#Today I am... running off four hours of sleep and unable to find my new friends - who I presume are hungover as fuck today

[thisisaheist]

I'm close enough to the Netherlands that I have internet right now! Woo! No idea if it'll last long... don't think I'll be able to livestream Strictly on my phone anyway. Definitely feels weird for it to be 2:30pm and to not have already seen it. Anyway, in addition to the cruise-activity dance lessons, this whole nonsense happened last night:

About half an hour after I left that particular lounge, I wound up going to the ship's night club with some new friends I'd just met by the elevators and omfg...I feel like what I'm like on a dancefloor would be hilarious to anyone who knew how much of a massive fan of Sarah Hadland I am. I mean, I'm horrible - let's get that out of the way. Even if I were to become famous in Britain, I could never actually do Strictly. I can't follow choreography worth a crap. What I can do, apparently, is to be so excited to be spun like they do on Strictly that I wind up doing a sort of jump-and-squeal thing immediately afterwards 🤣 Also, that same guy told me I'm "very energetic." (as a compliment.) Actual words that came out of my mouth a bit later, when everyone formed a circle and people took turns dancing in the middle - "I feel like I just compensated by bouncing a lot." Then, towards the end of the night, being so obviously bored and not-my-thing when they played a bunch of slower songs in a row that some lady decided to try and tell me what I was doing wrong and how to dance better to it (as if we were on freaking Strictly, and not just... in a ship's night club at 1:45 am. No, I don't want to try and 'feel' the music right now... I just want them to play something faster, come onnn... )

...Yeah, sometimes your Strictly faves are your Strictly faves because you apparently just highly relate to them 😆 🤣🤣😅

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Forty Four

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!

First off, thank you SO much for the response to Surrender. Seeing all the comments and little emails from Ao3 made my heart so freaking happy <3 I am so so pleased you enjoyed it.

I hope you like this chapter of SGW <3

Please do let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.8k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily yawns as she paces the living room, her hand rhythmically patting Lily’s back through the baby wrap she was snuggled up in. 

Lily loved being held. It was something that became clear the day she born, fussing and squawking as only a newborn could whenever she woke up to find she was in the bassinet. It was something that had continued throughout the first two weeks of her life, and even though it meant Emily was very sleep-deprived since she was always their daughter’s first choice, still crying sometimes when Aaron was the one to get up with her, she couldn’t deny that she loved it. Something about holding her little girl close, of hours melting into days as she did so, that felt incredibly special. 

She knew this phase wouldn’t last forever, no matter how much it felt like it might in the moment sometimes. That, before she knew it, she’d be back at work. Her initial plan had only been to take the three months of maternity leave that she’d organised with Aaron and Strauss, but now she would be spending at least half of that time recovering from surgery, her ability to do just about anything other than carry her baby restricted, she was considering asking for a little more time. The practicalities were at the forefront of her mind, and certainly would be the official reason she’d use in her request, even though she knew it was more to do with the fact she was already unable to bear the thought of being away from her baby for hours at a time. 

She hears her phone ring from where she’d left it on the coffee table, the vibration of it echoing almost too loudly in the living room. She curses under her breath, fearing the sound will wake up Lily, and picks it up quickly, smiling when she sees her husband’s name on the screen. She answers quickly, making sure she keeps her voice low when she speaks, not wanting to disturb the baby pressed up against her chest. 

“Hi honey,” she says, continuing her pacing of the living room, “Are you on the way home?” 

“Not yet sweetheart,” he replies, an edge to his voice she’s sure she’d be able to place if she’d more sleep in the last couple of days, “How are my girls doing?” 

“I’m okay, tired but what’s new?” She says, chuckling as she runs her hand up and down the culprit of her sleep deprivation’s back, “Lil is fast asleep after eating. She loves that wrap Pen got us,” Emily says, looking down at Lily, smiling at the sight of her daughter fast asleep, her cheek squished against her chest, “Seems that as long as she’s got her face pressed into my boobs she’s happy,” she kisses the top of the baby’s head, “Like father, like daughter I guess.” 

She laughs at her own joke, and she hears Aaron’s laugh come down the phone, but it isn’t his usual one. It’s not the almost goofy sound she’d fallen in love with, it’s tight. Forced. And it sets her on edge. She runs her hand up and down Lily’s back and she blows out a steady breath. 

“Aaron, honey, what’s wrong?” 

She hears him sigh, and she can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, deep lines carved into his forehead, appearing like they always did when he was stressed. 

“I…,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “I don’t know how to tell you this. And I really wish I wasn’t having to tell you over the phone.” 

She tops pacing, frozen in place on the floor as worst-case scenarios overwhelm her, forcing her breath to catch in her chest, “Is…is someone hurt? I thought the team hadn’t been sent anywhere today-”

“Em, no it’s nothing like that,” he says, cutting her off, stopping her from spiralling any further, “It’s…it’s about your mother.” 

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that. For a moment, everything stops around her, everything slowing down in the quiet house, even the sound of the white noise machine that was always seemingly on these days disappearing. The only thing that keeps her grounded is the slight weight of Lily against her chest, the feeling of her breathing. Emily swallows thickly and places her hand on her daughter's back before she carefully lowers them down onto the couch.

“Sweetheart?” 

She clears her throat, the edge of concern in her husband’s voice enough to bring her back to herself. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for, baby,” he assures her, pausing for a moment that feels like an eternity, “Do you want me to tell you what’s happened?” 

She loves him for giving her the choice, as if she had any other option than to know what was happening. She knows if he hadn’t had to call he wouldn’t have. That a part of him would have considered not telling her at all, but one of the very foundations of their relationship was honesty and it always had been, long before they got together. 

“Yeah,” she answers, looking down at Lily, relieved she’s still fast asleep, finding comfort in her sweet face, “Is she hurt?” 

“No,” he says quickly, “No she’s okay. But…I got a call from a cop based downtown. She was pulled over and had clearly been drinking when they spoke to her.” 

Emily blows out a steady breath and closes her eyes, and tears immediately flood them. When she reopens them tears spill past her lashline. She wipes them away quickly, not wanting them to fall onto Lily’s head, for any of this to touch her. 

“She was driving?” Emily asks, unsure why that is the first thought to come to her. Elizabeth rarely, if ever, drove herself anywhere, so this seemed even more needless. Even more reckless. And it makes Emily’s heart seize in her chest, disappointment and hurt she’d told herself she wouldn’t allow herself to feel over her mother’s actions spreading through her like fire. Burning her from the inside out. 

“She was,” Aaron confirms, “She gave my name as a contact. I’m assuming it’s because I’m law enforcement and she knows I outrank them.” 

Emily scoffs, the sound bitter as it escapes, leaving a foul taste in her mouth, “Well, even when she’s been drinking she’s still always been good at what she does,” she blows out a shaky breath and wipes more tears from her cheeks, “Has she been charged with anything?” 

“No,” Aaron answers, and Emily isn’t sure what to make of the disappointment she feels, filing the feeling away for later, “I spoke to the cop and because it’s a first offence, and because of who she is, they are letting it slide.”

“That’s so…very DC,” she says, leaning down to kiss her daughter’s head, breathing in the scent of her, letting the comfort it always brought, the sense of home try to settle her. “You’re going to go pick her up, right?” She asks, his silence the only answer she needs, the reason she knows he’s called instead of coming home to tell her this, “I’ll meet you there.”

Aaron sighs again, as if he’d been expecting that response, “Em…you can’t drive yet. And I know you don’t want one of Lily’s first outings to be to a police station, no matter how much we joke about the family business.”

She chokes out a laugh, nodding even though he couldn’t see her, “I know. You’re right. You’ll be home as soon as you can be, right?” 

“You know I will,” he says, his voice laced with guilt he shouldn’t feel, “I’m so sorry about this, sweetheart.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly, “It’s just hers.” She feels Lily start to shift against her, and she looks down to see dark eyes looking up at her, “Can you…can you not tell her about Lily?” She asks, finding her usual desire to show her daughter off nowhere to be found, “You can tell her she’s here but please don’t say anything else. I…”

She isn’t sure how to say it, how to explain that her mother even being aware of her daughter’s name felt like something she didn’t want to share. An insight into her life she didn’t want to give her, a breaking of her own rules that she’d set so many months ago. 

“I get it,” he says, his voice soft, soothing her even though he wasn’t with her, “I won’t tell her anything I don’t think you’ll be comfortable with.”

She sighs, feeling slight relief this time, “Thank you. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he replies, and she hears shuffling on the other end as if he was moving, determined to do what he had to as quickly as he could so he could get back to her, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She strokes a finger down Lily’s cheek, smiling at the softness of her skin, more determined than ever that she was doing the right thing. “Okay.” 

___

Calling Emily had been the first thing he did, but the very last thing he’d wanted to do. 

For a moment, a very brief one, he’d considered not telling her. Thoughts he couldn’t quite shake off telling him that he should go get Elizabeth, drop her home and then never tell his wife, not wanting to cause the upset this undoubtedly would, but he knows he can’t do that. Honesty was important to them both, and even though the very last thing he wanted to do was hurt Emily, he knew this was best coming from him. 

When he gets to the police station it doesn’t take long for the police officers there to hand Elizabeth over to him. Familiar looks of dismay on their faces that she always managed to draw out of everyone she wished to, something that in other circumstances he’s sure would make him laugh. 

He doesn’t miss how she stares at his left hand as he shakes the hand of the cop who’d called him, her eyes fixed on the wedding ring he hadn’t been wearing the last time they saw each other. 

It felt like a different lifetime now. Emily’s pregnancy still early on enough that she was only showing a little, Lily safely tucked up inside of her, her hormones all over the place as she made the decision to cut her mother off. Putting her baby, the one she was still months away from meeting at the time, ahead of everything else. A feat Elizabeth had seemingly never been able to manage. 

They walk in silence to the car, Aaron’s fists clenched at his sides as he watches Elizabeth’s eyes linger on the car seat in the back before she climbs into the passenger side. Once he’s driving, the police station disappearing in the rearview mirror, she finally speaks to him, acknowledging him for the first time.

“Thank you for picking me up.” 

He grunts, clutching the steering wheel tight enough for a moment that his knuckles go white, “I didn’t do it for you.” 

She clears her throat, the silence in the car awkward, cloying. Thick in his throat in a way that makes him swallow thickly. 

“So…you really did get married.” 

He looks down at his hand, the band that matched Emily’s shining up at him, before he looks back at the road, “We did,” he replies, curiosity that had lingered in his belly since he’d been called finally winning out, “How did you know that?” He looks at her firefly and their eyes meet, and he sees the curiosity winning out, “The cop said you called me your son-in-law.” 

“My ex-husband told me,” she replies, “Apparently Emily has a habit of kicking her parents out of her life,” she adds wryly. 

The anger he feels flashes through him, hot and sharp as he clenches his teeth, his words forced out through them, “You don’t get to speak about her like that,” he says, holding the steering wheel so tightly he’s surprised he doesn’t snap it, “You never get to speak about her like that.” 

If Elizabeth has an issue with that she doesn’t say anything, instead, she casts a glance into the back of the car at the car seat, the movement enough to make the smell of wine on her breath wash over him. It unlocks a memory from his childhood, the scent immediately replaced with scotch for a moment, and he wants nothing more than for this to be done with so he can go home and hug his wife and daughter. 

“She had the baby then?” 

He’s good enough at his job to know that the way she tries to sound like she doesn’t care is fake, that beneath it all is someone who wants to know about her grandchild, about how her daughter is doing, and he wants to shake her.

“Yes. She did.” 

They fall into silence again and Elizabeth laughs wryly, “That’s all I’m going to get? Not a name or a hint of if I have a grandson or granddaughter.” 

“That’s all you are going to get,” he says sternly, making sure she knows he’s serious, “Emily asked me not to tell you anything else.” 

Elizabeth scoffs and shakes her head, “She’s always been one for the dramatics.” 

“She’s been a mother for 14 days and she’s already better at it than you have ever been in almost 40 years.” 

Elizabeth glares at him, her gaze burning into the side of his head. He turns to look at her for a moment before focusing back on the road. Her anger was clear, her jaw tight in a way Emily’s always was when she was angry. 

“You can’t speak to me like that.”

“Yes. I can. She’s my wife. She…” Aaron trails off, clutching the steering wheel even tighter, knowing he was edging on breaking his promise to his wife that he’d made when they first started dating that he wouldn’t get involved, “She deserves better,” it’s his turn to scoff, “She deserves better than a mother who puts everything ahead of her again and again.”

“She’s an adult.” 

“She gave you part of her liver,” he says, bringing up the one thing he knows Emily and Elizabeth had only spoken about once since it happened, part of the wrought final conversation they’d had with her months ago, “She saved your life and you don’t even have the decency to admit you have a problem.” 

“I had a glass of wine with lunch.” 

“You can keep telling yourself that,” he says looking at her again, “You can keep saying Emily is being dramatic for cutting you off. But today you were lucky. You could have lost your career if you were charged,” he shakes his head at her, a humourless laugh escaping, “And I think that would have been the wake up call you needed. Not your daughter, your only child, the person who saved your life last time, begging you to stop. Not the fact you won’t ever meet your grandchild if this carries on. But the fact you could have lost the job that you’ve always put ahead of everything.” 

He knows he’s edging on breaking his longstanding promise to his wife, that he’s risking saying too much, but he also knows he can’t walk away from this without saying something. 

“Are you really saying you believe a woman can’t do it all?” She asks, an edge of sarcasm to her voice, “I doubt my daughter would have ever married someone who believed that, let alone have a baby with him.” 

He has to take a deep breath, his anger licking at his insides again, and he’s grateful they are almost back at hers, the hard-earned control of his emotions reaching its end. 

“Women can. You didn’t.” He says firmly, purposely not looking at her as he feels her gaze burning into the side of his head again as he turns onto her street, “You didn’t raise her. She never came first to you,” he adds, pulling the car up onto her driveway, putting it into park but not switching off the engine, making it clear he wasn’t planning on staying, “But she does come first to me. Her and the kids. And she always will.” 

For a moment, he wonders if she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. The click of her seatbelt loud in the car quickly followed by the door opening. He hears her heeled shoes hit the gravel, and then there’s another pause. 

“Thank you, Aaron.” 

He looks at her, his gaze stern, “I already told you, this wasn’t for you-”

“Not for that,” she says, cutting him off, hooking her purse over her shoulder, “For loving my daughter.” 

He clenches his teeth to stop himself from saying that he didn’t do that for her either. Instead, he nods, and she smiles tightly at him before she closes the car door, disappearing into the house that had never quite been home for the woman he loves. 

___

The relief Emily feels when she hears the front door open is palpable. Tension seeping out of her body as she relaxes further into the bed. 

She’d brought Lily up to put her down to sleep, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to leave her until Aaron got home, desperately needing her little girl nearby to calm her down. A familiar mix of anger, disappointment and sadness churning deep in her gut, a feeling she had once hoped she’d left behind. 

It takes Aaron less than a minute to make his way upstairs. She stands up just as he walks into the bedroom, and he’s barely through the door before she’s in his arms, his arms tighter around her than they had been in weeks, any lingering concern about hurting her gone. 

She buries her face in his chest and she shudders, desperately trying to ignore the slight smell of her mother’s perfume that seemed to cling to him. A visceral reaction as everything she’d held in since he’d called escapes, her body sagging against his. She’s grateful she’s no longer pregnant, that she can be this close to him, something she’d missed more than she’d admit in the later stages of her pregnancy. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing the top of her head whilst he runs his hand up and down her back, “I’ve got you.” 

He isn’t sure how long they stand there. When he pulls back to look at her she smiles shakily at him and he wipes tears from her cheeks before he guides her to the bed, both of them sitting on the edge of it, their thighs pressed together. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer and he looks behind them at the basinet, smiling softly at the sight of their daughter fast asleep. 

“Is she okay?” He asks, and Emily nods against him, sniffing as she wipes at her cheeks again, the tears seemingly never stopping now he is home. 

“She’s okay,” she says, tilting her head to smile up at him, “She missed you today,” her smile becomes shaky, “Hell of a first day back at work.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, thinking of how he’d had to drag himself from their side this morning, determined to have an easy day at work so he could make it back home as soon as possible, “Do you…want to talk about it?”

She blows out a breath and shrugs, “No. Yes,” she shakes her head at herself as she lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, “I don’t know,” she rests her head on his shoulder, tilting it so she’s looking up at him, “Did she seem…apologetic?” 

He sighs and shakes his head, “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t tell her about the things Elizabeth had said, well aware they were all things she would have heard before. He didn’t want to pick at wounds that had already been torn open this evening, didn’t want to be the salt that made them sting. 

She feels a sob catch in her chest, reaching to wipe another tear from her cheek,  “ I kind of wish she’d been charged.” Emily asks, wiping a tear from her cheek, “If it had hit the press her job would have been at risk and…I think that’s the only thing that would make her stop,” she shakes her head and sighs, “Not having any contact with her only kid doesn’t seem to have made any difference. Is that bad?” 

“Of course not, Em,” he says, cupping her cheek and running his thumb over her skin, “I’d feel the same way.” 

She closes her eyes and shakes her head at herself, cursing under her breath, “Shit, Aaron. I’m sorry. I know it can’t have been easy for you to go.”

On some level, she hates that they have this in common. That one of their intertwined threads came from understanding how it felt to be raised by someone who chose alcohol above everything else, the desire to be better parents than the ones they had. But a selfish part of her likes it. She likes that they don’t have to explain this in any way, that they understand the darkest parts of each other. 

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologise for,” he assures her, leaning in to press a kiss against her lips, “I’d do anything for you, you know that.” 

She nods, the guilt not fully stamped out, and she reaches up to push his hair from his forehead, “I’d do anything for you too.” 

He kisses her again before he pulls her in for a hug, trying and failing to hide a smile when he hears her stomach gurgle. “Want me to go sort dinner? I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten.” 

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it, “In a minute, okay? Let’s just say like this for a bit.” 

Aaron nods and kisses the top of her head, content to hold her as long as she needs, wanting nothing more than to make her feel better. 

“We can stay here as long as you want, sweetheart.” 

Any response is cut off by Lily crying, a sound followed by both of her parents laughing, and Emily smiles at him, stamping a kiss to his lips before she stands up. 

“She certainly has impressive timing.” 

He watches as she picks up Lily, talking in the hushed tones she seemed to reserve for their daughter and Jack, and it only confirms what he’d said to Elizabeth earlier. 

Emily was a better mother than she’d ever been. 

-x-

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[wiltingredroses]

Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 1: House Guests

Leaving a toxic relationship is always hard.

It's even harder when you've known the person since you were in girl scouts together.

It's harder still when they are currently draining the life out of some poor bastard on the living room floor.

The man's screams had long since been reduced to low, pained moans. Now he only stares up at me pathetically, silently begging for help. Not that I would, even if I didn't fear the monster hovering over his soon-to-be corpse.

I would not be losing sleep over his death. Had we not made him our victim tonight, he would have made one of some other poor girl. I'd caught him slipping something into his date's drink at the bar earlier tonight. Thankfully, I was able to warn her in time. Her swift exit allowed the two of us to swoop in and take her place. He didn't put up much resistance. How could he complain? Two willing girls offering to take him home instead of one that he'd have to drag back to his. He had no idea what was in store for him. 

She prefers girls, so do I, but men are so much easier. They'll follow you just about anywhere so long as there's a chance, no matter how small, that you will sleep with them.

I'm Maeve, and the monster masquerading as a human being is Evelyn. Or we were, at least, once upon a time. Today I am Diane, and she is Abigail. Last week, we were Chelsea and Mary Anne. Tomorrow, who knows? We concoct new identities for every town. We are Maeve and Evelyn only to each other.

Evelyn straightens up, wiping the blood from her mouth. She smiles at me in a way that tells me she wants me, here and now. The body on the floor twitches. I am unsure if he is alive or dead. She has a tendency to take her time with her food. She had been drinking him bit by bit for the past hour or so. If she likes a victim especially well, she can take days to finish them off. She must love me if that's the case. She's been draining me over the course of fifteen years.

Despite the unappealing company, the lust was mutual. She pounces on me, pinning me to the couch. One hand grabs my wrists and the other slips under my dress, trailing between my legs. She puts her mouth to my neck and bites down. She doesn't drink. She doesn't need to. The waste of human flesh growing cold on the floor will keep her sated for a while. A few days, at least. She rarely drinks from me. Only on a handful of desperate occasions has she ever needed to, and only enough to hold her over until we could find someone else. Each time she made me hold a stake to her heart for the duration, in case she found herself unable to stop. The biting was for another reason entirely, well, two really. For one, It was her way of marking her territory. She was always possessive, even when she was human. Secondly, because it felt so good.

The adrenaline rush from the kill fades in an instant as the venom from her bite takes over. It has a drug-like effect that acts as a sedative; Typically used to keep prey from running away. In large amounts, it paralyzes them.  In the early days it was a necessity. I wasn't always this blase about watching my girlfriend kill people in front of me. After the first time it happened, I was overcome with anxiety twenty four seven, unable to go outside or even sleep without a significant amount of xanax. Once, during the midst of a particularly bad panic attack, she tried it on me out of pure desperation. It worked like a charm. She was more or less permanently attached to my neck for awhile. Whether it began to have long-term effects, or I just became used to the bloodshed, I'm still not sure. Either way, it is used almost exclusively for recreational purposes nowadays.

Any and all pain ceases to exist in this moment. Bad memories and trauma were forgotten. The all-consuming guilt that eats me alive every moment of every day is replaced with pure euphoria. What Evelyn is doing to me becomes nothing but background noise as my eyes roll back. A photo hanging on the wall stares back at me: a happy couple on their wedding day. They really were a beautiful couple. We hadn't known they were expecting until we discovered the half-decorated nursery, but it was far too late by then. The wife died quickly, at least: a rare act of mercy on Evelyn's part. The husband on the other hand... well, they're together now, at least.

-

It happened at a house party about four years ago. We had gotten into a fight and I stormed off back to our shitty motel room early. She didn't come back that night, or the next day. She finally stumbled in after dark, several shades paler with an insatiable thirst for something warm and crimson. Evelyn was the only survivor of a full-scale massacre that broke out shortly after I had left. The whole thing was a trap by the hosts themselves, luring in the local youths with the promise of booze and drugs. She never saw the monsters that turned her ever again. They changed her life forever and discarded her like trash on the side of the road.

Why did I stay, knowing my girlfriend was now an undead creature of the night that requires regular human sacrifices to sustain herself? Well, we have history. The kind of history a petty little thing like that can't even hope to overshadow. We've been friends since we were eight years old and started dating when we were in middle school. In the ass-backwards town we use to call home, this was not an accepted thing. We were outed at school pretty early on. It was hell, but it was nothing compared to what happened when the news got back to our families. My own parents were discussing the possibility of using my college fund to send me to one of those "pray the gay away" camps, whereas all Evelyn's family could spare was a black eye and a split lip. She showed up at my window a few nights later with all her worldly possessions stuffed in a duffle bag. It didn't take a whole lot of convincing for me to join her, stealing what few valuables my parents had laying around on my way out.

We spent the next several years drifting from city to city, crashing on stranger's couches, cheap motels, and occasionally in Evelyn's truck when no other options were available. We had been offered more permanent housing over the years, almost exclusively by men, but we always declined. Their offers never came from the goodness of their hearts. They would usually accept just being allowed to watch as payment for a night or two, but eventually they would want in on the action. As long as we weren't having sex with them, we could pretend what we were doing wasn't really prostitution.

It was a difficult and scary life, but we were willing to put up with it as long as we were together. Besides, what a life on the road lacked in security and comfort, it made up for in fun and excitement. We made friends with strangers in every city. Within an hour in a new place Evelyn would score an invite to a party or the address of an exclusive local night club. One of her many talents was her ability to spot a dealer within minutes of arriving. We never had much money in those days, but somehow we always had money for drugs. That was what we were fighting about that night four years ago. I voiced my worries about her developing a drug problem, but she insisted she was fine despite spending what was suppose to buy us another two nights in an motel room on coke.

Eventually, we would both turn eighteen and were no longer on the run. We tried to settle down a time or two, getting what low-paying jobs a couple of high school dropouts could get. We were still struggling, without any of the benefits we use to enjoy. We decided if we were destined to be poor, we would at least make it fun. Then, Evelyn, love of my life, became a monster. The changes were subtle at first. Then her morals shifted even further into shades of gray. She became more aggressive, and her jealousy issues reached a fever pitch. I couldn't even make eye contact with the opposite sex without her trying to lure the guy into a dark corner and draining him of his life force. Slowly she went from killing out of necessity to killing for monetary gain, and eventually, just for fun. All the while I was too strung out on vampire venom to even care. It turns out I'm a hypocrite as well as a coward.

When I was finally able to be sober for more than a hour at a time, Evelyn had already racked up a body count comparable to that of civil war battle. Still, I stayed. What other option did I have? I've never known anything else. Besides, we have the best of both worlds now, right? We're never strapped for cash now, and we don't even have to work. We get to sleep in an actual bed every night and we don't even have to worry about bedbugs and cockroaches eating us alive as we sleep.

I hope that makes my current position understandable, if not excusable. The position being lying in the bed of a married couple that is currently decomposing in the basement, while my vampire girlfriend stares lovingly at me.

"Maeve, my love, It's time to wake up." She purrs. She sits on the ground next to the bed, her head resting atop her crossed arms on the mattress.

"Already?" I groan and look at the clock on the bedside table. It is only 5:00 PM. The sun hasn't even gone down yet. It is odd for her to wake before me. She was never an early bird, even when she was alive.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome here, darling. It's time to move on."

As reluctant as I am to be on the road again, I know that she's right. It has been a week already. We had made sure to tell the couple's respective workplaces that they would be out of town due to a family emergency, but that won't be sufficient for much longer. Messages on the answering machine have begun to pile up in the past few days. Concerned friends and family members are beginning to grow suspicious. It won't belong until they start showing up to the house. It is a shame. I was really getting use to the place.

Reluctantly, I sit up in bed and glance around the room. Our stuff has been strewn haphazardly across the floor, the dresser, the bedside tables and even the lampshades. When you never stay anywhere longer than a week, you don't really get into the habit of putting things away. Evelyn kisses me gently on the cheek before standing up. She begins combing through our stuff and picking out what was hers to pack into her bags. I yawn and stretch before joining her, working as quickly as I can this soon after waking up. We are on a time crunch to find a new place to stay before dawn.

"Remember to grab anything valuable!" She says, stuffing a watch into her suitcase. I know the drill. We have done this countless times already. After I am sure I have gotten the last of my stuff from the bedroom, I empty out the jewelry box sat atop the dresser. I grab anything that looked remotely valuable before discarding the rest. I have no way of knowing if any of it is even real. Surely some of it has to be.

Together, we make quick work of the place. We have our bags packed and sitting by the front door by sundown. We were going over the place for a third and final time when we hear a knock at the door. I look at Evelyn. She gestures to a ray of light from the setting sun shining on the carpet. It's all on me.

I grab a knife from the kitchen before approaching the front door. Evelyn stands a mere few feet away, hiding in the corner. It's not often that I'm put in charge of the kill, but it is sometimes necessary. I grip the knife behind my back as I open the door a crack to see a man on the doorstep.

Please don't be a cop.

"Hello? Can I help you?" I ask. The man seems familiar. I am sure I've seen him in a few pictures around the house. He must be a relative.

"Hello, are the Stephens home? My brother hasn't been returning my calls lately. Anyone's calls, actually. His family is getting really worried about him." He said, looking me up and down. Thankfully, I have a lie locked and loaded for this exact scenario.

"He didn't tell you? They're out of town at the moment. There was some kind of emergency with his wife's family. I've been house sitting for them while they're away." I respond in my signature sugary sweet singsong voice as I open the door wider.

"And you are?" He asked, still apprehensive.

"I'm Diane. My family lives next door." I responded. I don't know why I bother with a fake name. It won't matter in a few moments. I look behind him, at the truck parked in the driveway. He came alone. Good.

"Do you want to come inside?" I ask, stepping aside. He hesitates for only a moment before walking into the house. I have no ill will against this man, but I have no other choice. I'm in far too deep to back out. If only he had arrived half an hour later, he would have lived.

I quickly shut the door behind him once he is a good distance inside. Giving him no time to assess the situation, I lunge at him. He screams bloody murder as I plunge the knife into his back, which, given that it is bloody murder, is appropriate. Before I can pull it out, he spins around and backhands me across the face, knocking me to the ground. I lie there, ears ringing, vision blurred, too dazed to react.

"What the fuck did you do to them, you crazy bitch?" He yells, reaching down and pulling me up by my hair. With his other hand, he starts to pull the knife out of his back, grunting in pain, but too determined to stop. I don't even notice Evelyn stepping out of the shadows. He raises the bloody knife and for a few seconds I genuinely believe that these will be my last moments. Alas, before he can put an end to my miserable life, he is interrupted.

He never had a chance. Evelyn sinks her teeth into him before he even registers her presence. He falls into a heap on the floor before me. He is still breathing, but unable to escape as the venom flows through his veins. I feel Evelyn's soft fingers running through my hair as she gently whispers into my ear.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. The bad man won't hurt you anymore." Her words are of little comfort. In that moment, I wish she had been slower. I deserve whatever the man would have done to me. I know that I'm not the hero of this story. Evelyn may be a monster, but I'm her willing sycophant. I will do whatever she says, for no other reason than I can't imagine a life without her.

With little effort, she picks me up off the ground and cradles me in her arms. With a gentleness you wouldn't think possible of a creature like her, she carries me to the couch. I shut my eyes tight to stop the room from spinning. I can taste blood in my mouth. After a few moments, I hear the sound of a body being dragged down a flight of stairs, a sound I have become uncomfortably familiar with. The man's muffled screams travel up from the basement. I can't even begin to imagine what she is doing to him. Considering the kinds of things she did to innocent strangers that had never so much as looked at her the wrong way, I do not want to consider the fate of the man that had raised a hand at me.

I'm not sure how long the torture lasts. Eventually, the dizziness overcomes me to the point that I pass out. When I come to, Evelyn is standing over me, covered in blood and viscera. She smiles softly and kisses my forehead.

"We have to go now, baby."

-

Quickly, we shower and change out of our bloody clothes, stuffing them in a bag to be disposed of later. We have no way of knowing if the neighbors heard the screams. For all we know, the police are already on their way. We throw our stuff into the man's truck and peel out of the driveway, leaving the little suburban home behind. Switching out vehicles on the regular is necessary to avoid being tracked. We'll have to abandon it as soon as we can. It won't be long until the police are looking for it.

We drive for an hour straight before stopping. We want to get a good amount of distance between us and the rotting corpses in the basement before even considering our next moves. Eventually we stop at a gas station in a particularly sketchy part of a particularly sketchy town. I stay in the truck while Evelyn goes inside. I don't want to be seen by anyone in my current state. Were anyone to come around asking questions, my battered face will stick out like a sore thumb. She is gone for a good ten minutes before climbing back in the truck and dropping a paper bag in my lap.

"I just talked to guy inside that told me where we can go to fix our truck problem."

"That's a surprise." I respond, opening up the bag to find the painkillers and half dozen bottled coffees I had requested. Evelyn has a knack for identifying the seedy types. If someone is operating outside of the law, she can spot them quicker than the most seasoned of detectives.

"There's an auto repair shop not far from here that accepts cash and doesn't ask a lot of questions." She says, ignoring my comment.

"That's one problem solved. Where are we headed after?" I ask, unscrewing the cap of one of the bottles.

"We'll have to find a place to stay for the day while they work on the truck. Next we'll head to the nearest city and sell as much of the shit we took as we can. Then, I'm thinking New Orleans."

"Yeah okay, Lestat." I scoff, taking a drink. The coffee has the viscosity of syrup and is just as sweet. It is hardly gourmet, but it will have to do.

"Careful, or I just might make my very own Louis out of you." She says. I roll my eyes at the empty threat. I pop open the pain killers a swallow a small handful.

"Since when do you read?" I ask. In the fifteen years that I've known her, I've never seen her read a book that wasn't required for school. Even then, she usually just looked up the cliffsnotes online.

"I saw the movie. Well, most of it. I fell asleep. It had a happy ending right?"

"Yeah, Louis and Lestat make up and open a bed and breakfast in Vermont. The last ten minutes are just hardcore gay sex."

"I acknowledge your sarcasm, but choose to believe you regardless."

"It's true! Well, according to the fanfic I wrote 7th grade anyway." She laughs. Her laugh is one of the precious few things about her that hasn't changed. Every time I hear it I remember once again why I ran off with her in the first place.

-

The shop is just minutes away. Once again, I wait in the truck as Evelyn goes to talk to the men inside. Not that I would be of any use in this situation anyway. This was her expertise. It always has been. I never would have managed on my own without her.

After only a few minutes she returns with a man following after her. I roll down the window as she approaches.

"Well?" I call out to her.

"Frank here says he can do the job - and quick." She replies. I open the truck door and hop out, keeping the bruised and bloody side of my face hidden. Evelyn helps me unload our bags, making sure we don't leave behind anything incriminating.

We watch as he gives the truck a once over. It doesn't take him long before he finishes and walks over to where we are standing, wiping grease off his hands with a rag.

"Yeah, I can have it done by tomorrow night. Assuming quality is not a concern of yours." He says.

"It is not!" Evelyn replies, tossing the keys to him. Frank catches them and nods. Without another word, he climbs into the truck and drives it into the garage.

"Where are we staying until then?" I ask.

"A buddy of Frank's is going to give us a ride to the nearest motel. It's not gonna be luxury, but it will keep me from going up in smoke in the morning." As she says this, an old rusty pickup truck pulls out from behind the building and drives up next to us.

"Get in, ladies!" A bald, grungy man wearing mud covered overalls calls out. I exchange a glance at Evelyn. I suppose we don't have much choice. We let out a collective sigh, grab our bags, and climb inside.

[novelconcepts]

fic: walking with the lady

Every movie, every book, every story about the horrors of letting in the ghosts has prepared Dani for the constant state of alarm. The panic. The discomfort of the situation.

Not a single goddamn one told her how stupid it would be.

***

The first time Viola Lloyd rears her spectral head outside of a dream, Dani is doing her best to enjoy an incredibly pleasant spring morning. She’s been having strange thoughts--strange echoes of night terrors that have been escalating, images weaving as though shot from the depths of some great ocean--for a few months now. Has been trying her very best to take Jamie’s advice and not worry about it. One day at a time. Stop gazing into every reflective surface in the county and just...live. 

And she’s been doing that, she thinks, with a decent amount of peaceful abandon for a woman carrying an unknown beast in the depths of her psyche. She’s traveled. She’s seen much of America, and more of Jamie. She’s learned she’ll never get any better at tea, that she’s honestly not terrible at pasta, that she can talk the ear off old women who just want to stop and smell the flowers. It’s been a serene six, seven, eight years, if she lays them all end to end, and she’s glad of it. 

But the dreams are coming faster now. With more regularity. Long stretches of night fade into black and white, into memories she can feel with her whole body, but knows aren’t her own. Corsets and sweeping skirts, a sister she never had, a husband. A child. None of this belongs to Dani, so it must be her, mustn’t it? 

It scares her. She talks about it to Jamie when she wakes--sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the night; whether she’s truly awake or not, Jamie always listens. They always hunker back down, holding tight to one another, Jamie whispering into her hair that you’re still here, you’re still you, it’s all okay, Poppins. It helps, as much as anything’s going to. 

What doesn’t help is sitting here on this park bench, a list of shopping plans open in her lap, and hearing--hearing isn’t even the right word for it, it’s like a ringing voice coming up from the very back of her head--someone say, “And what on earth is that?”

Dani sits straight upright, every line of her body rigid with fear. “What...is what?”

She’s said the words out loud, she realizes when an elderly man with a basket of stale bread turns slowly to look at her. Her mouth twists itself into a rictus grin of apology, and he shuffles off, looking very much like a man prepared for his own murder at the hands of a lunatic schoolteacher. 

“Well,” the voice says, coolly amused. “That was embarrassing for us both.”

What, Dani thinks, the fuck is going on?

“What’s going on,” Viola Lloyd’s deep, accented voice says, “is truly beyond my knowledge. Do you know the last time I had this many thoughts of my own? Must have been...oh, three hundred years, now...”

Why, Dani thinks furiously, are you having them now?

“I certainly couldn't say.” Viola sounds astonished. “The last I recall, I was trying to reclaim my child--”

Flora, Dani interrupts with a rush of anger, was not your child. 

She imagines she can feel Viola’s hand flip to and fro, carelessly. “It’s all apples in the end, isn’t it?”

She’s clenching her fists in her lap, she realizes, as if there’s anything to fight. As if she could ward Viola off from inside her own body. 

“Oh,” Viola says coolly, “I wouldn’t worry just yet. I couldn’t say for sure--it’s all rather new, you must understand--but I don’t think I could do anything to you. Not yet. Look, here, I’ll try...”

Dani’s muscles strain against an invisible force that never comes. Viola chuckles. 

“See? Nothing. The lights are on, my dear, but none but you is really home.”

Then why are you awake? Dani demands. 

“Not a clue, darling. It’s nice, though, isn’t it? You really take it for granted in life.”

Take what for--

“Seeing,” Viola breathes. “I haven’t seen anything properly in centuries. I’d forgotten how bright the world was. How full of...color.”

Is it Dani’s imagination, or does Viola’s tone hold an edge of disgust on that final word?

“So, again, I find myself asking. What on earth do you call that?”

Dani allows instinct to turn her head, somehow sensing the direction Viola wishes for her to look. She finds herself staring at a young child playing at her mother’s feet. 

I--it’s... And it’s here, in this moment, faced with the nearly impossible task of explaining to the 400-year-old ghost woman who shares her body what a Slinky is for that Dani Clayton decides this whole cohabitation thing might have been a mistake. 

***

“Hang on,” Jamie says. “Hang on, she’s awake in there?”

Dani, folded nearly double on their couch with her face in her hands, nods. Her head is pounding. Viola has been, ah, what’s the polite way to put it? Running her mouth. For nearly four hours. 

“She’s got some...opinions,” Dani mumbles into her cupped hands. Jamie stops rubbing light circles into her back, curious. 

“About what?”

“Might be a shorter list, to ask what she doesn’t have an opinion about,” Dani says. At the back of her head, she feels Viola cross her arms. 

“This sounds like you are on the path to impudence, Miss Clayton.”

“But hang on, I thought--” Jamie seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought she was just sort of...in there. Tucked away, like the kids said. What do you mean she can see?”

Dani blows out a long breath, wishing dearly for a cigarette. “I don’t know, Jamie, I’m not the authority on carrying Victorian women around in my skull.”

“Bit nearer to it than me, Poppins.” Jamie’s smiling, plainly trying to make her feel better. Dani turns to glower at her. 

“I love you very much. Please don’t test me right now. She hasn’t stopped talking for more than twenty minutes all afternoon.”

Jamie raises her hands in surrender. “Can she...can she see me now?”

“Tell her,” Viola says. “Tell her I can see her, and her mannishly-inappropriate hairstyle.”

“I will not be saying that,” Dani mutters. Jamie raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you having a conversation now? What’s she saying?”

“Please let her know I find her insistence upon men’s trousers silly at best, her blouses are entirely too loose, and I am bewildered by the wealth of ankle she seems to find appropriate in mixed company--”

“She says you have a nice smile,” Dani says. Jamie’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. Viola makes a horrible little noise of revulsion.

“How dare you place words in my mouth!”

“You are absolutely not telling me the truth, are you?” Jamie says in the same moment. Dani groans.

“Aspirin. I am going to need so much aspirin.”

***

It’s not all the time, thankfully; Dani thinks she’d go mad if Viola were truly there at all hours, yammering away about silks and petticoats and the good old days when a person could just drop dead of the plague with no notice. Sometimes, Viola even goes days at a stretch without saying a word, as though she’s sunk back to sleep in whatever little corner of Dani’s mind she calls a bedroom. 

And then, like a thunderstorm, she emerges once more. Usually with something snappy and irritating to share with Dani.

“Are we really wearing that?”

“There is no we, Viola,” Dani grumbles. She’s in the process of trying to choose between a flower-patterned dress and a denim vest, unable to gauge what kind of day it’s going to be when she steps out of the closet and into the chaos. Business has been booming down at The Leafling, which is wonderful, but more than a little overwhelming. And Jamie, god love her, has taken to watching Dani when she thinks Dani won’t notice, always with this worried little crease between her eyes. 

It’s making her crazy, if she’s honest about it. Jamie isn’t the worrier in the relationship, and watching her slip into the role is making Dani feel worse about the whole situation. She needs Jamie to tell her it’s all fine, it’s all perfectly all right, they’re going to make it through this new weirdness together no problem. 

“My dear, we became a we the night you said the magic words,” Viola says, a bit pettily. “Or have you forgotten me already?”

“How,” Dani grits out, “on earth am I supposed to forget you? Feel like I spend every day just...waiting for you to spring up and ask some idiotic question about cars or airplanes or deodorant--”

“For a schoolteacher, you surely lack for patience, Miss Clayton.”

Dani closes her eyes, searching for strength. Her hands grope, landing on dress and vest and yanking them free. “You know what? Both. We’re doing both today.”

“We most certainly are not! Not even a glove to be found? And again with the florals! We’ve been over how tacky the florals are, Miss Clayton. Miss Clayton, are you listening?”

“No,” Dani says decisively, wriggling into the layers and looking around for her chunkiest pair of earrings. 

“You are the scandal of the town, Miss Clayton,” Viola sniffs.

***

“Does she, ah...watch when we do this?”

Dani groans. They’d been having such a nice evening--an old movie fading slowly into wandering hands, Jamie’s mouth making its way down her neck, Jamie’s fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and tickling her ribs. She’d just flipped Jamie onto her back, was just looking to remove the deeply inconvenient articles of cloth between them, when Jamie pressed a palm lightly against her chest. 

“Not trying to be weird about it,” Jamie says, breathless. Her eyes are dark and heavy; though she’s stopped Dani moving closer, one of her legs has wound around Dani’s hip, easing her in. It’s giving Dani the worst kind of mixed message, to say the least. 

“Would you like us to put this sort of thing on hold until I find a way to exorcise the demon from my head, Jamie?”

“I did not say that. I decidedly said nothing of the kind.”

Dani lets her head fall forward, covering Jamie’s face in a fall of blonde. “Sorry. That was snippy. I just...I don’t know the answer. She’s...” She tilts her head, eyes shut, searching. “Quiet. For now.”

Jamie brushes her hair back, cups the side of her face, thumb moving in a slow arc across her cheekbone. “S’all right then. Can’t blame me being curious, can you? I mean, it’s not every day you find a third party sneaks into your bed.”

Dani leans into the soft stroke of her hand, sighing. “I don’t like it, either, you know. She’s so...judgey. I hadn’t realized ghosts could be judgey.”

“What’s she judging?” The hand on her chest slides, gripping a fistful of her shirt, pulling her toward Jamie. Dani sighs again, letting Jamie kiss her with the soft determination of someone apologizing for stopping this train in the first place. 

“Me,” she murmurs against Jamie’s lips. “You.”

“Me?” Jamie sounds affronted. “What’s there to judge about me, I’m a bloody peach.”

Dani laughs, bites her lower lip until Jamie groans. “It’s not anything personal. It’s just...the whole world is so different from what she remembers. There’s TV, jean shorts, women out there having jobs and lives without consent of their husbands...for her, it must be the Wild West.”

“Judges what she doesn’t understand, is that it?” Jamie is doing an admirable job of pretending to still be invested in this conversation, even as her hands are making short work of Dani’s sweatpants. Dani sucks in a breath. 

“I guess. Yeah. Can’t blame her for that, really.”

Jamie mulls this over, fingers tracing hipbone. Her nails bite gently into soft skin. “Does she judge us for this, I wonder?”

“Do you care?”

“Not,” Jamie says, twisting her hand and bringing their mouths together hard, “in the least.”

***

“Put it out the window.”

“I am not putting it out the window, Viola.”

“Down a flight of stairs, then! What in all cosmic reaches of hell is this for, if not throwing it somewhere it can never harm another soul again!”

Dani exhales through her nose, slowly, embracing every meditative memory of dealing with errant children. “I am not,” she says slowly to the empty apartment, “going to throw my television anywhere. And I'd really appreciate it if you’d stop making that suggestion every time I turn it on.”

“You are letting your soul rot from the inside out with this filth!” Viola is all but shrieking. Dani imagines her pacing back and forth, back and forth, her hands wild. “Your moral fiber, Miss Clayton. What of your moral fiber?”

“If MTV rots away one’s moral fiber,” Dani says, as calmly as she knows how, “then I suspect we’re all lost causes, anyway.”

Viola is silent for such a long time, Dani thinks she’s done the trick. She turns her attention back to the laundry she’s been folding to the tune of Janet Jackson. Her head bobs gently in time as the videos shuffle past--Madonna, Michael, Paula, George. Then, with the hour change, newer fare. She’s still getting around to some of these artists, still trying to work out how she feels about them. 

"Did you hear that?” Viola seethes. “What was that about an anaconda? Is this man suggesting we feed a woman to snakes? What barbarism do your people accept in this age?”

Dani folds a pair of Jamie’s socks with such deliberate care, she nearly forgets to breathe while doing it. 

“Moral fiber,” Viola hisses. “Moral fiber is wasted on this age of nudity and...and...hammertime.”

Dani finds herself desperately invested in ironing the wrinkles out of a pair of jeans with her hand until Viola goes quiet again.

***

“You could have such nice hair,” Viola croons. “Such nice hair, if you would only put them away...”

“They’re convenient,” Dani says, scraping her hair back into a pink scrunchie. Viola makes a noise of disgust. 

“They’re abhorrent. Honestly, your time and its...fashions. What do you call this?”

She’s gesturing toward the bathroom counter, to the little basket that holds all the hair supplies. Dani sighs. 

“It’s a headband, Viola. We like headbands. They keep the hair out of our eyes.”

“There are other ways. Fine hats. Lovely veils. Why don’t you own any lovely veils, Dani, do you want the common folk seeing your every decision in your eyes?”

Dani reaches for the hairspray. Behind her, Jamie bustles in with shirt half-buttoned, suspenders swinging around her thighs. Viola makes another catty little noise. 

“Any news?” Jamie asks, reaching around for a hairbrush and kissing Dani’s cheek. 

“She doesn’t like scrunchies,” Dani reports. “And she’s started calling me Dani.”

Jamie frowns. “Good sign or bad?”

“Impossible to guess.”

“Tell her you want some veils,” Viola says sweetly. “And for her to learn the value of a fine skirt.”

Dani, ignoring this, reaches around the back of Jamie’s neck and pulls her into a searing kiss. Jamie drops the hairbrush with a clatter, leaning Dani back against the counter and gripping the small of her back like she’s suddenly forgotten they’re both late for work. 

When they break apart, they’re both flushed, Dani giggling into the underside of Jamie’s jaw, Jamie’s eyes glazed. In the back of her mind, she hears Viola sigh. 

“That is truly childish, you know.”

***

It’s kind of an accidental habit, punishing her inner ghost for bad behavior by channeling her frustrations into sex. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, except to say Viola does tend to shut up when Dani’s properly distracted. Maybe it’s just the way the connection works, thinner when Dani isn’t willing to give it energy. Maybe Viola’s embarrassed. Either way, a year after Viola first speaks, her life with Jamie burns hotter than it ever has. 

It’s best when Viola is trying to run her mouth over Jamie’s fashion sense, she’s noticed. It is, in fact, the only way to shut Viola up about the aforementioned fashion sense. Which Dani intellectually understands; coming up from a world 400 years away, where women dressed in endless layers and a person’s value was often found in the shine of her jewels and the rich fabric of her skirts, slamming face-first into the 1990s must have been a trip. Truly, Viola is lucky Dani didn’t cart her out of that lake earlier. If she thinks scrunchies are bad, she should have seen the heyday of shoulder pads. 

Honestly, though, the worst thing is listening to Viola trill on about how much better Jamie could look if she’d only bow to the whims of femininity. Jamie, whose primary word on fashion has always been “can I dig a hole in this?” is perfect just the way she is. In fact, as the years go on and her jeans grow cuffs, her shorts grow shorter, her tops crop midway up her stomach, Dani thinks the world is finally suiting Jamie instead of the other way around. 

“She’s prancing around for the world to see--”

“It’s ninety-six degrees out,” Dani says in a low voice. She understands these conversations with Viola can be internalized, but she tends to wind up wearing this distant expression every time, and Jamie can spot it a mile off. Best to just mutter aloud in the sanctity of their own home. 

“She’s walking her wares up and down the block,” Viola rages on. “Not a shawl to be seen!”

“Jamie,” Dani calls from the kitchen, “have you ever in your life worn a shawl?”

“That’s, uh, one of those blankets with the fringy bits, yeah?” Jamie calls back. She’s bent over the air conditioning unit, trying to coax life into the old girl. The cropped line of her black t-shirt rides up her back, revealing glistening skin. Dani tips her head to enjoy the view. “I’ll pass on account of any blanket in this heat being like to kill me.”

“Best not to test it,” Dani agrees. Viola heaves the longest-suffering sigh Dani’s ever heard. 

“It doesn’t bother you in the least, your woman out there, where anyone could see her...her bare stomach!”

“One,” Dani says coolly, “she’s my girlfriend, not my woman. Two, I’ve never once tried to dictate her clothing, and I’m not stopping because a dead woman insists. Three, I happen to like it.”

“Like what?” Jamie strolls back to her, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead with a sigh. She stops a few inches away, rocking back and forth on her heels like she wants nothing more than to close the distance despite the mind-numbing heat. 

“Viola is commenting upon your more risqué clothing choices.”

“What? This?” Jamie grasps the exceedingly high-cut hem of her shirt and tugs it gently upward, teasing. “What’s her problem with all this?”

“It’s on display, evidently.”

“As it should be,” Jamie says almost primly. “I’m a fine specimen to behold. Learn to enjoy it, love, it’ll be faster than trying to change the view.”

This last, she says in a slightly louder voice, as though speaking to the shadow behind Dani’s eyes. She’s grinning, and Dani has time to think how strange it is, how quickly they’ve learned to accommodate Viola’s appearances into their conversations--Jamie has taken to leaving beats between her sentences, allowing for Dani to process two people speaking at once--before Jamie is wrapping both arms around her and lifting her off the floor. She squeals in surprise, delight turning to desire as Jamie licks a bead of sweat from her neck. 

“Not again,” Viola sighs. “You’ll wake the whole village.”

“Apartment,” Dani corrects, catching Jamie by the jaw and kissing her hungrily. It’s too hot for this, probably, but she can’t quite remember how to care when Jamie pulls free of her grasp and slides to her knees, taking Dani’s skirt with her. 

“It’s a nightmare, regardless.”

***

Eventually, Viola proves herself capable of learning a thing or two. Namely, that she is welcome to run commentary on anyone in the world except for Jamie. 

Even old ghosts can learn new tricks, apparently, although it takes a number of months, a great deal of sex, and one memorable weekend in which--upon Viola raging over every article in Jamie’s side of the closet for half an hour--Dani simply removed the option of clothing from Viola’s sight altogether. 

“This,” Jamie panted, both of them on the floor with a sheet draped over their tangled limbs, “is working for me in the weirdest way, Poppins.”

“I think she’s really starting to hate me,” Dani said conversationally, even as her fingers slipped between Jamie’s legs yet again. Jamie’s hips rose to meet her, one hand burying itself in her hair. 

“Well, that makes one of us, doesn’t it?”

***

Not commenting on Jamie, naturally, does nothing to stop Viola talking about every other goddamn thing in the world. 

“We’re going to have to have a long talk about not shaming women for their bodies, you know,” Dani tells her one afternoon. Viola has been tearing a young woman to pieces over her short skirt, furious that someone so pristine could soil herself with such impunity. Dani must be getting used to this in the weirdest way possible, because this kind of floral language is starting to feel second-nature. 

“I would never shame anyone,” Viola protests. “I am simply stating fact. Men do not value women as it is, and while we may win their games, we get nowhere at all if we do not play them.”

“This isn’t a game, Viola, it’s her life. Her body. She can do whatever she likes with it.”

“But I want her to succeed,” Viola insists. There’s an almost disconcerting eagerness to the words. She really truly believes what she’s saying. “A woman viewed as nothing more than a strumpet will have an even more difficult time securing a dowry, and then where will she be?”

“In college?” Dani suggests blithely. “Traveling? Living isn’t just for men, Viola, I know you know this. You refused the oath of obedience on your wedding day.”

“Of course it’s not for men’s sake alone, but when the law--”

“The law is different here,” Dani says, almost gently. “Has been for a long time. Or haven’t you noticed how well Jamie and I get along without a man to be found?”

Viola’s silence stretches so long, Dani’s sure she’s either gone back to sleep or is finally choosing this moment to let the ugly banner of homophobia unfurl. She’s been waiting for this moment for years, it seems, waiting for the ghost in her head to mimic her mother on the one and only occasion she attempted to send home a letter. 

“You’re different,” Viola says at last, very softly. Dani blinks. 

“Pardon?”

“You’re different,” Viola repeats. “Jamie is your forever. Does that young girl have her forever, Miss Clayton?”

“Well--I don't know, I don’t suppose it’s my business--”

“Perhaps she will find it in one like our Jamie,” Viola says impatiently. “But perhaps she will find instead the stones of men who have not, over four centuries, really changed all that much. Is it so wrong of me, to have a mother’s care for that?”

Dani doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t have the first idea, when faced with a Viola who is not simply catty for cattiness’ sake, but genuine. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to find argument. 

“We just. We just don’t pick on girls for what they do with their bodies, all right? It’s...it’s cruel, and it isn’t necessary.”

Viola sighs. “Fine. But we still ought to discuss the pattern choices. Those polka dots are not flattering in the least.”

It’s only later, watching Jamie chop carrots for dinner, that Dani realizes Viola had said our. Our Jamie. 

“Oh sweet Christ,” she mumbles.

***

The change is slow. Subtle. If not for the fact of carrying this woman in her head, Dani’s not sure she even would have noticed. 

“She what?” Jamie looks up from the plant she’s tending, fingernails grimed with soil, wedding ring carefully strung upon a thick chain around her neck until she can clean up again. “She...sorry, what?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dani muses. “It sounds...crazy. But I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Well, sure,” Jamie laughs. “I’m a deeply likable human being. But this is the Lady, yeah? Same one who dragged Peter fucking Quint to his death? Same one who thinks I show too much skin?”

“I’m...not convinced she thinks that anymore.” It’s really hard to say for sure. On the one hand, it’s possible Viola has shut up about Jamie’s shorn sleeves and shorts because every time she mentioned either, Dani made it her personal life’s mission to make sure Jamie never wore anything else around the house. On the other...

“I think she looked at your butt the other day.”

Jamie raises her eyes slowly, brow furrowing. “Can she do that? Turn your eyes to something you weren’t already looking at?”

“No,” Dani says, a bit stiffly, all too aware of stepping into the trap. Jamie grins. 

“Thought not.”

“But it was different,” Dani presses on through flushing cheeks. “I mean--even if I was already looking, she was--I mean--she--”

She doesn’t know how to explain it. How the rumble in her chest, already so familiar at the sight of Jamie puttering around their home, had seemed to expand until it encompassed all of her. How it was like someone had turned the heat in the room to its breaking point. 

“I can just tell, okay?” she says, aggrieved. “She looked at your butt, and she liked it.”

Jamie makes a thoughtful face, brushing dirt off her hands with slow, deliberate motions. “So...what you’re saying is...your personal ghostie has a crush on your wife?”

Dani presses her face against the counter, letting the cool metal relieve her blush. “Shit. Yeah. I think she might.”

“This is,” Jamie says triumphantly, pressing up against Dani from behind and kissing the back of her neck, “the funniest thing that has ever happened, by a country goddamn mile.”

***

A series of events, cascading in short order, that Dani almost actually feels bad about. If one could feel guilty about putting strain on one’s personal-pan Casper. 

The Britney Spears video, for one. Viola still does not like music videos--or music, frankly, unless it involves a ridiculous number of flutes and orchestral swells--but she’s grown to tolerate them. Mostly. 

That is, until Britney sways onscreen in a plaid skirt and schoolgirl pigtails. 

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, hand coming down hard against her own breastbone. It’s like someone grabbed the dial on her blood pressure and cranked it all the way up. That someone, she suspects, being the dead woman who has been more and more present of late. 

“I--I cannot--I simply am not capable of understanding--” Viola sounds like she’s short-circuiting. “I know we are not meant to comment, but what on earth is she doing?!”

“Dancing,” Dani says sharply, trying to coax her breathing back down. Is this what a stroke feels like? Is her fucking ghost roommate giving her an actual stroke? “Viola, you’ve seen dancing.”

“She is so young! She is a child! Who is protecting this person from the world?” Viola is furious. Viola is exploding. Dani sort of wonders if her chest is going to explode, too. 

“She’s...a pop star. This is what they get paid lots and lots of money to do.” It’s a bad answer, she knows. These videos make her a little uncomfortable too, when she thinks on them too long. But Viola? Viola’s rage is a towering beast of a thing. For a minute, lungs scraping at the air, Dani is genuinely afraid this is the point where the switch flips. Where she finds herself staring at the room from the back of her own head. 

“Someone,” Viola says in a low, terrible voice, “must protect these children.”

It takes almost an hour to calm her down. Dani doesn’t turn MTV back on for a while after that. 

***

“The. The moon?” The opposite end of the emotional spectrum this time. If Viola had been nearly apoplectic over Britney’s choreography, she now sounds faint.

“You should have floated that a bit more softly,” Dani tells Jamie, who looks confused. 

“Float what, all I did was mention NASA--”

“The moon,” Viola repeats. “We have seen. The moon.”

“She’s having trouble with the moon landing,” Dani says. Jamie waves her hands helplessly.

“Poppins, I have trouble understanding the geography of Texas, we all have problems.”

“We have,” Viola breathes, “stepped foot. Upon. The moon.”

Dani pours herself another large glass of wine.

***

“How’s this, then?” Jamie gives a very small, somewhat self-conscious twirl. “Too much? Too little? Too, ah, revealing, as the ghost contingent might say?”

Dani, leaning against the bedroom wall, can’t quite find the words. Viola, too, is conspicuously silent. 

“It’s bad,” Jamie says, nodding fervently. “Yeah, y’know, I think I knew it when I picked it up. Better on the sales rack, as they say. I can just...if you wouldn’t mind popping the zip real quick...”

“Yes, Dani,” Viola says quietly. “Pop the zip.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Dani hisses. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not bad,” Dani says quickly, ignoring the little harrumph Viola utters. “It’s very not bad. Opposite of bad, really.”

Relief floods Jamie’s face. The dress is low cut in a way very little of her clean-up clothes are, with a slit running clear up the leg. Patterned in burgundy petals, the black velvet is stark against her pale skin. 

“I won’t get run out of the convention, then? Only they said there’s a bit about drinks and networking, and it was just shy of black-tie. I could do that instead. Get a black tie. Think I’d look nice in a black tie.”

“The dress,” Viola says in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Tell her it is a nice dress.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Dani repeats with comic dazedness. “Best dress I’ve ever seen, maybe.”

“And now,” Viola says soothingly, “you go to her. Walk confidently now, shoulders back, chin up--”

“Are you...wing-man-ing me toward my own wife?” 

“Seduction requires confidence, Dani.”

“What’s she saying?” Jamie’s face has gone a curious mix of apprehensive and amused. Dani swallows. 

“Seduction requires confidence, evidently.” 

A slow grin spreads across Jamie’s face. Dani raises a hand, finger extended. 

“Don’t. Don’t make that smug face.”

“What’s smug about it?” She’s moving across the room, arms already reaching. “This is my very natural expression, I’ll have you know. The most normal expression in the world for a woman whose wife is being told to undress her by the ancient rage-ghost sharing her body.”

“Our lives,” Dani says helplessly, already pressing herself flush against Jamie, “are different than other people’s lives.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees in a low voice, sliding the sweater over Dani’s head. “Can’t find it in me to complain, though, can you?”

***

It’s weird, almost. Weirder, that it’s almost not. That the beast in the jungle, the creature Dani spent nearly a decade dreading, has pounced at last and...mostly, she just seems to want to see Dani happy. 

Jamie finds it hilarious, in that pretend-callous way Jamie has of smoothing over genuine concern with soft laughter. She doesn’t like Dani sharing her mental space with someone at all hours, Viola popping up like a wack-a-mole game on high. But, if Dani must share the space with anyone, at least--

“It’s someone who thinks I'm gorgeous.”

“You are gorgeous,” Dani replies, a bit exasperated. “Gorgeous, silly, perfect person. But my inner ghost has a crush on you, that isn’t strange for you?”

“Poppins, my life has been strange since a doe-eyed American strolled into it and told me she still saw her dead fiancé when we kissed.” Jamie reclines on the bed in a sleep shirt and underwear, hands playing lightly with the pillowcase beneath her head. “Strange is my bread and butter these days, and if I had to sacrifice you to have it any other way, we both know how it would go.”

Dani makes a mulish sound under her breath. Jamie cups a hand to her ear. 

“Say again?”

“It’s weird,” she repeats, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s weird. I always thought she’d do something bad--walk me off a roof, or strangle someone to death, or try to rob a convenience store. But mostly she just wants to protect young girls from an uncaring world and look at your butt in the shower.”

“That is...very specific,” Jamie says lightly. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s so bizarre. The longer this goes on, the more she sees of the world, it’s like...like she’s getting more real. More Viola, less Lady.”

Jamie sits up, hand sliding to rest high on Dani’s thigh as if to shield her from harm. “But not more solid, right? Not taking up space you already rent?”

Dani shakes her head. “That’s the thing. She doesn't feel like she’s taking over. And it feels...like she should.”

“You want her to?” 

“No, no, of course not.” Dani raises Jamie’s knuckles to her lips, raining soft kisses up and down her hand until the tension goes out of her brow. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. This isn’t...what I expected.”

Jamie exhales, shifting her weight until she’s sitting in Dani’s lap. She takes a Dani’s face between her hands, kisses her long and slow until Dani eases back against the headboard. 

“This is good, Poppins. You’re a good influence. You were on those kids, and on me, and now on this Lady of yours. Maybe that’s all a ghost needs, deep down.”

Dani leans into her, lets the rhythm of kiss and gentle bite and hands slipping beneath her clothes carry her away for a while. Still, no Viola, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t like to think how that would feel, Viola popping up while Jamie’s curling her fingers deep, groaning soft against her shoulder. There is a time and a place for hauntings, and time with Jamie is something else entirely. 

She’s pretty sure Viola even respects that. Which is, like everything else, incredibly strange. 

***

Viola attends their second wedding. Their real wedding. It’s bizarre on a level Dani isn’t prepared to deal with, feeling her surface as the plans become reality. Jamie’s got flowers, naturally, and Owen’s catering, and Henry has the kids--who are kids no longer, but fully-formed people with lives of their own--running errands on the day. And Dani...

Dani is looking at herself in a wedding dress for the second time in her life, only this time, she can breathe. 

“You are radiant,” Viola says. Dani closes her eyes for a moment, steels herself. 

“Nothing else to say? No notes?”

“You chose wisely,” Viola says. Dani sighs. 

“I figured lace was classic, and someone told me I had nice shoulders once, so--”

“The dress is beautiful,” Viola says. “But I was not talking about your grooming for the day.”

Dani gives a shaky laugh. “I love her, you know. I really do.”

“I can tell.” A beat of silence. Then: “I did not understand at first. Her. Or you. I suppose I will never understand completely. But...I understand the depths of what you feel. It is a part of me, too, I think. That devotion, sinking into all the spaces where I had forgotten.”

“You’re in love with Jamie, too?” Dani asks, not really wanting the answer. Viola laughs. 

“Yes. And no. You and I are intertwined, Miss Clayton. What you feel, I feel, to a degree. More importantly, I have seen your life with her. The life you build with the reckless joy of two people doomed one day to die.”

“Thanks,” Dani says, a bit sharply. She senses Viola putting her hands up, a terribly-modern gesture of surrender. 

“You understand what I mean. It takes courage, to love this completely. To do so while carrying a burden neither of us can truly comprehend is...something else altogether. There is a strength there I could not have understood on my most willful of days.”

“You turned Death away at your own doorstep,” Dani points out, smiling. Viola is pleased. 

“I did, didn’t I? And I could never regret it, even now. But you. You are doing something so much more incredible. Loving, even knowing what ending love must craft.”

“This is a bit dark for my wedding day,” Dani points out. Viola nods. 

“You are radiant. And you are fortunate. And I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

It is the strangest wedding toast she’s ever heard, and something within Dani’s heart has never been more at peace.

***

“How’s our Lady doing tonight?” Jamie asks as Dani slips into bed beside her. She tips her head, thinking on it. Viola, as she usually is once Dani crosses the bedroom threshold, is nowhere to be found. 

“Good, I think. Calm.”

“And my wife?” Jamie looks at her, eyes serious. “You’ve been quieter lately. Fighting her less?”

“She’s been fighting me less,” Dani says. “She...likes it here, I think. Likes us. You know, I thought after this much time, she’d get bored or restless or...go back to her old ways, but...”

“But I’m just too gorgeous,” Jamie teases. Dani slings a leg across her body, holds tight to her with hands that never feel as though they can hold on hard enough. 

“I think sometimes...sometimes it’s just about remembering. What it’s like to be a person. What it’s like to be in love.”

“Mm,” Jamie agrees, fingertips drawing dizzying spirals on the bare back of Dani’s shoulder. “Well done, you. You’ve tamed your beast.”

Dani sighs, content. “I think it was a joint effort.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees, kissing the top of her head. “Because I am, famously, too gorgeous to deny.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

End of the Road

post-Redux/Redux 2

... their moments ... from now on ... Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins ​ Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He put her through hell the next two weeks and finally, seeing her on the other side of the hospital window, he splintered, leaning forward, unable to breath, overwhelming sorrow manifesting in yelled demands of people who couldn’t answer his pleas.

He thought he was quiet at her bedside that night, the world bearing down on both of them, but as he sobbed into her sheets, he felt her hand drift though his hair, nails lightly scratching scalp, “it might be a little tight, but I think we’ll both fit if we try.”

Mess that he was, he stood, dragged his hands over his face to clear away at least some of the nonsense before disappearing to blow his nose on some toilet paper from the bathroom. Coming back in, he shuffled towards her, whispering, “I snuck in. What if I fall asleep and can’t sneak back out?”

“I’m dying, Mulder. I can do what I want and right now, I want you in here with me.”

Deep breath of acceptance at her now-undeniable retort, he did as ordered, wedging himself behind her, back to front, arm hesitant over her belly, full length curl around her. He could feel her ribs against his forearm, her bony hip under his elbow, sharp shoulder blades pressing his chest, “we need to get you a milkshake.”

“If I could keep one down, I’d send you right now but puking up ice cream will just ruin it.”

“I see your point.” Sniffing latent snot back up his nose, he apologized, then, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Soaking up his warmth like a sponge, “I’m not sleeping that well these days anyway, and …” running off into oblivion, she finished the sentence a moment later, “well, I’d rather spend all the time I can with you, even if it’s at whatever the hell time it is and in a hospital bed.”

“A good cuddle does have its merits.”

That got a smile from her, “thank you.”

“For what?”

This time she found the words she couldn’t after he made her dinner, “for doing all those things that a partner would do; that a husband, a best friend, that family would do.”

Well, that made his heart break for the hundredth time that day, and mouth to neck yet again, his words rustled her hair and vibrated her soul, “well, you are my partner and my best friend, which makes us family and I think I fit the category of work husband so I’ve got all the bases covered.”

Reaching for his hand, she pulled it up to her face, kissing his knuckles before tucking it under her cheek, “we need to talk about a few things.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Let me take the fall, please? I need to know you’re okay once I’m gone.”

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

“We can have that argument tomorrow. Right now, just let me enjoy this, all right?”

She heard his mental screams of ‘Stop It!’ and she did, nodding against his hand, “all right but tomorrow, you’re listening to me.”

Wanting to cocoon her, tuck her inside himself, hide her away so the cancer and the fear and the reality of it all couldn’t find her, he hugged her closer, spooned behind her tight, “maybe.” That’s as good as she would get tonight and accepting it, she did her best to forget everything but the moment. A pleasant ‘hmm’ purred out a minute later and, hearing it as well as feeling it against his chest, “what was that for?”

Not realizing she’d made the sound until it was too late, “living in my moment, Mulder.”

“Our moment.”

For half a second, she wanted to cry, “You’re right. Our moment.”

&&&&&&&&&

He was gone when she woke up, the nurse checking on her telling her quietly, “he snuck out about 20 minutes ago.” Seeing her still sleepy look of disappointment, she smiled, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you; he’ll be back.”

Alone a moment later, she tried to work herself into a rage because he left without saying good-bye and without talking to her like she’d asked but, in the end, it was Mulder and she really should have expected it. Returning to her side, facing the door, she shut her eyes, imagining he was still behind her.

&&&&&&&&&&

He appeared the next day, glass vial offering a last-ditch effort in his fight to save her. He watched her argue with her family, fight her doctors, grasp onto a fading hope without which, she would be forced to make him sit, discuss funeral arrangements, ask him to give up while holding her hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

First Skinner left her room, then her brother, then, finally, Maggie, who gave him a hug and told him, without words but the slightest of head nods, that Scully was inside waiting for him. He gave it another minute, still processing, still gripping the bloody picture, still marveling at the news that was, indeed, real.

Opening her door slowly, the first thing he saw was not a smile but her piercing gaze that ranged in interpretation, over the years, from raging irritation to unbridled happiness. Todays was more of a confused relief bordering on reserved elation, “Mom says you’ve been sitting in the hallway.”

“Your mother deserved the first hug.”

“Are you going to be my third?”

“Patience, woman. I give you a hug now, we’ll both be crying for the next hour.” Shooting her his first mischievous grin in months, “I am breaking all kinds of rules still being here. Three people have asked me to leave already.”

She’d been prepared to talk for a few minutes, then go to sleep but suddenly, that wasn’t cutting it anymore, “You want to go for a drive?”

Finally approaching her, he pressed his thighs against the edge of the bed, leaning just enough forward but keeping his hands in his pockets, schoolboy asking a question of his favorite girl, “your place or mine?”

She hadn’t even thought that far ahead in the discussion but now that it was out there, hanging in the air, she gave him a smile, “your place. We haven’t been there in awhile.”

“Luckily I just changed the sheets a few days ago.”

Holding eye contact, swearing for one second she could actually see into his soul, she found herself moving her legs, bumping into Mulder as she sat upright, slid off the bed, “go find me my clothes.”

They didn’t so much sneak from the hospital as walk out, quietly, Scully’s bag in Mulder’s one hand, Mulder’s other on her back, pressed to muscle and bone, fingers loose-gripping the back of her shirt. No one said a word, elevator their immediate destination, anywhere else in the world their quest. The air was balmy, the breeze light, and Scully stopped the moment the automatic doors shut behind her, inhaling deep.

Mulder, nearly knocking her over, suddenly panicked, “what? What’s wrong?”

Her head spun, giddy and light, “just … overwhelmed for a minute.”

“Do you need to go back inside?”

Shaking her head vehemently, “no … no, I just … your place, please.”

“Food first?”

“No. I … that’s too much right now.” Looking up at her partner, suddenly exhausted, “a bed would be nice and some drugs when we get to your place.”

“Home it is, then.” He valeted the car, tucked her inside, and drove away, aiming towards his apartment. She was dozing by the second turn and fully asleep by the time he pulled up to the curb. Crouching beside her open passenger door, hand on thigh, voice low, he began coaxing her in a soft voice reserved for just such occasions, “hey, Scully? Wake up. We’re here and you’ve gotta stay awake long enough to deal with the front steps and the elevator.”

Blinking her eyes open, they rolled around for a moment before focusing, “okay. Don’t let me fall down.”

“Never.”

He wanted to laugh at her swaying walk, likening it to her drunken trek a year ago at her mother’s surprise birthday party. Not saying that aloud, however, he steered her to his door then inside.

He set her bag down, then took her coat, hanging it before heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water so she could take her meds and lay down. Asking over his shoulder what type of pain killer she wanted, he glanced back when she didn’t answer. Finding her still rooted to her spot beside the hat rack, he stopped, took in the tears already rolling, then held out his hand, waving her towards him, “come here.” She did, shuffling, leaving shoes behind and walking into him, the collision backing him up a few steps. Accepting the momentum, he continued moving, sitting down on the arm of the couch, level with her now, arms tight around her neck, her face hidden in his shirt, “what’s wrong?”

“It can’t be real, Mulder. It can’t. It shouldn’t have worked.”

“But it did. You saw the scans.”

“But what if I go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow and it’s back?”

Shifting her away, he settled hands on cheeks, thumbs against eyebrows, painting over them lightly, absently, as he tilted her head to meet her tear-y gaze, “it won’t be but if it is, but it won’t be, we will figure it out … together … all right? We got here once and we can do it again … but we won’t have to, so don’t worry about it.”

Her hands were around his wrists, “I think you just gave me a headache.”

“I’ve been giving you headaches for four years now. What’s new?”

“This.” Leaning in, she kissed him, barely brushing his lips but setting his world on fire in the process, “I’ve got, to sound trite, a new lease on life and I’m not wasting it.” Kissing him again, before swaying dangerously to one side, “but I am going to ask that we sleep through a little bit of it because if I don’t lay down soon, I’m going to end up on your floor.”

He wiped the few remaining tears from her cheeks before he kissed her back, light but claiming, “do you mind some company?”

“I have never minded your company.” Yawning, she turned white, an immediate sweat beading on her upper lip, “but I need to lay down … now.”

Walking her to the bed, he gave her a shirt and some shorts, some drugs and a glass of water, then, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Returning with a second blanket, he found her curled, body imprint stamped on ‘her’ side of the bed forevermore. His giddiness in the moment nearly made him laugh but containing it, he settled beside her, spare blanket at their feet. His hand went to her forehead, thumb in gentle circles between her eyebrows.

It was gone.

He had her back.

And he wasn’t going to waste a minute of the time they had left.

Which was a lot longer than they’d had mere hours earlier.

He didn’t fall asleep for hours.

Watching her breathe.

&&&&&&&&&&

Neither should have been awake but when Mulder opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an empty pillow and equally empty bed. Squinting towards the dawn-grey living room and the darkened bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, finding his target standing by the open window, leaning on the frame.

Rolling over, he tucked the pillow under his head, yawning, then watching her for a minute before she felt his eyes on her and turned towards him, quiet.

His mind was open and slow, filters off, walls down, and in that very moment, the only thing he had left in the world to say was “I love you.”

Her slow spreading smile lit up the darkening room, thunder rumbling as a storm moved in. It stopped just shy of a full-on grin, then dropped back to slightly upturn lip curl, sigh deep, eyes closing for a moment to collect the proper words from the universe, before sending them drifting across to him slow and steady, “and I … finally have the time … to love you back.”

Mulder’s smile spread at the same speed hers did, pushing into the pillow, squashing face glowing, “is this another one of our moments?”

“They are all our moments from now on, Mulder. All of them.”

[writtenonreceipts]

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

 #

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted.  Tired.  Sleepy.  There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling.  Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.  

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot.  She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near. 

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm.  Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed.  Especially after a poor night's sleep.  And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe.  She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare.  Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired.  Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.  

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky.  She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.  

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train.  Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.  

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good.  He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath.  No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest.  His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring.  But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings.  Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike.  Not that it was surprising.  She’d not drawn anything new in months.  Oh, she’d tried.  She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing.  Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw.  She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice.  But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement.  Not even the man across from her did anything interesting.  Figured.  He was so attractive his life had to be mundane.  At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city.  After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

#

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.  

Especially not lately.  As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it.  Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day.  She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats.  And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?” 

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her.  He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away.  Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

#

Life continued.  And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty.  Her coffee remained dull.  Work did not improve.

Something needed to change.  But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was.  She’d left her ex months ago.  She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend.  She’d started getting out more too.  Somewhat.  When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again.  And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again.  Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for.  She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared.  She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train.  It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him.  Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind.  Or it was his confidence.  Arrogance.  Something.  She found him mesmerizing.  How stupid was that?  A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning.  Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers.  Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release.  She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about.  But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent.  At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear.  She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag.  In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page.  It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work.  The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say.  Sometimes it was just easier.  Sometimes it was just better.  Sometimes the silence was how she communicated.  Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars.  Storms and shadows.  All convalescing on a shape.  A person.  A…

Feyre frowned at the scene.  Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?”  The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.  

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her.  The crossword in his lap was complete.  Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought.  Maybe about five years older than she was.  And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered.  She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out.  She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings.  All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully.  She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward.  “And the art?  It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said.  And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off.  Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him.  To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him.  If only for a moment longer.  She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

#

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it.  Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion.  Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station.  Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident.  Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done.  Something she’d said.  Hell.  She hadn’t even done anything that stupid.  Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside.  Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased.  And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.  

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline.  Somewhat.  At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train.  She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  Not really.  But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact.  He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors. 

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform.  She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly.  His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you.  It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked.  He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking.  You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long.  A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile.   She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand.  Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside.  “Rita’s?  That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head.  “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately.  “I mean, if you want.  You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines.  And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets.  The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks.  She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago.  And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.  

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating.  Anything that made her feel alive.  She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home.  Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad.  She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night.  She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly.  But one day.  One day, maybe she would.

#

thanks for reading my dears!  i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem!  I really do enjoy them!

tags:

let me know if I put you on the wrong tag list/want to be removed.  it’s generally going to be easier for me to just have basic acotar/tog lists and not go into too much worry about that, so just and fyi...anywho

tottenhamboys20  @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @lysandra-ghost-leopard @harrymoncheri @firestarsandseneschals @rapunzel1523 @emikadreams

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Forged of Love

You were most certainly not too late! In fact, just in time because I’m pretty sure you were the last request before I closed my askbox...so good timing??? And as for this request? *Chefs kiss* I have so much love for this?? How dare you present me with such a fun ask??? I rarely write for Eijiro but he’s actually super fun to write for??? He can either be so soft and fluffy and just...yes?? Or he can be that hot, frustratingly sexy pro you wanna bang.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this scenario! I was gonna write headcanons but the request caught me in a scenario-writing mood. So, yeah.

Let me know what you think!

I would also like to note that I was gonna schedule this for the 27th since I’ve got posts ready to go for the 25th and 26th...but fuck it, I put four sleep-deprived hours into this and I wanna post it now.

🥃 AO3 🥃 || ✉️My Askbox✉️ || 💬Discord💬

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 “Thank you again, Mr. Kirishima”

 .

 Eijiro smiled warmly at you as you curtsied in front of him, holding the package that he had taken great care to wrap for you earlier that morning, containing the latest request you had made of him; small enough for him to allow you to take it back to your home without him accompanying you, but large enough to fill your arms.

 Any bigger and Eijiro would have insisted on carrying the heavy iron item back on your behalf, it wouldn’t be proper to allow someone such as yourself, a well-known aristocrats daughter, to carry such a thing home.

 “No problem! And hey, I thought we agreed that you’d start calling me Eijiro? You’re here often enough for it to be normal, Miss. (Name)” You tilted your head at his cheery words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you glanced back towards the carriage that awaited your presence. Not nearly enough time for a casual chat, but maybe for a cheeky remark here and there; at least, until your next visit.

 Which, judging by the condition of your horses’ shoes, would be considerably close. Not that you would complain about such an opportunity, you had been using every chance you had to come see the charming, young blacksmith that had surfaced in the town. Errands or requests that you made simply to see him, it didn’t matter.

 Anything was enough.

 .

 “Well in that case, you should be calling me (Name) and not Miss (Name)…right?”

 .

 The corners of Eijiro’s mouth stretched out into a large grin as he laughed at your statement, giving a nod of his head before rubbing at his neck sheepishly; the action causing the muscles in his arm to flex impressively, drawing your thoughts to an inappropriate place.

 “Yeah, sorry about that. You’re right! I guess I’ll see you another time (Name), make sure you take care. Alright?” You gave a simple nod in response to his words of care, turning to make your way towards the carriage despite how much you wished that you could stay and chat with Eijiro a little while longer; however, there was only so long you could stay outside of the house. Any longer and your father would grow concerned, perhaps even look into what had caught your attention as of late and that, was the last thing you wanted.

 “Goodbye, Eijiro.”

 .

 ~  ~  ~

 .

 “So, I saw you with that cute little lady earlier”

 .

 Eijiro frowned as he shoved his latest work in progress into the burning hot forge, making sure to bury it beneath a healthy layer of coals before lifting his gaze to look over at his best friend and greatest rival; Tetsutetsu.

 More than a little surprised to see him in his Smithy at such an hour when usually, his rival’s own business should be booming.

 “Tetsutetsu? Uh, yeah, (Name) had some stuff to pick up this morning.” Eijiro shrugged off Tetsutetsu’s remark, looking back towards the flames before removing the sword and moving to rest it on his largest Anvil, reaching towards his sledgehammer so that he could make the necessary adjustments. He wasn’t sure why Tetsutetsu was bringing you up, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity; he only hoped it wasn’t because he had feelings for you.

 “Strange, don’t you reckon? For a young aristocrat’s daughter, of a marriageable age, to spend all her time in your shop?” Eijiro frowned at Tetsutetsu’s question before hammering the sword in front of him as he needed, using the noise-filled time to think on why his friend was chatting about such a topic; it made no sense to him. None at all.

 “Not really? If you need something, you go get it. Right?” Eijiro grunted with effort, setting the sledgehammer down before moving to dunk the sword in the bucket of cold water nearby, closing his eyes tightly to stop the steam from making his eyes sting; that had been one of the first things he had learnt early on during his apprenticeship days.

 “Really? So, you don’t think it’s odd that she comes in every second day? With a new request, or to pick something up? That she doesn’t just send a butler or a maid to run the errand instead of herself?” Eijiro sighed loudly, lifting the sword from the bucket before putting it down on a nearby bench, turning to face the curious looking Tetsutetsu; unable to focus on his work when you were the topic of conversation.

 “What are you trying to say Tetsutetsu?” His friend scoffed at his question, laughing at the confused expression that Eijiro wore, apparently finding what he had said to be amusing in some way, shape or form; though how, Eijiro wasn’t sure.

 “Tetsutetsu!” The man standing across from him slowly stopped laughing, letting out a sigh as he crossed his arms, observing Eijiro for a moment longer before giving a shake of his head; almost in disapproval.

 “I can’t believe you don’t see it Eijiro…the girl is head over heels for you!” Tetsutetsu’s words had his mouth dropping open in shock, about to protest the idea of such a claim before a frown began to form on his features, his thoughts running over all of his encounters with you; the pieces slowly clicking into place.

 “Well look at that…penny finally drop, did it?” Tetsutetsu grinned, watching Eijiro before chuckling and moving closer, patting the red-head’s shoulder firmly; almost managing to make the strong man stumble. Almost.

 “You should see the look on your face man, it’s priceless!” Eijiro blinked quickly at Tetsutetsu’s words, shrugging off his hand before reaching for the sword he had been working on moments ago, wanting to get the commission finished and now having a good reason to get it done early; he had an interesting conversation to have and little patience to wait for it.

 “Shouldn’t you be at your own shop? Or you gonna give up on your store, come be my apprentice?” Eijiro laughed when he felt Tetsutetsu’s fist against his shoulder, the hit not enough to hurt but enough to make the point that his rival wanted to make; there would be no apprenticeship.

 “Laugh it up, at least I can tell when a woman is interested in me!”

 .

 ~  ~  ~

 .

“Oh, good morning (Name)! Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

 .

 You jolted in surprise as you stepped into Eijiro’s Blacksmith shop, offering a small smile in greeting to the grinning young man that seemed to be putting the finishing touches on something that you couldn’t quite make out.

 “Good morning, Eijiro…I suppose it might be, but you see, my horses need new shoes and who else could I trust to do such a thing but you?” You tilted your head curiously as he chuckled to himself, looking over at you with a mischievous grin decorating his face; his smile easily reaching his eyes as you so loved to see.

 “New shoes? I can have them done today, my day clears up in a few minutes” Eijiro chuckled at the confused look that formed on your features, finding it to be more than a little adorable; he was still surprised that Tetsutetsu had been right the other week, but now that he was aware of your feelings, it was easy to see.

 “A few minutes? Am I interrupting you then?” He shook his head in response to your question, setting down whatever it was that he had been working on before making his way over to you, his grin still present on his lips.

 “Not at all, I just had something I wanted to ask you” You nodded your head in response to his explanation, a sign for him to go ahead with whatever question the cheerful man had for you; you had no idea what that question might be, but your curiosity was beginning to get the better of you.

 “(Name), would you allow me to court you?” His question immediately threw you off-guard, causing your mouth to drop open in a mild form of surprise before you quickly closed it, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the reaction from him; though it was easy to see that it was too late for that.

 “(Name)? If it’s about your father, I already went and asked him for permission to ask you…apparently being the best Blacksmith in town has its perks” Eijiro chuckled nervously as he rubbed at the back of his neck, anxiously awaiting your response; your silence filling him with unease, fearing your rejection.

 “You…you went to my father? And he didn’t kick you out?” You stared at him incredulously before shaking your head, a soft giggle spilling past your lips. Even though you hadn’t expected Eijiro to go to your father, it was something that shouldn’t have actually surprised you; Eijiro was a hard-working man, an honest and up-front man.

 Visiting your father for permission to request such a thing would be nothing to a man like Eijiro, it was one of the things you loved about him most.

 “No…? I thought he might, but we had a drink together and he asked me some things…in the end, he gave his permission. Ah, but he was very clear that if you rejected me, that would be the end of it” Eijiro shuddered at the memory of his visit to your father, intimidated by the threat that he had been given should he disrespect you in any way, shape or form; however, Eijiro had no plans to do such a thing.

 “How unusual…you’re not the first man to ask him something like that…” You trailed off into a curious whisper before shaking your head to clear your thoughts and stepping closer to the man that held your affections, reaching out to take hold of his warm hands; a soft smile decorating your lips, easing his nerves more than he thought possible.

 “I would love it, if you would court me Eijiro…” Your soft murmur of agreement made his grin return ten-fold before his arms wrapped around your waist gently, a chaste kiss placed to your cheek; thankfully leaving you free of soot as he hadn’t fired up any of his equipment just yet. Unusual for his line of work, but then again, perhaps he had other plans.

 “I promise you (Name), I might not be as wealthy as your family, but I will treat you like a princess!”

 .

 “Silly man, I care for you just as you are…you don’t need to spoil me for my affections, you already have them.”

[sgtbradfords]

If you’re still taking prompts for Chenford I’d love “I really need you.” or « I don’t love you »💔

Ok anon, I hope you’re ready cause this is a DOOSY. I would call this an AU that takes place after 3x01.

WARNING: possible alcohol abuse, possible drug abuse, and possible suicidal tendencies. There is fluff but due to these warnings I am inserting a Read More link in case this is not someone’s cup of tea. 

Lucy Chen had gotten good at hiding it until one day she didn’t. She could flawlessly cake on the concealer to hide the dark bags under her eyes and make it look natural, she could survive off a can of Bang or the strongest, darkest cup of coffee you could put in her hand. The only thing she couldn’t do? Was hide from her demons, because they will always catch up to her no matter how fast she runs.

She told him she was fine when they went to the Prison to visit with Rosalind Dryer, that she could handle it, that if she ‘could not handle dealing with Rosalind in the cage she shouldn’t be a cop’. She told him she was fine when they got back into the shop, that what that monster said didn’t affect her. She told him she was fine when they got off shift, that she was going to go home and have a large glass of wine. She told him, but she was everything but fine.

Tim Bradford had just fallen asleep, staying up later than usual knowing he didn’t have to work the next day. He got home as the sun set, letting Kojo out to run the backyard as he made chicken carbonara for dinner. He ate in-front of the TV, watching as the LA Kings pulled off a big overtime win to give them three points versus the Anaheim Ducks, pushing them closer to a chance to secure a spot for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. He during intermissions he worked on cleaning his house, threw a tennis ball around for Kojo and got ready for bed. His brain had finally relented from his thoughts, allowing him peace as he dozed off, only to be woken by the sound of his charging phone buzzing on the nightstand.  He ignored it as it stopped vibrating, only to begin again.

He sighed “Bradford.”

“It’s West, I need you to come to the apartment.”

“Everything ok?” he asked as the threw the covers off, stepping into the sweat pants next to the bed, grabbing and slipping on the pullover hanging on the back of the door.

“It’s Lucy.”

“On my way.” He told the other officer before hanging up, his thoughts berating himself. Not that he was frustrated at his rookie but more at himself, he knew that after what she did today, she had lied about being fine. He had noticed the copious amounts of sugar and caffeine that seemed to be a constant in her hand the past few weeks. But he had held out hope that she would talk to him, tell him what was going on in that beautiful brain of hers, tell him the things she needed to get off her chest.

Tim grabbed his gun from the nightstand, slipping it into the waistband before he threw an old pair of tennis shoes on, moving to the foyer to grab his keys from the basket, glancing at the dog who was snoring away in his crate as he locked up the house and got into his truck. The drive was quiet and smooth for 11:30 of a night, the amount of traffic miniscule as he pulled up in-front of her building.

He locked the truck, punching in the code for the door before making his way to the elevators. He sent a text to Jackson, telling him he was here as he stepped on the car. The car slowed to a stop on the sixth floor, the doors opening to show Jackson standing in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asked as he approached.

Jackson rubbed a hand down his face “She was fine when I left a few hours ago, and well I came back to this..” he said as he opened the door.

Tim stepped in, immediately noticing the almost empty bottle of tequila tipped over on the counter and the pills with no bottle that were scattered across the rock. His stomach plummeted as he began to think the worst.

“Did she take any?”

“I’m not sure, she won’t talk to me.” Jackson said as he pointed to the girl sitting on the floor with her back against the wall.

“Chen.” Tim said as he moved closer, crouching down in-front of her. She was staring ahead, tear tracks and a blank expression on her face. “Lucy.” He said softly, grabbing her chin in his hand. “Do you have your pen light?”

Jackson moved to his duffle bag next to the door, grabbing the small pen before walking back, handing the device over. Tim turned it on, shining it into her eyes when Lucy began to speak. “I didn’t take any.”

“Let me check.” Tim said as he looked into her eyes. “You know the drill.”

Lucy’s eyes followed the light as Tim moved it. He conducted his test, determining she was telling the truth, her eyes glossed from the alcohol. “I told you.” She told him as he handed the pen back to Jackson.

“I know, but I needed to know if I needed to call for an ambulance or not.” He said, his tone angry as he stood, walking over to the sink, taking a deep breath as Jackson joined him.

“What happened today?” Jackson asked quietly.

Tim grabbed a glass from the dish drainer, filling it with water. “We went to see Rosalind and she knew things she shouldn’t.”

Jackson nodded in understanding, “Listen, she’s talking to you and not me so I’m going to head to my room. Yell if you- yell if you need anything.” Jackson told the superior as he turned and walked away, glancing worriedly at his friend that rested her head on her knees sitting on the floor.

Tim grabbed the full glass, walking back over to Lucy, handing the water to her. “Drink, boot.”

Lucy drank the glass of tap water, handing it back to Tim as he walked to refill it again. “I didn’t-“ she stumbled over her words. “I didn’t try to-“

“I know.” He said softly, his fingers grasping the countertop, his knuckles turning white. “I know you didn’t.”

A tear made its way down Lucy’s face as she swiped it away. “I just want it to stop.”

Tim sat the glass on the coffee table, sitting down next to Lucy, kicking off his shoes. “Talk to me.”

Lucy stared down at the legs beside hers, “You know, I knew you were tall but your legs are like really long.”

“Chen.” He softly reprimanded as her head fell into his shoulder.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Never- never apologize. What he- what they did-“

Silence overtook them as his words drifted off. The glow from the LA nightlife filtered into the living room through the window pane, casting a soft light in the room. Tim had assumed that Lucy had fallen asleep, her arm tangled with his as her hand rested on his thigh. He thought back to things she had told him, her telling him that her comfort, her safety came from a forty-year-old chunk of metal. Him having to hear Rosalind sing the song that gave her hope, that kept her alive. The panic and distress of almost loosing her, neither of them knew it but he needed her too.

“I thought- I thought I was doing better. I stopped seeing my therapist, eased back on my meds. I can see now that was a mistake.” She whispered into the night. “But the nightmares started again and I just- I don’t want to close my eyes because every time, every time I do I see-“

Tim waited for her to finish. “You see what Chen?”

“It varies,” she told him as she wiped away the new tears, sniffling. “sometimes it’s Caleb, sometimes it’s Rosalind, sometimes it’s you.”

Tim startled, “Me?”

Lucy nodded, “Yeah. Most of the time, I can’t- I can’t find you, I hear your voice, but I can never catch up.”

“Lucy that’ll never-“

“Happen?” she finished for him. “Other times it’s a repeat of our first day together.”

Tim snorted. “You never expected to deal with a GSW on your first day did you?”

“No!” Lucy laughed as she turned to him. “Though with you I should know to expect the unexpected.”

Tim looked at her before whispering “Expect the unexpected huh? That’s what I always expect with you.”

Lucy tilted her head back as she glanced at his lips before focusing back to his eyes. Tim leaned in closer, his own eyes looking at her cherry red lips. Their lips a hair breadth away, so close their breaths were intertwining.

“We can’t.” Tim whispered against her lips.

Lucy stayed still, “I know.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“I know. But, I need-“ Lucy said swallowing her words before gaining courage. “I need you. I just need you. You don’t- we don’t-. Can you please just hold me?” She asked pulling back, unshed tears glistening her eyes. “Please.”

Tim Bradford could count on both hands the moments he could feel his heart break. This, his rookie, someone he shouldn’t be this close to, begging him for comfort was one of those moments, the pain in his chest growing heavier as the knife plunged deeper.

“Ok.” He whispered, moving to stand. Once he was steady on his feet he bent over, putting one arm behind her, the other going under her knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“I can walk.”

“Not alone.” He told her as he carried her to her room, putting her in the middle of the mattress before he slid in beside her. Lucy grabbed her weighted blanket from the end of the bed, tossing it over her body before stretching her hand out, reaching for his. She knew it was inappropriate, what ever it was that was happening, that if word escaped the four walls of this apartment there would be ramifications but she trusted and knew with everything in her that the other two people in the apartment would never speak a word.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her eyes becoming heavy as her breath began to even out.

“Never say I don’t love you Luce.” He whispered into the night to no one 

That night Lucy was able to finally sleep, her monsters locked away and buried in a hole, unable to escape their confinements for however long that may be. And Tim Bradford, never telling a soul, choosing to keep the secret to himself as he stayed up, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Lucy’s hand in comfort, his own emotions fighting to the surface. His monsters and demons clawing their way out of their prison, getting the better of him in the quiet space before he could stop them. He stared at the darkness around him, save for the nightlight glowing from an outlet across the room. Lucy sighed in her sleep, her body moving closer into Tim’s side, one of her legs escaping its confinement as she threw it over one of his as her other hand landed on his chest. One moment he was staring at the woman curled into his side, the next he was fast asleep where he shouldn’t be, his thoughts relenting, allowing him the same peace that he was giving. 

[whump-town]

This ones for @clockedstar, I hope you love it 

Man Flu

Hotchniss, sickfic, 3,000+ words

On most mornings, the sound of Aaron’s alarm wakes her. Dave bought him this strange little get-up that vibrates on the nightstand instead of filling the air with a shrill, ear rattling sound. It was a Christmas present the year the New York bombing happened. She can’t complain, she prefers the little alarm clock to her own.

As stated, though, most mornings the alarm wakes her but today that’s not the case. 

The bed dips as Aaron’s weight is suddenly shifted on the mattress. Her momentary annoyance with the fact that her personal furnace has been pulled away is overcome by worry as said furnace jostles the bed with the force of the wet, heaving coughs leaving his diaphragm.

“Hotch,” she sits up and puts a hand on his back, surprised to find sweat has soaked through the thin Hanes shirt he’d put on before climbing into bed beside her last night. “Jesus,” she mumbles, pulling away. After her momentary shock she moves closer, the back of her hand pressing against his cheek. “Aaron, you’re burning up!” It’s understatement considering the way his skin burns her hand.

He shakes his head, stifling his coughs as best as he can to gasp out, “I’m okay.” 

She frowns at the back of his head. “You have a fever,” her tone shifts to aggravation, the kind of I’m putting my foot down on this that he knows all too well. “You’re sick.” That’s how things work with Aaron Hotchner-- that’s not to say she’s not the exact same way. Ailments are a pain, their normal pain with the additional wear and tear that comes refusing to admit to being sick.

His chest is killing him and he’s unable to stifle the new wave of coughing fits. As they go on, he grows lightheaded and his throat raw. He has to grab on to the bed’s backboard as he loses control of his body. 

“That’s it,” Emily decides, throwing the comforter off of her body as she gets out of the bed. “You,” she says, pointedly at the man looking at her with red-rimmed fever glazed eyes. “Do not move. I will be right back.” She doesn’t bother putting on pants, she’s wearing one of his shirts and it covers her bare skin to about her mid-thigh. “I am going to call Dave and tell him we’re not coming in. I’ll be back with medicine.”

He’s not given the chance to form a rebuttal before she leaves the room.

She should have seen this coming. For the last four days they’ve been on a high-stakes scene-- three girls ranging in age from six to four, left stabbed and violated in the woods for joggers to find. It had been the kind of case that none of them let up on. No sleep or food until someone else is forcing them to take a break.

What should have been the precursor to his current status, was the night he spent in the cold in nothing but his suit jacket as rain poured over them. He’d been unwavering despite their days of no sleep. On the jet, he’d been silent but mid-flight she’d startled as his head fell on her shoulder. 

He never sleeps on the jet and, for Hotch, that would be PDA-- a big no in his book.

He’s been off for hours and she didn’t notice. Guilt settles in her stomach and she feels queasy. He would have noticed. Hell, he wouldn’t have let her stand in the pouring rain without a jacket. He would have wrapped her up in a blanket when she fell asleep on the jet. 

God, she’s a shitty girlfriend.

Her call goes to Dave’s voicemail but she’d been expecting that. She leaves him a short message, the kind that she hopes sparks his curiosity enough for him to call later. It will, undoubtedly. She’s just informed him that she and Aaron are both sick and taking the day off, two things that never happen.

Well, not completely true. She and Aaron get sick a lot but unlike a normal person they both refuse to admit that they’re sick. 

Armed with Tylenol, she’s expecting to be met with his usual level of denial. 

She’d prefer it to the numb compliance she’s faced with.

“Aaron.” He’s managed to pull himself back into bed, curled into his side with a frown tugging his handsome features down. Sweat is sleek across his forehead and a pained frown has slipped onto his face. “Wake up, baby.” His breathing is ragged and wrong. It sounds like he’s breathing through a waterlogged straw. If that doesn’t improve, sooner rather than later, she’s going to have to drag him to the hospital. 

Slowly, his eyes blink open and he looks miserable. “I need you to take some medicine.” She has to guide the water bottle to his lips and that worries her more than she knows how to express. “Aaron…” she doesn’t want to fight him on this but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her right now that tells her he won’t fight if she suggests the hospital. 

“I don’t feel good.”

Her chest tightens, her throat feeling rubbed raw by words she didn’t speak. She settles herself on the edge of the mattress, smiling sadly when he moves to curl himself around her. “I know,” she whispers, carding her hand through his sweat soaked hair. She’s not sure how to comfort him. They haven’t been at this-- their relationship-- long enough for her to have cracked him.

She knows what she would want.

“Scoot,” she bumps him lightly with her hip, the only warning she gives before throwing her lips over his side and climbing back into bed. Caught in the haze of fever and the normal amount of confusion he has when talking to her, he just lays there as she moves atop him. 

Settling down beside him she opens her arms, “come here.” 

He coughs, wetly. He doesn’t move, just looks at her in confusion. After a moment, coming to the safe conclusion that he’s not just going to settle himself in her arms, she frowns. Right, she should have seen that coming. The thing is, he’s pretty clingy when he’s hurt or sick so he wants to be held, he's just not going to go crawling into her arms.

“Please?” 

Sitting up is harder than it should be and if she could, she would just get up and move closer to him. However it’s not going to help his congested lungs for her to come lay on his chest. So, he complies. Slowly but surely, he manages to sit up. The world, their room, dips and spins in a way that makes his head pound. He’s partially aware of Emily calling his name, her hands guiding him back down until his ear meets her chest.

He coughs as his body moves, limping going in the direction she pulls him. He chokes on a sigh, wheezing miserably as his inhale catches in his throat. “We’re gonna be late,” he rasps, shivering with the chills her cold skin sends down his back. He’s resigned to her touch and hums softly when she tucks the comforter back around his body.

She buries one hand in his hair, the other rubbing up and down his back. Judging by the way his eyelashes flutter, it’s working to soothe him back to sleep. “I already called Dave,” she supplies softly, attempting to jog his memory of the conversation they had not even five minutes before. “He knows you’re sick.”

He hums, grimacing with a moan as another shiver runs down his body. “It’s… ‘m not-- ‘m not sick.” He clears his throat, triggering a soft coughing fit that he doesn’t have the energy to stop or exert the force to expel the congestion in his lungs. “Fine-- ‘m fine.”

Emily keeps rubbing circles on his back, ignoring his soft protest. “I know,” she soothes, knowing better than to argue with him. Sick or not. “Just get some sleep, you’ll feel better in a little bit.”

She can feel the rattle of congestion lodged deep in his lungs each time he inhales. His breathing is picking up despite the fact that he’s falling asleep. Instead of his heart calming and his breathing slowing, he sounds worse. She wishes she knew what to do. 

He always knows what to do. 

She holds him close to her chest, gently scratching his scalp and rubbing his back. It’s all she knows how to do. The tylenol should help with the fever and, maybe if she can convince him, a bath might help too. It leaves her so bothered, so anxious that she’s not able to help him that she can’t go back to sleep. 

The time slips away slowly and all she can do is sit and listen. 

She just sits and listens.

Dave calls at six, he’s just getting out of bed himself and is a mix of too sleep-deprived and brain fogged to fully understand the message in his voicemail. It’s more alarming than anything else. Emily is frantic, the worry lacing her voice is nerve wracking-- Emily Prentiss is nothing but calm and collected. And she’d said something about one of them being sick?

“Hey, kiddo!” He wedges the phone between his shoulder and chin, scrubbing his hand down his face in effort to wake himself. “I just got your message--”

Emily feels the tension leaving her shoulders, the pain in her neck easing. “Dave,” she sighs. She freezes when she feels Hotch tense, afraid she’s managed to wake him up. He wheezes something intangible under his breath and with a mangled sigh goes limp in her arms.

“Teresa,” Dave replies and she can hear the fond smile in his voice. 

Emily resumes rubbing Aaron’s back, hoping to keep him sleeping while she talks to Dave. “Aaron’s sick,” she informs him, keeping her voice low. “I need your help,” she clears her throat. She forces her voice to even back out. “He’s got a high fever.” She kicks herself for not checking his temperature earlier. “He’s congested,” she chews on her bottom lip. “I can hear him breathing.”

Dave hums on the other end. “He’s congested,” he deduces. The good news is, he knows how to help with that but his method is really only applicable for babies. He is not so sure it’ll work the same magic on a grown man. “My nonna used to steam us,” he explains, “boil some water in a pot and have him put a towel or blanket over his head to force the steam into his lungs.” As soon as he’s said it, he realizes that those instructions alone are not going to be enough for the raging path of destruction that Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss leave in their wake.

“Let the water cool off,” he warns, a sudden tension headache forming behind his eyes. “Please do not burn him or yourself.”

Emily rolls her eyes. Dave always treats them like children. “Okay.” Secretly, of course, she’s thrilled to have a solution. One that’s better than the one Dave is offering. She knows for a fact that there is a vaporizer in Jack’s room. It’s currently buried in its original boxing under a hefty stack of chapter books but they have one. The vaporizer is a way better idea than Dave’s boiling water just waiting to go wrong.

“How is he,” Dave inquires. Aaron’s got to be pretty bad off to let Emily take care of him. 

Emily looks down at the man in her arms. With a shrug she replies, “he looks like shit.” She means it in the nicest way she can possibly think of. It’s not to tear him down or even insult him. He just looks bad and each wheezing breath he takes is nerve wracking. 

Hotch is more or less aware of what’s going on around him. Enough to hear Emily talking to Dave-- traitor. 

“Yeah well,” Dave can understand that. He’s known Aaron long enough to see that when something gets that man down he doesn’t let up until it’s gone or nearly crippled by it. That principle goes for more than just UNSUBs… it’s right up his alley to let a simple cold brew into pneumonia. 

“Color me surprised,” he mumbles. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. That boy… “Well, I’ve got to get ready. Take care of our boy, huh?”

Emily looks down at said boy and shakes her head. There’s a fat chance in hell she’s going to be able to have this stubborn ass man healthy by tomorrow but she’ll give it a try. “Alright.”

“I’ll call you at lunch but don’t be afraid to call if you need anything before then. Okay, bella? Take care of yourself, I love you.”

He’s gone before she can share the sentiment. 

Her chest is tight from the affection, her cheeks flushed. She loves Dave too and she knows Aaron shares that with her. He’s been a large contributor in their lives for a long time. A father… a lot of the time. 

“Shit?” She startles from her thoughts, frowning down at the man who she’d previously thought asleep. “Do I really look like shit?” His voice is a deep tangled mess of his normal husky morning sound with the addition of his inability to breath out of his nose. The answer is yes. He even sounds like shit but he looks up at her with theses soft pathetic  brown eyes and she can’t--

Rather than tell him the truth she leans down and kisses his temple. “Of course not.” 

He frowns at her, obviously he doesn’t believe that at all. He’s a profiler, a good one. So, she’d be worried if he did. 

“Don’t worry about that,” she mumbles. Besides, she’s got herself quite the itinerary for the next two hours. Not only can Hotch have another concoction of whatever medicine she can find, Jack needs to get up and get ready for school. A task, she senses, is going to be a handful she’s not prepared to deal with.

She pats Hotch’s shoulder, the warning she gives before gently extracting herself from his body. The cool air hits her and she realizes just how hot his body had been pressed to her own. Looking down at him, lines of sweat visible on his soft grey shirt, she decides they need a slight divergence from her plan.

She pulls the blankets back off of him, despite his moan of protest and the hurt look he sends her way. “Take your shirt off,” she instructs, leaning down to lift the edge of the soaked fabric herself. Getting the message that he’s got no choice in the matter, he helps her wiggle his tall frame out. 

There was once a point in their relationship where he refused to take his shirt off in front of her. In his mind, those nine stab wounds could be a deal breaker. The first time they’d had sex, he’d had a shirt on. In all fairness, she had on several layers of clothing as well. It had been a very jumping each other’s bones sort of affair. 

Now, he doesn’t even think twice as he sits squinting in the bed he’s shared with her for the better part of a year. Scars open for anyone to see. A pretty bad case of bedhead. 

She thinks his bedhead is pretty cute though.

“I’ll be back in an hour, okay?” She kisses his forehead, taking a moment to appreciate just how unraveled he looks. “Gonna get Jack off to school and then you and I can crash on the couch, okay?” She squeezes his hand within her own and leaves him before he can put up much of a fight.

Not that he’s sure he’s got too much fight left in him.

The first five minutes Hotch spends miserably spread out atop the comforter on the bed feels like hours. His brain is addled with the fever and he feels as hot and clammy as he looks. There’s a moment where he panics, convinced that Emily won’t come back at all. Down the hall he can hear her voice and with a content sigh, he lets himself slip off.

He wakes about ten minutes later, the sweat on his skin cooling and leaving him shivering from the light draft of the fan overhead. It takes all the energy he has to roll onto his side and pull blindly for a blanket to wrap his freezing frame in. 

The door cracks open and Hotch winces as the hallway light hits his eyes, making him aware of a headache he hadn’t known he had. 

“Daddy?” Jack’s sketchers light up the path he makes around to Hotch. “I gotta go to school, now.” 

Hotch forces himself to sit up, smiling despite the way the room dips and twists. “Have a good day,” he manages though his voice is weak and raspy. Jack meets him halfway and they share a short lived hug. “I’ll see you later, buddy. I love you.”

Jack turns back in the doorway, “I love you too, daddy.”

Emily comes to the door, “you better go before you’re late.” She squats down and they share a hug, too. “Have a good day, Jack-Attack.” She rustles Jack’s hair, the two of them laughing before Jack and his light up shoes disappear down the hall. 

They both listen for Jessica and Jack to leave, the sound of the front door shutting and the automatic lock to slip into place. With a sigh, Emily leaves her post at their doorway and steps back into the room. “Does it make you sad watching him get so big?” She sits down on the edge of the bed beside him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment.  

Of course it does and he feels like he misses so much of his growing up for this damn job. 

But he can’t quit. He doesn’t know how.

“He--” his voice is more broken than he’s expecting and he has to take a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “The other week he asked me about shaving,” he looks over at her, the two of them sharing a fond smirk. “I told him we’d talked about when he starts eating a variety of food.”

Emily shakes her head, “you mean something other than dinosaur chicken nuggets, macaroni, and oatmeal?”

Hotch chuckles, doing his best but ultimately failing to stifle the cough that tickles the back of his throat. 

She lifts her head and grimaces as each cough twists his face in pained ways. “I drew you a bath,” she tells him, rubbing circles on his back. “It’ll help with the aches and the fever.” She stands up, having decided that’s what they’re going to do first. 

“Come on,” she urges. He’s unsteady on his feet but he’s better than he was last night. “We’re just going to the bathroom,” she offers out her hand. Calling his name out softly until he reaches between them takes her hand. “Slow and steady?”

He nods, the rough pads of his hands making the faintest scuffing sound as he uses it to steady his unsteady steps. “Slow and steady,” he repeats.

They work their way to the bathroom and he stands hazy and weak as she coaxes him out of his boxers. It’s the sort of thing he should do himself but bending down makes his stomach twist and the last thing they need is him puking a top everything else going wrong today.

She turns to check the water, knowing it’s cooled off but wanting to be certain. Sure enough, the water is still hot to the touch but not enough to burn her skin. She turns back to him, stepping out of the way so that he moves closer to the tub. He manages to get into the water without busting his ass or cracking his skull open… a small miracle.

He leans his head back against the cold tile, “I would understand if you have no general interest in sleeping with me ever again.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, bending down to pick up his boxers. “Aaron, this is not the first time I’ve seen you drenched in sweat and shaky.” She thrives on the way his cheeks flush-- he’s such a school girl when it comes to talking about sex. Relishing the high flustering him gives her, she continues. “Although, normally it’s not a fever but that thing I do with my tongue and your--”

“Emily!” he groans, blushing impossibly hard.

Certain that she’s either going to send him into a coughing fit or give the poor man an aneurysm, she stops there. She bends down and plants a kiss on his head, scratching at his thick hair. “Make sure you scrub behind your ears,” she reminds him softly. Chuckling when he rolls his eyes-- that’s what he’s constantly telling Jack. “If you’re a good boy,” she whispers in his ear. “We can cuddle on the couch and I’ll play with your hair.”

He would rather be bludgeoned to death than let her tell a soul that he gets weak at the knees when she plays with his hair. But he’s a sucker for it. She knows the power she has over him in this moment but she does plan on making good on her word. 

She’s not going to say no to a good cuddle on the couch.

“Promise?” he rasps. He’s got a dopey look to his eyes that melts her heart. 

She cups his jaw in her hand, and infections be damned, kisses him. “Would I ever lie to you?” 

[strangerivy]

The Beginning - Eighteen

Summary:  Kacy thought after finding out the identity of the Alpha things would start to fall into place and the possibility of a normal life would be more in reach, but as most things now a days turned out she was very very wrong. Peter was going to stop at nothing to get her and Scott to join him.  Warnings: Swearing | Violent Depictions Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Kacy) Genre: 18+ | Fluff | Angst Word Count: 2.5k Author’s Note: Wow, it has been a minute since I last updated. I am so sorry and I feel so bad disappearing like that. Just know I wont abandon this story. it will be finished. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged for future chapters!

|| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Masterlist ||

We got to the School and the lights were all out, we ran through the halls heading for the boy’s locker room. We slid to a stop and Scott was sitting on a bench still in his towel. I could tell by the way he was slumped over that something was wrong, the air in the room was thick.

“Dude – We have a huge problem.” Stiles panted going into the room, Scott continues to stare at the floor.

“Trust me,” He started looking up meeting my eyes, “I know.”

“He was here,” I whispered picking up the scent in the air but there was another all too familiar one mixed with it. I raised an eyebrow in question looking at Scott, trying to not jump to conclusions. “Derek too?” Scott frowned nodding his head.

“He’s with him,” He muttered disappointedly

“What?” Stiles shouted in shock looking up at me and then back at Scott. I stepped forward going over to Scott kneeling down in front of him. He looked up at me but was unable to look me in the eyes.

“What did he say?” I asked just above a whisper, Scott sighed standing up going over to his locker

“He said he wants me to join his pack,” He said but I could tell that wasn’t all, I turned around so he could get dressed, “But he also said, he wants you as well to join his pack,” I sucked in a breath closing my eyes holding back tears that threatened to push through. I felt arms wrap around my body holding me close and I reached around holding Stiles to me just as tight.

“It’s going to be okay,” He whispered kissing the top of my head. I shook my head looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

“No, it’s not,” I whispered, Scott appeared next to us and we headed out to the Jeep going back home.

I shot up from bed in a panic hearing something on the roof, I looked to the closed bathroom door as I heard Scott’s window slid open. I looked over at the clock that read 4AM in bright red numbers. I groaned throwing the comforter off in a huff a shiver running up my spine at the cold floor. I quietly opened the bathroom door and walked into Scott's room seeing him close his window.

“You know,” He jumped quickly looking at me with wide eyes

“You scared the shit out of me,” He breathed hand over his heart as he tried to calm down sitting on his bed. I waved him off leaning against the doorframe

“I covered for you with mom, you could have used the door for once. You know, like a normal human being,” I looked over at him and he shrugged

“What are you doing up?” He asked

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be if I could,” I glared over at him “Especially on a School Night,”

“Sorry,” he mumbled quietly before getting up and changing his clothes to pajamas. I frowned going over to his bed and sitting down on the end of it. He sat down next to me with a heavy sigh his hand running over his face trying to wipe the exhaustion clear on it.

“How was creepily watching Allison?” I asked with a small smile trying to lighten the mood. He smirked shaking his head before laying back.

“It's not creepy,” He muttered

I  pursed my lips and raised my hand pinching my fingers close together but not quite touching “It’s a little creepy,” I joked raising my voice just a pitch higher, he reached for his pillow tossing it at me, but I was quick to catch it tossing it back at him with a smile.

“Night Scott, or good morning, I guess,” He waved me off before turning his lamp off as I disappear into the joint bathroom and back to my very comfortable bed to sleep for just a few more hours at least.

The weekends quickly became my favorite time of the week just because it seemed to be some of the only somewhat quiet days without any crazy wolf disasters. At least, for the most part. The weekdays however felt like a whole other story but at least it was Friday, and the school day was just a normal day. Which I thanked god for because I had to catch up on so much work before I started to fall behind.

I sat in my room on the bed letting the afternoon autumn sun shine down on my back as I read. I had finished all my homework for the night, so the rest of the night was for self-care. Some very much needed self-care.

I heard someone pull into the driveway and I leaned up enough to look out the window to see Stiles Jeep. He looked up from the driver seat waving up at me and I waved back. He and Stiles got out and head into the house.

I closed my book reaching over to throw on my hoodie as I heard their feet hit the stairs. My door swung open and both Stiles and Scott walked in. I sat on my bed cross-legged smiling up as Stiles walked over giving me a quick peck on the lips before sitting down in front of me.

Scott closed the door behind him going over to my desk pulling out the chair before sitting backward on it resting his arms on the back of the chair. They both looked stressed and I raised my eyebrow at them both. I could tell they wanted to tell me something but were still deciding on if they should or not. I let out a small sigh dropping my head onto Stiles's shoulder.

“What did you do?” I asked looking back up at Scott, Stiles scoffed looking offended

“What makes you think we did anything?” He asked, I rolled my eyes with a small grin

“Because you two always seem to end up getting in trouble,”

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” Scott agreed, Stiles quickly turned his head to Scott with a look of betrayal

“I think we are getting off-topic here,” He said switching subjects, “We followed Jackson today,” I raised an eyebrow looking at the two in question

“I am aware of that, but have no idea why you two did this?” I asked curiously “Does it have to do with whatever happened in the locker room?” Scott slowly nodded his head; Scott did never say what exactly happened in the locker room saying I didn’t need to worry anymore about it and that it would be okay. I called instant bullshit on it but decide it would be best not to push it. Until now that is.

Stiles must have sensed the tension in the room with Scott and me as neither of us could break away from looking at the other. Stiles stood up from the bed leaning down cautiously giving a kiss to my head before standing back up

“I think you two have some things to talk about,” He said heading towards the door, I slowly nodded my head but not breaking eye contact with Scott. “I’ll text you later Kac,” He said before heading out the door. Once I heard the front door shut Scott took a deep breath.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, he got up from my chair pushing it back to its place coming over and sitting down where Stiles was sitting.

“In the locker room, Derek and Peter showed up,”

“Yeah, I got that much,” I mumbled he looked at me with an annoyed expression

“Will you let me finish?” He asked, I sighed nodding my head motioning him to continue

“Peter wants revenge for the people responsible for murdering his family, Derek’s family,” I nodded softly understanding that much.

“So, Derek joined him?” I asked Scott, he nodded his head, “But who else is left? Hasn’t he done enough?” Scott let out a heavy sigh and I knew I was not going to like the answer

“I think Allison’s family was involved… they threatened Allison, kind of” I shot up breathing heavily as anger rushed through my veins

“They what?” I nearly yelled, Scott was quick to act so mom wouldn’t come barging in, that was the last thing we need. Scott quickly grabbed my shoulders giving them a squeeze telling me to calm down.

“Look, Peter wants us to join his pack because it would make him stronger, and he will hurt the people close to us to get that,” My mind flashed to Stiles's face and my eyes widened in panic.

“That’s why you have been watching her at night isn’t it?” I asked him, he nodded his head, He looked over at my alarm clock checking the time. “Somewhere to be?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah but look, don’t worry Kac. We’ll figure this out.” He pulled me into a hug before getting up and leaving out the door and then out the house towards the woods. I let out a heavy sigh sitting on my bed for a few minutes while I collected my thoughts.

I got up deciding a hot shower would help. A scolding hot shower. I grabbed my phone putting on some music before heading into the bathroom turning it on to get the water going switching the water to the shower from the tub. I paused before switching it back to the tub reaching under the sink for a bath bomb.

I smiled when I found one sitting on the counter. I went back into my room grabbing a couple of candles and my book. I was not going to let this new information ruin my self-care day. I would worry about what to do later. I mean, it is not like Stiles was completely helpless, who obviously knew more than Allison so that helped him, right? Derek would not go that far, a part of him like Stiles a little bit. A small part at least. But Peter, Peter would. He is shown he would that night in the school when he made me want to kill. Everyone.

A shudder ran down my spine that I quickly shook off turning off the water noticing it was high enough now. I dropped the bath bomb in getting undressed and getting into the hot water. I let out a relaxed sigh as I became fully submerged.

I went through a whole playlist before deciding the water was no longer warm enough to stay in. I got out wrapping a towel around my body. The sun was nearly set when I heard my phone go off. I clutched my towel closer going over to see who had texted. Stiles's name shined back.

Come over?

The text read; a small smile spread across my face. I heard Scott get back going into his room as I got read putting on some jeans and a simple t-shirt and sweatshirt. I walked out into the hall coming to a stop as Allison and me almost collided

“Allison?” I asked surprised to see her, she gave a shy smile back “He’s in his room,” I said before heading down the stairs, I heard my mom getting ready for something.

“Mom! I’m going to Stiles's house!” I shouted loud enough for her to hear but not waiting for a response back heading out the door. I quickly got on my bike making the short trip to Stiles house. I got there as Stiles was running out the door quickly grabbing me by my forearm pulling me towards the Jeep making me drop my bike on the lawn.

“Stiles? What the hell?” I asked shooting a glare at him. He opened the passenger side door rushing me to get in. Once I was in, he quickly shut the door rushing to the driver’s side getting in and starting the jeep backing out. “Stiles!” I yelled growing more irritated by his silence and abrupt behavior.

“Peter showed up at your house,” He finally spoke, and my eyes went wide as panic settled in, my heart beginning to race at the thought of something happening to my mom.

“What for?” I spoke quietly trying to keep my voice steady, he quickly turned onto another street and I kept my gaze ahead.

“He’s taking your mom on a date, except it’s not really a date he’s- “

“He’s going to bite my mom,” I interrupted, and he nodded pointing out the windshield. I looked out and there was a car parked and Stiles quickly turned slowing down a bit enough to make the car bounce slightly but not damage the jeep when it made impact with the car.

My mom got out of the passenger side door of the car we hit, making eye contact with my eyes and then looked over at Stiles who instantly put on a surprised face getting out of the car. I opted to stay in the car not wanting to face my mom’s wrath. Peter got out of the drivers meeting my gaze and I glared, and he returned it with a smirk before turning away.

Stiles settled things with the car incident and my mom ended up going back home. We headed back to his house and pulled into the drive putting the Jeep in park. I let out a breath of relief letting my head fall back against the headrest closing my eyes as the exhaustion of the events of tonight sunken. So much for my relaxing self-care night.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder and I turned my head looking over at Stiles.

“Why don’t you stay tonight?” He asked quietly, I looked at him confused

“What about your dad?” I asked looking at the quiet house

“He... he’s asleep,” He said, I raised my eyebrow in question but decided not to question it

“Come on, we’ll put your bike in the back of the Jeep,” I nodded opening the door, Stiles picked up my bike and putting it in the back before taking my hand and leading me inside. He led me up the stairs quietly and into his room shutting the door behind him.

I walked over to the bed sitting down as he went to his dresser pulling out a shirt and some shorts for me. He handed them to me, and I smiled lifting my hand and twirling my finger to have him turned around. He groaned but turned to face away. I quickly changed putting my jeans bra and shirt on the chair before tapping his shoulder to let him know I was done. I back up to the top of the bed getting under the covers as he stripped down to his boxers.

“Can you turn on the lamp?” He asked, I reached over hitting the switch and the overhead light to the room turned off and then he pulled the comfort back slipping in behind me reach over to turn the lamp back off. He kissed my shoulder then neck and then right behind my ear. He wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me closer to him.

“Goodnight,” He whispered snuggling into my hair. I smiled letting myself relax into his hold.

Goodnight Stiles,” I whispered back before drifting off to sleep.

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Tags: @criminalyetminimal​ @itshouldbe​​ @sammypotato67​  

[alyssawritesssfics]

Hounded [3] 3. Earth Kills

Pairings: Bellamy x OC // Kane x daughter!OC

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: violence, series spoilers

Summary: When trapped in a cave together, Athena sees a new side of Bellamy. One that she might actually like.

Author’s Note: Hii, I’m back with the third chapter/episode. The cave scene has been my favourite to write thus far (I know, we’re only on episode three) and I hope you enjoy it too! Please remember to note and reblog! It really helps me see interest and therefore update the story more often. Thank you! PS. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please send me an ask with your @ and I will add you to my list!

previous chapter // series masterlist

The following day I found myself behind the dropship, collecting more wood for fires. We had returned to camp with the large cat Wells had killed, Bellamy using everyone’s hunger as a way to get them to remove their wristbands. I was able to hold out, sneaking some food once everyone had piled into the dropship for the night.

I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Jasper spent most of it groaning in pain, while the other delinquents yelled for him to shut up. The groaning was still going on, though I’d begun to tune it out for the most part.

Grabbing my pile of wood, I headed around the dropship and towards the fire, dropping it all into the pile Wells had started earlier. Just as the wood fell to the ground, the sound of screaming filled my ears.

I ran towards the dropship, climbing the ladder to the top floor and shoving the door open.

“Hold him still, I need to cut away the infected flesh.” Clarke held a knife in her hand, while Monty, Wells and Finn held Jasper down.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” I asked.

Octavia soon climbed through the door, standing at my side. “Stop it! You’re killing him.”

“She’s trying to save his life.” Finn rolled his eyes.

“She can’t,” Bellamy spoke, joining us on the top floor. “Look at him, he might as well be dead already.”

Wells stood up, stepping in front of Bellamy. “Back off.”

“We didn’t drag him through miles of woods just to let him die,” Clarke said.

“He’s making us all crazy, Clarke,” I spoke up.

“This isn’t the Ark, Athena.” Clarke snapped. “Down here, every life matters.”

I shook my head. “I’m not saying his life doesn’t matter. Just look at him, he’s suffering. He’s not going to make it.”

Clarke shook her head, her eyes meeting Octavia’s. “Octavia, I’ve spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there’s hope, there’s hope.”

“This isn’t about hope, it’s about guts,” Bellamy said. “You don’t have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He’s been like this for three days. If he’s not better by tomorrow, I’ll kill him myself.”

I kicked my feet and bit my lower lip, catching Wells’ eyes. “Athena, come on. You can’t be on his side.”

“I’m sorry, but I am,” I said, my eyes fixed on the metal floor beneath me. “The longer you four play doctor, the more he’s suffering for nothing. It’s time to let go.”

Bellamy and I turned to leave. “Come on, O.” He said.

“I’m staying here.”

Bellamy shook his head, climbing back down the ladder.

I turned to the group. “I hope you guys are right about this, but if you’re not…” I trailed off, shaking my head and heading down the ladder myself.

...

Later that afternoon, I watched as a group prepped to go hunting. The sound of Jasper screaming in pain was starting to give me a headache and all I wanted to do was leave camp.

When I spotted Bellamy exit the dropship to join them, I rushed to his side.

“Hey, you guys are going hunting?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We are.”

“Good, I’m in.”

Bellamy shook his head, smirking. “You want to go hunting?”

I stepped in front of him, both of us coming to a complete stop. “Look, I can’t listen to Jasper anymore. I need to get out of here. Besides, an extra hand can’t hurt, can it?”

Looking me up and down, Bellamy sighed. “Do you know anything about hunting?”

“No, but I’m a quick learner.”

“As long as you don’t get in the way, sure you can come.”

I clapped my hands together. “Let’s go then.”

...

We had been hunting for a few hours before finally coming across a boar. It was plumb, enough meat on its bones to feed all of us tonight. My mouth was watering just thinking about how good it would taste.

Bellamy pressed his pointer finger to his lips. “Shh… She’s mine.”

I watched as he stepped closer and just as he was about to attack, a stick snapped behind us. Bellamy spun around, throwing his axe in the direction of the noise as the boar ran off. The rest of the group, aside from Atom ran after it, screaming like a bunch of idiots.

Turning around, I spotted a young blonde girl peeking out from behind a tree. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the axe which had hit the tree next to her head.

Bellamy dropped his hands to his sides. “Who the hell are you?”

“C-Charlotte.” The girl mumbled.

“He could’ve killed you.” I hissed, causing the girl to frown.

Bellamy sighed, stepping forward. “Why aren’t you back at camp?”

“The guy who is dying,” Charlotte spoke, her eyes fixed on the ground. “I just couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

I couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “You and me both,”

“There are grounders out here,” Atom spoke. “It’s not safe for a little girl.”

“I’m not little.”

Bellamy and I exchanged glances. “Well then,” Bellamy said, pulling a knife out of his pocket. “You can’t hunt without a weapon.” He handed Charlotte the knife. “Ever kill anything before?”

Charlotte shook her head.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be good at it.” Bellamy smiled before turning around and heading off to find the others.

I smiled at her as well. “Come on,”

Charlotte and I followed Bellamy and Atom through the forest. We had yet to find the others when suddenly, a swarm of bugs flew past us.

“What the hell?” Atom asked.

Rats, which I had yet to see on the ground, began scurrying in the same direction the bugs had flown. I watched as a cloud of yellow began forming in front of us, a horn sounding in the air.

“That can’t be good.” I mumbled.

“Come on! There are caves this way.” Bellamy spoke, running off.

The three of us followed Bellamy, myself being sure to keep Charlotte within my reach. I watched as Atom tripped, though I didn’t stop. I just kept running until I too fell. 

My head connected with a rock, causing me to scream out in pain.

This is it. This is how I die.

Just as I accepted my fate, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me from the ground. “Charlotte, keep going!” It was Bellamy.

I tried my best to run, though Bellamy pulled me most of the way. Finally, we reached the cave and Bellamy let go of me, closing the entrance with a larger rock. I slid down the wall of the cave, pressing my hand to the back of my head.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked.

I nodded, removing my hand and examining the blood on it. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

“What happened to Atom?” Bellamy asked.

I looked away, unable to explain how I left him behind.

Bellamy sighed. “We should be safe here for the night.”

“Should be?” Charlotte asked.

“Will be,” I spoke up. “We will be safe here.”

Charlotte frowned, and I knew she believed that as much as I did.

...

We had been stuck in the cave for a while, Charlotte having fallen asleep. Bellamy inspected the wound on my head, touching it lightly. I let out a yelp, swatting his hand away.

He moved back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I spoke, my voice shaking. “Is it bad?”

“It looks like the bleeding has stopped at least. No sleeping for you though.”

I sighed. “Not like I’ve done much sleeping down here anyways.”

We were both silent for a few moments before finally, Bellamy cleared his throat. “Do you think everyone back at camp is okay?”

“I’m sure they are,” I said. “They probably all hid inside the dropship.”

“Safer there than here, I guess.”

“I was sure the fog would’ve slipped through a crack of this cave.” I looked over at Charlotte. “Poor kid probably didn’t expect to almost die twice today. She’s lucky your aim sucks.”

Bellamy chuckled. “It wasn’t bad considering I wasn’t looking in that direction.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” I smiled, before the thought of Atom filled my mind. “I left him behind…”

“What?”

“Atom,” I said. “I saw him fall. I could’ve stopped and helped him up, but I didn’t.”

Bellamy shook his head. “You were afraid.”

“And you weren’t?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes. “You ran back to save me. You shouldn’t have. You should’ve kept going.”

“What’s done is done, Athena. You can’t change it now, so learn from it, do better next time.” 

I nodded, my eyes beginning to flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion washed over me. “You almost sound like my father.”

Bellamy ignored my remark. “Hey, no sleeping, alright?”

“I’m tired.”

“Too bad,” Bellamy frowned. “Why did you get locked up?”

“What?”

“If you keep talking, you’ll stay awake. Tell me why you got locked up.”

I shook my head. “It was stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Bellamy-”

“Athena.” His voice was stern.

I took a deep breath. “Someone I cared about, their father was sick. The Ark wouldn’t give him the medication he needed, so I stole it.” Bellamy’s eyes grew slightly wider. “I stole my mother’s keycard to get into the medicine cabinet and of course, they figured out it was me and thus I was arrested.”

“You must’ve really cared about that person,” Bellamy mumbled.

“He was like my second father,” I admitted. “I mean, you know how my dad is. When I started dating my boyfriend, his father was always nice to me. Always making sure I was okay, something my dad never really bothered to do.” I paused for a second, wiping my eyes. “I couldn’t just sit back and watch him die. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

Bellamy was silent for a moment. “Did he make it?”

“Yeah, he did.” I smiled. “Knowing that makes all of this worth it, as much as I wish I wasn’t down here right now. I would give anything to be able to see my mom again, hug her, tell her I love her.” I watched as Bellamy’s face fell. “Bellamy, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay.” He said, mustering up a small smile.

I shook my head. “No, It’s not. Nothing about what they do up there is okay.”

Just as Bellamy went to speak, Charlotte began tossing, letting out a small scream.

“Charlotte,” Bellamy spoke, rushing to her side. “Wake up.”

Charlotte shot up, panting. “I’m sorry.”

Bellamy frowned. “Does that happen often?”

Charlotte nodded.

“What are you scared of?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bellamy said. “The only thing that matters is what you do about it.”

I almost felt like he was talking to me as well.

“But, I’m asleep,” Charlotte mumbled.

“Fears are fears. Slay your demons while you’re awake, they won’t be able to get you while you sleep.”

“How?”

Bellamy looked over at me for a moment, before looking back to Charlotte. “You can’t afford to be weak. Down here, weakness is death. Let me see that knife I gave you.” Charlotte nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the knife. She handed it over to Bellamy, who squeezed the handle in his hand. “Now, when you feel afraid, you hold this knife tight and say ‘screw you, I’m not afraid’.”

He handed the knife back to Charlotte, who held onto the knife as tight as she could with both hands. “S-screw you, I’m not afraid.”

“Louder.”

Charlotte looked to me, and I nodded. “Screw you. I’m not afraid.”

Bellamy smiled, patting her on the shoulder. “Slay your demons kid, then you’ll be able to sleep.”

Charlotte nodded with a small smile. Still holding the knife in her hands, she rolled back over and fell back asleep. Bellamy made his way back over to me, sitting down with his back against the cave wall.

“I think I’m starting to see where Octavia gets it from,”

…

The following morning, Bellamy pushed the rock covering the cave opening out of the way. He stepped outside, looking around.

“It’s all clear,” He said before stepping out further. “Is anyone out here? Jones?”

“We’re here!” Jones called out.

I stood from my spot, my legs shaking under me. “It’s okay, Charlotte. We can head back to camp now.”

Charlotte nodded, standing up and following me out of the cave.

“Where’d you guys go?” Bellamy asked Jones.

“We made it to a cave down there,” Jones pointed to the West.

I stepped forward. “Did you guys see Atom?”

Jones shook his head, causing me to frown.

“We’ll find him,” Bellamy assured me. “Let’s head back to camp.”

…

Most of the walk back to camp was quiet, aside from the occasional call-out for Atom. We had yet to find him, a fact that was slowly driving me insane. I could feel my fingernails piercing the palm of my hands hidden under my jacket, surly drawing blood.

A hand landed on my shoulder, causing me to jump slightly.

“Sorry,” Bellamy said, looking me over. “You’ve been quiet, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Last night had shown a different side of Bellamy I had never expected to see. I had half expected him to switch back to his douchebag persona the second we left that cave. Instead, here he was, asking if I was alright.

My cheeks began to heat up, causing me to focus on the ground underneath my feet. “I’ll feel a lot better once we find Atom.”

Bellamy nodded.

The rest of the group had fallen behind us, though Charlotte was so far ahead of us I could barely make out her silhouette through the trees. No matter how many times I had called out for her, she just kept going.

Charlotte finally disappeared from my sight and just a few moments later, her frightened screams rang out through the forest. Without hesitating, Bellamy and I sprung into action, running in her direction.

Before long we found her, standing over a body.

Atom.

“Oh my god,”

Bellamy moved closer, kneeling down and looking Atom over. He was covered in bloody boils and blisters, his skin looking as if it had been slowly burned away. His eyes were glossy, his pupils small. 

I placed my hand on Charlotte’s shoulder before making my way over to the two. Atom was shaking, stuttering incoherently. Finally, he was able to get out a few broken words: kill me, please.

Bellamy stood up, taking a few steps back as the rest of the group joined us. Stepping forward, Charlotte pulled out the knife Bellamy had given her earlier. She handed it to Bellamy and whispered, “Done be afraid.” 

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy cleared his throat. “All of you head back to camp. Charlotte, you too.”

The group dispersed, including Charlotte, though she was more reluctant to leave than rest had been. Bellamy eyed me, still standing just a few meters away.

“Bellamy, I can’t-”

“I know,” He spoke, nodding.

Bellamy knelt back down, holding the knife in his hand. I sat across from him on the other side of Atom, watching as Bellamy’s eyes shifted around. 

Atom spoke again through broken words, begging Bellamy to do it. I watched as Bellamy sat there, unable to move. Finally, I reached over, taking the hand he was holding the knife with in mine.

Bellamy looked up at me and for a second I could see tears welling in his blue eyes. I slowly slipped the knife out of his hand and into my own, pulling my hand away and placing it at my side.

“Athena-”

“I can do this,” Taking a deep breath, I looked down at Atom. “Okay, I’m going to help you. Just breathe, alright?”

I placed my free hand on Atom’s cheek, lightly brushing it with my thumb as I moved the knife towards the side of his neck. I slowly slid the blade into his skin, pulling it out just the same.

As Atom slowly bled out, I continued to comfort him as best as I could at that moment. Finally, Atom stopped moving and I knew he was gone. 

Looking up, I was met with Bellamy’s sorrowful eyes. It was at that moment that I realized I had been crying, a droplet of salt falling into my mouth. 

I quickly wiped my eyes with my free hand before wiping the bloody knife on the ground and handing it back to Bellamy. “We should get him back to camp, bury him with the others.”

…

Finn, Wells and Clarke had soon found us and helped us get Atom’s body back to camp. I hadn’t spoken the rest of the way back, knowing if I opened my mouth I would only start to cry again.

The camp gate was quickly opened upon our arrival, Clarke rushing ahead of us and demanding quick action in making Jasper’s medicine. Bellamy ordered a few of the delinquents to get Clarke anything she needed, while Wells headed off to dig a grave for Atom.

Across the camp, I watched as Octavia exited the dropship. She chatted with Clarke for a moment before her face sunk and she yanked herself away, rushing over to myself and Bellamy.

“Octavia, just stay back, please,” Bellamy commanded.

“Why?”

Octavia attempted to push past Bellamy, only to fail. Upon her second attempt, she managed to get past him, her eyes quickly falling on the body whose face was covered by a jacket. She got on her knees and looked at her brother before looking back to the jacket, slowly lifting it.

Octavia let out a small gasp, tears swelling in her eyes. “Atom.”

Bellamy frowned, reaching over to touch her. “There was nothing I could do.”

“Don’t!” Octavia hissed, shoving his hand away before standing up.

“O, please let me explain-”

“I said don’t.”

With that, Octavia ran off towards the dropship.

Soon Murphy approached, earning a sigh from Bellamy. “Did you lose anyone here today?” He asked.

“No.”

“Jasper?” I asked.

Murphy glared at me. “Still breathing, barely.” He turned his attention back to Bellamy. “I tried to take him out but your psycho little sister-”

Bellamy quickly shoved Murphy before grabbing the collar of his shirt.

“Bellamy-”

“My what?” Bellamy asked before raising his voice even more. “My what?”

“Your little sister,” Murphy mumbled, shoving Bellamy off of him.

Bellamy nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. My little sister. Got anything else you want to say about her?”

Murphy stared at Bellamy for a moment before shaking his head. “Nothing, sorry.”

I watched as Bellamy looked Murphy up and down. Finally, he nodded his head towards Atom’s body. “Somebody get him out of here.”

With that, Bellamy stormed off towards his tent.

…

Later that evening I sat on the top level of the dropship where Jasper was resting. Finn took a swig of an old bottle of alcohol he had found before offering it to Monty. Monty refused, passing it to Octavia instead.

“Smooth.” He coughed.

Octavia took a sip, her face instantly crinkling. “Disgusting. I love it.”

She offered the bottle to me and I shook my head. “I’ve got guard duty later.”

“Can I, uh, get a hit of that?” A small voice spoke up.

We all looked over, Jasper’s head poking up slightly from the make-shift bed. He was smiling slightly, his eyes fixated on the bottle.

“Jasper!” Octavia cheered, rushing to his bedside.

Monty smiled, also rushing over. “Let’s start with the soft stuff.”

Finn and I joined the group. “Welcome back, buddy.”

“Was that a dream or did I get speared?”

“You’ll have a very impressive scar to prove it.” I turned my head, noticing Clarke had joined up. She was smiling, though I could tell she had been crying.

“My saviour.” Jasper smiled.

Clarke chuckled slightly. “Thank you for not dying. I don’t think I could’ve taken that today.”

“I’ll try not to die tomorrow too, if that’s cool.”

Clarke smiled, a newfound gleam in her eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

~

next chapter

[nearlymanaged]

5. Dreaming of Hogsmeade

During the couple of days leading up to Hogsmeade Saturday, James, Remus, and Peter had been talking about Sirius’ birthday whenever he wasn’t around to overhear them. They had decided to throw him a huge surprise party in the Gryffindor common room since he was turning seventeen and they knew that there was no better gift that they could give him than a whole bunch of people celebrating his existence. 

They had put up a charmed poster on the notice board, letting other Gryffindors know about it (if Sirius ever looked at it, it appeared to be a Wizard Card Collectors' Club poster; Remus had also added ‘anyone who tries to talk to Sirius about this SURPRISE party will instantly break out in most painful boils’, which was completely untrue, only because he couldn’t find a jinx like that).

The three boys had been planning on smuggling in some Fire Whiskey and butterbeer, which they were going to pick up in Hogsmeade. So far, it was looking like Peter would be in charge of that, since he was going to spend the day apart from the rest of them anyway, so James had given him his invisibility cloak to hide the contraband from Filch. 

James and Peter, who had just climbed in through the portrait hole after their last lesson that Friday, joined Remus and Sirius in front of the fire. “Nice weather, eh?” James nodded his head towards the tall, narrow windows being mercilessly lashed by the rainstorm. 

“Better put an Impervius charm on that impeccable mess of a hairdo tomorrow,” Remus quipped lazily. 

“So about that,” James started loudly and nonchalantly. “I can’t go, I have detention.”

“What? Since when?” Remus gaped at him while Sirius murmured ‘nice’ with an approving bob of his head. 

“Prongs here tried to jinx Snivellus in the middle of Potions today,” Peter answered and Sirius gave him another ‘niceee’.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not my fault Snape always has to poke his annoying nose into other people’s business!”

“What, did he overhear one of your ludicrous attempts at asking Lily out?” Remus drawled, straight-faced, and Sirius barked out a laugh before catching James’ eye and pretending to cough immediately. “Why did you even keep Potions this year? Not like you really need it?”

“But Evans, obviously,” Sirius explained cheerfully. “The rather more mind boggling question here is why Wormtail still has Potions?”

“Better than history of magic,” the boy shrugged. 

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Potions, you mind picking up some newt spleens for me? I used all of the ones I had to mess up Snape’s potion last week.”

“Sure. Well I guess it’s just the three of us then,” Sirius looked at Peter and Remus.

“No! I’m meeting Lydia Rooks at Three Broomsticks, remember?”

“Oh that’s right, how very sweet. We can go chaperone them, Remus.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Peter whined with a definite note of panic rising in his voice. “For once, just let me live.” 

“And go get a drink at Hog’s Head instead? Fat chance,” snarled Sirius. “I don’t much fancy running into half of my extended family.”

“How am I supposed to have more confidence with you two sniggering behind my back!?”

“We don’t snigger!” Sirius exclaimed, apparently shocked by this accusation.

“You can go to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop!”

“Madam Puddifoot's? That place is always packed to the brim with lovey dovey couples. Matter of fact, why aren’t you and Lydia going there?” Remus raised his eyebrows at his friend. 

“We’re not a lovey dovey couple...yet...”

“Nor Sirius and I,” Remus laughed out.

James could have sworn he heard Sirius mumble something that sounded a lot like ‘yet’, ever so quietly. 

“Please don’t ruin this for me,” Peter looked from one of the boys to the other. 

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “Maybe it will stop raining and we won’t have to be cooped up in there, listening to the smacking and slurping of people sucking each other’s faces.”

“You’re acting like it’s the end of the world,” Sirius momentarily scrunched his eyebrows with an ever present smile playing on his lips. “Cheer up, Moony! We’re going to have a splendid time!” He grabbed Remus’ hand with both of his and clumsily interlaced their fingers, now grinning at him. 

Neither him, nor Remus noticed their two friends exchange looks. 

* * *

“Look, that’s new!” Sirius pointed at the front of a pub a little ways down the road; he knew every square inch of Hogsmeade like the back of his hand, but he’d never seen this place. “Let’s check it out, shall we?”

“I’ve heard about this place. That’s where all the couples go,” Moony said vaguely and led the way.

It was indeed a pub but the inside of it looked eerily a lot like Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. They found themselves a booth with a little table by the window, where they had a surprisingly good view of the main street of the village bathed in sunlight.

Sirius didn’t even notice a waiter approach them but within moments, there were two bottles of butterbeer on their table. “Sirius…” Moony’s breath caught.

“Yes?”

“I…” Remus paused again and rested both of his forearms on the table, almost as if reaching for him. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“Do I have food in my teeth?”

“What? No… I’m glad that James and Peter couldn’t come with us.”

“Oh?” Sirius felt his heart speed up. “How come?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Moony smiled at him, jumping up, and switched seats so that now, instead of sitting across the table from Sirius, they were side by side.

“I’m afraid I’ll need you to elaborate a bit more on this,” Sirius smirked.

“I like you, Sirius. Do I really have to spell it out?” Moony rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, all while inching closer and closer.

“Fuck, Moony, I thought you’d never say it…” Sirius’ hand found Remus’ waist and pulled him even closer. He could smell him, sweet like chocolate; feel his breath on his own lips. There was just another inch left between them and Sirius pulled Moony into a kiss, unable to resist anymore. Just then, some loud, nondescript noise made him pull away and blink...into his pillow?

Sirius was in his four-poster bed, hugging his pillow. Someone had drawn his curtains open, which was probably the source of that loud noise. He blinked a few times until the two shapes moving in front of him came into focus - it was James and Peter.

“Why’d’you have to wake me?” Sirius grumbled groggily. “It was almost the best part of the dream…”

“What did you dream about?” Asked the subject of the dream himself, walking out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth.

For the briefest of moments, sleep still clinging to Sirius’ brain, he wanted to just come out and say it. “I was at a Queen concert…” He said instead, gazing at Remus with a giddy smile.

“Ugh, why did you wake him, Prongs?” Moony glared at James.

“Because I can’t find any fake blood capsules and I have detention in ten minutes!”

“I like your jumper,” Sirius tugged on Remus’ green sleeve on his way to the bathroom. “Is it new?”

“Is anything I own, really?” Moony asked with a resigned smirk. “I bought it at a charity shop this summer.”

“Well, regardless, I like it.”

“I’ll know where it went when it goes missing from my trunk,” Remus said, referring to Sirius’ tendency to borrow his friends’ clothes without asking.

“Nah, I like it on you,” Black cast a hungry look at Remus through the open door.

Still relishing the memory of his dream, Sirius was in no need for improving his mood. But he grinned to himself even wider, remembering that it was going to be just him and Moony going to Hogsmeade together in a little bit. Not that he expected the dream to come true, but...what better way to spend a whole day? In fact, he had to admit, he was enjoying all this pining in a weird way. He didn’t even care that the weather was absolutely dreadful.

* * *

It was raining cats and dogs the whole way to the village, and by the time Remus and Sirius reached Honeydukes, they were completely drenched. Somehow, the charm they’d put on themselves, that was supposed to protect them against the pelt of icy drops, wore off halfway there. Remus took his time examining all the different flavoured and shaped chocolates, carefully weighing his options between tried and tested, and brand new ones. As usual, the shop was filled with Hogwarts students, some of whom were girls that, despite all the magical sweets surrounding them, only had eyes for Sirius (and now a couple of boys too, since the news of Sirius sexuality had spread throughout the school within hours).

Remus was trying to not pay too much attention to it; he had been doing that for over a year and there was no reason to change his tactics now. But, he noticed pretty soon, Sirius kept telling his flirty admirers that he needed to go help his friend, only to silently follow Lupin around as he worked his way through shelves and stacks of chocolate. Very dog-like, Remus thought to himself with a small smile. But then he wondered if Sirius’ behaviour was linked to him running away from home. It seemed like that made sense - he had a lot going on in his life, maybe that’s why he’d slowed down with the flirting and the snogging since they’ve been back at Hogwarts. Sirius didn’t talk much about it at all, acting as though everything was fine, but Remus wondered if his friend was okay every now and then. 

After Honeydukes, they went to Zonko’s, where they spent another half hour, again surrounded by Hogwarts students. The last stop before they could hide out of the damp cold somewhere and hopefully wait for the rain to stop was J. Pippin’s Potions.

A little bell rang above the door as they walked in, causing the only customer in the shop to turn around.

“Snivellus,” Sirius nodded his head and Snape mumbled something in return that most definitely wasn’t a compliment. “What was that?” Sirius’ body leaned forward, either about to walk over to Snape or hex him, but Remus grabbed his forearm warningly. He was the first one to admit that he did a terrible job at stepping in and putting a stop to things like that, like any other prefects would have done. But it wasn’t for lack of understanding that he should have. And it was certainly easier to practice when it was just one of his troublemaker friends.

“Come on, we’re not on school grounds,” Sirius whined like a child asking for another scoop of ice cream.

“All the same, this git is not worth our time or energy.”

“Better listen to your boyfriend, Black.” Snape sneered, noticing Remus’ movement. “Nasty-tempered monsters, these werewolves.”

This time, Remus distinctly felt Sirius plunge his hand into his wand pocket and squeezed his arm again, a little rougher this time. “Bog off, Snape,” Lupin scoffed at him, but all he could think about is that he had just referred to him as Sirius’ boyfriend. He felt embarrassed for thinking about it, what with the given context, and yet, he couldn’t help it.

“Is that what your parents said to you?” Snape was looking at Sirius again, evidently overcome by some sort of feelings of unfounded courage.

“Didn’t you hear what my werewolf boyfriend said? Bog off, Snivellus.”

“I’m just curious. I mean, that has to sting. When your own family can’t stand your ugly face so much, they kick you out before you’re even of age.”

“Shut the fuck up, Snivellus.” Remus enunciated calmly; before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Snape, the tip of his wand no more than an inch away from his greasy nose. And yet, his mind was dragging behind, stuck in the moment when Sirius referred to him as his boyfriend. Of course, contextually, it did not mean anything, but just hearing him say it made Moony giddy.

Before Snape could make up his mind about whether he really was willing to test his luck, the shopkeeper reappeared from the back room. “Oi! What in the name of Merlin is going on here?!”

“Just friendly banter,” Remus gave him a polite smile, putting his wand away. 

Snape paid for his stuff and scrambled out of the shop faster than you could say Quidditch. Sirius and Remus got James’ supplies and, as soon as they stepped out into the pouring rain, decided it was time for Madam Puddifoot’s. All the while, once the ‘boyfriend’ induced daze wore off, Remus was thinking about Sirius’ predicament with his family. He knew that Sirius’ parents were rotten people, and Sirius had openly rejoiced about never having to go back to their home ever again at least ten times in the few letters they had exchanged over the summer. But Remus knew better than to assume that it was as simple as that.

Once they were out of the rain, sitting at a table, hot drinks in hand (black coffee in Sirius’ and green tea in Remus’), Moony decided that this was as good a time as any to check in on his friend. “Padfoot, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

At these words, Sirius perked up with an alarmed look rearranging his face. “You have? About what?”

“Well, I know that you say you’re fine - and I am happy for you, I am - but I also know that given the choice, you’d rather be on speaking terms with your brother…” Remus trailed off, allowing Sirius to pick up where he left off.

“Oh. That. Yeah…”

“We haven’t really talked about it, and I guess I just want to make sure that you know that I’m here for you.”

“I know, Moony. You’re not wrong, I would choose to not have Regulus change direction whenever he sees me in the hallways. But it’s always been an uphill battle. He takes pride in being his parents' son and getting tangled in all that Dark shit,” Sirius scrunched his nose, as if smelling something foul right under it. “They’re all like bowtruckles on doxy eggs, they’re a family. And, to be honest, Mr. and Mrs. Potters’ house feels a hundred times more like a home to me than that dreadful place ever did. I’m not just saying it, I am happy...er. Happier.” Sirius flashed him an eerily dog-like grin and Remus nodded.

“Good.”

“Have you got any other inquiries or is this the end of the interview?”

“Just one: why are you such an obnoxious prick?” Remus rolled his eyes with an involuntary smile.

“Don’t act like you don’t love my obnoxious prickness.”

“That wasn’t the question. Regardless, whenever you’re feeling less happy...er, you don’t have to sulk by yourself. It’s very unbecoming.”

“Thanks, Moony.” Sirius grinned, an unbridled smile on his face. “So do they have any food here? I could eat a hippogriff!”

It never did stop raining and eventually, the two Marauders decided to head back to the castle. Given the weather, it was no surprise that more and more people were filing into the shop, so before Remus could lead the way out, he stopped by the door to let a little old lady walk inside first. A dirty white poodle, just as old as its owner, by the looks of it, was trailing behind her very slowly, swaying slightly. Unable to resist a mixture between pity and kinship, Remus bent down to give the dog a scratch behind its ear, and then finally dove out into the rain.

“You never pet me when I’m a dog.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ odd statement. “You never pet me when I’m a werewolf.”

“Kinky.”

[hopesbarnes]

Falling for a God

Summary: Everyone still thinks of Loki as the alien who ruined New York. But after getting to know him you realize he's far from that. But is this just harmless flirting or more than that?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Curse words, fluff, Loki is really cute in this

A/N: This is a repost of a one-shot originally posted to my AO3 page

The flirting has been going on for weeks now. You’re unsure if this is just a game or if the god wants you as much as you want him. It started when you were training one day. 

You were sparring with Sam to work on your skills in the off chance your powers were impaired. For some reason, it was unusually hot in the training room. So naturally, you took off your top, thankful you put on one of your nicer sports bras this morning. It was one of those zipper front sports bras and it was slightly unzipped. However, it had been a push up one and maybe not the most appropriate one to wear in front of your teammates. But it was what was clean, and you felt confident in it. 

Sam was looking at you, distracted by you taking your shirt off. You took this chance to knock him off balance and straddle him so that he was pinned. “Uh, I think that is enough for today Y/N, we’ll continue tomorrow” Sam managed to spit out as he scrambled to head towards his room.

You decided to go over to the treadmill that happened to be next to Loki rather than ending your session early. 

“You nearly had that poor man panting, Y/N.” Loki snickered at you. 

You looked at him confused and asked Loki what he meant. 

“Are you that naive? How did you miss that he was clearly aroused?” 

There was no way Sam was turned on by you, was there? 

“Oh dear, you are that naive. What did you expect when you took your top off to show that off brassiere that quite wonderfully shows off your breasts. Then you straddled the man and had him beneath your thighs in a way we all dream of having you.” he says nonchalantly. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, I- oh no” you mumble. What if he thought you liked him? “Uh Loki I should go shower, I’ll see you later,” you say as you head towards the showers to clear your head. It wasn’t until later you thought back to Loki’s words and how he admitted to wanting you on top of him.

A couple of days later you find yourself up late unable to sleep so you go out to the kitchen expecting it to be empty. But sitting at the counter is a shirtless Loki with a cup of tea and a Harry Potter book. You can’t help but giggle at this. When he sees you he magically changes the book to one of Asgard’s history but it is too late, you saw the book already. 

“I- uh was just reading this book about history, I couldn’t sleep and this usually bores me enough that I can drift off.”

 "Sure, whatever you say there, Wizard’” you laugh at his discomfort 

“Okay, fine. I may have started this series and can’t go to sleep until I finish this book. I need to know who wins the tournament.” He mutters and drops the spell that turned the book into an Asgardian one.

So he was at book four then. “I’ve read them a few times and seen the movies more than that. It’s okay to fangirl a little Loki.” you smile. 

“There are movies!?” he says way too excited and it causes your smile to get bigger. “Also who is ‘fangirl’?” It takes a few minutes to explain the concept of fandoms to Loki, and then to show him what fanfiction is. The rest of the night is spent with him telling you all of his theories and favorite parts of the books.

The next three nights you talk about Harry Potter and he tells you where he is in the series. The fourth night he finishes the series (you’ve learned that Loki reads really fast) and you guys discuss the ending. You make plans to start a movie marathon tomorrow after you promise to do it in his room where nobody else will find out his love of a mortal book series. 

His room looks as you imagined, clean and very minimalistic. It’s decorated in dark black and green with one wall being taken up by bookcases. He has mostly books from other realms but you notice the last shelf is full of Earth books, mostly fictional novels. You spot the Twilight series and upon learning that he read the first one (he begrudgingly admits to liking it) you decide to watch those movies next. 

Both of you settle into his bed and begin your marathon. You fall asleep during Prisoner of Azkaban and he pauses the movie and naps with you. It takes a couple of days to watch all of the movies as both of you fall asleep a few times. But you learn a lot about Loki and grow closer to him during this time.

A week later a couple of the Avengers decide to go out for the night, mostly looking for a reason to dress up and act like they aren’t protecting all of humanity. All the girls get ready in your room together. 

“Nat can you do my makeup, I want to look hot,” you beg. 

“Looking to impress someone?” Wanda teases and you stay uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Oh my god, you are!” Natasha says shocked. 

“Maybe, I don’t know!” You huff, “I’m not even sure how I feel yet. But he said something a few weeks ago and now I can not get the idea of mounting him like a horse out of my head.” you confess to your best friends. 

They both stare at you, then start asking a million questions, who it was, what they said, and many more. Then they start to guess. 

“Well, it can’t be Vision or Bruce unless there’s something we don’t know” Wanda points out. 

You promise that it isn’t their boyfriends, that is definitely something you would not do. 

“Not Bucky or Steve, those two barely take a moment to look at anything but each other. It’s not Tony is it?” Natasha asks as the two girls running through various team members to figure out your secret crush.

 You laugh, “No definitely not Tony. Guys, I promise if it becomes something I will let you know, but for now, I just want to look good to see if they even were serious.” 

You walk out of the room in a skin-tight black dress, black heels, and dark red lipstick to go with it. Noticing Loki isn’t dressed you go over to him, 

“Not coming out Loki?” you ask. 

“Midgard clubs aren’t really my scene darling,” he says still looking down at his book. He finally looks up at you and his eyes go wide. 

“At second thought maybe I should see what this place is like,” he says while magically changing into black pants and a black button-down. You smile and go to leave. 

“Hey Y/N, save me a dance would you?” he asks and you nod in response.

At the club, everyone is trying to get a picture or dance with the Avengers. Being a lesser-known member you are able to avoid this thankfully. An hour or two go by before you make your way from the dance floor to the bar. There you see Loki with a drink in his hand looking bored. 

“No screaming fans wanting a picture with the almighty God of Mischief? you ask. 

"It seems that once you kill people and try to take over their planet, they do not respond too kindly to you. No Midgard trusts me enough to come near me,” he says and you detect a bit of sorrow. 

“Well I am from here and I trust you completely Loki. What happened before is in the past.” You assure him. “Well then I want a picture with you, it’s not every day you are around royalty, is it?” you tease and move to sit on his lap. 

"Considering we live in the same tower I would say it is but if it pleases you then sure.” You take out your phone and take a few selfies with him and your heart flutters when he grabs your hips. 

“I do believe I was promised a dance.” 

“You were,” you say while standing and he grabs your hand and brings you to the dance floor.

The dancing started as innocently as it could in a crowded club, then he whispered in your ear.

 “I never did compliment this dress, it truly is exquisite.” 

You moved closer to him and continued to sway your hips along with the music. He grabbed your hips and guided them. Loki then begins to place small kisses along your neck making you moan and grow increasingly wetter.

 “Baby, as much as I am enjoying this, we should leave now before I take you here in front of all these people,” he said into your ear. 

In a haze, he took your hand and led you to where one of the Stark cars were. You quickly texted the girls letting them know you left and were okay. Loki couldn’t keep his hands off of you the entire ride back. He started by just rubbing your thigh but his hand kept moving higher up until it reached your underwear. You had to hold your tongue to keep yourself from moaning in front of the driver. He started to rub over your panties and you swear the look on his face was enough to make you cum. Unfortunately, you were already back at the tower and running towards his room like two horny teenagers.

As you entered his room he shut the door and pushed you against it. He pulled your dress up and knelt down between your legs.

 “I apologize for leaving you hanging there Y/N,” he said before pulling your panties down and tossing them across the room. He licked a hot stripe up before flicking his tongue against your clit. You let out a moan that was far more high pitched than you wanted to. He continued to trace patterns with his tongue before pushing a finger into your hot core. It felt like heaven.

 He pumped his finger a few times before adding another finger, then added a third and you felt the start of your high. When he sucked on your clit you felt your orgasm take over and you screamed his name. He continued to lick and lap up all of your juices before picking you up and walking you towards the bed. 

“Wait, Loki.” you stopped him. “I don’t just want to fuck and be done, I want you.”

 He looked startled, “Y/N I want that too, but are you sure. The parts of me you’re asking for are fucked up darling. I’ve hurt people before.” he said.

 “Loki, I told you earlier, I trust you. You’re more than a villain. You get excited by books and cuddle when you sleep. You make me feel whole.” You confess. “But please, right now I need you to take me and show me a little bit of that dark side.”

He lunges towards you and kisses you fiercely. Why have you not done this before? He slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan into the kiss. When you finally need air and pull apart you feel dizzy.

 He starts to kiss you again and you pull at his shirt not having enough concentration to tackle the buttons. Eventually, you tug hard enough to rip it off and hear the faint sound of buttons hitting the floor around you. Within seconds both of you are completely undressed and on the bed. His hands are all over you, from squeezing your thighs, to lightly touching your nipples he explores every inch of your body. You are doing the same thing, scratching his back, feeling his muscles that nobody else would know he has, and softly grinding against his cock while moaning loudly. His hands hold your hips hard enough that you know tomorrow you will have bruises. He flips you over so that you now are beneath him and starts teasing your entrance with his cock. 

“Loki, please. I need you inside of me now. L-L-” you say but are cut off by him slowly entering you. He is by far the biggest you have ever had and the stretch feels amazing. 

“By gods you are tight.” he moans. As soon as you get used to his size he starts to thrust out and back in leaving you speechless. Your eyes flutter closed but open when tweaks your nipples. “Be a good girl and leave your eyes open.” he pleads and you obey. 

After a couple more thrusts he pulls out leaving you whimpering. 

“Baby, I want you to ride me. I want you to use me for your own pleasure and cum on my cock. Think you can do that?” He says breathlessly. 

You nod and climb on top of him before taking him all in one movement. You start to move up and down bouncing on his long thick cock. Loki makes these delicious groans the entire time, and you know he’s close when he starts bucking his hips up to meet your movements. He starts to play with your clit and you can feel your orgasm just out of reach. 

“Come on baby, cum for me.” his words are enough for you to see stars and he shoots his load into you at the same time while yelling out your name. Once you’ve ridden out your high you collapse on his chest and he rubs circles on your back while kissing your forehead.

“That was by far the best sex of my life.” you manage to mumble sleepily. He chuckles and pulls out from you and moves so that you are next to him. He manages to tuck you both in with the comforter and you hear him tell FRIDAY to turn off the lights. 

“Y/N, I think I love you,” he confesses and you smile. 

“I think I may love you too Loki,” you reply before falling asleep in his arms.

In the morning you put on a robe and go to grab coffee for both you and the sleeping god in your bed. A few of the other Avengers are awake talking about last night. Before you can escape back to your room you see Loki enter the kitchen, dressed but missing his shirt. 

Tony yells “Put a fucking shirt on man!” 

Loki replies slyly, “I would have if Y/N didn’t rip it apart last night.” 

The various Avengers all look at you with wide eyes.

 “Wanda!” Nat yells, “You owe me, it was Loki, not Sam!” 

You gasp at the fact that your best friends were betting on who you were trying to impress last night.

 “You bet on me?!” you yell at them. They laugh but you ignore them and take the coffee cups and turn to leave with Loki hot on your tail, ready for another round.

[burnedbyshoto]

Congrats on 200+ followers!!! You deserve it!!!!!!!! Can you please do a bakugo or todoroki angst and smut where it’s a villain au and the reader finds out??? Idk I had a dream about it and I immediately thought of you because I know that you’re the perfect person!!! Sorry if it’s not detailed enough Also ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

villain!todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: angst, smut, cursing, villain shouto

word count: 4,437

a/n: oh man, this was supposed to come out with a bakugou part as well because i have no self control and wrote them both. i haven’t quite finished bakugou because i am still adjusting to this new life schedule I have (and my roommate has me sleeping before my crackhead hours so i’ve been writing a lot less, but it will come out i promise!!!) anyways this is kinky public sex. like 100% straight up. i’m a bit nervous if you guys don’t like the smut but it’s the best i can do LMAO enjoy!!! also i dont really know if there was an actual villain au so i made it my own...with inspiration from horikoshi

Life was hard as a normal civilian.

To be quite honest you were mad that you weren’t blessed with some amazing quirk so you could be a hero. Instead, you had to be successful elsewhere. So you were a second-year university student with a quirk that allowed you to see probability in everything. Which, don’t get it wrong, helped you with multiple-choice tests, but besides the occasional better route to places, it wasn’t that extraordinary. 

Your boyfriend, however, was a hero, and a massively successful hero at that too! With only his hero debut two years ago he was currently the number three hero on the Hero Billboard Charts, it was insane. To be quite honest, you had met him during his debut when you had nearly died because of a villain. It had traumatized you.

You had already despised villains with all your being before that incident.

You had been in an eerily similar situation when you were younger when a villain swept you off the street and held you hostage on the tallest building of Japan. Since that moment, you were sincerely against every and all villains, none of them could be excused in your eyes. Nothing they did in the act of violence was justifiable.

But again, you guessed that the entire morality of people truly changed when people could suddenly do things that normally should not be possible. For instance, one of your classmates could physically remove his eyeballs from his eyesockets as part of his quirk and it made zero sense to you. It was a great party trick, but a terrible quirk.

You felt your hands shake slightly, a wave of dizziness hitting you as you finished walking up the hill. A few years ago, you had started suffering from anemia, your red blood count had taken a deficit hit and no one could explain why. Doctors had seen you countless amounts of times, but no one could explain to you why your blood had suddenly taken a hit. They had run tests, even going as far as culturing your cells in a lab in an attempt to find a solution, but everything was normal. So it left both the scientists and you stumped. Reaching into your backpack, you removed your daily pills to alleviate most of your symptoms and swallowed them before continuing on your way.

You walked up the stairs to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, a simple three-bedroom, with a two-bath apartment that he paid for with his earnings. “I’m home.” You call out, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you dropped your books onto the ground, trading your shoes for some slippers before walking into the common space where Shouto sat in his casual clothes.

“Hi, there,” Shouto greeted you as you groaned softly, trudging over to where he lay, and collapsed onto his lap, “Long day?” He asked, his fingers massaging your scalp softly.

“I had to sit throughout the worst lecture of all lectures because in my philosophy class we were discussing if ‘villains deserved to have second chances after inflicting damage on civilians.’“ You mutter into your boyfriend’s neck as he holds you gently in his arms.

“And your position?” Shouto asked, although already knowing your answer.

“They don’t, if heroes can’t get away with hurting other people without licenses, why in the world would I expect any less for criminals.” You say in a defeated voice as you remember most people in your class hadn’t agreed with your viewpoint. 

“What about if they’re inflicting damage because they got caught and didn’t see any other way out?” Shouto asked, picking away at your thought and you groaned again.

“Instead of being my incredible stupid smart boyfriend, can you just agree with me? Everyone already said everything you could think of and I’m sad.” You pout trying your best to disappear within your boyfriend’s arms. A small chuckle vibrates through your boyfriend’s chest and you can’t help the smile on your face as he places a kiss on your head. He was the best.

You found yourself later that night collapsed onto your shared bed, your face buried in the pillow as you longed for the next day to come. You had no classes the following day, and with Shouto having–at least so far–an open day, the two of you planned on making it a 24 hour date day. You trailed your tired gaze over to Shouto who was standing by the doorframe, his eyes concentrated on his phone, a very stiff and angry look on his face.

“Everything okay?” You ask, your voice muffled with the pillows as you watched Shouto typing away, his attention not on you in the slightest.

“Yeah…” Shouto trailed off, his face set in a small scowl as he turned off his phone screen and walked over to the bed, “The office called in, they made a stupid mistake that I need to… fix.”

You sighed softly, his office was always messing things up and you thought it was very unprofessional of them.

“Hopefully they’ll be able to work it out tonight without you, come on and sleep Shoucchan,” You yawn as your boyfriend comes to lay in your arms. “Just sleep.” You encourage.

“Okay…” Shouto nods his head as he wraps his arms around you as well, and you feel warm as sleep takes over you in the best of ways.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You woke up to an empty bed, your eyes looking over at the clock on Shouto’s bed-side that read four in the morning, and you were confused. Where was he?

You sat up and quietly walked to the bathroom, but found it empty and it made you even more disoriented, where was he?

There was a low growl, almost a snarl like snap coming from the living room, and you walked over quietly to see Shouto sitting down on your couch, surrounded by villains. Villains you recognized as the ones on Shouto’s debut.

His back was to you, the villains not even the slightest bit aware of your presence as Shouto spoke.

“How the hell, could you mess this up? Again?!” His voice is low, angry, a whole new tone to it, and it was something you had never imagined you could ever hear from your boyfriend. “I supply you with so much blood, and you can’t even produce what I need you to achieve?”

Your breathing slightly quickened as you stilled in the hallway, disappearing back into the shadows.

“I have been taking y/n’s blood for years, and you’re still unable to come up with a resolution. It’s making it seem unusual to me, you aren’t deluding me, are you?” Shouto’s voice echoes through your mind as a choking breath escapes your lips, and you panic as the pleading voices of your boyfriend’s company subsides.

You turn on your heel, running back into the room, slamming the door. 

Your breathing was staggered, your fingers trembling as you heard footsteps in the hallway. “I’ll deal with you later,” Shouto’s voice speaks, “Get out before you can’t.”

You didn’t know who he was talking to at this point, and despite being in only your sleepwear, you ran to the fire-escape of your room and left the house. The sound of the doorknob opening almost screaming through your ears.

You climbed down the ladder as fast as you could, uncaring of the shooting pain going through your feet. Your heart clenching at the revelation of what was being kept from you.

You ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Eventually, you found yourself collapsing in the middle of the street as tears fell down your cheeks, what the hell was happening?

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Your head rose up from your childhood bed weeks later, it had been three weeks since you had last seen Shouto. Three weeks later and your anemic symptoms had all disappeared. Three weeks later and Pro-Hero: Shouto was still a name people loved. Three weeks later and not a single word or encounter with villains or your boyfriend and you weren’t really sure what you were expecting.

Everything just felt entirely wrong.

You still had feelings for Shouto.

Your feelings towards villains hadn’t changed though.

You now hated Shouto.

But you still loved him.

You missed him.

You resented him.

He had violated your body, for your blood, something you couldn’t comprehend as to why. Was everything between the two of you fake? Something created to obtain your blood?

Was everything a deception?

You walked aimlessly to university, your usual friendly personality had been scuffed to death at the moment, and you ignored the hello’s that still came your way. You sat down in your philosophy class later that day staring out the window, uncaring of the lecture that was taking place on the ethical and moral dilemmas that had resurfaced with the introduction of quirks and how even today it was in place. 

Your eyebrows scrunched as you saw a figure in the alley behind the building move into the sunlight, and your face muscles tightened as you saw Shouto standing there. Wearing casual clothing, staring right back at you as if he knew it was you looking at him.

You watched in slight horror as he picked up his phone as if he was signaling something to you, and a small buzz alarmed you of a text notification.

shouto: come here

You felt your blood chill slightly at those words. Why was he finally reaching out towards you? You knew that he knew that you remembered his dark secret. Despite having this information you weren’t going to be telling anyone, especially not anytime soon.

Your hands shook as if you were suddenly anemic again as you quickly grabbed your backpack and left the classroom, ignoring the curious gazes on your figure as the door closed behind you.

What the hell were you thinking? Why were you listening to him? He didn’t deserve to speak to you, and what if it was going to be a threat? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if it was a threat. You would cry for sure, but god, you craved seeing him.

Without even fully realizing it, you found yourself stepping into the alleyway where Shouto was hidden in the shadows by himself. Your fingers tingled with uneasiness as you subconsciously moved your arms to shield yourself from him.

Shouto watched you from his position against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulder leaning against the bricks.

God why did you meet him in this alleyway, it was a secluded area on campus already, and if he decided to kill you no one would find your body for weeks.

You begin to mentally panic as you tried to figure out a way to get out of the trap you just walked into. 

“What do you want?” You whisper softly, refusing to look at him directly and you watched as Shouto’s feet shifted as he readjusted his stance.

“I think that’s what I am supposed to be asking,” Shouto’s voice speaks to you, but it seems sharper, so foreign to you, not the man you love.

You moved your gaze to look directly at Shouto who was staring at you, almost curiously, as if you were a subject he was analyzing.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You defiantly assert your facial features set in stone as you refused to let him read any emotion that was racing through your mind.

“Hm, well,” Shouto smirks softly as he takes a step closer to you, and you automatically take a step backward. “You wanna know why I lied about my profession.” His tone suggests that he’s guessing, but you knew he could read you like a book.

A noise struggles in your throat as you refuse to acknowledge his questions.

“Simple. Being a hero is bullshit, what’s the point in being a savior to undeserving people who merited the actions of the everyday villains. It seems wrong, you would never understand, y/n, but that’s okay. Besides, there’s something so liberating doing things that aren’t… expected of you.” Shouto’s voice almost taunts you as your eyes narrow slightly as he takes another step towards you, and instinctually, you step back.

“What else would the opinionated y/n have?” Shouto says as he brushes his shaggy hair out of his eyes, their piercing colors drilling holes into your soul. “Your blood, huh? Now that is something you’ll just love. You see, your probability quirk is amazingly powerful, did you know that? The number of scenarios you can use it is unlimited with the ability to be correct ninety-nine out of a hundred times. Your quirk is good luck, and you were an idiot for never noticing it.”

Now that hit a nerve, and your lip trembled the ever so slightest as an aloof chuckle leaves Shouto’s mouth, another step forward for him, and another step backward for you.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” Shouto smirks again then a sigh leaves his lips, “You had amazing potential, my love, but your anxiety just kept you from achieving everything. So yes, I did seek you out intentionally for your quirk, but you had this fear that I could never get you over, so I had to get your blood in an… artistic way, you can say.” 

You felt like you were suffocating when your back hits the wall, but you don’t react to the feeling of the harsh brick against your back as you concentrate on the man you don’t recognize in front of you. “But of course, why did I need it?” Shouto clicks his tongue as a hand comes to press against the wall next to you, trapping you. “It will act as the ultimate judgment for every person in the world, and we needed a lot, but it turns out I had a vermin in my midst, that’s why it took so long.”

He traces a finger against your face and everything he says slams into you. Maybe you didn’t know Shouto as well as you thought you did, you were in love with a villain after all, but there was something so artificial in his words that after months of feeling numb anger flared within you. You can feel nothing but anger and hatred seeping through you towards this man before you.

“You can’t possibly think you’re superior enough to enact judgment on everyone, because of what? You save a few bad civilians?!” You spat at him finally feeling emotions and energy run through your body as your hands come up to shove Shouto’s shoulders with unknown strength and he staggers back. “Are you fucking kidding me, Shouto?!”

Your face scrunches as he takes a step backward, and now you’re on the attack. “Are you some fucking idiot? You think you can act like my boyfriend for two years and expect me not to pick up personality traits of your own? I can practically smell the anxiety from your body, you dick!” You storm as you shove Shouto again. “Your words are too pretty, too fucking rehearsed, dumbass, you’re a leader by action, you idiot, not by words! God, is someone fucking feeding you that little speech?! You’re a fucking villain, not some martyr, so you can shut the fuck up, and go feed your feeble-minded words to assholes who believe that they are the ones to shape the world! Go tell this sob story to the world, how about to your mom, let’s see how many people fucking agree with you then, Todoroki.”

You feel as if your blood is on fire as you have Shouto up onto the wall, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly opened in shock. Your breathing is harsh, fast, panting, as your eyes glare into Shouto’s eyes that are quickly turning from shock to anger to lust. You don’t even know what’s happening to you until you feel your hands grab the collar of his shirt and slam your lips against his own.

Your lips connect with his lips at every touch in a hard fashion. Your fingers fisted into his shirt as you slam your taller boyfriend–was he even your boyfriend–into the wall. You’re intensely aware of his fingers gripping your hips as your bodies came to be mangled onto each other, leaving no room between your two bodies as you continued this angry kiss.

You felt as Shouto let out a low growl, his weight shifting and he shoved you against the wall. His hands moving from your hips to cup the bottom of you ass, roughly grinding his crotch against yours, and fury went through your body. 

Why did he have to fuck this all up for the two of you?

The kiss was getting sloppy, your teeth clashing too often, breathless heaves panted into each other’s mouths as your tongue slipped into Shouto’s mouth. You defiantly press your tongue against him, not allowing him the victory of entering your mouth as your hands leave your grip from his shirt to grasp onto his hair, tugging on it sharply that makes Shouto let out a tantalizing moan. This wasn’t fair to Shouto, you knew that’s how he saw it, and just as you guessed, he moves his hands to better grasp your ass as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist immediately. His hands removing yours from his hair to slam them up against the wall.

A pained but lustful moan escapes your lips from this action, and you rock your hips painfully slow against Shouto’s crotch and sigh in victory as Shouto removes his lips from yours, “F-Fuck,” Shouto curses, his grip on your hands lessening slightly, and your eyes crack open to see Shouto’s head thrown back, and a mewl leaves your lips at the sight of your man stuttering because of you.

It doesn’t last long as suddenly, Shouto’s lips are back on you, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses trailing down your neck, his teeth biting down almost animalistically with every other kiss, but fuck does it make your toes curl. “Yes,” you praise the man between your legs as you roll your hips against Shouto’s in a way of retribution, and the lust and fury of Shouto’s eyes are connected with yours.

You gasp breathlessly as Shouto’s hot tongue licks slowly between the cleavage of your breasts, combined with the harsh tug of your hair sends your head snapping back, “Fuck you,” You spat, angry with yourself that he knew exactly how to please you in the best way.

“I plan on making you do that for me,” Shouto growls lowly, as you slam your lips back onto his own. 

A muffled cry leaves your lips as you feel his hands go under your shirt and massages your breast harshly through your bra, “Don’t you dare fucking think that this is going to make things okay.” You snap as you grab Shouto’s hands increasing the strength on his already harsh grip on your breasts.

“I didn’t.” Shouto laughs as his head goes under your shirt, and you can only wait helplessly as you feel your bra unclasp and a harsh roll of your nipples between his fingers sends you through another moan. You feel anger resurge through your body as you can feel the victorious smirk on his lips as he bites the sensitive underside of your breast.

With your hips still rolling away on his own crotch, you don’t hesitate as you blindly unbuckle the belt on Shouto’s pants and slip your hand through the waistline, your hand seizing the base of his cock. You hear a hiss from Shouto, and you almost laugh in manically glee of making the man you shouldn’t want tremble. 

“You’re a bitch.” Shouto gasps as he removes himself from your breasts, and goes to press wild, uncontrolled kisses onto your lips. And the coil in your stomach is tightening as he jerks against your pumping hand and rolling hips.

“And you’re a coward.” You hiss as Shouto drops you to the ground, your legs wobbly from the uncontrollable emotions you had long submitted to, the pool of heat in your underwear only seeming to intensify as Shouto slams your stomach into the wall.

“Now, are you going to behave correctly to the big bad villain who has you trapped?” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth biting softly onto your earlobe, shoots of tingles resonating through your body as you feel his hand move from your waist to your inner thighs, too close for comfort, not close enough for the relief you desperately sought. 

“You’d be a bigger idiot if you thought I would simply submit.” You breathlessly reply as his fingers trailed up higher, and your hips rolled slightly as his fingers touched between your legs deliciously soft, and you fought another mewl leaving your mouth.

“Ah, don’t stop yourself from making sound,” Shouto grinned against your neck, “Tell the world how much you hate me.”

You could only pant as Shouto’s hand unbuttoned your shorts and let them drop to the ground as his fingers went inside your panties, and brushed against the hood of your clit, “Fuck off,” You repeat as soundless moans leave your lips, your head thrown back again as his fingers slip into your opening, slowly moving as his other hand goes to tease your clit in a way that causes you to bite onto your tongue to contain the pleasure-filled scream ready to leave your mouth.

“Do you want me?” Shouto breathes harshly against your neck as he ground his hard pelvis into your ass, and you could only nod your head as his fingers pumped into you. The heat in your stomach only grow as the coil in you felt tighter as both the pumping and teasing intensified, “Fuck, love, aren’t you just fucking wet as always.”

You let out an exasperated cry as his fingers leave your dripping sex, and you can only watch with hooded eyes as Shouto brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking your juices off his fingers. “Fuck me with the same passion you have in hating me,” Shouto whispers as he twists your neck to kiss you in this twisted position, and you moan as you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and before you can even savor the feeling of his tongue on yours, his jeans are bunched by his knees, and you’re completely bent over, your underwear joining your shorts on the floor.

“You want this, you want me?” Shout asks again his voice almost a growl, his facial features intense as he drops his own underwear and is stroking his already pre-cum leaking cock. 

“I swear to god, Todoroki,” You hiss staring at the man who had your heart seem almost unsure of what was the right thing to do, “If you don’t finish what I started, I will never forgive you.”

That’s all it takes, and the uncertainty in Shouto’s mind is made up and all you could do is let out strings of curses as he slams into you from behind in one quick movement. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” Shouto groans as you pant, your hands shake against the wall, god did his dick in you send you to another planet.

“Fucking move already, pussy.” You snarl and smirk as Shouto takes it as a challenge as starts thrusting his hips, ready to kill any doubt you had in your mind.

And then you could do nothing but scream out encouragement as Shouto’s hips slam into yours, harshly, at speeds you never envisioned the two of you reaching before.

Every thrust sent you grasping for support on the brick wall as he continued thrusting into you, his fingers gripping you waist as curses leave his lips.

Your jaw drops and a shrill gasp leaves your mouth as the coil in you tightens significantly at a certain angle he comes in, “Like that?” Shouto laughs although you could hear no humor in his voice as he comes in at that angle again, and you can barely control the sob of pleasure that rips out of your mouth.

“Sh-Shouto!” You arch your back and despite the position, Shouto is edging, you can feel the tremble in his thighs, his tell when he was almost over the edge. “Fuck me, faster!”

Shouto doesn’t disappoint you as you feel his hands grasp your hair and he snakes a hand back to your clit, and you find yourself clenching your eyes in concentration, trying not to satisfy him with cumming first.

You smiled in victory as shuddering gasps left Shouto’s lips as you felt his thrusts progressively missing his usual targets, and with a drawn-out groan from him, you felt him cum in you, and you couldn’t help yourself as you looked over your shoulder and saw Shouto’s face filled with relief.

His hips stilled for moments, but your own hips didn’t stop, and another string of curses left Shouto’s mouth as he focused distractedly on your own orgasm. His body rocked into yours, and your hips met him in every motion, your lip trembling as his fingers danced against your clit.

The coil in your heat tightened and tightened, and when he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your clit, the coil snapped and you could only see white as an immeasurable amount of pleasure ripped through you, and a scream sagged through your body as you came undone.

You whined as you felt him exit you, and you slowly straightened back up, you felt uncomfortably sore. Quietness filled the alleyway as the two of your straightened out your outfits turning towards each other, then you locked eyes, and it finally hit you. This was goodbye.

Your breathing staggered as Shouto’s lips were on yours again, and you feel overwhelmed. Your fists are clenched on his chest, his fingers hooked onto your belt loops. Your brows are brought together, and you can tell both of your jaws are clenched. It almost felt like a magnetic pull between you two, but you had to deny it. So you shift so that your foreheads press together, your lips just brushing, just barely, so faintly touching until you pull away completely with a shaking exhale, your forehead dropping into Shouto’s neck.

“I am in love with you, but I can’t love you knowing what you are.” You whisper as you break away, grabbing your bag and leaving Shouto alone in the alley, wiping tears that inevitably fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

and thats all for now folks, i also updated my masterlist again so if you wanna read more crap i write, check it out :D but yes! the blood stealing is weird i know, i was told but i am so outta ideas i just rolled with it ;) anyways let me know what you tHINK I LIKE HAVING OPINIONS ON WHAT I WRITE PLEASE SEND ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT IT MAKES ME SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY

KK LOVE YOU ALL, LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL FOR MORE

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 23

Exhaustion + Sleep Deprivation  → part of the MT-RK900

Whumptober Masterlist | 23/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags:  Post-Pacifist Best Ending x Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation

{Character sheet + bonus art here, and here. }

It starts small, starts as barely noticeable symptoms that can easily be mistaken for something else. Nothing is easily mistaken to him, nothing is ever dismissed casually, not when he deals with people’s lives on a daily basis. That includes the lives of his colleagues too, and today, specifically, it involves the lives of his human colleagues.

“Dr Fitzpatrick, you are exhibiting the initial signs of influenza.” He tells his senior, the Director of the trauma unit and his attending leader for the shift. “It is best to take precautionary measures and time off to recuperate whilst removing yourself from possibly infecting others.”

“What?” She blinks at him, brows creased and lips pursed in a frown. “It’s been a long shift, that’s all.” He says nothing, though his expression must say a lot because her frown deepens. “You’re sure?”

“With adequate care you will recover much quicker and stop the spread amongst our colleagues, than if you were to continue working and possibly, quite rapidly, infect others.” Ronan says evenly. “Influenza season is already underway, we are treating more and more patients everyday and we have had three deaths already.”

She gives him a long hard look, searching his face for some sort of reaction before she sighs tiredly. “Are there others on the team you think might have it?”

“There are four possible nurses, one clerk, and two registrars also exhibiting early signs.” Ronan informs her and she groans into her hand, rubbing her temples. 

“It’s not up to me to give others time off, you know.”

“I know. But you can speak to the right staff, and I can give them my findings.” He nods.

“We’re run off our feet already, and you’re rostered at Jericho for the next three days!”

“I can change that. Androids are not susceptible to influenza, and aside from the cold weather affecting some of the older models, we weather winter well.” He glances at the door. “If you can help arrange it, I will stay on for the week and use mainly a team mostly made up of the other android nurses here, minimising the risk of infection amongst the staff.”

“Ronan, you- that’s insane! No one can work an entire week, especially not in trauma!”

“No human can, but I am not human.” Ronan reminds her gently, and he knows she is tired and she knows he is counting on this. She relents, shoulders sagging.

“Four days. Not seven. Four, and I will aim to be back by then.” She points her finger at him accusingly. “Don’t you dare take on more than you can handle. You’re the best trauma surgeon I’ve ever worked with, so god help me if you run yourself ragged because you’re too damn nice!”

* 

So it begins. After careful negotiations the ration rises from five human nurses for every one android nurse, to two humans per one android. Ronan assigns various amounts of memory in his processing core to take over the clerical duties, and the E.D. phone is now answered by an ST300 temporarily stepping in from reception. This means she can answer the call and feed the information directly onto his HUD for ease of triaging. He keeps patient charts in a digital folder, and medication schedules, and theatre bookings.

He utilises programming that would normally be used for listing mission objectives and keeping tabs on the status of other soldiers in his battalion, for good instead, for saving lives and managing their care. At the seventieth hour mark, one of the android nurses pass him a bottle of thirium and he drains it, belatedly realising his levels are below optimum given how fast he is burning through it due to the high number of processes he is running. No matter. He will continue.

 At the eightieth hour, he receives a concerned message from Simon while he is operating on a stabbing victim. The knife penetrated into the victim’s small bowel and it is a race against time to repair the damage. He manages to send Simon a quick reassuring message that yes he is fine, but will not be able to come home for some time yet. Dr Fitzpatrick had said four days but he knows it will not be four days. He will need longer because the humans will need longer. It is alright. He is an RK900, CyberLife’s latest cutting edge android. He can manage.

As predicted, Dr Fitzpatrick does not return after four days. No matter. Ronan powers on, temporarily rotating out the last of the human nurses as a precautionary measure as a surge of new influenza patients floods the hospital. Humans are woefully unprepared for the season due to a lot of factors, be they socio-economic or just plain ignorance. There was a pandemic his father lived through, with many wild tales of humans simply ignoring even the basic, primitive safety measures attempted. It does not surprise Ronan to see so many victims this season either, given all that Hank has told him about those ‘unprecedented times’. 

There is no time to stand under the charging bay downlights. There has been a shooting and there are multiple victims en route to the hospital. And hours before that, there had been a multi vehicle crash on the highway. And hours before that, there was a case of food poisoning at a children’s party which meant Ronan had to call the paediatric registrar for extra help. There is never a good time, and so he has to be conservative about power usage to ensure he can still handle the workload safely. 

“Your hair is white.” One of the nurses whisper to him as they’re scrubbing up for yet another surgery. Ah. His stress levels must be high. He hasn’t checked- he turned off his notifications ten hours ago. 

“I am functioning adequately. It is only cosmetic.” He reassures them with words, and he’s glad there’s a mask over his mouth because he hasn’t quite mastered how to give reassuring smiles to match. 

“You’ve been on call for five days, nearly six now.” They’re brows crease in concern and beneath their mask Ronan knows they are frowning. “You’ve given all of us an hour break every eight hours to ensure we have enough time to charge adequately. You’ve done this for all android staff except yourself!”

“There is no other android qualified for surgery.” He reminds them, flicking through the patient’s stats and passing them on to the surgical team. “So I cannot rest.”

On the first surgery on his sixth consecutive day as the trauma surgeon on call, Ronan finds that the bulbs in the surgical downlights have been replaced with UV charging lights. The same nurse who raised concerns earlier gives him a somewhat stern, no-nonsense look.

“So you can charge while you operate.” A compromise, he realises, and a very kind one too. He gets to work, and he feels the tension unwind from his shoulders, his battery core soaking up the charge as the lights bear down on him. It’s not quite stasis, not quite reprieve from the onslaught of duties, but it’s close.

**

“Simon?” Dr Anthea looks up from her tablet, blinking in surprise as the Jericho leader stands in the doorway of her office. “What can I do for you?”

“Ronan is still at Detroit Metro.” The PL600 chews his bottom lip, wringing his hands together anxiously. “It’s been six whole days straight and he stopped answering my messages on the fourth day.”

“Yes he’s temporarily removed himself from our roster to manage Detroit Metro ED while the human staff recover from the flu.” She sighs, shaking her head. “He’s very much like you, you know: he’ll work himself ragged for the sake of others.” Not quite the answer Simon hopes to hear, she’s sure, but it’s the one she’s giving because she’s right. She’s heard the tales from Professor Joshua. She knows during Jericho’s early stage, Simon nearly died keeping everyone safe and functioning. 

“I just- I’ve left so many messages at reception and though the receptionist assures me she’s passed them on, I can’t help but feel like he literally won’t stop unless he’s physically unable to keep working.” Simon gives her a pained look to which she can only reply with a cocked brow.

“Like you, Simon?”

“Well- alright, yes, like me!” Simon huffs, and it coaxes a laugh from her as the PL600 looks torn between embarrassment and determination. “You are the only android surgeon still qualified to work at human hospitals. To work at that human hospital.” He says it quietly, with caution, because they both know that was a different part of her life. Not an unpleasant one, definitely not, given she deviated out of empathy, out of kindness, but still a different chapter now put behind her. She has the qualifications because she never bothered to give them up like the other medroids. Sentimentality, perhaps, because Detroit Metro had been her home for so very long and to still see a valid ID badge gives her a little spark of joy whenever she opens her drawer. 

“Please?” Simon of the Jericho Four is pleading with her and she knows she cannot deny him a single thing, lovely and courageous and prone to martyrdom as he is.

*

It’s been eight days, twice the number of days she thought she’d need, but she’s feeling strong and healthy and definitely not weighed down by any symptoms anymore. Damn that android and his perceptive, persuasive ways. She both hates and loves how he’d been right, and yes he’s been running an incredibly tight ship here in her absence, though she wonders which other staff he’s rostered on to replace him because obviously he hasn’t been working the entire eight days straight. Right? Surely not. Obviously not. She warned him she’d be Very Cross if he worked more than four days. 

“Nicola?” She turns at the voice and there, right there is Medroid Anthea. The surgeon she shoved into an ambulance with as many android nurses as she could find when racing through the unit after that horrible announcement androids had to be surrendered to the police. Not on her watch, no damn way. 

“Anthea.” She smiles, though a little puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you’ve worn my best surgeon down to his bones here so I’m coming back as a favour, just so he gets rest.” There’s a pause as she lets that sink in.

“Are you telling me Ronan’s been here the entire time?! All eight days?!” She nearly explodes with anger and Anthea cocks a perfectly arched brow in that gesture she hasn’t realised she’s missed seeing so much. They made such a great team.

“Why do you sound like you didn’t know this?”

“Because I didn’t! I’ve been on sick leave, recovering from the flu! Oh that boy, honestly!”

“Simon’s here to drag him home, and I’m here for his shift.” Anthea smiles as she clips her ID onto her scrubs. “Just like old times?”

She’s smiling so hard her cheeks ache. “Yeah. Just like old times.”

* 

Simon can’t even stay angry with him. The anger just seeps out of him the moment he sees how exhausted Ronan looks, his hair stark white meaning his stress levels are at their peak given the weather isn’t cold enough to activate his tundra camouflage. He’d demanded his stats and the RK900 had given them with great embarrassment and Simon realised he’d been so very close to just shutting down to conserve what pitiful charge he had left. Honestly.

“You’re mad at me.” Ronan says quietly as Simon ushers him inside the apartment.

“I was.” Simon hangs up their coats before wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his cheek to his chest. “Couldn’t stay mad, though. I know why you did it.”

“I had to help.”

“I know, love. I know.” Simon sighs, looking up at him fondly. “Because you’re a good, kind person and a wonderful colleague.”

Ronan says nothing, only offers a small smile before leaning down to bump his nose against his fondly.

“Right.” Simon declares with a nod, stepping back, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to their bedroom. “I’m putting you under the lights for a six hour charge and you are not leaving the bed a second earlier.”

“Yes, doctor.” Ronan smiles tiredly, pausing only to press their lips together in quiet gratitude before he lays down and closes his eyes. 

[leavemyelevator-alone]

I’m testing something out. Please send feedback! Endgame happened :(, but Far From Home didn't. Spideychelle is still real, though. The glasses are like the E.D.I.T.H. ones in FFH, just to give you a general idea of what they look like.

The first time Peter tried on the glasses Pepper gave to him, he broke down in tears. In the glasses, standing in all his (now-AI) glory, was Tony Stark. The former billionaire--who was supposed to be dead--sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, kid. Didya miss me?"

Peter sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he collapsed onto the floor, not enough strength to even take the glasses off, let alone get back up. This was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to him. Five years, seven months, and twenty-three days ago, he had dusted on Titan in his mentor's arms, waking in the Soul Realm, almost-positive that the realm was his new home and he would never see Earth again. Then, he came back to Earth, only to have to fight Thanos again, and had to watch his father figure die in front of him when he could have done something to save him. He had to go to Tony's funeral, and while he got to meet Morgan and Harley, Pepper had broken down in tears, causing Peter to weep as well. After the funeral, a teary-eyed Pepper had handed him a glasses case and, with a watery smile, said, "He would have wanted you to have these." Peter had all but broken down again right there and then. When May took him home, Peter had put the case on his desk, unable to even look at it without tearing up. It had taken him two weeks to get used to the fact that Tony was really gone, not that he was happy or content with it, and two more weeks to gather up the courage to try on the glasses. Only to see a holographic image of his long-gone mentor. Peter cried until his head hurt and his eyes were red. The hologram in the glasses murmured comforting words, obviously slightly uncomfortable. That made Peter cry even more. Finally, when his tears dried up, Peter sniffed, wiped his nose with his sweatshirt sleeve, and reached up to take the glasses off.

"Wait!" The hologram called. "Wait, please don't take the glasses off. I haven't gotten to talk to you since . . . you know, and I really want to talk to you. The last time these glasses were activated were when Steve and I went to Camp Lehigh in 1970 to get the Tesseract to save the world. I--" The hologram--Tony--'s voice cracked, and he paused for a minute. "I asked Pepper to give these glasses to you in case--in case I didn't make it back to do it myself."

Peter blinked back more tears, even though he had though that he'd run out. "But--but why?"

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, kid."

"Why me?" With that one question, it was if a dam in Peter broke. The words tumbled out of him, unable to stop. "Why did you choose to give the glasses to me? Why not Morgan? Or Pepper, or Happy, or Harley, or--" Peter took a deep breath before he was off to the races again. "Why did you have to get the gauntlet? You could have given it to T'Challa! His suit absorbs kinetic energy, so he would have been able to wield the gauntlet. Or Captain Marvel. She's powerful enough! But no! You did it and--" Peter cut himself off with a sob. Tony was quiet for a few minutes before softly saying, "I didn't have enough time to get to either of them. I didn't know that I would die, but if it let everyone else live, then so be it. My life for half of Earth's population? That doesn't seem fair."

"Who cares if it's fair!" Peter cried. "You died! I was at your funeral. You shouldn't be here; you can't be here. 'S not possible."

"Actually," The former hero contradicted with a small grin, "I'm here through the power of science. Everything that happened to me when I was alive, I remember it all. This--" Tony gestured to himself "--was a project I'd been working on for a while. A couple of years, actually. I wanted to find a way to turn a human into an AI. Or, rather, a way to transfer the human mind into an AI. Arnim Zola did it, I could do it better. And I did."

Peter sniffed. "So it really is you, Mr. Stark?"

"The one and only." Tony smiled. "And call me Tony, kid."

Peter frowned. "What? No! Mr. Stark--"

Tony sighed, cutting him off. "Okay, think of it this way. My name is still Tony Stark, yes, but as an AI, I have an acronym--T.O.N.Y. So call me by my acronym."

Peter's brows furrowed. "But what does it stand for?"

"Uh--Terrifically Overused Nerd Yeller?""Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."

"Beautiful reference kid," Tony applauded him with a laugh. "And I'll try to find something better, okay?"

"Mm-hmm." Peter nodded."But seriously, call me Tony."

"Okay . . . Tony." Peter took a deep breath. "What now? I assume you don't want to go back into the case."

"No!" Tony burst out before composing himself. "I mean, no, that would not be preferable."

Peter laughed slightly before nodding. "Okay, but it's, like, one in the morning. I have school tomorrow, so--"

"Ooh!" Tony bounced around in the glasses lenses, which made Peter snicker silently. "Can I go with you? I've always wanted to see what Midtown was like!"

"I dunno . . . Won't the teachers get mad at me for wearing sunglasses?"

Tony crossed his arms. "Puh-lease. You have an AI in the dang glasses. Clear lenses."

And just like that, the whole room wasn't tinted dark. Peter had to blink a few times to get used to it, but he was very impressed. Tony smirked before making a shooing motion with his hands. "Alright, now off to bed with you. You need sleep before school tomorrow."

"Night, Tony. Well, morning, actually.""Just go to sleep!"

:*:*:*:*:*:

When Peter woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was grab the glasses to make sure that it wasn't a dream. He'd be devastated if it was. As he slipped them on his face, Peter was met with the sight of a bleary-eyed Tony Stark. "Kid, what? What could you possibly need me for at--" Tony looked at the side of the left lens, where the time was labeled "the ungodly hour of four fifty-seven in the morning."

Peter smiled. "Wakey, wakey. I gotta get up by five if I want to make it to school on time."

Tony groaned. "Noooo . . . Five more minutes!"

"I'll give you as long as it takes for me to get my teeth brushed, shower, change, and I'll grab the glasses as I head down to breakfast," Peter compromised, and Tony nodded rapidly. "Deal!"

It took until Peter was wriggling into his t-shirt (no matter how popular they get, antibiotics will never go viral) for it to really hit him that this is Tony, he's not quite dead. Peter did a little happy dance before picking up the glasses again. When the holograms flickered on, Peter saw a snoozing Tony--pillow, blanket, and all--and had to refrain from snickering. As quietly as he could, Peter tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to wake May, who'd had an overnight shift at the hospital. Grabbing a pen and a notepad, he wrote his aunt a note explaining that yes, he'd grab something to eat and that he was on his way to school. Snatching an apple from the bowl of fruit on the island, Peter munched on it as he got onto the subway. Making it seem like he was on a call on his phone, Peter said, "Tony, hey. Tony, dude, wake up. I can hear your snores."

"Huzzahwhat?"

Peter snickered. "I gave you more than five minutes. Now wake up--" He lowered his voice "--or I'm putting the glasses in the deepest, darkest corner of my backpack."

That caused Tony to spring up with a screech. "I'muppleasedon'tputmebackinthedark!"

Peter laughed. "I'm not. It was a threat to wake you up."

"Not very nice," Tony pouted. Peter just smiled as he "hung up the call". While Peter bounced his leg up and down, Tony began humming something that sounded like Eiffel 65. The subway finally stopped, and Peter got off, Tony still humming. As he entered the gates to Midtown, Peter had to practically race across the street to avoid getting hit by Flash's car. Tony stopped everything he was doing to ask in a deadly calm voice, "Peter. Did that punk just try to run you over, or am I seeing things."

Peter's eyes widened. "Uh . . ."

Tony growled, but Peter hurried to say, "C'mon, you can meet Ned and MJ."

Tony dropped the subject, but Peter had a distinct feeling that this conversation wasn't over yet. In the meantime, Peter walked to his locker and gathered his books for his first class. "So, Tony, what else can you do?"

Tony hummed in thought. "Well, the glasses automatically synced to both your phone and the suit when the first time you opened the case, so if you get any notifications, I automatically know. Speaking of which, you just got a text from May. She says to have a great day and that you better had actually eaten breakfast today."

"Please tell her I will, and that I had an apple."

"It's sent. Now, back to what I was saying." Tony grinned mischievously. "I can see what other people are doing on their phones, like who they were texting, what they're checking on Instagram, what they're doing on the Internet."

Peter whistled. "That's intense."

"What's intense?" A voice behind the spiderling asked, and Peter spun around with a grin. "Ned!"

The two friends did their secret handshake (that had Tony intrigued) and Ned instantly began rambling about a new LEGO set he got this weekend, and oh my gosh, dude, it's got seven thousand pieces, and could you come over later today to build it? Peter laughed. "I can't come over today, but maybe we could build it at my place?"

"Why are those cheerleaders giving you disgusted looks?" Tony inquired, but Peter ignored him. "Ready for English?"

Ned made a face. "No."

"Me neither."

Ned stopped dead in his tracks for a minute before spinning around to face Peter. "Dude, when did you get glasses? I thought you didn't need them after--"

"They're not exactly prescription," Peter interrupted. Pulling the glasses off of his face, he handed them over to Ned. "Try them on."

Ned put them on, and his jaw fell down to the ground. "Tony Stark?! Bu-but how?!"

Peter shushed him. Tony must've said something, because Ned was nodding as fast as his head would move. Taking the glasses off, the Filippino gaped at his friend. "Peter, where did you get these?"

"Pepper gave them to me," He explained, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "After the funeral. I only found out about Tony last night."

"Yeah, because you wouldn't open the dang case until last night," Tony muttered. Peter grunted, but didn't reply to Tony. "C'mon, Ned. We gotta get to class."

:*:*:*:*:*:

"You have a call from an unknown number coming in," Tony informed Peter while he was right in the middle of taking a test. "Ten bucks says it's Nick Fury."

"I don't have ten bucks," Peter murmured distractedly. "Besides, I can't answer right now. Doesn't he know I have school?"

Mrs. MacMillan's eyes swept over the room, and Peter ducked his head to avoid her gaze. He whispered, "Send him to voicemail."

"I'm proud of you, kid," Tony said happily. "You're ghosting Nick Fury."

"Uh-huh."

Peter finished his test and turned it in before getting out his notebook to work on web formulas. Tony watched quietly for a while. "You know, I haven't seen Morgan or Pep in the weeks that I've seen you. Do you still keep in touch?"

Not wanting to disrupt the class, Peter wrote, ‘I do, but they've been busy. Pepper's still gotta run SI, and Morgan's starting pre-school.’

"Do you think . . . I could see them?" Tony asked, with a tinge of hope. Peter cracked a smile. ‘I'm sure we can work something out.’

Tony's grin was one of relief. "Thanks, kid."

The billionaire disappeared from view, but Peter wasn't worried. Tony had told him that even though he won't always be visible, he's still there, and Peter knew this to be true because Tony kept up a constant stream of chatter and/or informs him of texts, phone calls, police alerts, his opinions on people, news, etc. When the bell rang, signalling lunch time, Peter maneuvered his way through the halls with a practiced grace that one only got from years of doing it. He made his way into the lunch room, lunch sack in hand, and sat at the table to wait for Ned and Michelle. He didn't have to wait long.

Michelle slid into the seat next to him. After calling them losers, she had gotten closer to the two and, over the course of the year, she and Peter had started dating. She kissed his cheek. "What's up, dork. Nice glasses."

Tony grinned. "Oh, I like her. Reminds me of Natasha."

Both Peter and Tony sobered up at that comment, but Peter forced cheer as he responded to Michelle. "Hey, MJ! How's it going?"

She regarded him in an unimpressed manner. "Could be better could be worse."

Ned plopped into his seat across from the two, panting slightly. "Flash alert."

Michelle frowned, and Peter rolled his eyes. Tony poked his head into the frame of the glasses. "Who?"

A hand slammed down onto the table, causing the three lunches to bounce. "Hey, Puny," Flash Thompson sneered. "How's your uncle? Oh, wait, he's dead!"

He and his cronies cackled, and Tony's brows knitted together, eyes flashing in anger. "That's the kid who almost ran you over. This guy's obviously a punk. Why do you let him bully you? You can stop a bus with your bare hands!"

Flash continued insulting Peter, oblivious to the raging billionaire in his glasses. "Where's you get the specs, Parker? They're too expensive for you." He said you like it was a curse. "Hand 'em over."

When Peter didn't move, Flash snarled. "Now!"

"No!" Peter burst out. "No, I'm not giving you my glasses. I need them; they're mine. You can't have them!"

Flash could clearly feel some of the kids in the cafeteria's eyes on them, so he just growled, "Whatever. They're probably cheap knock-offs anyways. Come on, let's go."

The bully stalked away, his lackies right behind him. Tony continued to shout at Flash for almost hitting people, screaming profanities at the top of his holographic lungs, occasionally slipping into Italian. Peter winced. "Tony, you do realize that he can't hear you, and you're just yelling in my ear, right?"

MJ arched an eyebrow, and Peter flushed. "Sorry. Here."

He handed the glasses to her, and, slowly, Michelle placed them on her face. Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw the hologram. "Peter, what . . .?"

Again, Tony obviously said something to her, because she nodded in understanding and handed the glasses back to her boyfriend. "Those are seriously cool. I completely understand why you can never give those to Flash. Ever."

"She's right, kid. That punk is getting nowhere near me. Or the glasses," Tony stated firmly. Peter snorted. "Okay, both of you, I get it. No Flash."

The rest of lunch passed rather smoothly, and Peter was off to his next class. By the time Academic Decathlon rolled around, Peter knew how to use the glasses fairly well. But as soon as he walked through the door of the module that most of the clubs gathered in, Tony piped up, "Careful. The building's not exactly stable."

Peter frowned. "What do you mean? We've been in this building for twelve years."

Tony's holographic eyes widened. "You do realize that these module buildings are only supposed to last for ten years, right?"

Peter swore under his breath, but before he could say anything else, Michelle beckoned him over to the group, and AcaDec practice began. The practice was halfway over when Tony's fears came true; the building collapsed around them. [I know it probably wouldn't work this way, but shhhhh] Miraculously, nobody was injured. Peter called, "Is everyone okay? Is everyone here?"

He got an "I'm here" from everyone, and Peter instantly turned his attention to someone who could help them out of the rubble. "Okay, Tony, how do we get out?"

The team watched in amazement as Peter seemed to have a one-sided conversation with himself. "To the left, got it."

"Up and over the beam."

"What? No, I can't do that. I'd out myself."

"That could work, but what about--"

"--carbon monoxide and then we'd--"

"--possibly burn the place down, but--"

"--get us all to safety." Peter grinned. "Thanks, Tony."

The former hero smirked. "All in a days work."

Peter began to guide his fellow classmates out of the collapsed building. "Okay, Isaac, to the left, there should be a plank of wood, we gotta crawl under that. After the plank, there's a beam that's resting at a fifteen degree angle. Go over that."

Slowly, but surely, the team made it out of the destroyed module, covered in dust, but alive. Most of the team collapsed to the ground, but Betty squinted at Peter. "Who were you talking to?"

Peter was startled. "What?"

"Back in the module, you were talking to someone. Someone named Tony, and he obviously guided us out. Who was he, and how did he know the layout of the building so well?"

Peter panicked. "Uh--he's a, um, family friend, and he does architecture?"

It sounded lame to even him, and Betty eyed him suspiciously, but left it at that.

"A family friend?" Tony was not amused. "An architect?"

"Hey," Peter hissed. "You know I don't do well under pressure."

Michelle bumped his shoulder. She murmured, "Thanks for getting us out of there, Tony."

"Tell her I said you're welcome," Tony exclaimed, and Peter relayed the message. MJ smiled, and Peter flopped onto the ground. While things wouldn't ever be the same as when Tony was alive, that was okay. Because Tony was right here, and Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

This is one of my favorite AUs/Headcannons of the Marvel Universe. I just feel like Tony would have found some way to keep himself alive after he died, and, being the tech genius that he is, he probably would have done it this way. You can contradict me, but I will protect this idea till my dying day. Please, please send feedback!