, you could have called, I’m meeting you at the arena, I could drop it with security if needed to,” he offers, argues: but not really, and not like it fucking matters, because here Eddie is, and the boys were planning to run straight to the airport from the interview, both of which are in the city but Steve’s not, and Eddie’s gonna have to be fucking quick, here, if he doesn’t want to be late for his goddamn flight; did he already swing by the house for whatever it is he needs, it—

“Nope,” Eddie pops the denial like a bubble; “can’t leave it with security.”

Steve squints at him, because now it’s a puzzle. Now it’s Eddie being…kind of a little shit.

And Steve doesn’t even begrudge him the momentary panic before; he’s too adorable. Steve’s too fucking in love.

And now he’s curious.

“You kissed me goodbye.”

“Oh, always,” Eddies almost offended by the suggestion he could have forgotten that. As in: ever.

“Said you loved me.”

“Bigger than the universe,” Eddie says exactly what he came up with that morning, like he does every morning, some new outlandish way to describe the scope of his affections and Steve rolls his eyes but eats it up every fucking time; “and the universe is always expanding so I love you bigger than what it’s expanded to since this morning, too.”

Steve can’t help but kiss him for that, because; well.

Because.

“What the hell else then?” Steve asks, because Eddie has a fucking timeline here and then his husband’s grin stretches slow, and sly, and then he’s drawing Steve in, and kissing him deep, licking as far as he can reach and wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist tight, knocking him a little off balance by design and Steve goes with it, because he fucking loves it, and then—

“Goddamnit, Edward,” Steve growls between them into Eddie’s shit-eating fucking grin as he smacks Steve’s ass, again, and keeps his hand there to squeeze while he pecks at Steve’s lips with feeling.

“It’s good luck, baby, for the journey!” Eddie protests between kisses. “It would curse the whole shebang if I left without showing the appreciation duly accorded to a goddamn masterpiece,” and then he leans in and goes deep one more time, draws a moan out and drags it slow from Steve’s lips before breaking away to declare emphatically:

“Unthinkable.”

And Steve…Steve fucking loves this man bigger than the whole expanding fucking universe or whatever, so he kisses him back until Eddie’s the one moaning, then pushes him away, kinda hard.

“Get out of here, you fucking lunatic,” but then he’s quick to drag Eddie back for one last kiss to mouth against him: “have a safe flight, I’ll see you tonight.”

And Eddie smiles against him, and makes to actually listen, but.

Not before Steve slaps that ass as it makes its way out the door.

Turnabout’s fair play.

Or whatever.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[mywritingonlyfans]

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[massivedrickhead]

41. "Sleep. I'll keep you safe.”

Oopsie, I got a little serious with this one. Defintely more hurt/comfort than fluff. I don't know if this is good or not, I'm very tired and this took much longer to write than I thought it would.

Trigger warnings: violence, injury, blood, panic attack

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

-

Chloe’s hands were shaking as she gripped the steering wheel, her driving bordering on reckless, as she sped down the highway and towards the hospital.

Theo’s words were still ringing in her ears as she thought of every possible scenario, each one worse than the last. 

“Don’t freak out, but there was an incident at Beca’s show.”

Chloe laid on her horn as a car swerved out of its lane in front of her, and she forced herself to slow down.

She’d be no use to Beca if she got herself killed.

“What do you mean an incident?! What happened?!”

“She’s okay, but we’re taking her to the hospital.”

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she thought it might break through her ribs. She’d never been so happy to see the sign for her exit.

When she reached the hospital she parked haphazardly in the first space she saw, and sprinted towards the ER, where she knew Theo was waiting for her.

“You don’t need to come-”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”

She pushed her way through the crowd of paparazzi that the hospital security was managing to hold back.

By the time they realised who she was Chloe had made it through the double doors and was marching towards Theo.

Their shouts and the flashing of their cameras chased her down the hall.

“Theo!” She said, as soon as he was in sight.

She saw him tense and brace himself.

“Chloe-” he began, his hands held up as if to try and placate her.

“Where is she?” 

He sighed and gestured for her to follow him. “She’s getting stitched up. I told you, she’s okay. She’s cracking jokes with the nurses and everything.”

Chloe had to swallow every ounce of anger she had because if she didn’t she would have hit him.

“Don’t tell me she’s okay,” Chloe said. “How the hell could you let this happen?”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he snapped back. “How the hell was I supposed to know some weirdo fan would bring a brick to a meet and greet?”

Chloe stopped walking, a cold wave of nausea sweeping over her. “What?” She asked, her voice now quiet and shaking, 

He grimaced and stopped too. “Sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t told you the details yet, had I?”

Chloe felt like she was going to throw up, or pass out, or burst into tears. “Someone hit her with a brick?”

Theo nodded.

“Wha… How?”

“He wrapped it,” Theo said. “Had it in a gift bag. Venue security didn’t question it when he went through the bag check.”

Chloe’s hands were covering her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “He could have killed her,” she said.

“She’s okay,” Theo said. “They did a head CT and it came back clear, it’s just a superficial wound.”

“Please, just take me to her,” Chloe said. Theo nodded and they carried on walking.

Chloe could hear the laughter before she got to the room, and she tried to quickly remove any trace that she’d been crying.

Theo opened the door to the private room Beca had been given, and Beca’s smile grew as she saw Chloe enter.

“Hey,” she said. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Shut up,” Chloe said, any attempt at trying to seem calm out of the window. “Of course I had to come.”

Beca rolled her eyes, which was difficult for her to do while someone was stitching up the gash on her forehead. “Everyone, this is my wife Chloe. Chloe, meet Dr Bauer, who is the head of plastics.” She gestured to the doctor stitching her up. “And this is his intern Dr Larson, who apparently isn’t allowed anywhere near me with a needle.”

“Not on his first week he’s not,” Dr Bauer said. “I’m not having you out there on tour with a messy scar because I let some intern botch your stitches. Nice to meet you, by the way,” he added glancing at Chloe.

Chloe just nodded.

“Here, honey,” a nurse said, who had been sitting at Beca’s other side. She gestured to her spot. “I offered to hold her hand until you got here.”

“This is Nurse Stevens,” Beca said.

“Trish,” the nurse said, shaking Chloe’s hand.

Again, Chloe just smiled politely and took the nurse’s seat. She took hold of Beca’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

She wanted all of these people to leave.

She needed them all to leave.

Because Beca might have seemed calm, but Chloe knew her wife.

Chloe knew when she was On, and Beca was On right now. She was Beca Mitchell the popstar. The Grammy winner. The celebrity.

These people would go home and talk to their friends and family about this. They’d remember it. 

And Chloe knew that Beca was doing everything in her power to mask how she was really feeling.

Because Beca had never been good at letting her guard down, and her years in the spotlight had hardened every one of her defences. Had made her an expert at putting on a smile and hiding how she really felt.

But Chloe could see right through them.

She’d always been able to see right through them.

And she knew without a doubt that, right now, Beca was terrified. 

They’d been able to read each other like a book for years now, and Chloe could see the fear burning in her eyes. Could feel it in the way that Beca squeezed her hand. 

Beca was running on adrenaline, and she was using it all to keep the shake from her voice. To keep the persona up. 

She hated Theo for not being able to see it.

He’d told her Beca was okay, but she was far from it. 

“Do you know how much longer?” Chloe asked, voicing the question that Beca couldn’t. 

“Almost done,” he said. 

Chloe ran her thumb back and forth across Beca’s knuckles and gave her hand another light squeeze.

You’re okay, I’ve got you.

“And she can go home after this?”

“Sure,” he said. “Neuro checks came back clear, so once these are done she’ll be good to go.” He looked at his intern. “What does she need to watch out for over the next few days?”

“Uh, headaches that don’t go away with painkillers, vomiting, loss of consciousness, seizures, memory loss, changes in behaviour, vision loss-”

“Kid, I’m not going to remember any of this,” Beca said. “And that’s not because of the head injury.”

“We’ll give you some pamphlets,” he said, blushing slightly. “All the information is in there.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said.

“Okay,” Dr Bauer said, “you are good to go, Ms Mitchell.”

“Thanks so much,” Beca said. “If I ever need a face-lift, I know who I’m coming to.”

“Really, thank you for everything,” Chloe said. She turned to Trish. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”

“Just doing our jobs,” she said, smiling. “Ms Mitchell, if you want to hop in here, we can get you moving.” She patted the seat of a wheelchair that an orderly had just brought.

“Really guys, I can walk,” Beca said. Chloe could see that her edges were beginning to fray. 

“Hospital policy,” Trish said. “Come on, we’ve rolled out the red carpet and everything.”

Beca shrugged and smiled, and got into the wheelchair. 

“There’s, um, a few paparazzi at the main entrance,” Chloe said, trying to sound casual. “Is there another exit we can use?”

“We’ll take care of them,” one of Beca’s security guards said. 

“I don’t want them following us to my car,” Chloe said, lowering her voice. 

“We won’t let anything happen to her, ma’am,” he said. 

“Something already happened!” Chloe snapped. “I’m trying to stop it from getting worse!”

“Chloe,” Beca said, “it’s okay. I can handle it.”

But you shouldn’t have to, Chloe wanted to scream. 

They reached the hospital entrance and Chloe saw the lights already to begin flashing through the doors. Both Beca’s personal security and hospital security managed to force them back enough to form a gap for Beca, Chloe, and Theo to walk out.

They followed them to the car. Shouting questions, camera bulbs flashing. 

“Hey!” Chloe snapped, turning on them. “She has a head injury, can you fucking cool it with the flashing lights?!”

Beca tugged Chloe’s hand and they carried on walking.

The pictures didn’t stop. 

“Chloe.”

“I know,” Chloe said, squeezing Beca’s hand as they reached the car. “I know, baby.”

Chloe could hear it in her voice.

She was about to break.

“Keys,” Theo said to Chloe. She tossed them to him without a second thought. “Beca’s security will follow us back and keep watch tonight. I can call an Uber later.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said. 

They reached the car and Chloe helped Beca into the back before climbing in beside her. The cameras couldn’t penetrate the blacked-out windows, but that didn’t stop the photographers from trying.

“Fucking cockroaches,” Chloe muttered as Theo pulled out of the parking lot, laying on the horn when they crowded the car.

Chloe waited for Beca to make a joke about her potty mouth that only came out when Chloe was stressed, but it didn’t come. 

Beca was finally letting herself feel the panic. The fear. 

“You’re okay,” Chloe said, trying not to wince as Beca’s hand tightened around hers. “Just take a breath.”

Her breathing was coming in short sharp gasps, and Chloe knew they were in the beginnings of a panic attack that would likely last the rest of the night.

“Do I need to go back to the hospital?” Theo asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

“No,” Beca and Chloe said at the same time,

“I have her,” Chloe said to Theo. She focused her attention on Beca again. “I have you, okay?”

Beca nodded and tried to focus on her breathing.

“I thought I was going to die,” Beca said, between gasping breaths. “Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know, baby,” Chloe said. 

The drive home seemed to take forever, but finally, Theo was pulling up to their drive and hitting the button to open the gate. 

“Get her inside,” he said. “I’ll sort everything out, out here.”

“Thank you, Theo,” Chloe said. 

“Stay home for the next few days,” he said. “It’ll blow over.”

Beca seemed calm again as they got out of the car, and she walked steadily towards the house without looking back. 

Chloe followed, her hand resting on Beca’s back.

When the front door was finally shut behind them, Chloe wasted no time in pulling Beca into her arms, letting her own tears fall as she clung to her wife.

“I was so scared,” Chloe said. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Beca clung back, her eyes squeezed shut as she buried her face into Chloe’s neck.

Her head was hurting badly, the gash on her head stung and throbbed as the local anaesthetic began wearing off, but that all felt small compared to the panic that was growing larger in her chest.

“Can I get you anything?” Chloe asked, unwilling to let her go just yet. “Water, or something to eat?”

“No,” Beca said. “Just… Please just hold me.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, holding her tighter. “I can do that.”

They stood there for a while in the entryway of their home, Beca wrapped protectively in Chloe’s arms until Beca spoke again.

“He looked at me like he hated me,” she said. “What had I done to make him hate me like that?”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Chloe said, finally ending their hug so she could look at Beca. 

Her eye was beginning to bruise now, and Chloe thought it might have started swelling too. There was dried blood in her hair and all down the front of her shirt. 

“He gift-wrapped it,” Beca said. “He planned it. What if… What if he’d brought a knife? Or a gun?”

“Hey,” Chloe said, cupping Beca’s face with her hands. “Look at me. He can’t get you now, okay? He was arrested, and even if he wasn’t, your security guys are right outside.” 

Chloe pressed a kiss to the uninjured side of her head.

“Come on, you need to rest,” Chloe said, taking Beca’s hand and leading her upstairs. 

Beca tried to change out of her clothes, but her hands were feeling too clumsy. She couldn’t get them to cooperate enough to un-do the buttons on her shirt, so Chloe took over. 

“I don’t feel good,” Beca said, watching as Chloe eased her out of her shirt. 

“Do you feel like you need to be sick?” Chloe asked, trying not to panic.

Beca shook her head, which turned out to be a mistake. She winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Bec, talk to me,” Chloe said. 

“I just feel…” Beca trailed off as she searched for the word. “I keep going from numbness to fear and I just… I don’t feel like myself.” She let out a huff as tears fell quickly. “I want it to stop. I want this day to be done.”

Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know you do,” Chloe said. “I do too. I wish I could say something that would fix this, but all I can do is promise that I’ll be with you every step of the way through whatever happens next.”

Beca nodded and gave Chloe the first genuine smile she’d had all night. Chloe helped Beca out of the rest of her clothes and into a baggy t-shirt.

“Thanks,” Beca said, climbing into bed.

“Does your head hurt?” Chloe asked, looking for something concrete that she could do to help. 

“Yeah,” Beca replied. 

“I’ll get you something,” Chloe said.

She grabbed a bottle of water and some painkillers, and while she was downstairs she looked outside.

She could see that the paparazzi seemed to have left, but Beca’s security team was still there, and that made her feel safer. 

She double-checked that both the front and back doors were locked before returning to the bedroom. 

When Chloe got back, Beca was scrolling on her phone, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“It’s already on the internet,” Beca said. 

Chloe didn’t tell Beca that she already knew. While they’d been waiting for the doctor to finish stitching her head up, Chloe had been fielding texts from the Bellas.

Chloe sat on the bed beside Beca and had to stifle a gasp when she looked at her phone.

It was one thing to hear about it, but quite another to see it in high definition. To see it looped, again and again. The brick connecting with the side of her head. The confusion on her face being quickly replaced by fear and then pain. 

“Okay,” Chloe said, taking Beca’s phone from her hand. She closed whatever app had been open and put her phone on the nightstand. “Here, take these.” She handed Beca the pills and the water. Beca did so without complaint. “You need to try and get some rest.”

“I can’t,” Beca said. “Everyone has seen it now. What if they all get the same idea? What if… what if they come here? The press knows where we live, anyone could have followed us home.”

“Shh,” Chloe said, gathering Beca into her arms. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“You don’t know that,” Beca said.

“I know that I’m not going to let anything else happen to you,” Chloe said. “I know that there are men and women outside right now who are here to protect you. And I know that you’re running on adrenaline right now and that sleep feels impossible, but you need to try.”

Chloe knew Beca wasn’t going to lie down and try to sleep willingly, she was too wired for that, so she adjusted their positions until Beca was lying with the uninjured side of her head on Chloe’s chest.

As carefully as she could, Chloe began stroking the hair from her face, making sure not to get anywhere near her stitches.

“Do you want an ice pack or anything for your head?”

“No,” Beca said, her breathing beginning to even out. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Chloe said. “We’ll call your therapist in the morning to see if she can squeeze you in.”

“She’s probably seen the video,” Beca said. 

“Well, then she has all night to figure out what to say to make it better.”

Beca gave a soft laugh.

They stayed in that position for hours, the only sound was the occasional sniffle from Beca. At one point, Chloe asked if she wanted her to turn out the light, but Beca said she’d rather keep it on.

Chloe knew her eyes were fixed on the doorway, waiting for someone to burst through the door and attack her.

“You need to try and sleep,” Chloe said. 

Beca gave a grunt in response, and Chloe knew that was all she could manage. All her energy was going into just keeping her eyes open.

“Sleep,” Chloe said again. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

It wasn’t a choice anymore, and Chloe felt Beca’s body finally relax against hers.

[novacorpsrecruit]

Better Without You

My other braincell @comicsbi-thebook and I came up with a steddie AU the other day that’s rotting my brain but I do not need another WIP

Steddie Rockstar/Country Star (breakup) AU based on Dixon Dallas’ song Better Without You

Steve and Eddie, who get together after the events of season 4. Eddie was hurt (he may been technically dead for a few minutes), but he’s alive and that’s what matters. He starts to heal over the next few months, Steve by his side, helping Wayne take care of Eddie and falling in love along the way. There were a lot of painful nights — memories, nightmares, wounds that reopened, stitches that ripped, lots of tears and fear that the Upside Down may come back. No matter what happened, Steve was by Eddie side, promising that he wasn’t going to leave him.

Maybe two years pass in their relationship and eddie’s got the record deal of a life time, but that means leaving everything behind. His family, his friends, his life. The agent saw Eddie with Steve and told him that he had to leave him if he wanted the deal. The label wouldn’t sign someone who was queer. This is his only chance on getting out of Hawkins, being known for something other than the town freak that’s accused of a string of murders. This is what he needs.

So he does.

He packs up everything and leaves, barely telling Steve goodbye. Steve is left with a broken heart, a shoebox of pictures and trinkets, and Eddie’s damn acoustic guitar.

He thought about breaking the guitar. Thought about smashing it in the parking lot outside their apartment. taking the broken pieces and lighting it on fire. He tried to return it to Wayne, but Wayne refused. “If he left it, it’s yours.”

Steve let the guitar stay haunting the bedroom, Eddie’s painted words taunting him. Reminding him of what he lost. So he grabs a rag and some alcohol and wipes it clean, removing the words. He learns how to play, stringing chords together and humming along. He learns how to play Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson. And eventually, the pain hurts less. He got a local gig — a paid one — at one of the dive bars, and they kept requesting him to come back.

Eventually, someone important hears him. They offer him a record deal. Steve nearly refused, because of Eddie. Eddie was told to get back in that damn closet if he wanted to break into the industry. Steve refuses to do anything except be himself. If the record wanted him, they’d take him as he is. And the record wanted him, so they agreed to his terms. Out and proud. He signs it and paints his own mark on that damn guitar, known as his signature machine. This machine heals broken hearts.

I hope you miss me when you think about me / and everything we could’ve been / and now you’re nothing but another memory / you know it hurt but in the end / I’m doing better without you, and I know you hate it / I used to think you were the one but you ain’t / no more dancing around it, and I hate to say it / but you damn sure ain’t the one I got away

Steve records a few songs, and instantly they were hits. His song, Better Without You, hit the charts and was played for weeks on the Top 40. Hell, he even broke the top 5.

His lyrics were raw, and any time he preformed the song live, the audience went wild.

I loved you at your worst / you left me at your best / I watched you fade away into the sunset / threw my heart into the dirt / you ripped it from my chest / tried to kill me but I ain’t dying yet

Eddie, known by his moniker MUNSON, is a huge breakout in the metal scene. He’s topped all the metal, rock and alt charts. He’s had a single or two hit the top 40 but most of his fans aren’t from the demographic. He’s done one North American tour with Pantera and he’s rumored to headline his own tour soon. But when he heard about the gay country artist making waves across the charts, he had to take a listen out of curiosity. As soon as the first verse hit, he recognized that voice instantly. He remembers the late nights years ago singing along to Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen years ago. He knows the song is about him and it breaks his heart. He hurts because he knows he hurt Steve. He loved Steve, he really did. He still does.

But Eddie’s so proud of what he’s done at an artist.

And he’s terrified to lose that. Terrified to going back to Eddie the Freak. Eddie the Loser. Eddie stuck in the hellhole of Hawkins, Indiana.

So he calls Steve. He finds a way to get in contact with him. Maybe he uses Dustin to help his number, or a way to talk with him.

And maybe Steve’s a little hopeful when they exchange pleasantries and Eddie tells him that he likes the song and he’s proud of Steve for making it and being out.

But then reality comes crashing down. “You wouldn’t …” Eddie starts, trailing off. He’s nervous, worried, afraid. “You wouldn’t out me, would you?”

This wasn’t an apology for breaking Steve’s heart. It’s a plea, begging for Steve not to out Eddie. And Steve can’t help but laugh as he feels his heart break again.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Steve laughs, hiding his pain. Hiding the tears that want to slide down his cheeks. “Do you really think I’d do that to anyone? Don’t fucking call me again.”

And maybe the next time he plays Better Without You, he sings some lyrics a little louder, while his heart aches.

I’m glad you came into my life, you really taught me well. / and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. / you showed me the devil ain’t exactly in a place called hell / you were tightly wrapped up in my loving arms.

[scheodingers-muppet]

@yournowheregirl's dolly fic has turned me into a southern Eddie truther so here this is;

Eddie always hated Hawkins. He hated the cold. He hated the music "scene." He hated the small-town-picket-fence dream all his classmates seemed to have. He hated the way it never felt like home.

That's probably because it wasn't home. Never had been. When Wayne's job transferred him to Indiana right before he started middle school, he wanted nothing more but get through school and hi-tail it back to Arkansas before you could say "Bless your heart!"

But when does anything ever go according to plan?

It was okay at first; he started to make some friends in his classes. Took up band. Wayne got him a Johnny Cash record and guitar for his birthday and he started to spend his free time learning his favorite songs to sing around the bonfire on warm Summer nights. Sure, it wasn't what his friends listened to, but he loved seeing their faces when he got to share a little piece of home with them.

In turn, his friends shared pieces of them with Eddie. Introduced him to Dio and Dungeons and Dragons. Eddie loved it immediately, being flooded with memories of reading The Hobbit with Wayne on sleepless nights after he first moved in.

Slowly, the country and flannels were replaced with metal and leather jackets. His accent slowly faded, not having a strong one to begin with unless he was drunk or excited. Occasionally, you could still hear it, if you listened closely to his rambles on metal music and fantasy stories. He started growing out his hair and gave himself some tattoos. His dream of moving back home turned into wanting to tour, to bring Corroded Coffin on the road.

Then, Wayne gets hurt. Dislocates his knee. It isn't anything horrible. But it's enough to keep him from working for a few months. Eddie tries to get a job to help with the bills, but who really wants to hire a 17-year-old metal head who needs every Friday off for D&D and every other Saturday for band practice? So he found himself on Reefer Rick’s couch, getting the run down on how to deal to his classmates.

He started to fall behind in class, to worried about keeping the lights on and his uncle’s medical bills paid. Even after Wayne starts working again, he’s built up a reputation as the school’s dealer so he keeps it up. He ends up needing to repeat senior year. His friends and original band members gradate and move out of state for school. Eddie's world begins to crumble.

He tries to rebuild what he can. He's befriended some more kids through Hellfire and even through he stopped doing school band a few years ago, he still knows enough talented kids to keep Corroded Coffin going. His life starts to look up again.

Until spring break of '86.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins. Hated the weather. Hated the excuse of sweet tea. Hated the monsters that lived in the Hell dimension below it, even if he didn't always know they were there.

What he loves however, is his people. His people, who quietly grew from just his uncle, to the band, to the Hellfire kids, then suddenly, a group of monster fighting teenagers.

His life starts to fall back in place. His recovery from the Upside Down is taking it's sweet time, but he's getting there. The kids surprised him with a new cane after he complained his wasn't "metal enough." Will drew up the design - the base being a black and red dragon with a skull that matches one of his favorite rings for the handle - and Hopper got it carved for him. Steve is driving him around most places until he's cleared to drive again. Even though his name is cleared, he still doesn't feel comfortable going many places so it's mainly doctors appointments right now. Robin paints his nails red and black on days when he's bedbound and Nancy helps with his hair since he can't get his stitches wet yet.

He slowly starts to share his favorite parts of home with them. He plays "Ring of Fire" at the bonfires Steve hosts over the summer. He gives Dustin his old flannels that don't fit him anymore. He teaches El how to make sweet tea the right way and starts to include more southern folklore in his campaigns.

Him and Steve grow closer; finally starting dating after six months of dancing around their feelings. They get a small apartment together after a while. Eddie proudly hangs his two guitars on the wall in their bedroom, playing Steve songs on his acoustic when he can't sleep. They host Hellfire in their living room every Friday and Uncle Wayne over for dinner on Saturdays. Corroded Coffin still play gigs at the Hideout, but they're starting to get some big gigs out of town. After years of repeated head trauma, Steve ends up needing hearing aids. It's not ideal, but it does mean he gets to stand front row at all of Eddie's concerts and not worry about his hears ringing.

He never does end up moving back home, but he does make a home in Hawkins. He brings in little elements of his childhood into their new house; a two-story with lots of windows. Him, Steve, and Wayne spend a weekend planting apple blossoms and sunflowers. Well, Wayne sits on the rocking chair, strumming on the guitar he got Eddie all those years ago while the boys make a garden. He keeps sweet tea in the fridge at all times and calls Steve his "Sweetpea" and doesn't try and hide his accent. Steve eats it up, asking him to say it again and again the first time he hears it.

The band makes it big and Eddie goes on tour. He sends Steve postcards at every stop and makes sure they play in Arkansas. He brings the guys to where he grew up, telling them stories at every stop. When Steve is on summer break from teaching, he brings him down too. It slowly becomes a tradition to spend summers "back home." It stops becoming just the two of them when they're able to adopt a little girl, who Eddie almost solely refers to as his "Darlin'" and writes a song for her, about a little boy who grew up longing for home only to realize he was able to build it back right where he stood. They band plays it on every tour, even if it's a lot softer than the rest of their songs. They play it for the first time at a "hometown-esc" show in Little Rock, where he first tells the world about his Darlin', with her and Steve watching from the side of the stage.

Eddie's always hated Hawkins, but he's never hated home.

[pitbullwithaship]

DOCTOR WHO LIVEBLOG 2009 SPECIAL THE WATERS OF MARS

It has been a moment since I've watched, but in my defense I have 7 different personal projects right now including learning the guitar and finally doing drivers Ed. And a cross stitch project and an embroidery project and a song I'm learning for open mic and my band solos and the book I'm reading. AnyWHO yeah I have a whole bunch of stuff happening Coolio. Let's watch.

STATIC

Aww is a baby

STATIC

Oh look Mars

Aww he has the spacesuit on

Lol I like this dude he's funny

And he's a killjoy

Lol no trespassing

THE DOCTOR. DOCTOR. FUN.

Aww cute gadget

Carrots

Oof he ate the carrot and now he's weird

Weird sounds

OH FUCK

MY HEAD IS SO STUPID that is a mood

Wait they all die? No that's sad?

TODAY

Awww nerd sad nerd

Ooh roaring

Oof now he's all entangled

Cute robot

Aww don't get all deep on her right now Doctor

That's poetic

Don't bicker y'all

Well they're still alive lol

Manipulative monster?

Oof there he is he's very soaked

Oof she's seizing?

Oh dear is her mouth weird now

SHES DRIPPING

oh do the Mars creatures want water cuz their planet dried up

That's scary as hell holy crap

Those are really obviously contact lenses in that shot

Oh wow they're trying to get in with water

They look so funny running like that

Wow

Poetic indeed

BUT BIKES I love him

Funny noises language

Ooh ice frozen creature virus

OooOOOOOoooooOo ActIoN PrOceDurE ONe

This is making me thirsty

He's a runner he's a trackstar

Ooh medical breach thats not good

He knows your death

Something wonderful

OOF? SHE WAS THERE?! OH POOR HER

It saw her

I love her she's wonderful

I fully agree doctor. Remarkable

AWW THATS SO CUTE HER GRANDAUGHTER THATS SO CUUUUTTTEEE AAAHHH

She made a difference? People remember her?! I want to be remembered!

THEY CAN LEAVE

Aww but history says they all die anyway why

Climbing ladder?

Controlled chaos indeed

He is conflicted

Boop boop boop boop boop

They're on the roof!!

Maybe they can

He is still conflicted and sad

Okay but there's 20 minutes left I bet he changes just mind and what fun that would bring

Awww sadness sadness I hate sadness

DOCTOR YOU NEED TO PROCESS TOUR GODAMN TRAUMA

IF YOU CRY I WILL CRY THATS NOT ALLOWED

Final option

Doomed by the narrative

That's a lot of water

HE HAS TO WALK AWAY AND LISTEN TO IT ALL

Awwww her peoples that's really sad I'm gonna cry

IM CRYING

HE HAS TO HEAR ALL OF IT WHILE HE WALKS AWAY AAAAAAHHHH ITS NOT FAIR AAAHHHH

OH NO I FORGOT ABOUT HER NOOO NOW THEY CANT LEAVE

EXPLOSION

I'm crying this is torturous and an amazing axample of being doomed by the narrative and by fate and everything and all

Oh shit he's doing the thing is this the thing I've seen oh fuck has he snapped

YOURE NOT IMMORTAL BECAUSE OF A PROPHECY ABOUT KNOCKING YOURE STUPID

DONT BREAK THE TIME LAWS

NO THE LAWS DONT OBEY ANYONE YOU FUCK I GET THAT YOURE A TRAUMATISED DUDE BUT YOU DONT WIN AGAINST TIME EVER EVER EVER EVER FUCK

This is getting philosophical, it's lucky I have Philosophy this semester

Doomed is doomed by dude

THE ICE IS BREAKING

His brain is incredibly broken, this is why you should process your trauma kids

EXPLOSION SHIT

7 minutes left apparently

They're alive?

Dude you know the rules, I'm glad she has sense

TIME LORD VICTORIOUS MY GUY NO

See this is what happens when your brain gets broken don't let it get this far kiddos

Fuck this is hurting my heart he's not supposed to be like this

GIRLIE JUST DIED ANYWAY SHES BRAVE I LOVE HER FUCK

YES MY DUDE YOUVE GONE TOO FAR DID YOU ONLY JUST REALISE IT

Hello Ood

HES SO TRAGIC HIS HURTS MY HEART

FUCK

Technically I could watch another but I want to watch the part 1 and part 2 for The End Of Time all at once. Cool. This will definitely not cause me horrible emotional pain and heartbreak, nosir.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Shortly following ‘Hunter’s Moon’ LOCATION: The Cabin PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: Monty is invited over to the cabin to visit Kaden and make sure he’s really as okay as he says he is. Obviously he isn’t, and Monty is the one to get Kaden to see that. They have an emotional moment, and Monty ends up staying the night. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

—

“Putain d'arbalète,” Kaden muttered to himself as he tried to get his crossbow into the chest where he kept all his weapons. Everything had a specific place, it all fit just right. Only problem was that nothing was in there just right at the moment and he was trying to shove all of his guns, knives, and other hunting gear in there as fast as he could. All with the use of one arm. Well, mostly. His left hand was mostly used for cradling the stitches all along his side, almost as if he could hold back some of the pain that way as he cleaned up around the cabin. If nothing else, it kept them from popping open. That had to count for something.

But the fucking crossbow wouldn’t fucking get in the fucking chest right and so it wouldn’t fucking close and Monty was going to be there any second and he couldn’t just have weapons all around the cabin like it was normal. So he needed this to fucking cl–

Tap. Tap, Tap.

The knock on the door made his heart skip a beat for way too many reasons. Merde, the chest. Kaden reached over and grabbed the crocheted lesbian flag blanket and threw it over the slightly ajar trunk. Great, couldn’t even see the arm of the crossbow sticking out the side. Well, maybe a little. If you faced just the right way and knew what was under there. It was fine, It’d be fine. It had to be fine because Kaden was limping to the door as fast as he could with his recent injuries. “Coming,” he shouted, lest the cowboy think he got the wrong place or… something.

Familiar brown eyes greeted him as he swung the door open and Kaden could already feel his cheeks lifting into a smile. “Hey,” was all he could manage to say at first, almost like he was stuck in place, just smiling like an idiot. Right. Shouldn’t just stand there. Kaden leaned in to give the man a small bisou on the cheek before he could let himself second guess the gesture. “Come in,” he said, angling himself so that Monty could walk through the threshold. His free hand was still hovering over his stitches, more out of some instinct to hide the lumps of gauze and bandages under his shirt rather than to protect them this time.  

“I’d give you a tour but this is pretty much it.” He huffed out a small laugh as he gestured to the rest of the cabin. The small entrance way opened up to the common area with the couch, the stairs to the loft above it there in the back corner. To the left of that was the door to the kitchen and a small hallway that led to Andy and Alex’s respective rooms. The place was small, but it was cozy. It certainly felt like it was lived in, no denying that. 

—

The small satchel that hung from Monty’s shoulder was clutched between his hands rather than resting on his hip as he stood on the cabin’s doorstep, fingers pressing into the leather and cloth to feel out the hard surface of the tape measure that was kept safely inside—that’s why he was here, after all. Superficially, anyway. Needed to get measurements of the space where Kaden would be sleeping in order to make the pullout bed, which was something the man needed now more than ever, it seemed. 

But far more important than that was his need to see what kind of damage had been done by his friend. While the panic that Kaden was dead had been assuaged by the Frenchman’s belated text, it did confirm Monty’s fear: that he’d been the one that Gael attacked. Or if he wasn’t, it was one hell of a coincidence. 

It was pushed from his mind when he heard the man calling from inside, and his gaze jumped upward to meet Kaden’s once the door was pulled open. “Hola,” he responded softly, allowing a grin to creep over his face as the other leaned in to kiss his cheek. A breathy exclamation spilled from him but he tried not to draw any more attention to it, nodding as he was encouraged inside and stepping over the threshold. 

“Oh it’s cute,” he said as he took in the cabin’s interior, “I love it!” His eyes landed on the taller man again and he started and stopped, mouth hanging open for a brief second before he found his words. “How are you?” He gave the man a very quick once-over, as if some grievous injury beyond the superficial ones on his face and hands would suddenly make itself known. A bite mark, perhaps. 

Concern weaved its way into his features and he clutched his satchel a little tighter. “If there’s… anything I can do to help, you are obligated to tell me, sí? No arguments.”

—

“Yeah, Andy found a nice place,” Kaden said as he looked over the cabin that felt more and more like home every day. His breath hitched in his lungs at Monty’s next question. Putain. He knew this would come up, there was no way to avoid it. Not with how obvious it was that the hunter was in pain. Beyond that, the scratches on his face and hands and the bruises he’d accumulated didn’t exactly alleviate any worry, he was sure of that. On top of everything, he’d fucked up and had agreed to meet the man on the night of the full moon. As if he wasn’t already swimming in guilt over the whole ordeal, that only poured another dose over the whole thing.

“I’m alright,” he said, trying to mask the pain that had crept into his voice as he took a step forward. “Really. Pretty used to this kind of thing. Plus, I heal quick.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t as much of a lie as he wished it were. Sure, he didn’t end up nearly on death’s doorstep every day, but he did regularly get bitten and clawed and scratched. Pain was nothing new to him. Scars were a dime a dozen. And injuries healed. It was just part of his life. Questioning it would mean questioning even more than he already had. There were some doors Kaden wasn’t ready to open. Not yet. 

“Did I mention how sorry I am about the other night, yet?” He had. As soon as he came to enough to look at his phone, he sent an apology. He also tried to dissuade any concern that Monty might have about him, trying his best not to mention how close he’d come to dying. As much as he wanted to make it clear that he hadn’t just flaked on him, Kaden didn’t exactly want to cause any panic. Which was probably stupid of him.

He did his best to walk to the stairs like nothing was wrong but by the second footfall, he was wincing again and holding his side. Kaden leaned against the railing once he made it the few feet to the stairs, still trying to keep the grimace off his face. “If I say I’m alright again, are you going to believe me?” he asked, a little out of breath as he offered a smile. 

—

Sighing, Monty offered him a gentle smile. “Yes, you did. And I told you that it is all right. Wasn’t your fault.” But it wasn’t Gael’s fault, either. It was just… damnit, if Kaden just hadn’t been out—

The cowboy’s gaze followed Kaden’s hand to his side as he reached for it, leaning against the bannister of the stairs they’d barely made it up. Concern creased his brow and he frowned, noting the way the other cradled it in his palm. That must’ve been the worst of it. There, hidden beneath his shirt. Monty felt sick with grief even though Kaden was still alive, standing right in front of him. Not okay, but alive.

“Honestly? Not really,” he answered, taking a step up closer to the man. “Take your time. And don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt for my sake.” Watching him carefully, supporting him as needed as they made their way up to the loft, he didn’t speak again until they’d safely reached the top.

“... how bad is it?”

—

Monty could say all he wanted that it wasn’t the hunter’s fault, but Kaden knew better. He chose to go out. He chose to be in those woods. He chose to stay and try to knock the wolf unconscious, hoping to minimize the damage that might happen on the full moon. Instead he almost— He bottled up the thought once more, pushing it away for another time and looked back to the cowboy. “I know but I think I’ve got about three more apologies in me before I believe you.” The smile on his face surely wasn’t as bright as he wanted it to be, through no fault of his company. He didn’t want this shit to weigh on him so much it pinned him down, but he was having trouble dodging the weight. 

He nodded to Monty, but didn’t quite do as he asked, still trying to mask what he could as he climbed the stairs. The first part of the motion was fine, stepping up with his right leg wasn’t a problem. The pain came when he had to pull his left leg up and push himself to the next level, his wounds stretching and contorting with each little movement, sending new agony with each one.

By the fifth step, his attempts to hide the pain weren’t possible to hold onto. The mask was gone, fallen at the foot of the stairs and there was no chance for him to go pick it up at this point. Once they reached the top, Kaden didn’t want to make eye contact with the man, didn’t want him to see how bad it was. Something about it would make it all too real, somehow worse than it was. 

Even if he didn’t meet his gaze, there was no hiding the sweat on his brow or the creases all over his face, his muscles tensed in pain. “It’s, uh…” Putain. He really didn’t want to worry Monty, not any more than he already had. And he didn’t want to make it his problem to deal with. He bit the inside of his lip as he reached down to pull up the hem of his shirt, revealing the swatch of gauze and bandages taped over the expanse of sutures across his side, all surrounded by dark bruises and angry red patches of skin. “Guess it speaks for itself,” he added quietly. 

—

“Ay Dios mío,” was all Monty could say at first upon seeing the bandaged proof of a severe werewolf attack. His heart broke and he looked back up at Kaden, dropping the satchel to the floor and closing the small distance between them.

The natural thing would have been to ask how it happened. He’d been told it was an animal, sure, but there’d not been any details shared. But Monty knew exactly what had happened, at least as much as it mattered, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask for more. What could Kaden tell him, anyway? He was just an animal control officer, he wasn’t equipped to handle something like a werewolf (that much was clear by the way Gael had been acting that morning), and the last thing Monty wanted to do was put him in a position where he had to explain something that had no explanation for most people. Something that seemed impossible. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed letting his hands frame the other’s face and being very, very careful not to touch any of his wounds. “That’s—I’m—” He struggled for the right words, because none of them were right. Everything about this was a lie, and he hated perpetuating that. “I’m glad you’re here.” What a stupid thing to say. “I mean—I don’t know what I’d—” There were people in Kaden’s life who mattered more and who would have had the rightful claim of being far more devastated if the worst had happened. But still. 

Part of him wanted to be angry with Gael, but that part was quickly overshadowed by empathy and crippling guilt. He couldn’t tell either of them. They could never know.

—

Kaden braced himself for the other man’s reaction. Wounds like this were ones he usually kept wrapped up, hidden, and the only people who saw them were other hunters and the occasional doctor who had to dress them. Medical professionals always wore skepticism about their origins. Other hunters shrugged and looked the other way, sometimes even swapping stories. His mother looked with disappointment and judgment. Andy had looked with anger. He didn’t know what a normal person would see, couldn’t really imagine what it might be like not to be intimately familiar with what a mauled body looked like. 

He wasn’t ready for the concern or the immediate care from Monty. His first instinct was to push it away again, downplay it, just ignore it. It wasn’t that bad. He’d seen worse. He still had all his limbs. He didn’t die. It was fine.

He was fine. 

It was clear, looking into worried, brown eyes, that it wasn’t fine. 

He wasn’t fine. He’d almost died. 

The emotions pulled tight at his chest and the urge to duck away from it, to run, was right there within reach, but once Monty’s fingers brushed his face, he was trapped, forced to face what was staring right in front of him. His teeth clamped down harder on the inside of his mouth as he tried to hold himself together, shove what he could back into the fucking bottle before it all exploded out. “Don’t, it’s–” The lie choked him, he couldn't say it was fine anymore, as much as he wanted to. His eyes darted away, trying to escape the reality of the situation reflecting back at him in Monty’s eyes a little longer. “I’m sorry I–” There were too many things to pick just one. And he didn’t even know where to start. It was all easier to accept when he was only apologizing for being a disappointment. 

Words were too hard to find and Kaden was frozen for the moment; he wanted to pull the other man in closer just as fiercely as he wanted to run and hide from everything. Even if he did face the mortality looming over all of it, some part of him didn’t feel like he deserved any of the care or concern facing him. One werewolf almost killed him. How many had he–

He couldn’t avert his gaze forever and the brown eyes looking back at him melted away any hope of botting it all back up and tucking it away. His arms reached out to wrap around Monty, forgetting the injuries and any pain, just desperate to hold on to something, afraid that the emotions crashing down on him might sweep him away otherwise. 

—

As he felt the other’s arms start to circle around him, Monty snaked his own around Kaden’s neck and held him tightly, the side of his head pressed against the man’s neck. One hand found the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair. 

It must have been so horrifying, he thought. At the mercy of a thing like that, one with no control of his actions, not knowing if you’d live or die. As Monty imagined it, because pushing it from his mind was no longer an option, he felt his throat constrict. His hug tightened in a squeeze and he angled his head to press an affectionate kiss just below Kaden’s ear, not having any more words that felt quite right to say, and figuring that Kaden had likely heard them all already. 

What he hadn’t gotten was care. Understanding. Compassion. That much was clear, based on the way he’d tried to brush this off as nothing, until Monty wouldn’t let him anymore. Stupid, stupid man. It only broke his heart further and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

Perhaps there was something he could say that maybe no one had told him. Or maybe that was presumptuous of him, but it couldn’t hurt to say it all the same.

“I’m here,” he spoke gently into the fading light of the evening sun that filtered through the windows. “Anything you might need of me—I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Kaden held tight to Monty, careful not to squeeze too hard. Even injured, he still had hunter strength, he was still made for violence and had to hold back, even in comfort. It didn’t feel like restraint, though, not compared to just moments before. He closed his eyes, his face nestling into whatever part of Monty that was closest, and with the scent of leather and hay enveloping him, it was easy to ignore the pain. He didn’t have to feel the throbbing, angry split in his side or the swollen bruises and stinging scratch marks covering his body. He instead paid attention to the arms around him, the fingers in his hair, the cold, crisp lips pressed against his neck, and his own arms holding onto someone he cared about and who, for whatever reason, cared about him, too. 

He nodded at Monty’s words, not confident he was able to find any of his own just yet, and sniffled, unaware that there was anything to sniff back. Either way, he didn’t know what he needed yet, what he would ask for, that was too much to think about then when everything felt like too much all at once. All he knew was he wasn’t letting go just yet. 

As the seconds passed, Kaden’s breathing slowed, returning to normal. He hadn’t realized it had been any different, but he could feel a calm that had been missing settling in. In that space between, there was one thing that crossed his mind. It was selfish. He wasn’t sure he could say it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he needed it, just wanted it. Stay. It wasn’t like he was alone, he had Andy and Alex. And all he had was a couch and a shitty air mattress in the loft. 

“Stay?” he asked before he could stop himself. “I mean, if you can,” he added, voice soft, regretting saying anything already. “It’s okay if– You don’t have to–”

—

“Cariño,” Monty interrupted his backpedaling, leaning back just far enough to be able to make eye contact with him again, “of course I’ll stay. As long as you want.” It didn’t matter how cramped or uncomfortable the space was—as long as he knew he was being of some help to Kaden.

He’d already failed Gael, the least he could do was succeed here.

As if to try and convince him further that he wasn’t just saying these things with no intention of backing them up, Monty lifted himself up onto his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Kaden’s lips to button the statement. When he rocked back down, he wore a soft smile. "It is probably the very least that I can do." The moment of elation following the kiss was short lived, of course, as he considered Kaden’s wound. How he got that wound. How he'd been cleaning the blood of the man standing before him off of the man that had done this to him, and how he couldn't be upset with either of them. It was just a tragedy of errors at this point. 

"But… thank you for letting me."

—

Warmth spread through his chest and a smile across his face at the term of endearment. “You’re sure?” Kaden shook his head almost immediately after the words left his lips. “You’re sure. Got it.” The question had spilled out before he gave it even a passing thought but it was clear as the stars in the night sky shining through the window that Monty was sure of his decision. He was surprised that it was so easy for the man to agree to stay. He’d assumed for whatever reason that he was asking too much, that there would be some sort of compromise at best. 

It was hard for him to wrap his head around the thought that someone would even try to take care of him, let alone want to. He was used to looking out for others — his family, other hunters, humanity, etc. — but more often than not he was the only one looking out for himself. Not that his mother or sister had never cared about him or never had his back, but it was predicated on him following the family codes and doing his duty. 

He went to lean into the kiss, inhaling as sharp as the jolt of pain he felt when his skin pulled taut against the stitches. Putain. Even then, the kiss managed to make him feel a little better, leaving a matching smile on his face. 

“Hey,” he said, huffing out a laugh before nudging Monty lightly in his side with his hand that was still wrapped around the man’s waist. “I’m supposed to be thanking you. Don’t flip the script on me.” The weight of everything was still there, still threatening to crush him, but it felt a little lighter. Kaden didn’t know if because the cowboy was helping him carry the burden or if it was just hovering above his shoulders, one wrong move away from slamming down on him. It didn’t matter for the moment.

Kaden sighed, leaning back to look around the cabin, his gaze starting downstairs with the couch and drifting over to the air mattress on the loft floor behind Monty. Those were the options, he supposed. The privacy and the proximity of the loft won out in his mind. “Think you can help me lie down without popping a stitch? I don’t need the medical examiner giving me an earful.” Merde. He realized how alarming that probably sounded. “Not that I plan to— I helped out Regan, I mean Dr. Kavanagh with a, uh, vulture at the morgue one time. So I asked her if she could look at the sutures. Wanted to avoid the hospital.” Yeah that probably didn’t sound much better. “Anyway, help me out then tell me all about what’s been going on at the farm. Pretty sure that’s going to be a lot nicer than talking about this anymore,” he said, nodding toward the wounds. 

—

“I’ll flip it however I like,” Monty argued with a tired smile, tilting his head at Kaden as he glanced around them. Nodding slowly, the ready agreement shifted into hesitation at the mention of a medical examiner, though Monty admittedly didn’t know what exactly that entailed. It just didn’t sound… great. Still, his reaction was muted and allowed Kaden to go on and explain more, and the cowboy nodded again. “I understand. I'm not much of a fan of hospitals, myself.” Yeah, no kidding. He’d never even been inside one. 

Helping lower Kaden onto the air mattress was an awkward affair, especially when the latter was so much taller than the former. But Monty was stronger than he looked and he managed to get the man seated without any severe consequence beyond a few hisses of pain. He then helped him swing his legs up onto the mattress before moving to sit at the end of it, laying the thin pillow across his lap and hooking his hands under Kaden’s arms.

“All right, just relax and I’ll lower you down,” he instructed gently, feeling the full weight of Kaden’s torso as he did as he was told. Monty carefully reclined Kaden until his head settled into the pillow and their eyes met again, which prompted another warm smile. “Hola.” As for the farm…well, he sure couldn’t tell Kaden about the most recent dramatic event. And of course that was all that wanted to come to mind, now that he was trying to think of literally anything else.

“Well… the open farm weekends went well! We actually had some young folks interested in getting jobs with us, which is good.” Alberto’s position would finally be filled. “Um… honestly, other than that, it has been pretty much the usual stuff. Baby season is about wrapped up, which is a relief.” That always put a lot of extra work on everyone, but that was also the benefit of having undead employees—they didn’t need to sleep and they didn’t get tired. Of course Monty tried to make them take time off, but sometimes that was easier said than done.

He paused for a few beats, letting his fingers run absentmindedly through Kaden’s hair. “I… have been thinking that I might turn over all ownership of the farm to Daisy, actually,” he said quietly. “She really does all the administrative work, anyway. I am just…” A fixture. “... there.” It didn’t mean that he’d be leaving, but maybe she could find better support in someone else. He was just starting to think he didn’t have the temperament for running a business, seeing as how they were practically breaking even every month. Anyway. “It’s just an idea, right now. I don’t even know if she’d want that. Suppose I need to… talk to her about it.”

—

If it had been anyone else. Kaden would have pushed and squirmed away in protest, insisting he could manage it all himself. He was still a little more resistant than he needed to be, but he did let the man help in the end, as much as he disliked feeling weak and helpless. Something about it made his skin crawl. But looking up to see Monty smiling back at him made the rest of it wash away. “Hey,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. Fine, he supposed it was kind of nice to be taken care of. A little. Maybe. 

It was nice to hear about the farm and things that were going right. For a second, he felt almost normal. “A relief for you and a shame for me. I’m going to miss getting all the new baby animal photos.”

His eyelids started to close, finally letting himself relax, no longer tensing against the pain and leaning into the contentment he felt as the other man played with his hair. He might have started drifting to sleep if it weren’t for what Monty said next.

“What?” His brows furrowed and he went to sit up. The attempt was short-lived the second the pain reminded him why he was laying down in the first place. “Putain,” he muttered, clamping his hand onto his side and his head falling back onto the pillow. He hadn’t known Monty for very long but it was clear the man loved his farm and took a great deal of pride in it, as he fucking should. “Stop being stupid. Don’t act like you don’t put plenty of work into that place.” It was evident from the first time he’d stepped on the farm that a lot of care went into it all. And he knew that even if Monty didn’t do it all himself, he inspired it.  

“Look, I joke that Daisy is the only one keeping that place running but even I know you’ve made that farm what it is.” He was the heart of that community. Kaden suspected that before the football match but it was on full display that day. If Monty didn’t know that then he was stupider than the hunter was. And Kaden had managed to nearly get himself killed the other day. “What’s got you on that idea anyway?” 

—

“Kaden,” Monty admonished him, setting a hand on his shoulder as he tried to sit up. The other fell back again anyway, cursing under his breath and drawing a small smile from the cowboy. It was… kind of nice that he’d gotten so worked up over something that was currently only a thought bouncing around in Monty’s head. Not for the way it riled him up, but just the way that it showed he cared. 

And it was true—until this year, Monty had spent his every waking moment trying to make that farm the best it could be. It just so happened that the ability of Daisy and his farmhands to operate without him had coincided with his decision to try and venture outside his comfort zone and come out of his shell a bit. And he’d had a taste of what that could offer—the most poignant example being Kaden’s head resting in his lap, his fingers wandering where they pleased without overthinking or recoiling—and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back to working that hard.

He’d been working hard for over a century now. The only time he’d taken off was when he accidentally starved himself for too long and disappeared into the wilderness for a few weeks, but that hadn’t exactly been a vacation. Maybe he deserved that. Maybe he wanted that. 

“I don’t know… I have been working since I was old enough to lift a bucket of feed,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “The farm is… well. I am proud of it, sí. And it does a lot of good for a lot of people, far beyond the product we create. It’s just…” He wasn’t really sure how to broach the subject, so he stopped trying to pick the perfect words and just spoke. 

“This is the longest I have ever stayed in one place.” A beat. “I’m not saying I wish to leave. I am just… restless, I think. I do not know what would help with that, though.” The routine had gone from being comforting to something else. “... don’t feel that way when I am with you,” he added in a soft voice, letting his gaze fall to meet Kaden’s again. Then, he shrugged. “Like I said. It was just a thought.”

—

As he listened, Kaden reached over his shoulder, looking for Monty’s hand with his own. He was careful not to twist too far to find it, the recent shock of pain was enough to remind him to stay still. His fingers traced circles along the top of the other man’s hand as he tried to explain what was on his mind. There was some part of him that could relate to what Monty was saying. Kaden didn’t start working as young as he did, not in the same way, but he did have the weight of the world placed on his shoulders at ten years-old. The fate of his family and the safety of humanity all wrapped up in one hunter-shaped duty. It may not have been the same, but he could see shadows of his childhood cast in the overlap with Monty’s. 

Kaden let him try to find the words to say what was on his mind, his own churning it over. He didn’t have a perfect solution to offer but, then again, musings didn’t often come with a concrete solution. Quiet lingered as he mulled over it all for another beat, brows knit together in thought. “When was the last time you took a break? A real one? Could make a difference.” He finished with a shrug. “Not that I’d know, I don’t take those either. You know, unless I’m forced to.” He offered a half-smile even though it may be too soon to slip back into making light of his injuries. It was like second nature. 

He sighed and tried to think some more. Restless. “Look, I just moved to a whole different country a few months ago, I’m not about to lecture anyone looking for change.” The differences between their two situations were stark, no one could mistake them, but he still hoped that Monty wasn’t about to go quite that far to settle whatever restlessness he felt. Granted, the hunter had a feeling that wasn’t what he had in mind. 

His brow furrowed as he thought about his own choices, his own reasons for upending his whole life in one fell swoop. “You’re not trying to run from anything, are you?” His question was curious more so than worried. “I’m not accusing you of anything, don’t worry,” he added as he gave his hand a small squeeze. “No judgment either. Considering…” It was exactly what he had done. “I don’t know, just something to think about.” 

It was funny, for all the insecurities he’d felt when he was there at the football match, when meeting Gael for the first time, Monty’s words now didn’t elicit any of the same concerns. Then again, it was pretty hard to feel anything other than safe and sure while laying there with his head on his lap. Sure, somewhere down the line, Kaden was almost certain that the man would figure out that he deserved a lot better than the hunter, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry there in that moment. Not while every action he took indicated he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe later when he was alone with his thoughts again, the cold concern would creep up on him but for now, he let himself hold onto the warmth he felt then and there. 

—

As the hand that was not busy burying itself in Kaden’s hair was touched, Monty looked down at it with a sad smile. “I… haven’t,” he admitted in response to Kaden’s question about taking a break. “I have always been jumping from one job to the next, you know? A year here, seven months there… they never lasted very long.” Because he wouldn’t let them, because he couldn’t stand the thought of caring for people again only to lose them.

Funny, when you considered where he was now. 

“But I have been here for five years, and… I suppose I am feeling like something is missing, because my instinct tells me I should have moved on by now.” 

Was he running from something? Well, yes and no. His brow furrowed and he straightened his back, glancing out over the edge of the loft’s railing as he thought about it. “I might be,” he answered honestly, feeling his throat tighten. “Or I was. Someone I had to leave behind a long time ago. I think I… was afraid to let myself care like that again. So I just kept leaving at the first sign of friendship.” He didn’t know why he was laying this bare, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “But then I met Daisy at the orchard, and… I don’t know. It was different. Soon after that, I met Alan, and…” He huffed out a breath. “Anyway. I think that until recently, they were the only reasons I stayed here.” 

And trying to give away the farm to Daisy was probably his instinct telling him to detach, wasn’t it? The introspection came as a sudden realization, but it didn’t exactly deter him from the idea. He was tired, after all. 

—

“Uh huh, just as I suspected,” Kaden said as he looked back up at him, his fingers tracing all sorts of invisible symbols and shapes on the man’s hand as he listened to him open up. He understood more than he wanted to. Even though he always returned to home base, he traveled and bounced around from hunt to hunt for years. He never kept steady employment, didn’t make friends outside of hunters, none of whom tried to form any strong ties, and his only stability was his family. Until Damien. And that didn’t last, either. Maybe it was stupid of him to think it would be any different on the other side of the ocean. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying to find some shred of stability and normalcy to hold onto. It couldn’t.

“Well your instinct also hasn’t told you to take a break this whole damn time.” He raised a brow as he challenged the farmer. “Might be worth trying that first before letting your instinct take the reins.” 

When Monty looked away, Kaden worried he might have pushed too far or hit a sore spot. He couldn’t tell — he couldn’t see the man’s face, he could only feel him tense a little in his seat. But when he spoke, it all made sense and worry made way for sympathy. 

He’d lost someone. Kaden should have known as much. It wasn’t like he was unfamiliar. He squeezed the man’s hand, wishing he had more ways to offer comfort at the moment. He wanted to sit up and pull Monty into another hug but he knew better than to move by now and stayed put. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking up and hoping to meet his eyes. “I also… I know the feeling.” Too well. Loss had followed him his entire life, practically defined it. He couldn’t blame the cowboy for putting up walls, trying to keep himself from getting hurt. Honestly, he was surprised that he hadn’t done the same when he landed on this side of the Atlantic. Had a feeling he could blame (or maybe thank) his cousins for that one. 

“There are worse reasons to stay.” Like for family who didn’t— He pinched his eyes shut and shook off the thoughts of Keira. “I’m glad you have them,” he said, looking back up. “And I’m pretty glad you stayed in town, too.” And as much as it felt unfair to ask, he could only hope that the farmer would stay longer. 

—

“I’m not sure I’m the kind of man that knows how to take a break,” Monty chuckled, though it lacked some of the typical mirth. It was clear that he and Kaden were two peas in a pod, in that sense, and it didn’t need explaining. To sit still was to let his mind wander, and a wandering mind only ever ended up in painful places. 

Maybe someday he’d be able to let go of the past, but he didn’t think it’d be any time soon.

Hearing that Kaden could empathize with his need to run from loss didn’t inspire any good feelings, and Monty gave the man’s hand a squeeze in turn. “No, I’m sorry. For putting those memories under a spotlight, and—” He shifted his legs a bit, the metaphorical restless becoming more literal by the minute. “—and… I hope I didn’t make you think I am looking for the first excuse to leave. I’m not, I promise.” He’d sworn to too many people that he wouldn’t, first Daisy and Alan, when they realized how prone he was to just skipping town… and most recently, to Gael. He had lots of reasons to stay, and the man looking up at him earnestly wasn’t the least of them. 

Carefully lifting the pillow just high enough to untangle his legs, Monty lowered Kaden’s head back down onto the mattress and slipped around to his less-injured side, squeezing in beside him as he grabbed the blanket that sat in a heap at their feet, kicking off his shoes and tugging it up over their bodies. Laying on his side to face Kaden, Monty snaked an arm carefully across his chest, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. “Yell at me if something hurts,” he instructed the other with a slight smile, letting his gaze dance over Kaden’s features as if he was committing them to memory.

He’d never had the opportunity to look at someone like this, he realized with some surprise. It wasn’t something he’d known he wanted, but when the uninterrupted, affectionate gaze was eventually met evenly, he could feel his grin widening. “Sorry. You’re just very nice to look at,” he said softly, laughing at himself. 

—

Kaden shook his head. “I figured.” He was all too familiar with that mentality. “You know, you should really consider taking one before you’re forced to.” He made a pointed glance to the wound on his side, assuming Monty could fill in the blanks. Only he suspected it wouldn’t make a damn difference – he still wouldn’t take a break until life made him. And even then.

“It’s–” He stopped speaking and furrowed his brow as the man started to shift his position and lifted the pillow. “It’s alright, really.” He was tempted to ask what Monty was doing. He just got finished saying he didn’t want to leave and now he was wriggling his way out from under Kaden’s head. Before he could ask, the man was lying beside him and pulling the blanket over both of them. Oh. That was– Honestly, Kaden figured he should probably stop expecting much of anything at this point, his predictions were consistently incorrect. 

Plus, this was much better than what he’d anticipated.

As the cowboy settled in next to him, Kaden snuck his arm underneath the pillow and around his back. “Trust me, you’ll definitely know,” he replied with a smile and a small laugh. He was careful not to twist his body to face him, as much as he wanted to do just that, making sure to only turn his head. He was met with soft, brown eyes sweeping over features and instead of the familiar pain, all he felt were hummingbirds flittering in his stomach. Every flicker and glance back to meet his own eyes made the corners of Kaden’s mouth pull upwards. He wasn’t sure the last time anyone looked at him like that, if they ever had. He had no idea what Monty saw in him to look at him like that, but if it was anything close to what he saw when looking back, maybe he could understand a little. Kaden couldn’t help but laugh right back with him. “Mmm, pretty sure I’ve got the better view from where I’m lying, but I’ll take the compliment,” he said, brushing circles along the man’s back with one hand while his other found Monty’s hand on his chest and intertwined their fingers together. 

He was pretty sure he could stay like this for a long damn time, just being there with him in the quiet of the cabin. “You don’t have to apologize, you know,” he said, reaching over to brush the hair out of the farmer’s face, smiling as his eyes were uncovered. Oh. Right. Kaden realized it wasn’t clear what he was referring to. “I mean for sharing. About your past and thoughts and all of that.” He was pretty sure the only other person outside of family who had trusted him enough to share anything like that was– well, he didn’t need to let his memories wander down that path again tonight. “I want to hear them.” He knew it was probably going to hurt but he didn’t care — he leaned over and pressed his lips against Monty’s, pulling him in closer and ignoring the tug at his sutures. He’d regret it later but not in the moment.

—

If it could have been, Monty was certain his heart would have been bopping to a funny beat in his chest as he felt one of Kaden’s hands run affectionately over his back, while the other interlaced their fingers. He’d never known what kind of relief physical touch could bring, because he’d jumped away from it for so long. Even with Alan, it wasn’t until the last year or so that he’d gotten better at receiving hugs, and even allowed himself the rare serenity of leaning on his best friend’s shoulder while they sat side by side on his couch or in front of his fire pit, but that had been about the extent of it. This was… so much more. It provided a sense of peace that the man hadn’t known a single day of his overly-long life, even on those nights he’d craved it as he lay beside Hector on a blanket beneath the stars, the crackle of a campfire and chirps of crickets and occasional hoof-stomp from one of their horses the only backdrop of sound they’d had. How terribly he’d wanted to roll onto his side like he was now, drape an arm over the outlaw’s chest and just hold him. But he never had. Not until now. 

“It… means a lot to me that you say that,” Monty said softly. That was where then and now diverged—Hector, despite being the person Monty had loved the most and always sought the approval of, was not the kind of man that wanted to listen to what his friend was feeling. It was never a good time, or… well, the world being the way it was back then, that time would never come. And Hector was even less forthcoming with his own feelings, unless they served a purpose. Kaden wasn’t like that. Kaden wanted to hear about Monty’s past, or at least what he could share of it, and he wanted to know what the cowboy was thinking. And he was holding him close, brushing the hair from his eyes, and generally expressing himself in the soft, tender sort of way that made Monty want to… to… 

Kaden seemed to feel the same and initiated the kiss, but Monty was quick to push himself up onto one elbow so Kaden didn’t have to reach for it and hurt himself in the process. He leaned over the top of the poor, battered man, squeezing the hand laced with his own before releasing it to instead move that palm to the side of his neck. Mirroring what the other had done on the day of the zoo trip, once Kaden had to pull back to catch his breath (which Monty tried to remember to feign as well), the zombie moved his attention to the underside of the other’s jaw and down his neck, gentle in his way. After giving Kaden a minute to gather himself, Monty lifted his head again and hovered there, his hair framing his face messily as he offered him a small grin. He was just out of reach, but that didn’t last for very long as he went in for more, figuring that this time they didn’t have anywhere else to be, and could simply enjoy one another’s company without having to worry about the darkening forest around them.

—

Kaden smiled into the kiss. Of course Monty leaned over to make sure the ranger didn’t hurt himself. It was a small gesture but it spoke to the kind of man he was. It was hard not to pitch forward into the kiss, to wait for Monty to meet him. The patience he’d had that day at the waterfall was somewhere still back there, it seemed. 

He couldn’t turn himself to get closer without risking pain, but he could pull the cowboy closer to him, taking the hand that had been intertwined with his and reaching out to find the man’s waist. It wasn’t like he had to do much, anyway; the man was already there. He was right there and there was no denying he wanted to be there. He was there and– putain, Kaden was so goddamn stupid. He would have been there sooner if he’d just asked. He was used to being the one to rush to help, to be the one asked. It never even occurred to him to ask. Then again, had he ever had anyone to ask in the past?

As soon as he had a second to breathe, the cowboy was stealing his breath all over again with his lips brushing along his jawline. His fingers reached up to rake through the man’s hair as lips traveled down his neck, his eyes closing as he melted back into the pillow. The air had just found its way back into his lungs again when he opened his eyes to see brown eyes looking back at him. He reached his hand up to the man’s face, dancing it along his cheek. Warmth rolled through him, and he had been a second away from pushing himself up to meet the other man if he hadn’t closed the distance first. His arms wrapped around the cowboy, careful not to hold too tight or pull him into any of his myriad of injuries. 

Kaden knew he couldn’t be the first or only person that Monty opened up to nor the first to listen or want to hear him, but he got the feeling this was different somehow. He could only wonder why it meant so much to him that Kaden wanted to listen and what had been missing in the past. It only made him want to offer more, somehow. Then again, as much as he’d cared for Damien, as close as they’d been, there were lines they didn’t cross and things they wouldn’t verbalize. But with Monty, all Kaden wanted to do was tell him everything, to share even the parts of himself he didn’t think would be received well. And he wanted to embrace the same from the other man just as much. 

God, that was terrifying. 

But this, now, this felt like the easiest thing in the world. Somehow in a small loft in a cabin lying on a shitty air mattress with stitches holding his side together, Kaden was pretty sure this was the safest he’d felt in too long. Funny to think it was so soon after he’d nearly died. He’d nearly died and it was far from the first time that he’d come close to the end. But he wasn’t sure he was ever this grateful to be alive after a brush with death. 

[hesitantadrien]

Piece 3 of 3 for @trans-ylvania 's Zine "Our Lady of Sorrows" [link]

"Sorrows"

Description, statement, and plain text under the cut!

This is an alternate version than the one that made it into the zine, but the piece remains essentially the same: The poem is the same, but in my own handwriting and slightly easier to read. The photograph in the background is the same one in the zine, the same one that I took in February of 2010 when I was 17, still in highschool, taken through my bedroom window, taken at a time when I didn't think I'd make it to 18, let alone 29.

It's very personal and honest, and one of the longest poems I have written to date. I sought to satisfy the prompt, the concept of the zine: "How has Gerard Way impacted your queer identity?"

I have struggled, and continue to struggle, with my identity, my queerness, my transness, with my otherness; I have struggled through trauma and mental illness all my life, and I don't exaggerate when I say that MCR has saved my life too, like so many others, and enriched my existence and inspired me creatively to no end. The 2022 tour was a healing event for so many, myself included-- and I can only hope the band feels the same, or at least understands the good they have done, the lives they have touched, and continue to do, continue to touch, with thier art, with thier survival.

MCR has been my favorite band since 2004, since I was 11 years old, since my dad gave me two shitty burned cd's with Revenge and Bullets on them because I wouldn't stop asking him to play I'm Not Okay in the car. The tracks weren't even in order. I listen to demo lovers on repeat on the way to summer camp in 2006. I get a notification on my phone at work in 2022 that there's a new song. Everything is the same, everything is new, and it goes on and on forever in your heart. <3

Plain text:

Sorrows                                   

My hair is getting longer again.

My partner says they like it and I laugh-- 

And I ask them if they want me to be their bargain-bin Gerard Way.

I only half mean it, flattering myself with such a ridiculous notion.

Discounted. Printed off-center. Poorly stitched.

Only ninety-nine cents!

It’s silly, it’s nonsense.

My hair is getting longer again and it makes me feel strange, you know?

Because part of me thinks I should cut it,

To make up for how feminine I look, and speak, and act,

For the part of me that worries I’ll never pass, or that thinks I should. 

For the part of me that has always blamed myself for how other people have treated me.

But part of me likes the way my hair looks too, 

Dyed black too many times to count and in my face,

Awkward around my ears and just starting to curl. 

So I let it go another week,

For the part of me that just wants to see how it looks if I let it grow a little more.

But I’m nervous when I put on eyeliner in the bathroom mirror.

Unsure about myself. 

Insecure.

I think about that quote every time,

About how it felt dangerous,

Putting on eyeliner in truck-stop bathrooms and dressing like cupcakes.

But I think it’s different for me.

Everyone else just sees a girl wearing eyeliner, don’t they? 

How could they not?

And it's not dangerous, not in the same way.

It’s not brave.

It’s not rebellious or artistic,

There’s nothing redeeming about being this pathetic, this exposed,

About caving in on myself over the disconnect between 

How I want to look,

What I want people to see,

And the thing that lives in my bathroom mirror.

Somehow it still feels like everything I do is wrong, you know?

Like I'm wrong.

Like I’m not good enough.

Like I’m up for interpretation, at best.

Like I don't deserve to have a say in who I get to be.

Like I’ll always be thirteen, weird and scared and lonely.

Like I’m already a hundred, and I’ve wasted my entire life.

Like I’ll spend eternity here, in a hell that isn’t real.

Like I need to make it up to everyone around me,

For not being what they wanted, for being alive, for being me, 

For everything.

But it’s just hair, it’s just eyeliner.

And maybe sometimes I do feel like some kind of bargain-bin Gerard Way,

Like I am a ridiculous notion, like my existence is a novelty.

Discounted and printed off-center and poorly stitched.

Am I worth it? What would you pay?

I know what I look like. I know what I am.

Troubled and seeing ghosts. Unwell and haunted-looking.

Sick, but not yet better. Someday I’ll get better. 

It’s silly, it’s nonsense. 

I write bad poetry and draw silly little pictures,

And for a few months in the year two-thousand and twenty-two,

I watch my favorite band go on tour, back together again, back from the dead.

I watch my favorite singer get up on stage each night, 

Sixteen years older than me,

More full of life than I have ever dared to be.

Wearing dresses and cat ears and dirty clothes,

Smiling so genuinely,

Speaking so softly, 

And singing songs that I've listened to thousands of times,

That feel new again, different,

After everything that's happened.

I watch my favorite singer get up on stage each night,

And it feels something like wish fulfillment, 

Or maybe even healing,

Like something I never thought would happen,

That I wouldn't live to see.

And at some point I start to feel

A little less afraid of how I look, 

A little less afraid of what other people think,

Of growing older, of being too weird, of living.

And I’m a little less afraid of the future, 

Because I see it in you,

Alive and happy,

After everything that’s happened.

[killerandhealerqueen]

I couldn't resist this one:

Teacher Tang drags Dayu into your office, while you're in the middle of stitching up a practice dummy, for advice. She says that was her 'friend' (she friend-ed you without your consent) that you should talk some sense to Dayu. Dayu wants to leave because Wushang is in the hospital and he needs to be there for his master. She insists that as his girlfriend (we've broken up. no we haven't) that she shoudl be his first priority so why is Dayu running to Wushang everytime the man calls? No, she doesn't want to break up, she just wants you to talk some sense to Dayu. Dayu brings up breaking up for the nth time, the 23rd that you know of, and she just dismisses it like a fly.

You reaction to this is...?

(if not office, then classroom full of semi-interested next generation students on a class tour)

*gasp* I get to tear into Teacher Tang? Oh god bless.  I will also be using my Chinese name, 孙天里 (Sun Tian Li), in this so if anyone is like who the fuck is “Sun Laoshi”, that’d be me

“Sun Laoshi!”

I looked up from the dummy I was currently working on and frowned

“Tang Laoshi…and Dayu.  The hell are you two doing here?”

Tang Laoshi huffed

“I need your help”

I raised an eyebrow

“My help?”

Tang Laoshi nodded

“Yeah, we’re friends, so you gotta help me”

I made a face

‘Since fucking when are we friends?’

I then sighed

“What is oh so important that you decided to barge in here and demand my help”

Tang Laoshi motioned to Dayu

“Talk some sense into him”

I frowned

“Can I get some fucking context first?”

Tang Laoshi huffed

“He wants to go to the hospital because Officer Xu is in the hospital and that he needs to be there for him. But I’m his girlfriend, so shouldn’t I be his first priority?”

I looked between her and Dayu before I raised an eyebrow

“I thought you two broke up”

“We have”

“No we haven’t”

I rolled my eyes before I rubbed my temples

“Tang Laoshi, I’m frankly not interested in the relationship you two have but clearly if his shifu is in the hospital, he should be with him.  They are partners after all”

I then looked at Dayu

“Go Dayu”

Dayu grinned and wrenched his arm out of Tang Laoshi’s grasp before he ran out of the office, leaving Tang Laoshi and I alone

“Sun Tian Li!  Why’d you do that?!”

“Listen, Tang Zhi Xin, I have two things to tell you.  First of all, we’re not friends.  Never were, never going to be.  Second of all, Dayu is clearly more concerned about Wushuang and always has been more concerned about Wushuang, even when you two were dating. Shouldn’t you be catching the fucking hint by now?”

Tang Laoshi frowned

“What hint?”

I rubbed my temples

‘I knew you were stupid, I didn’t think you were this stupid’

I then sighed heavily as I looked at her

“Dayu loves Wushuang.  Always has, always will.  And nothing you can say or do is going to change that.  You can chase after him all you want, but his heart is never going to belong to you.  So just…give up while you’re ahead.  You’ll save yourself the heartbreak in the end.  Aren’t you tired of chasing him?  If it comes down between you and Wushuang, you know damn well that Wushuang is going to come first.  And you know that.  So just…stop”

Tang Laoshi looked at me before she huffed

“I should have never asked you”

She then turned and headed out of the office as I shook my head and went back to work

“I don’t know why she came to me in the fucking first place, I wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear…”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Question

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: None? Besides cursing. Notes: Fluffy! Fluffy! Most of these going forward are going to be fluffy. Most. Summary: How the hell does this man still give you butterflies? You’re flustered in the middle of your own damn kitchen and he isn’t even there.

You wake up alone. You don’t like that, but it happens sometimes. You and Borracho don’t exactly have regular hours, it’s not like criminals keep their shenanigans to a 9-5 schedule. You used to be a light sleeper when it came to sleeping with someone else, but with Borracho… Hell, you don’t know if it’s how quietly he’s able to move or how safe you feel with him, but you almost never wake up when he gets out of bed. You pick up your phone and shut off the alarm; no texts, no calls from him or the guys, so things are probably status quo. You don’t have to be in the office for another hour. You slide out of bed and head into the kitchen. You’re alone, but you still smile when you see that he’s made you coffee and left you a post-it. ‘Got called into work early. See you later. Love you, sweetness. -B’

You shake your head a little bit, running your thumb over the ink. How the hell does this man still give you butterflies? You’re flustered in the middle of your own damn kitchen and he isn’t even there. Oh, but you can practically hear him saying it, too. And the fact that he even stopped to write a note-- You shake your head and stick it to the fridge under a magnet, alongside a few other notes he’s left you in the apartment. You’re smiling all through your first cup of coffee, as you get ready to go in, as you get in your car that morning. You usually try not to text Borracho when you know he’s out on the job - you don’t wanna distract him, and there’s a chance the guys’ll see it and get on both your cases, but you decide to risk it that morning. You pull your phone out and text him, I love you

It’s a few minutes before you get back, Wanna go out tonight?   You raise a brow. Is this man up to something? 

Big plans? taking us on a tour of a hot sauce factory

I’m pretty sure you’re making fun of me and I don’t appreciate it. 

love you

Love you too --

It’s the usual crew at the office - though Borracho is noticeably absent. You don’t ask, is the thing, but Nick makes it a point to tell you that Borracho is out getting a statement from a witness. You nod a little bit and say, “...Okay,” Before turning back to your work. You swear up and down that you hear Henderson asking Conners if you bought that, but you try not to read into it. You’re sure you heard them wrong; if something was wrong with Borracho, they’d tell you. Besides, you’ve already talked to him today, you know he’s alright. But while you’re in the office, you notice the guys muttering to each other way more than usual. You can’t help but wonder if this is what they would’ve been like if you’d left your headphones out those first couple of weeks on the job. Headphones-- Your headphones, of course. The second you’ve got those suckers in, the guys’ll speak up at full volume. You open the desk drawer that you usually keep them in. Your jaw drops at the sight of another post-it. 

Looking for something? ;) -B You’d told Borracho that you found out about most of the pools because of your little headphone trick. But why the hell has he taken them today? You close your drawer, narrowing your eyes. Oh, something is definitely up. -- “Really, you haven’t seen him all day?” Isobel asks. You glance up from where you’re bouncing her son on your knee. You’ve stopped by after work; you’ve got a little time before you need to be home to get ready. “Nope,” You shrug, “He got called into work early, and-- I don’t know, Nick said he was out speaking to a witness. We texted a little, but he’s been pretty busy today. We’re going out later, though.” “Ooo,” Nadia coos from behind you, where she’s feeding Lissie, “Do you know where?” “No idea, he hasn’t told me… I mean, he joked about a hot sauce factory, but the ones around here don’t have late tours.” You may or may not have checked while you were at work. His sisters are snickering at you already; they’ve seen you at barbecues, they know about the hot sauce packets you keep in your purse. You smile, laughing a little yourself. “It’ll be nice to go out, though. We haven’t had, like, a date-date in a while,” You realize it as you say so. Honestly, you haven’t really thought much of it; it’s not like you mind spending the night in with Borracho, you’re never bored. “...You know, you’re the first girl Borracho brought home in a really long time?” Nadia says, lowering herself into the seat beside Isobel. You raise a brow. You haven’t heard this before. “Really? How long?” “Oof,” Isobel mutters, “Jeez, the last would’ve been-- What, Angela?” “Which one was Angela? Highlights or lip piercing?” Nadia asks. “Lip piercing.” “Like, almost four years-ish?” Nadia offers. “‘Lip piercing’?” You repeat, amused, “I think I’ve got more questions about who ‘highlights’ was-- And what my attribute would be if you were describing me to someone else.” -- “No wig tonight?” You glance back at Borracho, arching a brow as he leans in the doorway of the bathroom. The pink wig you’d worn to the club a long time ago has made a reappearance a few times since you’d started dating. “Not tonight, babe,” You chuckle before you lean forward to do your eyeliner. You lean away from the mirror once you're finished, putting the cap back on the liner. Borracho steps into the bathroom, smoothing his hands over your hips. He presses a kiss to your neck before he cuddles up against you. You giggle, tipping your head to the side. “Maybe next time,” You add.

“I ain’t picky,” Borracho mumbles. You turn in his arms. “Gimme a kiss before I put my lipstick on,” You order. Borracho smiles.

“You sayin’ you’re not gonna kiss me once it’s on?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely gonna. Kiss me anyway,” You retort. You lean up, pecking Borracho’s lips a few times. His smile widens with each until he catches your lips with his. He lifts a hand from your hip, sliding it over your back. You sigh, leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. You aren’t sure what it is, but something feels different about tonight. It isn’t how Borracho watched you get ready; he does that often. But this just feels sweet - so deliciously soft and slow. You can’t put your finger on it - but you aren’t rushing to, either. You just revel in Borracho’s warmth and closeness. He hums softly, squeezing your hip gently before he lifts his head, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Finish getting ready, we’ll be late.”

“Or you could keep kissing me,” you mumble the argument against his chin. Borracho chuckles, cupping your chin and pecking your lips again.

“Later, sweetness.” -- “You don’t think we’re actually going to a hot sauce factory, right?” “No, of course not,” You scoff. “...You checked whether or not there were any open, didn’t you.” “...Might’ve taken a look.” Boraccho laughs, raising your joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “Why?” You add, glancing over at him. “Couldn’t bear to break your heart like that.” --

The thing is, you guys had discussed it a few more times - the whole marriage thing. You’d never set a hard date, a deadline. You weren’t going to disappear if a ring wasn’t stuck on your finger within the next year or anything. But the last time you’d spoken about it seriously had been after Borracho had been shot. “I hated not being able to get back there and see you were alright for myself,” You’d admitted, “And-- Look, I love your family, but-- If anything like that ever happens again and they make me wait three fucking days to see you, Benny, I swear to god--” “I know,” He’d mumbled into your hair, “I know, and-- this is gonna sound shitty, but they were testing you, a little. I’ve had a couple of other girlfriends that saw me that way and couldn’t handle it. They wanted to see if you’d stick around.” You’d humphed, and snuggled deeper into his side. And he’d hesitated before saying, “If we were married, you would’ve been able to see me right away.” You’d glanced up at him and murmured, “I know.” “...Still think my sisters would kill us if we eloped?” “You know they would.” -- Beyond that, well, you hadn’t spoken about it much. At least, not with Borracho. You had with his sisters, looking back on it - about what kind of rings you liked (Megan and Isobel had each asked you if you liked theirs - Megan’s was a little too flashy for you; Isobel’s was close to what you liked in stone and size). You’d even tried Regina’s on (“For fun, honey, I’m curious,” She’d pressed you. It had been half a size too small). You didn’t think anything about it, though. You’d grown incredibly close with his family. “Aw, so sweet!” Nadia had cooed, seeing someone on tv propose to their girlfriend on the big screen at a football game, “Would you ever like something like that?” “Nah,” You’d wrinkled your nose, shaking your head, “So impersonal -- all those people staring at you. Plus-- Football?” The face you’d made had Nadia in stitches. 

-- 

The two of you have dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. Borracho’s hand is in yours nearly all night, holding it in the car, on the table, on the way in and out of the restaurant. After dinner, the two of you drive up to the Hollywood Bowl Overlook. He shuts off the car, and the two of you talk and make out lazily like a couple of teenagers. His hand smooths over your thighs and your stomach and your shoulder and your side; you tug at his hair and slide your hand under his collar and smooth your fingers over his tattoo. It’s like you were when you were getting ready - sweet, unhurried, soft. But you want to be home, and you want to take him apart at your leisure, without worrying about getting caught or being crammed uncomfortably in the front seat of the car, and you tell him as much. Borracho chuckles softly and slides his lips along yours in a half-kiss before murmuring, “Whatever you want, sweetness.” 

--

You cuddle up against him as you wait for him to unlock the front door, slipping your hands under his t-shirt and running your nails over his sides. He huffs and fumbles with the keys a little, and you hide your grin in his shoulder.

“Having some trouble there?” You tease, smoothing your palms over the same spots.

“You’re a menace, sweetness,” He mutters before opening the door. You slide your hands out from his shirt so that the two of you can make it inside without any further incident. The door gets shut and locked, the hall light flicked on, and you’re already reaching for him again. He cups your cheeks, sweeping his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“Hey,” He murmurs.

“Mm?”

“I’ve-- Been thinking,” He manages between kisses, even as you’re trying to nudge him back toward the bedroom.

“Uh-oh,” You tease before nipping at his lip. Borracho laughs, leaning away to look at you.

“Listen to me,” He murmurs after a moment. Your brow furrows a little, and his finger reaches up to smooth away the little wrinkle before he chases the touch with a kiss.

“How long have we been together, huh?”

“Almost two years,” You say, letting your hands settle on his shoulders.

“The guys...They started betting whether or not you’d be able to stick through the week,” He shakes his head, and you bite your lips, because you know that they did, those ridiculous idiots, “But you stuck through -- all week, all month, all year and you’re still here… The second I knew you’d stick around here, though, with me,” he squeezes your hips, “Was that night, after I’d been coordinating with the FBI. You came over, you stayed, and... And I knew I didn’t want you to go…”

Usually by now you’d cut in, make a joke, but there’s something different about the way Borracho is looking down at you. So you just listen, smooth your fingers over the fabric of his shirt because even now, you can’t keep still.

“And I know that sometimes my family can be a lot-- And so can work--” He’s talking about when he was shot and you both know it. Your stomach turns at the reminder and you lower your eyes. He cups your chin and lifts your eyes to his again, “But I can’t imagine waking up without you, or-- Or coming home without you here… And I know you were worried when I was hurt. I hate that you couldn’t see me right away, and I don’t ever want you to have to go through that again... I love you, sweetness, and I know you love me.”

“‘Course I love you, Benny,” You manage after a moment, eyes searching his. He smiles, nudging his nose against yours. You’re distracted, leaning up into the motion, and you don’t notice him reaching into his pocket.

You frown as he leans away, but that frown melts into shock as he sinks to one knee, small velvet box in hand.

He opens it.

“Will you marry me, sweetness?”

You don’t know if you’re supposed to look at him or the ring-- and then you realized you haven’t said anything, but you’re nodding and your eyes are tearing up. You manage to get out, “Of course I’ll marry you.”

And Borracho’s face splits into the widest grin. He pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto your proffered left ring finger -- and then laughs as you tug him up from the floor. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your face into his neck. He’s holding onto you, too, tight and steady, and pressing kisses to your cheek, your ear, your head, your shoulder - anywhere you can reach.

You turn your head to meet his lips, curling close to him, and he finally lets you steer him back toward your room.

-- "Why did you take my headphones?” You ask later. Borracho has his head on your stomach. He’s been nuzzling contentedly for the last few minutes, dropping the odd kiss to your stomach or hip, touchy in your afterglow. “Didn’t want you listening in on the guys,” He murmurs, “Didn’t want them spoiling it.” “Why’d you have Nick tell me where you were?” “Did you ask him?” “No, he just came over and told me.” Borracho scoffs, shaking his head, “Told him to only tell you if he asked.” “The rest’a the guys weren’t all that subtle, either. Kept whispering.” “And that’s why I took your headphones.” You chuckle, sweeping his hair away from his forehead. “You know me too well, baby.” You lift your hand and eye the ring, unable to help the smile that grows on your face. Borracho turns his head, kissing your wrist. “You like it?” He asks. “I love it,” You swear, lowering your hand to stroke his cheek, “And I love you.” You’ve lost track of how many times the two of you have said it in the last couple of hours. You know that tomorrow morning, you’re going to have to start thinking about planning. You’re going to call your parents to give them the news. You’re going to be going over to Isobel’s for breakfast with the family, too, and you know you’re going to hear all about how long they’ve known about Borracho’s plan. And then the wedding planning, the ideas for the wedding that they’ve probably had for months, the fact that you’re gonna have four flower girls and three little ring bearers from Borracho’s nieces and nephews alone. You don’t have to worry about that for a few hours yet. All you care about is the man leaning up for another kiss, another two kisses, another three kisses. You curl your arms around his shoulders and squeeze his hips with your knees as he murmurs, “I love you, too, Mrs. Magalon,” Against your lips.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ F*CKING HIGH ❜

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: Hey! Maybe prompt 52. When Creeper get shot and Mayans don't know reader but when hé was high on medication he call her at Vicky's House ? 🙈Something really Fluff ? Thanks!! I love ur writings 😊😊

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1.6k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on Google.

Masterlist.

The books over the table with a lot of notes scattered around them are starting to give you a horrible headache. You don't know how many hours you have been studying, but you're sure that it was daytime. When you focus your gaze on the horizon, through the window, you're aware of the streetlights turned on outside and the dark sky above Santo Padre. It's your final week to complete the MIR and you have left just one exam. The last one. So, when Creeper told you he was going to travel to Las Vegas for a couple days, you have to recognize that you felt a little alleviated. You want to spend the maximum time possible with him, but you also have to study, but both things aren't compatible. Even so, he should be at home already.

Checking the time on the clock in your wrist, you snort getting up from your chair to pick up the books and your pens. It's enough study for today and you're really hungry. After cleaning the table, you fall down on the sofa turning on the TV and looking in your phone for something to take away. Cooking it's not an option today. Choosing the local pizzeria for excellence, you're about to make the order when an incoming call interrupts your plans. Reading his name on the screen, you answer quickly.

“Babe!”

“Maaaaamaaaa”. He sings, making you frown somewhat confused sitting on the sofa. “Heeeeey, maaaamaaaa”.

“Are you… high, Neron?”

“Yeah… Fuckin' high… for you, my loooove”.

“What the hell? Where the fuck are you?”

“Mama, I want you here. I need you here, maaaama!”

“Ner—”.

“I am… close”.

“Close from what?”

“Border, mama. Close to the border. Come with meeee. I need my nurse, mama, pleaaase”.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your heart is racing, jumping off from the sofa, running to your shared room.

“A guy shot me, mama. But don' worre', I'm okaaaay”.

“Neron, send me your location right now!”

“Mama, mama, mama, are you comen'?”

“FUCK, NERON, OF COURSE I'M COMING. SEND ME THE FUCKING LOCATION”.

“Don'... Don' shout at me, mama”.

From nowhere, you can hear him crying like a child. Even if he's high, that shit breaks your heart into pieces. Stopping next to your bed rubbing your forehead, barely gulping, you try to calm yourself.

“Are you alone?”

“N—No…”

“The bul—”.

“It's out, mama… I wan—want you here with me. I'm okay, mama, I'm okay… Come with me. Don'... leave me, don' break with me, mama, please”.

“Send me your location, okay? Could you do that for me?”

“Yeah, mama… Are you comen'?”

“Sí, Neron, I'm gonna get dressed, okay?”

“Okay, mama… I love you. I love you, mama. I truly love you, I swear”.

“I know, mi flaquito”.

Hanging up the call, you take some second to breathe calmly before looking for some clothes to put on and grabbing the medical kit when you're ready. They better have something to eat, or there will be more than one man shot. Leaving your house, your phone rings with a notification. The address of Vicki's house. You have heard about it, and you're not surprised at all. According to your boyfriend, this is the favorite place of Mayans. You don't know them, not yet, but you can imagine why they like it this much. Keeping the kit on the back seat, you step in your car turning the engine to follow the instructions recited by the gps.

When it says that you have reached your destiny, you focus through the Camaro's front window to find the house, looking exactly as he described you one day. Going out of the pilot seat and carrying the medical stuff in your right hand, you go upstairs practically jumping them to hit the door with your palm. A girl with brown hair, big eyes and almost naked welcomes you, pushing her by a side before she can talk.

“Hey, hey! Wait! You ca—”.

Coming into the living room, you finally meet his other family. They were drinking and laughing until you appeared, now staring at you confused. The one who you recognize as El Presidente gets up from his chair, the other two are pointing at you with their guns, warned by the bitch behind you.

“I'm from Tijuana, you can't scare me con una pistolita”. (With a gun). You spit with a strong mexican accent, containing a sarcastic laugh.

“Who are y—”.

“MAAAMI, MAAAAMIIIIIIII”.

Hearing your boyfriend calling you, you don't give them a single chance to let you introduce yourself, running upstairs following the laments of Creeper between moans and pleased begs. Disgusting. Opening the last green red door, you finally reach him. The medical kit falls from your hand shocked. Taking a step, you tour his silhouette lying on the mattress. Being shirtless you can see the bandage covering the bullet hole, with some blood trespassing the cotton, and the sling holding the other. His face isn't much better, with some scratches on his left cheek and his temple. The most disturbing is watching him crying like a scared child, trembling and trying to sit up on the bed.

Before the other mexicans can reach you, you're already kneeling on the bed not knowing where you're allowed to touch him and where not.

“Mami, I missed you”.

“You're an idiot, you know it, rai'?” You ask him with your eyes filled with tears, gently caressing the other cheek, while he nods.

Leaning forward you kiss his shaky lips once and again, before feeling his right arm surrounding your waist.

“Let me see the shot, okay?” Whispering, you get up from the bed to take the medical kit, under the look of the men waiting on the door.

“The doctor put it out, disinfected the wound and stitched it up”. El Presidente says, making you frown your eyebrows.

“The doctor, or the vet?”

“Wha—”.

“Answer before I fucking punch you”.

“The vet”.

Of course, it's not the same. Even the medicines that give you in the MIR are stronger than the ones for a veterinarian. Opening the kit over the bed and wearing a pair of blue gloves, you lean on Creeper to take off the bandage and the gauze, narrowing your eyes to see every stitch on it. It's… acceptable, but you could have done it better. Wetting some cotton with iodine, you clean the blood around the suture with soft moves to not hurt him more. Your boyfriend is assorted on how concentrate you look taking care of him.

“Do you know what you are doing, niña?” The oldest one rests his body against the frame.

“'Amma real doctor, not a veterinarian”. You respond without turning at him, but at your kit to find clean gauzes and an adhesive bandage to cover the sewn hole again. “What happened with the other, Neron?”

“Dislocated”. He just says gulping with parted lips.

“What did they gave you for the pain?”

“Just some pills, mami…”

“How many hours ago?”

“Almost ten”. El Presidente replies in his place, making you twist towards him.

“Okay, Creep', I'm going to prick you some morphine”. He just nods.

Grabbing a needle wrapped on a security plastic, you open it to fill it up with the transparent liquid from a small glass bottle. Hitting it softly with two fingers and letting some of the medicine spill on air, you lead the needle to his bare skin over the wound. Nailing it slowly until the metallic part has disappeared inside it. Then, you push the plastic container until empty. Taking off the needle and keeping it again inside its paper, to throw it later, you close the medical kit.

“You need to rest, okay?”

“Mami, stay with me, please… Don' go”. He begs you crying low and holding your hand as strong as he can.

“You need to rest”. You repeat raising both eyebrows and nodding with your chin one time, caressing his grip with your fingers. “I will talk with your friends for a moment. Ain't going anywhere, mi flaquito. Not without you”.

“I love you, mama. I really do”.

“I love you too, Creep'”. Smirking at your boyfriend, you kiss him again having a little more of caring to not hurt him. “Sleep, flaquito”.

Placing the medical kit over a desk, you leave him closing the door, killing with your eyes the men in front of you.

“I'm hungry, so you better find me some dinner”.

“First, tell us who you are, because he's high enough to confuse himself and believe that he's the fucking Messiah”.

“I'm his girlfriend, pendejo. And you're gonna be a dead man if you don't bring me my fucking dinner”.

El Presidente chuckles rubbing his chin, before nodding, seeing you disappear through the opened door again. Coming back to the bed, you can notice that your boyfriend isn't crying anymore, smiling like an idiot. Sighing you lie down by his side, wrapping his body with both arms, letting him find a comfortable posture under them. You can feel his lips kissing your right forearm somewhat sleepy, purring like a cat. Definitely, he's too high.

“Mami, I love you…” He whispers when you begin to caress his neck with your fingertips. “You are the love of my life…”

“Yeah, you already said it… like a lot of times”. You laugh softly, turning towards you with a soft grimace of pain on his face.

“Love you it's my favorite thing”. He mumbles stunned because of the smile on your lips.

“Mine too, babe. I love you more than anything”.

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[wholesomemendes]

I have another idea for a request. Shawn's on tour and you and him argue on the phone about the VMA performance with Camila and then you fall and hurt your head. Your mom calls his phone and he rushes home and pleads for you to forgive him because of the argument.

Author’s Note: I feel like it’s important to say in here that I do mention Shawn’s relationship with Camila in this fic and the way it is described is solely based on what I felt was necessary for this request. This no way a form of me expressing my opinion about them and I do not wish for it to be taken that way. Anyways now that that has been cleared up, here is 2.2k of angst to fluff (because we all know I can’t end with angst). Also sorry this took so long it’s been sitting in my drafts for almost a week now and I kept forgetting to post it.

Warnings: Swearing (just in case you’re not into that)

“It’s not just a silly little performance Shawn! She was practically fucking you with her eyes!” When you planned on calling your boyfriend tonight after his VMA performance you would never have imagined it turning into a screaming fest between the two of you. You were never known to have arguments in your relationship, usually just small ones that were resolved in a matter of minutes, but ever since Señorita came out, all the two of you seemed to be doing was fighting. Shawn was required to do PR for the song because of his contract, and your insecurities about his closeness with Camila, along with the fact that your relationship with Shawn was completely hidden from the public, only spurred your self doubt and managed to spark many arguments between the two of you.

“Can you stop being jealous for just one second and be proud of me?! I didn’t call you just to be screamed at about something that you’ve made up in your head!” Shawn had never used this tone of voice with you before but with the distance between the two of you right now, arguing on the phone only seemed to increase the tension in the air.

“It’s not made up Shawn! The two of you almost kissed onstage! If I wasn’t your girlfriend I would’ve thought she was! You know how embarrassing it is to watch your boyfriend touch someone the way he’s only supposed to do to you!”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re acting like I fucked her up there when all I did was sing a 3 minute song! You’re my girlfriend and you know it and that’s all that should matter!”

“Shawn, it’s humiliating seeing you acting like that up there with the girl you’ve been singing songs about for years. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“I’m not asking you to compete against her, I’m asking you to be proud of me instead of acting like a jealous bitch all the time!” he shouted, pacing back and forth in his hotel room, hand scrubbing over his face in frustration.

“A jealous bitch? Really, Shawn? I have been so supportive of you through our whole entire relationship and you’re gonna tell me that I spend more time being a jealous bitch instead of being proud of you?!” Your heart clenched in your chest. Were all the endless nights staying up listening to his music meaningless to him? Or the times when you were up past the crack of dawn in the studio with him because he claimed you were his muse and he couldn’t finish without you? Did that all mean nothing to him? And that’s not even talking about all of the award shows and performances you’ve supported him through.

“Yes I am! You’ve spent more time complaining about my performance with Camila then congratulating me on If I Can’t Have You!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t fed your ego enough before trying to talk to you about my concerns. Guess I should’ve realized you were always the more important one in the relationship.”

“Shut up! I’m so sick of you and your attitude, I’m done!”

Your breath caught in your throat, the tears that were pooling in your eyes beginning to stream down your face, “You’re done?”

“Yeah, I’m done I can’t do this anymore. Good night.” The sound of the phone call ending filled your ears and you collapsed to the floor with a heavy heart, sobs coming out of your mouth. You didn’t know what to do besides cry. How else were you supposed to react after you got into a heated argument with your secret boyfriend of over a year, while he’s thousands of miles away from you?

Two hours later your tears were dried, head pounding and heart aching from the stressful night you had. You used the last ounce of strength inside of you to move yourself into the bathroom, starting a hot shower in hopes of calming you down. You undressed slowly, staring at yourself in the mirror only to be met with a shell of your former self staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red from the endless amount of crying you did and the longer you looked into them, the more lifeless they seemed. The warm water felt relaxing on your skin, but you stood there for the longest time before you could find the strength inside of yourself to do anything. You managed to grab your shampoo with a weak, shaky hand, accidentally squirting some on the ground in an attempt to squeeze it into your palm. You sighed to yourself in sadness as you turned around in the shower to scrub the shampoo in your hair. Just as you placed your foot back down, it slipped out from underneath you, sliding on the fallen shampoo on the floor. Your arms reached for something, anything to grab onto in order to stop your fall, but you came up short, head banging into the wall next to the faucet, barely missing the metal knob. Your eyes fluttered shut, life flashing before your eyes. You saw when you first met Shawn at the cafe, his blushed cheeks as he asked you on your first date, when he said I love you for the first time, the look in his eyes he always had before he kissed you. But then you saw the way he looked at Camila, his recent music video, and finally your reflection in the mirror from when he was screaming his lungs out at you and told you he was done.

Your eyes shot open, body propelling you forward to sit up, causing you to grasp your head in pain as the water streamed onto you from overhead. Blindly reaching for the knob, you manged to turn off the water, removing your hand from your head only to see blood pouring over it. Your heart stopped in shock, panic rushing over your body as you scrambled to get out of the shower. You were never known to be good with blood and as you grabbed a towel to cover yourself, the only thing you could think to do was call your mom. And fortunately for you, she always answered her daughter’s calls.

“Mom, I have a problem...”

___________

Meanwhile in New Jersey, Shawn was frustrated beyond belief, pacing the floor of his hotel room with his phone in his hand. “You know man....I can kinda see where she’s coming from...” Brian began only to be cut off harshly by his best friend.

“I know! I just-ugh, I don’t know what to do! If I don’t do the PR, management and Camila are gonna kill me and I mean she’s one of my best friends! I can’t have her be mad at me!”

“Yeah, but would you rather have an angry girlfriend? Cause that’s what happening right now.”

Shawn groaned, throwing his head back before leaning his hands on the dresser and hanging his head, “I don’t want her to be mad at me but I don’t have a solution for this. I love her, but all we’re doing since that stupid music video is fighting and I can’t take it anymore. I’m not even in the same country as her right now! Fuck, why did this have to happen now?”

“Are you gonna break up with her?”

“What?!” Shawn turned back to his red haired friend, shock written all over his face, “Of course I don’t want to break up with her!”

“Are you sure she knows that?”

“Of course she does...”

“Really? Cause you told her you were done before you ended the call.”

“Yeah, but...shit. She doesn’t really think that, does she?”

“I don’t know man, but...” Brian’s words were cut off by Shawn’s phone ringing and the two boys looked down at it, an anxious feeling bubbling inside of the two of them. “Bro, why is her mom calling you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, why would she call me?”

“How would I know? Answer it!”

Shawn stumbled to hit the green button with shaky fingers, holding the phone up to his ear cautiously, “H-Hello?”

“Shawn...it’s Y/n, she’s in the hospital right now.” Shawn almost dropped the phone out of his hand, entire body going numb as your mother explained everything she knew about your accident. He hardly processed any of the information given to him, mind barely registering when she hung up the phone. His heart pounded in his ears and all he could think of was how he wasn’t with you right now, and how much you were probably panicking when you fell in the shower with no one around you. He should’ve been home with you, not thousands of miles at an award show. Not doing press for a new single. Not screaming at you over the phone about things he didn’t even mean. No. He should’ve been home being a good boyfriend, loving you and protecting you, making sure you never felt alone. So the moment he got his bearings straight he knew exactly what he had to do and no one, especially not Andrew, was gonna stop him.

___________

You groaned as the bright lights of the hospital room met your weary eyes. After going through scan after scan to ensure their was no internal bleeding, you got enough stitches in your head to make you pass out for hours. Your head still hurt, but more than that, your heart felt like it had been through hell and back. Trying to move your arm, you frowned when you felt a heavy weight preventing it from moving, your eyes falling on a mop of brown curls sleeping with his head on the edge of the bed, hand in yours. “Shawn?”

“Hm, what?” he mumbled, regaining consciousness once again, “Baby, are you awake?”

“Yeah, I- what are you doing here?” Before he could even begin to answer he was already lunging towards you, wrapping his arms around you as tight as he could, being cautious about your injuries in the process.

“I love you so so much,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he squeezed you tighter, “I don’t ever wanna fight again.”

You sighed in relief of your boyfriend just being here again, telling you he loved you, and you wrapped your arms around him, reciprocating his hug with as much strength as you had, “I’m sorry I was acting jealous I shouldn’t have accused you of-”

“No, stop.” Shawn sat up, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes, his holding nothing but seriousness in them, “You have no need to apologize. I’m so sorry, baby. I should have been here for you and I shouldn’t be doing things like that without talking about it with you first. I hate fighting with you and I especially hate fighting with you over the phone. It’s my fault you’re here and I’m so sorry.”

A tear slipped down his face and you cupped his cheeks tenderly, wanting nothing more than to take his pain away no matter how much he hurt you. That was one of the things you loved about Shawn. He felt things so deeply that it almost made you forget everything that was going on in your own life and just feel how he was feeling. But now, you wanted to see the Shawn you loved that was full of happiness and joy, and you would do anything to get that back. “It’s ok baby, we both said things we didn’t mean and we’re gonna be ok. Alright? We’re ok.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby, please forgive me,” he sobbed into your shoulder again, heart weighing down with guilt even after hearing your words.

“Shawn look at me,” you pulled his head out of your chest to be level with your own, “I love you and I forgive you, for everything. No matter what’s weighing on your heart right now, I forgive you for it.”

He sniffled, tear still streaming down his face as he pulled you in for a salty kiss, needing to feel closer to you. “I thought I lost you when your mom called me,” he mumbled against your lips, “Don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you. I had to hop on the first flight back home because I couldn’t live with myself knowing I was responsible for losing the one thing that means the most to me.”

“Stop,” you disconnected your lips from his to stare into his honey brown eyes, the ones that usually held so much love and joy only holding guilt and sadness, “I’m fine, it was an accident. I could have slipped even if you were home and we weren’t arguing. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. You and me together forever.”

“Forever.”

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 2

At the end of an exhausting day at the shelter, Alexa returned to her apartment to get herself ready for her date with Rafael later that evening. After entering her apartment, she headed towards her bedroom where she left a trail of clothes in her wake as she went into the bathroom, she turned on the faucet and stepped into the warm spray of her shower. As the water cascaded down her naked form, the stress of the day had essentially been washed away along with the suds from the body wash, shampoo and conditioner; when she was finished, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. 

After exiting the bathroom, Alexa made haste to the walk in closet, as she browsed through her wardrobe, she felt a little giddy at the idea that she was about to have dinner with the most well renowned ADA in all of Manhattan. After making a second sweep of her closet, she finally settled on a spaghetti strapped, maroon colored dress that practically screamed sexiness. Hmmm, I wonder if maybe this is too forward…I mean it’s a gorgeous dress but I just don’t want to give him the wrong impression, suddenly she was startled by the vibrations coming from her phone that laid on top of the dresser right across from her bed.

As she looked at the screen, she saw that it was a text from Rafael.

Hey just wanted to let you know that I’ll be a little late in picking you up, have to finish up some paperwork at the office, I should be there no less than 5 minutes.

After she read his text, she quickly sent one of her own telling him that she understood his situation and that she would wait for him, once it was sent Alexa continued to finish getting ready; she decided to go with the maroon dress and then picked out a pair of black four inch heels. From there she went through her jewelry box and decided on a pair of black beaded chandelier earrings and a choker, then she sprayed on her favorite rose scented perfume and went over to the long wide mirror that hung on the bathroom door, as she gave herself a quick glance over, she thought to herself: oh yeah, this is definitely the outfit…I hope Rafael doesn’t have a heart attack when he sees it. It was then that she heard a knock at the door, when she reached it, she opened it ajar only to find that it was Rafael standing there holding a bouquet of roses.

After she unlatched the chain, Alexa proceeded to fully open the door and stepped aside to let him in, as she turned around to face him, his jaw practically fell to the floor when he said:

“Wow…you look beautiful”

“Thank you, are those for me,” Alexa asked as she pointed to the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh yes, here” 

After he handed her the flowers, Alexa went into the kitchen to put them in some water, meanwhile, Rafael decided to take an impromptu tour of tour of her apartment. Overall, he was impressed at how meticulous and coordinated the furniture was; a beige colored couch that sat in the middle of the living room as an oak brown coffee table laid out in front of it, a 50-inch plasma screen placed up against the wall on top of a TV stand that matched the color of the coffee table. Also, he takes note of the colorful landscape paintings that hung along the wall, when he finished looking across the room, he then made his way towards the bookshelf that sat on the left hand side of the room. 

As he glanced at the collection of romance, crime and justice, and self-help books; he did not notice that Alexa had come up from behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder, he quickly turned around as she said:

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you”

“It’s alright, I was just admiring your collective works of art here”

Alexa smiled, “Well shall we make our way down to the restaurant” 

After gathering her purse, they made their way out the apartment and upon exiting the building, Alexa slinked her arm around Rafael’s as they walked down towards the Italian restaurant. During their stroll, Rafael couldn’t help but peek at Alexa’s remarkable physique, her long slender legs, the curvature of her body and the pout that formed from her perfect lips that made it difficult for him not to lean over and kiss her. Alexa felt Rafael’s gaze upon her and smirked.

“Why don’t you take a picture it’ll last longer”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare”

“It’s ok I get it”

A few moments later, they made it to the entrance of the restaurant, before even entering; the smell of garlic bread and parmesan flooded their senses. Their mouths practically watering as they entered, Rafael made it known to the hostess that they had a reservation, after it was confirmed, she escorted the two of them halfway across the restaurant to their table. Once they were seated, a waiter came by to take their drink orders, both Rafael and Alexa ordered a glass of red wine. As he took his leave, the two of them looked upon each other while being surrounded by the chatter and commotion of the restaurant, a few minutes went by before Alexa decided to break the ice:

“So how’s work?”

“Ugh…brutal, I recently lost a case in which a television actor and his friend gang raped a woman in the bathroom of a nightclub”

“The Bobby D’Amico case?”

“Yeah”

“Oh man…I saw it on the news, but kudos to whoever leaked that video of the two of them almost raping that undercover cop. Those bastards got what was coming to them”

“I couldn’t agree more”

It was then that the waiter came back with their glasses of wine, at the same time, Rafael and Alexa placed their order. He ordered the chicken parmesan while Alexa ordered a simple pasta dish, as the waiter departed from their table again, the two of them continued their conversation:

“Listen I hope you don’t mind me asking but what made you decide to work at a domestic violence shelter?”

Alexa paused for a moment as she took a sip of her wine.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…” Rafael’s voice trailed off but then Alexa interrupted:

“No it’s ok…um my dad he uh…he would use my mother as his personal punching bag, whenever he thought that she was cheating on him or for no reason at all. One time he beat her so bad that she bled out all over the kitchen floor, she had to have 20 stitches in her head.”

As she continued to describe the horrors of her childhood, tales that involved severe beatings and acts of emotional terrorism, small tears started to prick in her eyes. Rafael reached out to comfort her by placing his hand on top of hers as he looked upon her with eyes that conveyed to her that he understood her pain, with her free hand; Alexa wiped her eyes.

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that…I know what it’s like to live in a house where you don’t know what’s going to set a madman off”

“What do you mean?”

“My father was like yours…he took out his misery and self-loathing on me and my mother, I hated every minute of it, there were times where I’d pray for his death. Even though he’s been dead for 15 years, my hand still curls up into a fist whenever I think of him. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s probably one of the reasons that I became a prosecutor…I wanted to provide a voice for those who were being treated like they were less than human beings”

“Wow…I don’t what to say”

“Well we all have a past, the trick is to not let it define us”

“True”

The waiter came back with their orders shortly after, when he left, they reached for their utensils and proceeded to dive into the fine cuisine displayed before them. During the course of their meal, Alexa and Rafael continued with small talk, but then he brought up the subject of her last relationship and all of sudden it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“There’s really not much to tell Rafael”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry”

“Alright…you want to know the story? I gave the guy a year of my life that I’ll never get back only to find out that he’d been screwing some piece of office trash on the side”

“If you don’t mind me saying, he was a fool to let someone as smart and as beautiful as you go…seems to me like he didn’t know what he had”

Alexa smiled as his words sunk in, it became apparent to her that maybe she had finally found someone who would appreciate her and possibly love her in the way that she deserved to be, once they cleaned off their plates, Rafael asked for the check. After paying the bill, he proceeded to walk Alexa back to her apartment building, along the way; Alexa thanked him for his kind words but he reiterated to her that he meant every single word.

“Well here we are,” Alexa noted as they stood facing each other outside her apartment building.

“I had a really great time tonight”

“Me too”

After a brief moment, Rafael leaned in to kiss Alexa only to have her pull away from him.

“I’m sorry, I just”

“It’s ok I understand”

“Please don’t take this wrong way, I really like you but I just want to take things slow”

“Alexa, It’s alright”

With that, they exchanged their goodbyes as she made her way up to her apartment, as soon as he had visual confirmation that she was inside, Rafael walked down the street and waved down a passing cab. Alexa looked out her window as she saw the cab drove by with Rafael in it, as she made her way towards the bedroom, she began cursing at herself for letting a golden opportunity get away from her; What the hell is wrong with you?

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @thatesqcrush @teamsladsandgents @karens-imagined-world @itsjustmyfantasyroom @youreverycolor @misssirenlove @beccabarba @glimmerglittergirl​ @madamsnape921

[herbgerblin]

taako is (very politely) kidnapped by the bird king p.4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Also now on Ao3!!

“What do I call you, my dude?” Taako asks the little man leading him down a sloping hallway. “Since I’m going to be, uh, living here perpetually.”

“You may call me Davenport, My Lord.”

“Cool.” Taako does a double take. “Wait, I’m a lord now?”

“Of course,” Davenport replies. “As the king’s betrothed, you and Lady Lup have already been conferred titles. And, after the wedding, you shall be crowned King Consort. There will be other add ons, to be sure. But that’s the only one you really need to take to heart.”

“That does have a nice fuckin’ ring to it,” Taako mumbles.

Everything in the castle feels older, but looks newer, in a sense. The lamps in the hallway are lit with light bulbs, but they look thinner and lighter than any Taako’s ever seen before. And he hasn’t spotted a wall outlet anywhere. How is he going to charge his phone?

This one question knocks against a series of others in Taako’s brain, reminding him that he is in a strange and unfamiliar place. A place he doesn’t know how to escape. A place where he doesn’t know what kind of potential dangers he could be in.

But Davenport seems okay. He walks particularly fast for being nearly half Taako’s height. His hair is slicked back, and he has a neat little mustache. He wears a light yellow suit jacket with an array of hummingbirds stitched neatly on the shoulders. 

They occasionally pass through hallways that have glass on the ceilings and on the floor. Taako’s breath catches, and he crouches down to marvel at the view. 

The castle is built on a small island in the middle of a grand, crystal-clear sea. The water beneath them is so perfectly undisturbed that it reflects the last remnants of the late evening sky. 

“Wait,” Taako says, retching his gaze away from the window. “What time is it? It’s evening now? Why is everyone up and about?”

“Our schedules fall a bit differently due to the nature of the king’s work,” Davenport replies. “It takes some time to adjust fully, but I can assure you that everything follows a routine as though it would in the daylight hours.”

“That’s—okay.” Taako says, and decides not to pursue that particular train of thought. What matters most to him is finding a route of exit. As he makes mental notes of the many open views and doorless hallways, he determines that movement won’t be the problem, but stealth certainly will. “So what’s the plan now, kemosabe?”

“First is your fittings. Then a brief history lesson, then a meal—I am sure you’re famished after your light journey—then a tour of the grounds, then a number of introductions, then—”

“I’m sorry for asking,” Taako interjects.

Davenport chuckles. “Yes, well. Becoming the king’s spouse does bring along its slew of responsibilities.”

“My dude, I didn't even know I was going to be marrying the king until less than a day ago.”

“We sent numerous correspondences, My Lord.” 

Taako gets the feeling that Davenport is saying ‘My Lord’ as a way to be cheeky.

“Yeah?” he replies. “Well, your communications process is shit. Get an email address.”

“Won’t be needing any of that here,” Davenport says, as he pushes open a door.

They walk into a room that might as well be a boutique. Rows upon rows of fine garments and pieces of fabric are hung up on racks. Between them are shelves, lit up and displaying beautiful accessories of fine design and hand craftsmanship. A gorgeous chandelier illuminates everything in a twinkling glow.

“Hell yeah!” Taako exclaims. He makes a dash towards the shiniest shirt he can find. His hands snatch up a gorgeous cream colored tunic, lined at the collar and cuffs with golden thread. He also grabs a long green robe beside it, and a couple of scarves.

“Not yet,” Davenport says. “Before you change—” And he whips out a measuring tape and a cushion of pins. “Fittings first, then dress up.”

Taako pouts. “When I’m King Consort, I'm having you thrown in the dungeon.”

“You’ll be remiss to find that we do not have one of those, my lord.” Davenport says, gesturing to a small stool nearby.

Taako reluctantly sets the clothes down and walks over to stand on top of the stool. He declares, “Then my first order of business will be to have one constructed.”

“As you wish.”

Davenport makes quick work of getting Taako squared away. A few moments—and a quick dart behind a changing screen later—Taako’s dressed in a tasteful purple waistcoat, over a lilac blouse and a pair of plush, navy blue beeches. A jewel blue sash is tied around his waist, and he is given a pair of socks and black, knee high boots.

As he ties the laces, Davenport pushes the doors back open and motions for him to hurry along.

“We have to move quickly,” he urges. “There’s much to do before the rehearsal.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Taako replies. He grabs a long, teal ribbon from a nearby sewing table. He uses it to tie back his hair, as Davenport hurriedly leads them to their next destination.

“So, are we going to see the king?” Taako asks. He catches a glimpse of himself in a large mirror on a nearby wall. He’s never worn clothes so nice and well fit before. He lifts his head some and runs a back through his hair. The reflection looking back at him looks almost princely. 

“Oh no,” Davenport replies. “His majesty has been very busy since you all arrived. You probably won’t see him for a few hours.”

“Oh,” Taako says. He’s not the tiniest bit disappointed. Nope. No sir.

They pass through another tunnel of glass, and a flock of birds fly above their heads. There are so many that the flapping of their wings sound like the rush of a train. Taako watches as they fly in perfect synchronicity around the castle, and it’s many clear and almost crystalline structures.

“How old is this place?” Taako asks. He raises a brow. “How old are you?”

“To answer your first question, as old as old can be,” Davenport replies. His eyes shine with something knowing and strange. “To answer your second, well...It’s rude to ask the Fair their age.”

“Does….that make the Bird King old too?” Taako asks. He’s still very curious about the ages of the people who live here, but he knows it would be a death wish to cross any boundaries of etiquette in this place.

“Ancient,” Davenport replies, like that explains anything.

“Damn,” Taako says. “About to get hitched to a grandpa here.”

“His majesty has been attending to this realm for a long time,” Davenport agrees. “He is not the first ruler here and I daren’t say he’ll be the last. But that sort of thing is best left to time.”

“Time is all I seem to have at the moment,” Taako replies.

He tunes out Davenport’s spiel about the history of the castle. His focus remains firmly on the structures around it. It’s built more like a tower, with circular chambers extending outwards from the center structure, and interconnecting with glass bridges. It’s hard to see the other chambers in the dark, but after a moment it dawns on him why their construction looks vaguely recognizable. 

“They’re built like bird cages,” Taako says, out of the blue.

“What?” Davenport says.

“Oh, nothing,” Taako says. “Just, noting the architecture.” He gestures at the sea beneath them. “Hey, uh, have you been on the water at all?”

Davenport follows Taako’s gaze down to the peaceful surface. He looks almost wistful. “Not this water. But, many waters, yes.”

Taako’s ears perk up at that. “So. You’ve travelled a few times?”

“Errands of business mostly,” Davenport replies, turning away. He’s on the move again. “Any excursions outside of our realm must be approved by the King himself.” 

“I see,” Taako says, following behind. He tries not to feel discouraged, but he’s not making much mileage in the, ‘escape the clutches of the bird king’ department. Leaving the castle wouldn’t pose much of a problem. Aside from Magnus, he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of another palace guard. But from what he can tell, the island on which they’re situated has no connective bridges to any other masses of land. And there definitely doesn’t seem to be any boats docked anywhere.

He and Davenport go a full round of exploring different chambers, with Taako only half listening to the things he says. They eventually come to an intersection in the hallway, where there are two people standing and talking. Taako’s face perks up significantly as soon as he recognizes one of them.

“Luuuuuuuuuuup,” he exclaims, hurrying towards his sister.

“Taaaaaaaaaakooooo,” she replies, her attention caught. She has also changed into nicer clothes. She wears a long red gown, which fades into brilliant orange up towards her shoulders. Her hair has been twisted into small plaits and held in place by many shimming, gold pins. A sheer scarf hangs from her arms.

“You look nice,” Taako says, as she reaches out to give him a hug. ”Loving the hair.”

“Thanks,” she replies, turning her head this way and that. “I will admit, I had a little fun.” She then gestures at the man still standing in the center of the hallway. “This is Barry, the castle’s Head Researcher. He’s been showing me around the castle’s laboratories.”

Taako takes a glance at the guy she’s referring to, and blinks in surprise. The man, Barry, is dressed pretty similarly to how they were when they first arrived. He wears a grey suit jacket over a white button up and some crisp, denim bluejeans. He looks to be at least older than Magnus, with already greying hair and smile lines to match. 

“Ah, a nerd,” Taako says, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Barold,”

“Nice to meet you too, um, Taako,” Barry hesitantly. The only indication that he belongs with the rest of the castle staff is the shining silver pin of a bluejay on the lapel of his jacket.

“I told him to cut the Lord and Lady nonsense before it got old,” Lup says, giving Barry a pat on the shoulder.

“Um, no? The fuck?” Taako's face scrunches up. “You're not the one becoming Bird Consort. I make the rules around here.”

“I told you it’d get to his head,” Lup says, leaning over and grinning at Barry. Barry chuckles, and Taako is immediately filled with brotherly disgust at the whole situation.

Davenport clears his throat. “If you will excuse me, I have to meet with Lucretia for rehearsal arrangements. Lunch will be served in the summer gardens. Barry, can you escort the Lord and Lady there?”

“Of course, captain,” Barry replies. He gives Davenport a salute. Davenport nods at that and hurries off.

“You call him captain?” Taako asks.

Barry nods and begins to lead the two of them towards a tunnel that slants upwards. “Davenport is in charge of the castle when the king is away. He knows how to keep everything running smoothly.”

“With the amount of magic users around, I’m not surprised,” Lup replies. She looks at her brother with excitement. “Did they tell you? Magic is used much more freely here. You don’t need a license or anything!”

“Oh word?” Taako says. He immediately casts a minor illusion spell on his clothes. Swirls of glittering sequins appear down his chest and the side of his breeches. He enjoys the look of it, twirling for Lup’s amusement. She laughs and gives him a shove.

Taako thinks about all the possibilities he has at his disposal now. In their home, mages have to be licensed to practice certain magics. It’s not a big deal, but those with a natural affinity towards it find the stipulations a lot harder than others.

“Most magic is permitted free, yes,” Barry says. “But there are spells and rituals that are absolutely banned here.”

“Right,” Lup replies. “Barry works here at the castle, but he also crosses over into our plane to work at a university.” She touches Taako’s arm and they both slow their pace a bit, following a few feet behind Barry.  Lup leans close to her brother’s ear and whispers. “He’s an expert in necromancy, but the Bird King doesn’t allow that here, which is why Barry has to travel out in order to practice it.”

“A necromancer? Him?” Taako whispers in return, pointing at Barry. Barry’s sturdy, but he definitely doesn’t look like that type to dabble in anything resembling the dark arts.

Lup nods. “Cool, right?”

Taako mentally dodges that question, focusing on the more pertinent information. “So there are easy access ways of getting out of here?”

Lup nods again, but before they continue their conversation, the trio are greeted by another wide set of double doors.

Barry pauses at the handle and turns to address them. “Hey, I know we’re going into the garden but...don’t talk to Merle about the plants.”

“What?” both twins reply. 

“The plants?” Taako asks.

“Who’s Merle?” Lup asks.

Barry opens the door without another word.

[slowly-writing]

Part of the Family: Part 6

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1   Part 7

Word Count: 2274

a/n: Hey y’all! Here’s part 6! I wanted to let y’all know I have a few pretty important tests this week so I’m not sure how active I’ll be, but I’ll try to still get some stuff out for you guys. Have a great day!

After that day you started hanging out with Peter more at school, you and MJ merging in with him and Ned to form one friend group. You even stayed with Peter and his aunt when the whole team had to go to Sokovia. You had begged them to let you come but they refused. It was too high profile of a mission with too much room for injury. Your parents were still just a little too protective for your liking, so for now you had to watch the news and wait for them to come back.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as you hear people yelling down the hall.

“Hey! It’s Penis Parker!” Flash yells as Peter walks into school.

You walk up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “hey buddy. Leave him alone, alright?”

You tower over him but Flash doesn’t know how to be intimidated apparently, and he refuses to back down, “why do you hang out with that loser anyway?”

“Because unlike you, he has a personality outside of being a dick. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be anywhere but here,” you smirk as Flash’s friends laugh and walk back towards MJ.

“Hey, thanks y/n,” Peter says as he and Ned walk over, “I’m trying to keep the whole, uh, internship on the downlow.” You nod, acknowledging that he doesn’t want to say the truth with so many people around.

“I get it. That ship sailed for me a while ago, but you’re a part of the team now. We’ve got each other’s backs. If he keeps bugging you, let me know, yeah?”

Peter nods before walking off to class, you smile after him, he’s kind of turning into the brother you never had. He’s part of the family now, and you always take care of your family.

“You’re a good person, you know that?” MJ asks and you blush.

“It’s uh...the serum. I can’t help it,” you try to brush it off but she grabs your hand looking up at you.

“No it’s not. You and I both know that serum just brings out what’s already inside you. You’re a good person, and that’s all you.” She says and you smile down at her, “now c’mon. Let’s get to class, loser.”

You laugh, “you’re incapable of showing feelings for more than 30 seconds at a time, huh?”

“Shut up, Jr,” she teases and you roll your eyes.

xxxxx

“Thank you for dinner Miss Parker. And thank you again for letting me stay here while my parents are out of town,” you say and Peter’s aunt smiles at you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me May? And of course, you’re welcome here anytime, y/n.”

“Thank you, May.”

“So what did you say your parents do?” She asks and you look to Peter who shrugs.

“You can tell her if you want.”

“Tell me what?” She asks and you smile.

“They’re, um…they’re Avengers. Black Widow and Captain America. I kinda am too. They had to leave on a mission. Normally I’d stay in the tower with whoever was left, but this was kind of a whole team sort of situation,” you explain and her eyes get wide.

“Wow, I knew I recognized your last name from somewhere. If it was a whole team thing why aren’t you with them?” she says and you smile.

“Yeah I get that a lot. They’re a bit protective. They don’t like to admit that I can help. I’ve been training with them since I was twelve and I think sometimes they still see me as a little kid,” you say with a laugh.

“That makes sense. I don’t know how I’d handle it if Peter was off doing what you do. That’s very admirable of you,” she says and you and Peter exchange a look.

“Um...yeah. Thank you,” you say softly.

xxxxx

“Come on Parker, one more rep!” You encourage Peter as he finishes his workout. You had come to the tower to use the training room. People looked at you funny when you bench pressed hundreds of pounds at the gym.

“Man, I may have the strength, but you definitely have the stamina y/n.” Peter says and you groan.

“Please don’t start that whole strongest Avenger fight right now. It never ends. My dad and I have been arguing about it since before he was my dad,” you say rolling your eyes. MJ laughs from her spot next to you. She’s sitting criss cross on an empty bench reading a book. You’ve long since stopped trying to get her to participate in your workouts but she always comes to keep you company.

“You were raised around way too much testosterone, y/n,” MJ stays and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t I know it. I swear heightened testosterone levels were a requirement to live here. I don’t know how mom and I survived.”

“By being the smartest people here,” your mom says from the door and you grin.

“Hell yeah we are!” You say, running over to hug her. “How was the mission?”

“The mission went fine. It was a tough one but we made it out, we always do,” she says and you smile at her. “Also, don’t let your dad hear you talk like that, he’ll yell ‘language’ at you,” she jokes and you laugh.

“I know he’s from the 40s but he really needs to get with the times.”

“Who needs to get with the times?” Steve walks through the door and you shake your head.

“Oh great, it’s a family affair. Did you guys need something?” You tease, but really you’re glad that they’re both home safe. You always get a little stressed when they’re gone. Your dad puts a hand over his heart.

“Our little girl is all grown up, she doesn’t need us anymore,” your mom says, wiping fake tears from under her eyes.

“They grow up so fast. It feels like just yesterday she was taking her first steps,” your dad joins in and you can hear Peter and MJ laughing behind you.

“You do realize you didn’t meet me until I was twelve, right? Is the old age finally getting to you dad?” You tease and he laughs.

“Very funny. Anyway, we were coming to tell you guys that we’re all home and dinner's almost ready, unless of course you don’t want food,” your dad goes to leave and both you and Peter jump to stop him.

“No!” You yell in unison cause the other three to laugh.

“We just gotta hit the showers real fast, we’ll be down in a minute!” You say and Peter looks at you.

“Race you!” He yells before taking off toward the locker room.

“You’re going down, Parker!” You yell, running after him.

“Miss Romanoff, I really think all that testosterone is getting to her,” MJ says with a laugh and your mom places a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got no idea, kid.”

xxxxxxx

“Hey guys!” Clint walks in to dinner a few minutes late, “I come bearing our newest recruit! She helped us out in Sokovia.” He says as a girl with brown hair and a shy smile step out from behind him.

“Hello, everyone. I didn’t really have time to introduce myself in all the chaos. I’m Wanda,” the girl says, with a thick accent.

“What is this, teenager recruitment week? Can MJ join up, too?” You tease and Clint rolls his eyes.

“We’re not making your girlfriend an Avenger because you think it’d be cute.” Tony says and you blush looking away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you grumble and MJ laughs.

“Only cause you won’t ask me out,” she says with a smirk and your jaw drops .

“Wait, what?” You look at her with wide eyes.

“Y/n, flirt later. Introduce yourself now,” your mom cuts in, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Hey Wanda, I’m y/n. I’m the resident teenager around here. This is Peter, he’s on the team with us, and this is my friend MJ.”

“Your potential girlfriend if I heard correctly,” Wanda cuts you off and you glare.

“Yeah she’s gonna fit in fine,” you say rolling your eyes as she laughs. “Anyway! Neither of them live here, but they’re here all the time.  Everyone else stays here and they’re all members of the team. My parents Natasha and Steve, and that is Tony and Bruce. You’ve obviously met Clint.”

“That’s a lot of names,” Wanda laughs nervously and you smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had years to get this down. You’ll get there. Are you moving in?” You ask and she nods, “cool! Well, how about you join us for dinner and then Peter, MJ, and I can give you the tour. You three are lucky by the way! I only had all the old guys to show me around. They didn’t tell me that you could play video games on the screens in the lab or about the secret passageway to the roof.”

“Secret what now?”

“Nothing, mom!” You say, avoiding eye contact, causing everyone else to laugh.

xxxxx

“Hey, now that there’s more teenagers here can I drop out of school again?” You ask the next morning at breakfast and your dad laughs.

“Nice try, kid” Tony says and you sigh.

“Again?” Wanda asks and you nod.

“I dropped out when I first got here. I didn’t quite have control of my strength and they were trying this whole joint parenting thing. With 5 parents I could pretty much always convince one of them to give me my way. Then they adopted me and dad went on a power trip and put me back in school,” you tease and your dad rolls his eyes.

“Since when is making sure you get an education a power trip?” Steve asks.

“Since I could’ve been training and making sure I was ready for any danger that could arise.”

“Like wrenches?” Your mom teases as she walks in and you groan.

“When are you gonna let that go? I was a little kid!”

“Wrenches?” Wanda asks and you sigh.

“There was an accident in the lab when I first moved in. Long story short, I was helping Tony and he wasn’t paying enough attention leading to me getting hit in the face with a wrench and needing stitches,” you explain and she tries to hide her laugh.

“They won’t let me live it down,” you groan.

“Are you complaining about the wrench again?” Tony asks and you throw your hands in the air.

“Mom brought it up again. It wasn’t me!”

“Sure, y/n. Whatever you say,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“You know what? I take it back. I don’t want to drop out. I’m going to school to get away from you crazy people!” You yell, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Your dad calls, “Wanda is going to start at your school today. Show her around, okay?”

“Yeah sure, welcome to the American education system kid,” you say leading her out the door.

“It surely can’t be as weird as they say it is, can it?” She asks and you laugh.

“It’s worse, there’s videos of my dad for almost every subject. You’ll hate it, let’s go.”

xxxxxx

“So how do you wanna play this?” You ask as you climb off your dirt bike, since you had turned 16 your mom finally let you drive it to school. Luckily she was a little groggy this morning and didn’t have time to put together that you don’t have a spare helmet. It’s not like you really need one anyway, you always give it to MJ when you sneak out to take her on rides.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks as you lead her into school.

“Do you want to tell people you’re joining the Avengers? Everyone knows about me, but Peter keeps it a secret,” you explain and she nods.

“They’ll all find out eventually, right?” she says and you nod. “Then we can tell them. It’s okay.”

“It’ll hopefully help you get made fun of less,” you say and her eyes get wide, “Don’t worry. Most of them are scared of me. Stick with me and you’ll be good.”

“Hey, Captain Widow!” Somebody yells as you walk in and you nod in their general direction. That had become your sort of unofficial superhero name, but you kind of enjoyed it.

“Who’s the new kid?” Flash says stepping in front of you.

“This is Wanda, she’s joining the Avengers with me,” you say and he smirks.

“New teenager kick, I like it. Can I join?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“You have to have some actual talent for that one, now, if you don’t mind, I’m pretty sure being in your presence is killing my brain cells,” you say stepping around him.

“Flash bugging you again?” Peter asks as you walk up and you shrug.

“He just wants to seem cool, he doesn’t do a very good job of it though.”

“You can say that again,” Ned says and you laugh.

“Oh, right! Wanda this is Ned, Ned this is Wanda, she just moved into the tower,” you introduce.

“Nice to meet you!” Ned says and Wanda smiles at him.

“Are you coming over today?” you ask MJ softly and before she can respond Peter cuts in.

“When does she not? She’s there more than I am and I’m on the team!”

“Watch it spiderboy,” you say and he raises his hands in surrender.

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