#Too soon to push—if ever. — he’d hear them when she was ready — if the time never came he’d love her anyways — it’s how they fell

[acourtofquestions]

"I didn't break," she said quietly. His heart cracked at the words. "I didn't tell them anything."

She didn't say it for praise, to boast. But rather to tell him, her consort, of where they stood in this war. What their enemies might know.

"I knew you wouldn't," he managed to say.

"She ... she tried to convince me that this was the bad dream. When Cairn was done with me, or during it, I don't know, she'd try to worm her way into my mind." She glanced around the cave, as if she could see the world beyond it. "She spun fantasies that felt so real..." She bobbed under the surface. Perhaps she'd needed the cooling water of the lake to be able to hear her own voice again; perhaps she needed the distance between them so she could speak these words. She emerged, slicking back her hair with a hand. "They felt like this."

Half of him didn't want to know, but he asked, "What sort of illusions?"

A long pause. "It doesn't matter now."

Too soon to push—if ever.

Then she asked softly, "How long?"

It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. "Two months, three days, and seven hours."

Her mouth tightened, either at the length of time, or the fact that he'd counted every single one of those hours apart.

She ran her fingers through her hair, its strands floating around her in the water. Still too long for two months to have passed. "They healed me after each ... session. So that I stopped knowing what had been done and what was in my mind and where the truth lay." Erase her scars, and Maeve stood a better chance at convincing her none of this was real. "But the healers couldn't remember how long my hair was, or Maeve wanted to confuse me further, so they grew it out." Her eyes darkened at the memory of why, perhaps, they had needed to regrow her hair in the first place.

"Do you want me to cut it back to the length it was when I last saw you?" His words were near-guttural.

"No." Ripples shivered around her. "I want it so I can remember."

What had been done to her, what she'd survived and what she had protected.

Even if the woman treading water before him didn't seem to have vengeance on her mind. Not so much as a hint of the burning rage that fueled her.

He didn't blame her. Knew it would take time, time and distance, to heal the internal wounds. If they could ever really heal at all.

But he'd work with her, help in whatever way he could. And if she never returned to who she had been before this, he would not love her any less.

Aelin dunked her head, and when she emerged, she said, "Maeve was about to put a Valg collar around my neck. She left to retrieve it." The scent of her lingering fear drifted toward him, and Rowan lurched a step closer to the water's edge. "It's why I—why I got away. She had me moved to the army camp for safekeeping, and I ..." Her voice stalled, yet she met his stare. Let him read the words she could not say, in that silent way they'd always been able to communicate. Escape wasn't my intention.

"No, Fireheart," he breathed, shaking his head, horror creeping over him. "There ... there was no collar."

She blinked, head angling. "That was a dream, too?"

His heart cracked as he struggled for the words. Made himself voice them. "No—it was real. Or Maeve thought it was. But the collars, the Valg presence ... It was a lie that we crafted. To draw Maeve out, hopefully away from you and Doranelle."

Only the faint lapping of water sounded. "There was no collar?"

Rowan lowered himself to his knees and shook his head. "I—Aelin, if I'd known what she'd do with the knowledge, what you'd decide to do-"

He might have lost her. Not from Maeve or the gods or the Lock, but from his own damned choices. The lie he'd spun.

Aelin drifted beneath the surface again. So deep that when the flare happened, it was little more than a flutter. The light burst from her, rippling across the lake, illumining the stones, the slick ceiling above. A silent eruption. His breathing turned ragged. But she swam toward the surface again, light streaming off her body like tendrils of clouds. It had nearly vanished when she emerged.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say. Again, that angle of the head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He did, though. He'd added to her terror, her desperation. He'd— "If you had not planted that lie for Maeve, if she had not told me, I don't think we'd be here right now," she said.

He tried to rein in the twisting in his gut, the urge to reach for her, to beg for her forgiveness. Tried and tried.

She only asked, "What of the others?" She didn't know-couldn't know how and why and where they'd all parted ways. So Rowan told her, as succinctly and calmly as he could.

When he finished, Aelin was quiet for long minutes.

She stared out into the blackness, the rippling of her treading water the only sound. Her body had nearly lost that freshly forged glow.

Then she pivoted back toward him. "Maeve said you and the others were in the North. That you'd been spotted by her spies there. Did you plant that deception for her, too?"

He shook his head. "Lysandra has been thorough, it seems."

Aelin's throat bobbed. "I believed her." It sounded like a confession, somehow.

So Rowan found himself saying, "I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you." He gave her a slash of a smile. "Did you really believe this would stop me?'

She pursed her mouth, and at last, those agonizing emotions began to surface in her eyes. "You were supposed to save Terrasen."

"Considering that the sun shines, I'd say Erawan hasn't won yet. So we'll save it together."

He didn't let himself think of the final cost of destroying Erawan. And Aelin seemed in no hurry to discuss it, either, as she said, "You should have gone to Terrasen. It needs you."

"I need you more." He didn't balk from the stark honesty roughening his voice. "And Terrasen will need you, too. Not Lysandra masquerading as you, but you."

A shallow nod. "Maeve raised her army. I doubt it was only to guard me while she was away."

He'd put the thought aside, to consider later. "It might just be to shore up her defenses, should Erawan win across the sea."

"Do you truly think that's what she plans to do with it?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

And if Maeve meant to bring that army to Terrasen, to either unite with Erawan or simply be another force battering their kingdom, to strike when they were weakest, they had to hurry. Had to get back. Immediately. His mate's eyes shone with the same understanding and dread.

Aelin's throat bobbed as she whispered, "I'm so tired, Rowan."

His heart strained again. "I know, Fireheart."

He opened his mouth to say more, to coax her onto land so he might at least hold her if words couldn't ease her burden, but that's when he saw it.

A boat, ancient and every inch of it carved, drifted out of the gloom.

"Get back to shore." The boat wasn't drifting—it was being tugged. He could just barely make out two dark forms slithering beneath the surface.

Aelin didn't hesitate, yet her strokes remained steady as she swam for him. She didn’t balk at the hand he extended, and he wrapped his cloak around her while the boat ambled past.

But Aelin turned toward them, hair dripping onto the stone at her bare feet. Half a thought from her could have had her dry, yet she made no move to do so. "We're being hunted."

"We know that," Lorcan shot back, and were it not for the fact that Aelin was currently allowing him to rest a hand upon her shoulder, Rowan would have thrown the male into the lake.

But Aelin's features didn't shift from that graveness, that unruffled calm. "The only way to the sea is through these caves." It was an outrageous claim.

"And I suppose they told you that?" Lorcan's face was hard as granite.

"Watch it," Rowan snarled. Fenrys indeed bared his teeth at the dark-haired warrior, fur bristling. But Aelin said simply, "Yes." Her chin didn't dip an inch. "The land above is crawling with soldiers and spies. Going beneath them is the only way."

Elide stepped forward. "I will go." She cut a cold glance toward Lorcan. "You can take your chances above, if you're so disbelieving." Lorcan's jaw tightened, and a small part of Rowan relished seeing the delicate Lady of Perranth fillet the centuries-hardened warrior with a few words. "Considering the potential pitfalls of the situation is wise."

"We don't have time to consider," Rowan cut in before Elide could voice the retort on her tongue. "We need to keep moving. Gavriel stalked forward to study the moored boat and what seemed to be bundles of supplies on its sturdy planks. "How will we navigate our way, though?"

"We'll be escorted," Aelin answered.

"And if they abandon us?" Lorcan challenged. Aelin leveled unfazed eyes upon him.

"Then you'll have to find a way out, I suppose." A hint-just a spark-of temper belied those calm words. There was nothing else to debate after that.

And they had little to pack. The others gave Aelin privacy to dress by the fire while they inspected the boat, and when his mate emerged again, clad in boots, pants, and various layers beneath her gray surcoat, the sight of her in clothes from Mistward was enough to make his gut clench.

No longer a naked, escaped captive. Yet none of that wickedness, that joy and unchecked wildness illuminated her face.

The rest of their party waited on the boat, seated on the benches built into its high-lipped sides. Fenrys and Elide both sat as seemingly far from Lorcan as they could get, Gavriel a golden, long-suffering buffer between them.

Rowan lingered at the shore's edge, a hand extended for Aelin while she approached. Each of her steps seemed considered—as if she still marveled at being able to move freely. As if still adjusting to her legs without the burden of chains.

"Why?" Lorcan mused aloud, more to himself. "Why go to these lengths for us?"

He got his answer—they all did—a heartbeat later. Aelin halted a few feet away from the boat and Rowan's outstretched hand. She turned back toward the cave itself. The Little Folk peeked from those birch branches, from the rocks, from behind stalagmites. Slowly, deeply, Aelin bowed to them. Rowan could have sworn all those tiny heads lowered in answer.

A pair of bony grayish hands rose above a nearby rock, something glittering held between them, and set the object on the stone.

Rowan went still. A crown of silver and pearl and diamond gleamed there, fashioned into upswept swan's wings

"The Crown of Mab," Gavriel breathed. But Fenrys looked away, toward the looming dark, his tail curling around him.

Aelin staggered a step closer to the crown. "It—it fell into the river."

Rowan didn't want to know how she'd encountered it, why she'd seen it fall into a river. Maeve had kept her sisters' two crowns under constant guard, only bringing them out to be displayed in her throne room on state occasions. In memory of her siblings, she'd intoned. Rowan had sometimes wondered if it was a reminder that she had outlasted them, had kept the throne for herself in the end.

The grayish hand slipped over the rock's edge again and nudged the crown in silent gesture. Take it.

"You want to know why?" Gavriel softly asked Lorcan as Aelin strode for the rock. Nothing but solemn reverence on her face. "Because she is not only Brannon's Heir, but Mab's, too."

A throwback to her great-great-grandmother, Maeve had taunted her. Who had inherited her strength, her immortal lifespan.

Aelin's fingers closed around the crown, lifting it gently. It sparkled like living moonlight between her hands.

My sister Mab's line ran true, Elide claimed Maeve had said on the beach. In every way, it seemed.

But Aelin made no move to don the crown while she approached him once more, her gait steadier this time. Trying not to dwell on the unbearable smoothness of her hand as it wrapped around his, Rowan helped her aboard, then climbed in himself before freeing the ropes tethering them to the shore.

Gavriel went on, awe in every word, "And that makes her their queen, too."

Aelin met Gavriel's gaze, the crown near-glowing in her hands. "Yes," was all she said as the boat sailed into the darkness.

[ellecdc]

Hello beautiful! I have a request that is kinda personal! Anyways o was wondering if you could whip something up about reader and (which ever marauder you think best fits) who kinda has big boobs(like f/h) and is kinda self conscious about it (plus her weight cuz she’s chubby) because they sag and not all cute and perky and such? I could just use the comfort of a marauder and your writing 💕 -thank you lovely

I feel like we must be twins or something; I too am a plus-sized H cup girlie 🙋🏻‍♀️ thanks so much for requesting dolly; we're in this together 💖

James Potter x plus size, busty fem!reader

CW: insecurities, body image issues, negative self-talk, mentions of sex but no smut

You could hear the panicky tone of your whine teetering towards hysterical, but you swallowed past the lump in your throat as you discarded another article of clothing. The top joined the growing number of other shirts, dresses, and pants littering the floor of your closet. You were disturbingly close to tears and knew if you turned around to see your sweet, handsome boyfriend who had the audacity to sit casually on your bed without a single care in the world, it’d push you over the edge.

Apparently, he did have at least one care in the world.

“You almost ready, lovie? We have to leave soon if we want to get to Marlene’s on time.” James asked from his place, laying back on your bed as he threw a small stress ball above him and caught it only to fling it upwards again and again. 

The worst part was how sweet he was about it; you’d never know from his gentle tone or word choice that he was basically accusing you of making the two of you late.

It would have been better if he’d been rude or snide, perhaps more overtly accusative – at least then you would have felt validated in how harsh your next words came out.

“I’m going as fast as I can, James.”

Though you didn’t turn away from your closet, you could tell he paused the ball throwing as he calculated your sudden mood change.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He started carefully, moving to a sitting position. “I just know how much you hate being late, is all. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

Your next exhale came out a little shaky, but from your place in your closet, James couldn’t pick up on it. 

“I know. I’m trying.” You said, working overtime to keep your voice even. He must have picked up on some of the tension anyways, as he rose from his place and came to stand behind you, hands moving to your shoulders instinctively. Unfortunately, with your current mindset – your shoulders immediately flew to your ears, effectively shaking him off of your body.

“Maybe you should go without me.” You admitted quietly. Suddenly, the idea of putting on anything except one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of sweats felt like nothing short of torture. 

“You don’t want to go?” He murmured just as quietly.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go – although, at this point your answer was leaning heavily towards hell no I don’t. 

You loved Marlene; you were excited to celebrate her birthday, you got her a wonderful present you know she’ll be ecstatic over, and you always had fun with the group when you could all manage to get together. And besides, getting the whole group together was happening less and less now that you were all adults, living separately and working various jobs. 

So no, it’s not that you didn’t want to go.

What you didn’t want was to look at yourself in even one more piece of clothing that was either too tight, too frumpy, too lowcut, or showed off too much skin.

Who even bought these clothes? Why do you own them?

If you asked your mother, she would simply say you were ‘well-endowed’, which roughly translated to ‘you inherited your grandmothers dreadfully large breasts, darling, I’m sorry.’

Some may wonder what defines ‘dreadfully large breasts’. In your case, it was an H cup. 

Well-endowed could be used to describe one of those busty models in lingerie ads, not you.

Yours were large, and long, and marked with stretchmarks and not perky in the slightest. Nothing a good bra couldn’t fix though, right?

Wrong.

Bras that were big enough for breasts like yours were not at all cute. You had to special order them in most cases, and they were always beige or pink and they never did offer you as much lift you as much as you’d like.

If your boobs were the only part of your body causing you grief, you’d probably relent. But skinny girls don’t often have boobs this big, and it wasn’t just your tops that were bothering you.

Every pair of jeans and trousers you pulled over your hips felt too snug, too restrictive. You felt as if one wrong move and you’d pop right out of them like one of those Pillsbury biscuit containers.

James interrupted your mournful musings with a gentle “love?” and brushed the side of your wrist with his finger, clearly hesitant to touch you after you’d shaken him off earlier.

“I can’t find anything to wear.” You admitted.

James looked around at the clothing surrounding you before his bemused face turned back to yours. “What do you mean, love? It seems you’ve found a lot to wear.”

You rolled your eyes and felt the first tear fall. “James...” But he was already in problem solving mode.

“What about this?” He asked as he picked up a tank top you had discarded because the cut was too low, and the straps were too thin.

“I don’t have the right kind of bra for that.”

He looked between your bra covered form and the shirt, clearly not understanding what that meant but not willing to argue about it. 

“Okay...” He said as he dropped the offending shirt back onto the floor. “What about this?”

You didn’t even bother looking at the shirt he was holding. “If it’s on the floor, it’s a no.”

“But why is it a no?”

You looked over to see the button up shirt he was holding. “Because it makes me look...” fat, was going to be the negative ending of your sentence, but James’ face turned hard as he cut you off.

“Beautiful?”

You scoffed. “Sure James, I decided against the shirt because it made me look beautiful.”

“Okay.” James said far more sternly than you believe you’ve ever seen him. You turned and grabbed a t-shirt, so you at least weren’t being scolded by your boyfriend half-naked.

“Am I attractive?”

You reared your head back at his question – not at all where you thought this conversation was headed. “Uhm, yes? Yeah...of course.”

“I’ll forgive the hesitation on account of you being upset.” He said severely which caused you to snort a laugh as you wiped tears away from your eyes.

“Is Sirius attractive?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you could tell by James’ eyes moving towards your nose that you were scrunching it up in confusion.

“This feels like a trick.”

“You can answer the question honestly.”

“Okay...yes, Sirius is attractive.”

“Okay. And Mary? Is she attractive?”

“Yes.”

James nodded curtly. “And would you say that the three of us have good taste?”

“Wha-”

“Just answer the question.”

“Sure, you guys have good taste, but I don’t see-”

“You want to know what the three of us have in common?”

You sighed and nodded, knowing he was going to tell you regardless. 

“We have nothing physically in common – yet you find all three of us attractive. Alternatively, all three of us have had a crush on you.”

You scoffed. “Shut up, James.”

“I’m not joking.” He said, and you noticed he was almost just as stern as he was when this conversation began. “Sirius said he’d never do anything about it – bro code and all...also he’s like, happy with Moony now or whatever. But Mary had no such qualms; she told me that if things don’t work out between the two of us that she’s throwing her hat in the ring. I made her promise not to tell you - in case you left me for her - but I figured this was a good moment to share.” 

You barked a surprise laugh that seemed to ease some of the tension from James’ frame.

“Now, I don’t like the way you were just talking about my girlfriend.” He said gently, opening his arms as an invitation; an invitation you quickly accepted as you moved into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured into his chest.

“You should be.” He murmured into the hair on your head. 

“I just hate my body sometimes.” You admitted quietly. He never faltered in his gentle strokes of your back but hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Well, I love it all of the time, so.” 

“I don’t see how.” You whined as you pulled back. “My boobs are saggy, my tummy juts out, I’m soft everywhere, I’m covered in stretchmarks.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re just listing some of my favourite things, sweets. Your boobs?” He said as he moved his firm grip to your clothed breasts. “Look at that! Can’t even fit them in one hand.” He murmured, eyes glazing as he took in the view of your boob pooling around his large hand. “If I want to give your tits the attention they deserve, I need to use both hands! And your tummy...”

He moved his hands down your abdomen, albeit with more consideration than he’d shown your breasts. “I have to admit, this is my favourite spot to lay my head when we’re watching movies, but what I love the most about your tummy?” He said with a low growl as he spun you around aggressively, pushing the front of his hard body up against the back of yours, grabbing roughly at your hips/stomach as he moved his lips to your ears. “Gives me something to hold onto when I’m pounding into you from behind, or better yet, as you ride the fuck out of me.” 

Your face was a furnace and you were sure James could feel the heat radiating from you as he spun you back to face him. 

“What else were you worried about? Stretchmarks?” He said as he pulled his shirt off in one swift movement, showcasing his demi-god body style. “I’ve got them too.” He stated simply as he pointed to marks lining his biceps and pecs, a few on his hips, and pulled his trousers down slightly so you could see them trailing towards his ass.

“I know you’ve seen all of these before too – you’re no stranger to my body.” He said with a salacious wink.

“James...” you moaned, not able to handle anymore sexual innuendos. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sure you get the idea.” He relented as he replaced his shirt. “My point is, you’ll look lovely in anything you put on, but I’d prefer you wear something you’ll be comfortable in. I can have my girl suffering in her head all night.” 

You rested your forehead against his chest, willing away the tension headache that was forcing its way forward after all you just put yourself (and admittedly, James) through.

“What’s wrong with the shirt you’re wearing now?” He asked kindly.

You looked down at the old band-tee, it had a few holes in it and paint stains.

“It has holes in it and paint stains.” You deadpanned.

“Sirius always said to make dishevelled look intentional. Do you have a leather jacket?” He asked, turning toward your closet without waiting for an answer.

Suddenly, James was pulling a leather jacket around your shoulders, and grabbing a pair of heels.

“Now the stains and holes will look intentional. I think you look bad ass.” 

You weren’t as optimistic, but you turned to observe yourself in the mirror. Even if you didn’t see much of a difference, the sight of James looking at you like you hung the moon was enough to convince you to go for it. Either way, you’d be comfortable.

You’re not sure if James had mentioned anything, but both Sirius and Mary made sure to compliment you on your ‘punk rock look’ when you arrived to Marlene’s party 30 minutes late. 

[tonight-i-may-see]

Illicit Affairs (Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader)

[note: MORE ANGST UPON YE. also can u tell im on a tswift kick?]

cw: angst with a happy(?) ending, gn!reader, reader's gender isn't specified.

word count: 1k

Inspo: Illicit affairs - taylor swift & peace - taylor swift

“I have to go.” 

It was like clockwork. You'd meet, spend a few hours together, then he'd go and the next morning you'd have to look him in the eye at work like this wasn't breaking your heart.

This time, you decided to push things.

“Why? Who's waiting?” You ask, obviously pointing out the fact he wasn't married anymore and hadn't been for quite some time. The divorce had happened months before the first time the two of you did this routine, so why exactly was it he had to leave so soon?

He’s silent for a moment, then deeply exhales. “No one. But I don't have my go-bag if we get called.” 

A spark of irritation fizzles through you, so you push harder. “What, you can't go get it on the way?”. It's clear by his face he doesn't want to have this talk, and another sigh rolls out of his nose. It was typical really, he only ever wanted to have the good stuff with you, no discussions that might require actual use of his brain cells. To him, you were supposed to be easy, just a way to relax after work that he didn't have to stress over.

Of course, he was more than aware of how unfair that was- you were a human being with very real feelings, reciprocated ones, even. But after Haley he just wasn't ready to focus on anything but Jack and work…which was made difficult by the fact you were work. You were there every day, giving him that hurt puppy dog look that broke his heart a little every time he saw it. Those eyes only made him push you further away, though, so you'd resigned to only allowing them when you thought he wasn't looking (He could never take his eyes off you, though you had no idea that was the case.).

“Can we not do this tonight?” Aaron asks, and you’re startled by the weakness in his voice, by the tightness that was building to a crack. Looking up at him, you can see his eyes glisten in the lamp light, an even more startling reaction to your nagging questions.

“Are you-...are you crying?” You ask in a whisper, worry knitting your brow and bringing a frown to your lips. “Aaron, hey-” 

He tries to shy away, but you don’t let him for once. You pull him close and wipe his cheeks, still concerned about how out of nowhere this reaction is from him. “I just want you to stay, what’s going on?” 

It’s silent for a long while, you assume he’s collecting his thoughts and calming down, so you just keep one hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm to ground him. Five minutes pass before he can look you in the eye, and when he does your heart shatters. The tears just won’t stop. As he falls into your arms, you rub his back and try to push through the confusion at how fast things changed emotionally. “What is it, Aaron…? Honey?” You ask softly, moving so he can sit next to you on the bed.

“I wanna stay-” It’s a little difficult to make out with the tears and the fact he has his face pressed against your shoulder, but you hear it. “I wanna stay,” He repeats “But that makes it real.” 

Time slows, and the cogs start to turn in your head. Losing Haley twice over must’ve been the worst heartbreak he’d ever experienced, and she wasn’t in the field. You are. Sure, that means you’ve got each other’s backs, but it also meant your lives were on the line daily. Sure enough, he finishes your train of thought for you.

“I can’t lose you.” 

You don’t even try to say he won’t, because you know he might. Every time you step out of the bullpen and into the field there’s a target on your back, and you’d be a fool if you tried to ignore that. But was that really a reason to break each other's hearts?

“You might.” You say stiffly, running your fingers through the longest parts of his hair. “But if you keep this up, you’ll lose me too.”

It was something you wanted to let hang, so you did. One hand still running through his hair as you watched him process it…he was tired, you both were, the case you were on right now was one of the worst and was only devolving more. What would usually have been an irritating question with snide comments had become the final straw. Unwittingly, you’d broken him. Eventually, he looked up at you from where he was leaning, and your heart broke. He didn’t have to speak for you to know how he felt. 

“I know…I know it’s scary. I’m terrified.” His bottom lip trembles slightly, and you think about how you’d fight people tooth and nail to never have to see him so upset again, about how it gripped at your chest and stung your eyes every time you took in a breath. “But we can be scared together.”

There was no way to fix this, not alone, but therapy wasn’t something to bring up right now. Right now, the man in your arms clearly needed comfort and support, and that’s what you gave him. Hours pass with him half-cradled in your arms like a child, and eventually you wake up next to him, the pink light of a sunrise flushing his cheeks just like his own heartbreak had the night before. It was odd, seeing a man you knew to be so strong completely relying on you for stability, but at the same time it felt right. If Aaron needed a rock, that’s exactly what you’d be, there was no question he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. This wasn’t going to be easy, you’d have a lot of explaining to do to the team and your families, but you’d do it together.

Afraid, but in love without denial.

[obwjam]

a small surprise part 4 (gravity falls g/t)

back with a new chapter!! parts 1 • 2 • 3

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The fist came down at an alarming speed, like it had materialized out of thin air. Jay was thrown backwards, and her head instantly smacked against the table, causing stars to pop in and out of her vision. The only thing she could hear was a faint, dull static, like her brain was a television that wasn’t getting a signal. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would break through her chest. She didn’t have the strength to push herself to her feet. All of her limbs felt like they were paralyzed.

“Shit!” Stan yelled. Oh, he instantly regretted it. He didn’t even realize what was happening until his fist had already connected with the table. His subconscious must have saved him from actually touching her, but he got pretty damn close. He blinked, blinked again, and fully realized he almost just killed somebody. 

Again.

“Oh, god, kid, are you alright?” He bent down, putting himself at eye level with the writhing tiny. “Kid? I’m sorry, I didn’t — I wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, I just — got carried away, that’s all!” She wasn’t responding, so he began to reach his hand out toward her, ready to nudge her back to reality. 

“DON’T!” she screamed, louder than anything he’d ever heard before. She managed to scramble farther away from him. “PLEASE! I–I’M SORRY – I WON’T – P-PLEASE! Don’t…”

Stan’s expression shifted. He knew what this was. She was begging for her life. Something had switched inside of her. Something Stan was not expecting. His hands were shaking, and he was unsure what to do with them. He hovered awkwardly, watching, before realizing that he suddenly felt grossly uncomfortable looming over her. The sheer force of his fist caused her to fall over. She was barely as tall as it. Stan could pinch her between his fingers and never feel the weight. She was miniscule. How was any of this real?

Jay was too busy rolling in pain to notice, but Stan sat in total silence for 10 minutes, his mind racing to figure out what to do next. Maybe Poindexter has some kind of cheat sheet on her somewhere. Maybe all those secret codes were about her and he didn’t want her to read them. How does she even read, anyway? The letters must look huge. Focus, Stan, focus. Maybe she needs some water? But I don't want to move right now. I could just ask her. But I don’t want to talk again. My voice might shatter her eardrums.

Eventually, Jay came to. She had shut her eyes tight for a while, hoping the pain would melt away on its own. Soon enough, it did, but even with her senses thrown off, the feeling of being loomed over was incredibly persistent. She didn’t want to see Stan, so gigantic and destructive, towering over her after he just tried to murder her. And she certainly didn’t want to hear his smarmy jokes about her begging for her life – the embarrassment of that was beginning to hit her hard. How could she even be in the same room as him ever again, knowing she had become the helpless, controllable little thing he so clearly saw her as?

Stan, trying to stay patient and silent, was only increasing Jay’s anxiety more. Why was he just… sitting still? She dared to take a peek and only saw Stan’s massive elbows pressing on the tabletop, his torso so big it looked more like an endless wall. She wasn’t prepared to hear him speak.

“Look, kid, I–”

But he stopped as soon as her eyes met his. The shock of her expression sucked all the air from his lungs. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes burning from tears. She was staring at him in horror, like he was some kind of – some kind of monster. Someone who acts so callously toward other people’s feelings and needs. A killer. Now’s not the time for this! But Stan’s mind wouldn’t let him rest. Not even as his hand twitched in his lap, unable to stay still. He jumped when she jumped; he had no idea how she was able to pick up on that movement. Disoriented and filled with anxiety, Jay slowly scrambled backwards until she found a stack of books to dive behind for cover. Stan just watched. There was nothing he could do.

Jay pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Not being able to see Stan’s movements was probably a bad thing, but she couldn’t bear to be in his line of sight right now. She hadn’t cowered like this since first meeting Ford, and it all felt so eerily similar. Stan was just like Ford in as many ways as they differed – even if they didn’t share a face, she would be able to suss out their relation to each other. They both had this air of unpredictability and superiority, and Jay was now twice caught in the crosshairs. She had to get her hook. She had to get out of here. She had to…

Stan felt sick, just as he did in this very basement a week ago. It had been so long since he actually interacted with people, and he found that a lot of his survival instincts he prided himself on were not transferable to the real world; or even to tiny little people in the real world. Why did he think he needed to use violence to assert himself over someone as tall as a golf pencil? Why did she react so scared this time? Probably because you almost killed her. But nobody ever took him seriously. Why did she have to be different?

Stan sucked in a breath. Quit it, Stan. You can’t be doing this. But if he kept sitting there and staring at the books, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Fine. Then go work on the portal. Go be useful for once in your life.

It took Jay a while to notice he had left. She was too busy trying to stop her hands from shaking, and it took everything in her not to black out again from how fast the blood was rushing through her body. The sound of her own hyperventilating snapped her back to reality. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t even have any thoughts going through her head. It was completely, totally silent. She wasn’t even sure she could remember what words to use. But she eventually noticed that the vibe in the room had shifted considerably. The silence had become eerie, and the suffocating feeling was largely gone, replaced by an anxious panic. She hoped her senses weren’t betraying her, but a quick, subtle peek around the books confirmed that Stan was no longer sitting at the table, waiting for her to come out. She couldn’t see through the window, but a lot of clanging and a lot of cursing confirmed Stan had gone to work in the portal room.

Jay took the opportunity to finally stand up. She needed to grip the spine of the books to pull herself up because her legs were completely drained of energy. In a moment of panic, she thought she was maybe paralyzed from the incident, but she was able to take a few shaky steps. She blinked as her brain oriented itself, her eyes stinging, her world still turning. She didn’t quite understand why Stan had left the room, but she didn’t care. The only thing her brain had the capacity for right now was escape.

She stumbled over to her hooks, which were still woefully incomplete. Fuck it, she thought, wiping the sweat off her hands, I’ll just slide down the table leg – link these together, she managed to hook one piece of bent metal around the other with her trembling hands, then use this, she picked up, dropped, and picked up again what she had tied together for rope, and I’ll just wrap it around myself, and I can – I can – I just need –

Jay tried her best to assemble something that could get her safely down from the metal table, but she was trembling so hard that she could barely keep the hooks from slipping from her grip. And the more time she took, the more she panicked, and the more mistakes she made. The risk from falling from such a great height couldn’t be any worse than seeing Stan again. She had to hurry, quick, before he—

The stinging sound of scraping metal made Jay freeze so fast she could feel her blood turn cold. She was too numb to turn around, but having her back to him was even more terrifying. She slowly turned around, gripping her hooks so tight she thought she’d crush them.

Stan gaped back, eyes wide. It felt like he glitched temporarily before getting his ability to speak back. “Oh. You’re still here.”

She shrunk back, whimpering a bit and putting her hands in front of her chest in a protective position, tightening her white-knuckle grip on the hooks. She didn’t dare move an inch.

To her surprise, Stan, very slowly, lifted his hands up placatingly. “Don’t worry,” was all he managed to say in a scratchy, hoarse voice that barely sounded like his.

Jay couldn’t budge even if she wanted to. She was frozen.

“Oh. I see. The, uh, metal things,” Stan said clumsily, nudging his head at her hooks. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. I’d want to get out of my sight if I were you, too.”

Jay knitted her eyebrows. This was not the tone of voice she expected from him.

“Look, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to – I’m – I’m sorry, Jay,” he stumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Her heart skipped a beat when he actually said her name. “You probably won’t forgive me, and that’s alright, I don’t deserve it. It’s just – my life hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. I don’t always… handle things the best,” he said, sounding profoundly embarrassed at admitting such a thing. “Never have, and I guess I never will. I’m just the Pines family screw-up.”

Jay arched an eyebrow. Her mind was telling her this was all an act – a pity party to draw her back in so he could do something awful. But her gut kept asking one thing: Why would he need to do that?

After a few tense moments, Jay lowered her hands and loosened her hold on the hooks. Stan, taking this as a sign of trust, slowly sat down, pushing the stool back a bit to put some distance between them. Now Jay felt comfortable enough to inch backwards until her back hit the stack of books. She didn’t even blink, in case Stan did something again.

“I know Poin–uh, Ford didn’t tell you anything about me,” he began, wringing his hands together, “but I, uh, don’t exactly have the most admirable past.” He took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? “I’ve had to do a lot of lying, a lot of stealing, just to scrape by. I lived out of my car for a while. Hah, I don’t even know how Ford tracked down the motel room I was staying in to send me that postcard.” He stole a glance at Jay, who wore the same skeptical look on her face. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s been a while since I’ve had… company. Or been around people who weren’t convicted felons. And when I came here, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else but Ford. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone three inches tall. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, I just… need to remember how to act normal again.”

Jay was floored. The depth of sorrow in his voice was something she didn’t think a human was capable of. And as freaked out as she was, she could clearly see this was an attempt to reach out to her, to offer an olive branch without having to keep apologizing and reminding himself of the terrible thing he’d just done. He acted impulsively, and he knew it. Even after what he just did, he was making the effort to at least try and patch it up.

Ford did the exact same thing.

“I, uhm, I can relate. Kind of.” 

Stan’s eyes lit up for the briefest of moments at the sound of her voice. He didn’t think that would actually work. 

“Uhm..” Jay had to pause. This all felt so foreign to say. She had never related to a human about anything. “About the stealing part. And the not being used to company part.” Stan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Jay sighed. Was she really about to do this?

“I’ve told you a bit about… borrower stuff,” she said, keeping it vague in the hopes that he forgot most of it. “A huge part of the lifestyle – probably the biggest part, really – is the… stealing from humans part.” She gave Stan a chance to insert a witty remark, but he stayed silent. “We basically take anything and everything we can get while they’re not looking. Food, supplies… whatever we can get our hands on. And it gets pretty lonely, because most of us – we travel in small groups, or pairs. It’s not safe to be in a big group. I’ve…” She debated if she wanted to say this, but judging from the small tidbits Stan had revealed, she guessed it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to him. “I’ve been on my own for a while. It’s – well, it’s hard to remember times with other borrowers. I could go weeks without speaking, and it – it would have been normal. This… this is all pretty new to me, too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s new to me. I know how to handle myself,” Stan interjected, immediately regretting his defensive tone when he saw her exasperated expression. “I mean… that sounds like it was really tough on you.”

Jay huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It was.”

There was an awkward silence as both of them tried to figure out what to say next. Stan was remorseful, and a little freaked out, but he just wanted to feel okay with himself as quickly as possible. He could barely handle the nervous side-eye she was giving him right now, and he wasn’t even doing anything.

“Look, uh, you don’t have t’be scared of me, okay? I did somethin’ stupid, I know I did. I shouldn't have tried to – it was just a reaction. I’m used to havin’ to punch my way outta situations. Sometimes I forget how… tiny you are.” Jay felt her stomach sink at the direct call-out to her size, and she shrank even more as Stan peered at her. “Like, I could breathe on you and hurt you.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Weak and helpless.”

“Well, you’re a pipsqueak, that’s for sure,” Stan said callously before shaking his head. “But no, you – that’s not it, I just – I know this is weird for you, but come on, you gotta admit it’s even weirder for me. Up until a week ago, I didn’t even know something like you even existed. Now I’m talkin’ to a person who can fit in my hand, and you… you’ve been hangin’ around Ford for months. I’m just a… different version of him.” A stupider, worse version of him.

Jay thought about it for a moment. She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. Stan wasn’t the first giant she’s ever dealt with, but she was his first tiny. And he just lost his brother after not seeing him for a long, long time. That was a lot to deal with. She didn’t really know what Stan had been through, but judging from the way he spoke about it… it didn’t seem normal by human standards.

“...I know,” Jay said quietly, sheepishly, but Stan still heard. “And I’m… sorry, for riling you up. I said those things to make myself feel better, because – you may think I have this superiority complex thing, but I mean, how else am I supposed to compete? You… Ford, Fidds, you guys are gigantic. You can do things I can only dream of doing. Hell, you do things I can only dream of without even thinking about it. It’s… hard not to feel worthless in comparison. It’s hard to feel like I even matter.”

Jay immediately flushed red. Why on earth did she just say that? Why was she confiding in Stan? She was saying things she had never even told Ford. This is so embarrassing. He doesn’t care! He doesn’t have sympathy for you! 

But to Jay’s surprise, Stan didn’t laugh at her or make another joke about her size. Instead, he sighed. “Trust me. I know how that feels.” Jay’s look of pure surprise and skepticism told Stan he needed to elaborate. “You only knew my brother for a couplea months, but I spent my entire life with the guy. I grew up in Ford’s shadow. He was the smarty pants know-it-all twin, and I was the trouble-making, dumb twin. My folks cared more about Ford’s homework than whatever I was doing.” Stan stopped himself. The last thing he wanted to do right now was relive this. Why was he even saying this to her? “Hah. Looks like we’re more alike than we thought, pipsqueak.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Woah, let’s not get crazy now,” she said, slightly defensive. But her small smile betrayed her. Stan smiled in return.

“Hah, right.”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, and after a few seconds of silence, he stood up, ready to leave and be done with this. He said his apology – he said more than he wanted to, in fact – and that was more than enough. The exhaustion was clearly getting to him. He’d slept maybe a total of 10 hours over the past five days. Yeah, that was it. He was just tired, not thinking straight. He needed a good night’s sleep. Maybe a day’s break from code-cracking and journal reading and tiny little people who could sit in his palm would do him some good.

He made his way toward the exit, but stopped at the threshold. Something was nagging at him, and he needed a clear head.

“You, uh… you gonna be alright, kid?”

Jay’s eyes lingered on Stan. Her heartbeat still felt elevated, her breath hitching every time his fingers twitched as he wrung his hands together. The thought of being picked up by him again made her head start rocking. It took everything she had to look up at him, and even then, she could only hold her gaze for a few seconds before the bile started to rise to her throat. She had to take a few concentrated breaths once she realized her breathing was still shaky.

“Yeah,” she said finally. She wasn’t sure how much she meant it.

“Okay,” Stan replied. He wasn’t sure how much he believed her.

Stan stood for a few moments, sorting through his feelings. Nothing about this felt real. It was all happening so fast. But he would go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning and she’d still be here while Ford was gone. Just like it had been for the last week. Just like it was probably going to be for the foreseeable future. It was stupid, and unfair. But Stan was used to unfair.

He found himself staring, still unable to process how he could barely make out her form among the clutter of the table. If he didn’t know she was there, he wouldn’t have noticed her. He hated how much that freaked him out.

Ugh.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Jay stared straight ahead, then down to the table. Her hooks sat on either side of her. She had tied up enough rope. She had thought everything out. She knew the way out.

But then she looked back up. Stan leaned on the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his expression cautious, his eyes hopeful. He regarded her with curiosity, not disdain. He was waiting for an answer. She let out a long, deep sigh.

“Yeah, Stanley. I’ll see you in the morning.”

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

The Pull Of You - Part 2

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Soulmates - Feeling the pull between each other indicates a bond. A kiss confirms it.

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky on a Tuesday. Steve ignores the soulmate pull, Bucky can't. There's something about you that neither can shake, even when you're wearing one of Clint's t-shirts and your unicorn slippers. After weeks of slipping into your bed Bucky decides he can't hold back anymore. He's telling you after the mission, whether Steve is all in or not. When you don't come back from the mission, they are both ready to burn the world down and the team have the matches to help. But is everything as it seems and have they been betrayed by someone on the inside.

Chapter Summary: Clint knows somethings wrong but what is it?

You’d wrote your mission report on the jet and read it a couple of times, annoyed at how many typos there were. It really shouldn’t take this long. You’d written plenty of reports on a cross Atlantic flight, even if the Quinjet halfed the flight time. Nat was still sporting a concerned frown in your direction but you’d been quick to put in your headphones when her and Clint had made there way back to the front of the jet.

With half an hour to go and an eight hour turn around until the next mission, Clint took pity on you as you let out a heavy sigh.

“Want me to proofread it?”

“Please.” You passed over the tablet and let out a yawn, realising you couldn’t feel your ass, you stood and stretched before heading to the bathroom at the back of the jet. Nat watched you go.

“Hmmmmm”

“What?” Nat asked. Clint learned back in the chair, his eyes closed and tapping his chin.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y bring up the team sheet for Y/N mission.”

“What is it?”

The AI projected the list near to where the tablet now sat on his lap. Clint scanned it quickly and then turned back to the tablet.

“The other day when you and her got into it..”

“Please don’t bring it up again, I still feel awful, you were right it was double standards.”

“Hang on, that’s not what it’s about. You said she reacted, overreacted.”

“I was pushing her and…”

“Nat, listen that’s not what I’m getting at.”

“Fine, go on.”

“Pietro said the same thing.”

“What?”

“After you’d kissed and made up, Pietro told me how surprised he’d been that you two had got into it like that.”

“We’ve argued before.”

“When has our sestra ever squared up to you before and got in your face like that. Hearing it from someone else made me think, I don’t think it was just you pushing her to say something that set her off. We’ve been too caught up in the Steve, Bucky, Y/N what if, than the now.”

The sound of the bathroom door opening reminded them both you’d both be reappearing soon and Nat signed for him to hurry.

“Who was in the compound that morning?” Nat casted her mind back. The compound had been busy that day, a mix of people coming and going. As footsteps slowly approached Clint pointed at one of the names on your report. A familiar one. He then pointed again to the team sheet, the name wasn’t there. It was also the same person that had been in the compound that morning. Why were they on your report and not the team sheet.

Nat shot Clint a look. Signing to him.

“When did we switch places?”

“What?”

“When did I become the idiot and you become the one that figures it out.”

Clint rolled his eyes, signing back before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“It’s a good job I love you.”

“Ewwwwwwwwwww can you not makeout over my very important report please.” You quipped.

“Brat.” Snarked Nat.

“You’ve spelt Chitauri wrong. You’ve put Shitauri.”

You shrugged as you dropped yourself back into your seat.

“If the boot fits.”

Before one of them could comment back F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice echoed through the jet.

“Agents, you’ll be landing in fifteen minutes. Boss would like to know your vote for takeout.”

“Chinese.” you’d replied in unison.

Clint passed the tablet back to you, reminding you to sign it before you submitted it to Hill. You checked it once more, attached your body cam footage and hit send.

“So how pissed off were the French?” Nat asked.

“Do you remember that day I was bored and I broke into the Louvre to prove a point?”

“Of course.” Nat replied.

“One of my favourite days as a S.H.E.I.L.D Agent.” Laughed Clint.

“Well, angrier than that.”

“Did they remember you?” Asked Clint.

You cocked an eyebrow at Clint and he started to laugh.

“If you can talk them around after that, you really should work for UN or NATO.” Nat smiled.

“Really Romanoff? You’ve already got the New Accords. What more do you want from me? World peace?”

The three of you fell into an easy back and forth. Nat watched as you laughed at one of Clint’s jokes. God she wanted you to be happy. To feel the contentment she felt after everything.

Apart from Clint you’d been the first to give her a chance, and he had to by default. She was his soulmate after all.

The banter continued and to an outsider you would have seemed happy. But Nat knew and deep down so did Clint. The smile didn’t reach your eyes and your laugh was a little half-hearted.

Once the next mission was out the way, she’d try  to talk to you again or get one of the others to. An intervention was too far right? Girls night and the very expensive champagne Pepper liked would do it. Hope could fly in. Sam’s sister too. Maria, Val and May always liked to be included as well.

Romanoff knew a lot of things but even she didn’t know there wouldn’t be a girls night. No expensive champagne. No extra team mates and family and worst of all…………

no you.

TAGLIST

@imdoingbetternow @mcira @abaker74

[gucciwins]

Hi would you write something about Josie getting her first period? :)

enjoy this 1k blurb

golden sparks

josie is 13

+

Harry thought he’d be prepared for everything when raising Josie, but clearly, he was wrong because he was standing in front of the door his daughter had slammed in his face. He didn’t know what was happening, but he hoped his little (thirteen-year-old) girl would talk to him. Thankfully, he wasn’t in this alone. Y/N gently touched his back, “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got this. You’ll be okay.” 

He relaxed only for a moment because he knew Y/N was right. Ever since she came into his life, she made everything better. Y/N knocked, asking Josie if it was okay to come in. Harry heard a faint yes, and he watched the love of his life go in to talk to his heart. 

“Dad made a rude comment, and my stomach hurts, and I just want chocolate,” Josie expressed in a voice full of tears.

Y/N sat by her daughter, rubbing a hand down her back, and while Y/N had an idea of what it might be, told Josie it would all be alright. “How about you go in and have a shower? I’ll bring in some snacks. Then, after, we’ll talk about what happened with Dad.”

She was about to leave when she heard Josie scream ‘Mom’! Y/N knocked before rushing in and found Josie sitting on the toilet with her head in her hands. Josie had laid a towel over her lap, and Y/N knew what happened. 

“Josie, honey. Are you okay?” 

She shakes her head no. 

“Okay, you do know about your period, sweetie?” 

“A little,” she whispered. 

Y/N was thankful she had her older sister to help her. Now, she had her own daughter to help guide. “Well, periods start when our bodies are ready to start puberty. It’s every month for some women because God thought we’d all want to carry children, and science made it so that we have to pay for it every month.” 

“Why does it hurt?” 

Y/N frowns, hating to see Josie hurting. “Our bodies react differently. I can get you some pain medicine; a heating pad always works. We can send your dad on an ice cream run?”

Josie perks up slightly, “ice cream?” 

“Mhm…any and all flavors.”

“Please,” Josie agrees. “Do–would I use tampons?” 

Y/N chuckles, “we can start with pads, darling. Go from there, okay, maybe not now. We can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay, mum.” 

“Take a shower, baby. I’ll leave pads for you here. I’ll sit in your room if you need me to walk you through it,” Y/N tells her softly. Josie nods, and Y/N knows she’s scared because she’s not sure what it means, but thankfully, Josie knows she’s not alone. 

Y/N leaves her room and goes to get everything ready. Harry is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, clearly distressed because his daughter is upset with him. It’s not common for them to disagree, but when they do, it’s the end of the world for Harry. Y/N writes down a list of items for Harry so he can go to the shops while she prepares tea and puts Josie’s sheets in the dryer for a bit. 

“Darling, need you to go to the shops for Jo.” 

Harry is right by her side. “Is she okay? Gosh, does she hate me?” 

“Freeze, baby. Why would she?” Y/N shakes her head. “Never say that; it could never be true.” 

“I told her she was being too emotional over a song.”

Y/N sighs because even Josie probably didn’t understand why she reacted that way. It’s easy to be defensive when our emotions feel out of control.

“Baby, Josie got her period. Her hormones are a mess, and she’s just nervous.” Y/N squeezes his hand. “Give her time.” 

“How much?” He whispers. 

Y/N kisses his lips as she pushes him towards the door. “As long as it takes you at the shops.” 

Harry gives her another kiss, muttering against her lips how thankful he is. “I love you, my sweet angel. Be back soon.” 

With Harry off to the shops, Y/N quickly throws the blankets back on the bed and waits in Josie’s reading chair for her to call out. “Mumma?”

“Still here, darling.” 

“I just bend the wings, right?”

“Correct, bubs.” 

She hears Josie sigh and then hears the sink running. The door opens, and she finds Josie in her baggiest sweats, which Y/N knows were once hers during her university soccer days, and a shirt of Harry’s. “A little better?”

“Only a little.” 

“Let’s get you in bed. Dad’s at the shops should be back soon.” Y/N tells her as Jo slips under covers and sighs at the warmness that engulfs her. 

Y/N sets Josie up with her favorite movie (When Harry Met Sally). She really is Harry’s kid with a promise to be up again when Harry arrives. A few minutes later, Harry rushes in with two bags and two bouquets of flowers. 

She married a sap.

Harry sets everything on the counter. Y/N leans against the fridge as he runs around, putting everything away while taking out a tray under the sink to carry all the excessive snacks he bought for Josie. Y/N doesn’t say anything simply, watches him as he is about to go dot on their little girl. 

“I love you, Harry.” 

Harry freezes and turns to look at Y/N. He grabs the bouquet, placing them in her arms as he pushes her against the fridge to kiss her deeply. Y/N would happily indulge him, but their girl awaits them upstairs. “Be back in a second.” 

Balancing everything on the tray, Harry goes up to see Josie. Y/N knows Harry won’t be coming back down and instead, double checks the door is locked and shuts all the lights off. She peaks into Josie’s room and finds Harry squeezed on her bed, now dressed in sweats and an old shirt of Y/N’s from a fundraiser she did recently. 

“Mumma, come here.” 

“Yeah, Mumma join us,” Harry smirks. 

She rolls her eyes but makes her way into the room, settling on the other side of Josie. All three squeezed on the bed. Y/N knows life is perfect.

[pumpk1n-writes]

Hi, can you please do part 2 of 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 like where the baby is born?

Thanks

Don’t Make Me Leave ~ Part Two

➥ in which Billy and the fem!reader are best friends and he accidentally gets her pregnant. {ft. pregnancy, fluff, mentions of sex, your author knowing nothing about childbirth other than what they watched on Gilmore Girls, like… childbirth. If you’re squeamish I suggest not reading this because there’s birth. Of a child. I mean maybe it’s a child. Idk. Extremely ooc for like, all of them}

A/N: I realized through writing/brief research of this that I’m never going to have kids. Like ever. I’ll have cats. Also this is literally so bad because I have no idea how to go about this, but enjoy I guess.

Part One || Word Count ~ 773 words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @billysbae

It was the middle of the night. Sidney and Stu had basically moved in to your house in preparation for the baby. Billy and Sid moved cautiously around each other, a dangerous dance, but they’d managed to put aside their differences and tentatively live together. For now.

The clock read 12:47 when you left your bed, the decision to get something to eat fresh in your head. You’d made it down the stairs when you felt a something unlike anything you’d felt before. Sharp pain shot up your abdomen and into your stomach, and you clutched the counter.

“Billy!” You called upstairs, hoping he was awake, or at least sleeping lightly. “Billy, get your ass down here!”

Billy didn’t come, but Stu did. He took one look at your pale face and bolted back upstairs. You could hear a commotion, like he’d thrown something at your boyfriend. A few moments later both boys were racing down to you.

“Get,” you took a deep breath through the contractions. “Go get Sid.”

Stu nodded and ran back upstairs, and Billy grabbed your hand. “Is it time?”

“I think so, these are the contractions I think.”

A drop of sweat trickled down your neck, followed by another, then another.

“Wait for Stu to help you get in the car, I’ll call the hospital and get the bag.”

You frowned at him, “I can get in the car by myself, Loomis.” You took one pained step, then nearly doubled over. “Never mind.”

Your dad rushed out of his room, looking furious that he hadn’t been told yet. “I’m taking you to the hospital, Stu can drive Billy separately.”

“Sir—”

“She’s my daughter. I’m taking her to the hospital.”

“And it’s my baby!”

“Fine then, get in the car, but hurry your ass up, young man.”

Your dad, being a cop, flipped his lights on and drove as quickly as he dared in the dark and rain to the hospital. Luckily for you, Woodsboro was small enough that it didn’t take long. Long enough that you were nearly screaming in pain before your water broke, but not as long as it would have been in a bigger city.

Your dad ran into the hospital to secure a room and Billy helped you limp through the doors. They already had a gurney and a room ready, and the nurse walked beside you, holding your hand and instructing you to breath.

You made it into the room without much incident (other than agony and pain and more agony) and the doctors situated you on the bed.

“It’s too late for any pain meds, is that okay?”

You nodded, sweat sheening your face and neck. “Just get this thing out of me,” you gasped. Billy looked at you apologetically, and you glared at him.

“As soon as this demon is out of me I’m slapping you. Hard.”

“Okay,” the doctor patted your ankle in what you suppose was supposed to be reassuring. “It’s time to start pushing, you ready?”

“Oh my god,” you were mad at the doctor, mad at Billy, mad at this terrible demon child. “I’m never doing this again.”

You screamed, pushing with all of your might, fairly certain that your heart was going to explode. And maybe everything else would.

They said that you wouldn’t remember the pain of childbirth. Fucking liars.

“Billy, if you want another kid I’ll get you pregnant, how does that sound.”

Billy only laughed, but he was looking a little green. Pussy.

The nurse pulled Billy and your father aside, trying to talk to them privately, but it was a small room and you could hear everything.

“Sir, some complications arose.”

“What kind of complications?” Billy said, green giving way to pale.

“Well, there’s only a fifty/fifty percent chance that the baby and mother both make it. You might have to choose between them if it gets worse.”

“What?” Billy had to sit down, and he put his head in his hands. “I choose her. I always choose her.”

Come on, baby, I didn’t carry you for nine months for you give up on me now. If you don’t come on out right now you’re grounded.

Defying all expectations, you pushed with one final scream and the nurse was able to grab the baby’s head and shoulders and pull him the rest of the way out.

You collapsed onto the pillows in exhaustion, holding your baby close and kissing him all over his beautiful face. He had Billy’s nose, but your eyes.

“Ethan,” you spoke into his forehead, the name you and Billy had decided on. “Welcome to the world.”

[wildmtthyme]

What is Love? Baby, don't hurt me.

Simon doesn't believe in love. He thinks it's the greatest lie ever told, experience has taught him that. Not personal experience, but experience nonetheless. Never mind the fact that he's in a long-term relationship. Never mind the fact that him and his girlfriend live together. Never mind the fact that they have a dog. All of this doesn't matter until he's confronted with that very topic he hates so much. And then his world is tipped upside down when his best mate is KIA. Simon is forced to take a hard look at his life afterwards.

Master List can be found here.

Chapter 2: The Call of Duty (come on, it was too easy of a name not to pick it.)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Language. P in V Sex. Condom usage/Safe Sex (is that a warning, though?) Emotionally distant Simon (duh).

<- Chapter 1. The Topic of Love

Chapter 3. The Cost of Duty ->

The sun wasn’t up yet but he was, dressed and ready to go. He leaned down over the bed, pressing his lips to her brow. “I’ll be back soon.” He said what he always said. She nodded; her eyes barely open. She set her hand to his cheek and he felt her rub under his eye with her thumb. He ran his thumb over her lips before he bent lower and kissed her, soft at first… before he found himself pushing his knee onto the bed… his hand pressed down into the mattress as he climbed onto her. His tongue found hers and he hummed low, hearing her gift him a beautiful moan.

He wasn’t sure how long he kissed her, his mind buzzing and fuzzy when he came up for air. “Fuck… I gotta go…” He breathed out heavily, pressing his brow to hers. She nodded. Her hands were in his hair… she was looking up at him with her big beautiful eyes, the light from the hall giving him more than enough to see by. He nodded back but his hand was moving on its own… the sound of Velcro ripped through the silence… he tugged his vest off and let it fall to the side, she was kicking the blankets off. C’mere… he exhaled heavy as he started tugging at his belt buckle impatiently.

He hadn’t planned this… he’d never actually done this, gotten ready to leave and then not been able to… suddenly wanting her so bad that he felt like he was going to claw his own skin off if he didn’t have her. “Need ya…” He breathed out roughly before he kissed her again. It took no time… no time at all before his jeans and boxers were stuffed down his thighs… her panties torn and hanging uselessly around her hips… the condom rolled on with practiced ease… his face buried in her neck as she clawed at his still clothed back while he fucked into her, bullying his cock as deep in as he could each time. Fuck! Si!

He groaned low, trying to spread his knees and getting frustrated that he couldn’t… he reached down and shoved roughly, getting one knee out was all he needed before he spread them as much as he could, his hips canting as he started snapping them… angling his hips just right… ramming that spot inside of her over and over until he felt her tighten around him. “S’right… c’mon… s’good girl… come fer me…” He breathed out roughly, sweat beading on his brow, having not put his mask on yet. When she came undone, he found his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he groaned long and low, his cock kicking wildly as her cunt pulled on him in a rhythm all its own. His body surged against her, rocking hard enough to make the headboard knock against the wall as he emptied. He kissed his way to her lips, giving her a passionate, almost sloppy kiss before breaking it, panting breaths heating the air between their lips.

“Gonna miss ya, love.” He breathed out low, as if the words were forbidden. He saw the way her eyes softened, a small smile pulling at her lips. You know what I wanna say. He nodded, nuzzling into her hand when he felt it against his cheek, he pressed a kiss to her palm, knowing he was showing her far more affection than he really ever had before. But this mission… this one was different. “I know.” He said quietly before he started to untangle himself from her. He cleaned her up gently before he tucked her back into bed and finished redressing. He gave Sam a good scratch behind his ears before he walked out the door. “Protect ‘er while I’m gone.” He murmured low before he shut the door, the dog’s eyes watching him go.

[highqueenofelfhame]

who am i posting two drabbles in the same week??

rowaelin // 2709 words // masterlist

It was always easy to tell if Rowan had a good or bad day at work.

When it was good, he would sweep in and drop a kiss to Roux’s chubby cheeks if she was awake. If she wasn’t, he would disappear upstairs to check in on her before coming back down and getting a rundown of the day from Aelin. Sometimes she would heat up leftovers from dinner for him to eat, others they would sit and finish whatever movie held her attention before she slipped out and retired to her home in the renovated pool house for the night.

When it was bad, the signs started as soon as he pulled into the driveway. The lights would flash through the window, the garage would open, close, and then… silence. It could be anywhere from five minutes to an hour before he would get out of his car, slowly push the door shut, and quietly trudge in through the mud room. Aelin would barely hear him put down his keys and bag by the door. His footsteps up to Roux’s room were nearly nonexistent if it weren’t for the creaking of that fourth step from the bottom. 

Sometimes he would get into the tiny twin sized bed with his daughter and fall asleep shielding her with his body. Other times he would sit with her while he decompressed before coming down to check in with Aelin on how the night went. On the bad nights, he seldom ate anything at all. He just went through the motions of getting ready for bed until he inevitably passed out from whatever hours-long surgery he’d endured that day. 

Tonight was no different. Aelin tried not to count the ticks of the clock above the fireplace while she watched tv, her stomach twisting with anxiety at the ninety-two minute mark. An hour and a half was almost the longest he had ever stayed in his car like that. She knew it was turned off, so there was no need to worry about fumes. It was just the idea of him sitting in the dark silence while trying to unravel the tragedy of the day that was eating at her. 

The last time this happened, a young girl about Roux’s age had died on his operating table. It wasn’t anything he had done wrong, no. The little girl had just been too badly injured in the car accident. Everyone knew it was a long shot to save her. She’d barely had a pulse when they wheeled her into the operating room, her heart having stopped twice in the ambulance on the way over. 

It wasn’t a story she had learned from Rowan himself, but from one of his closest friends at a barbeque for Roux’s fifth birthday a few weeks back. Aelin’s heart had broken as he quietly recounted the nightmare to Aelin where Rowan couldn’t hear, the two of them sipping their beers while keeping an eye on the father to make sure he didn’t get close enough to hear. It had ended with Aelin needing to turn away to wipe away a few stray tears before anyone noticed, and Fenrys gave her a brief hug. The pair had been busted then, Rowan’s eyes narrowing slightly at the blonde man beside her. Caught red handed learning a story he didn’t want to speak of, she had thought.

There had been a few other times since then that he’d taken his moment of silence, but nothing this long since that had happened. It had Aelin’s mind reeling with what might have gone wrong, her body itching to make her way to the garage to check on him and make sure he was okay. But there was a line there that she didn’t want to cross. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever process he underwent to come down after a hard day. 

But her eyes didn’t leave the garage door, her body turned so she could see his face when he came in. As much as he needed to be sure that Roux was okay when he had shitty days like today surely was, Aelin needed to make sure that he was okay, too. For a thousand and one different reasons, she ignored why that was. She was his nanny, he was her boss, and she was only worried because she cared for him in the way that all nannies cared about the families they worked for that treated them well. Right?

The movie she’d paused was long forgotten, the brand of the television bouncing from side to side on an idle screen.  It was another three agonizingly slow minutes before the garage door opened, the scrape of the sill against the floor as deafening as it was startling. And then there was the look on his face. 

Much like a couple months ago, his face was hewn from stone. Even from here she could see the signs that tears had slipped past the iron clad dam he usually had on his emotions. Red cheeks, slightly puffy under eyes. His nose had been kissed by grief, raw from how many times she assumed he’d blown or wiped at it with a tissue or his sleeve. The usually straight posture he had was deflated with shoulders that slumped inward. 

The one thing different about this than the others was that he had immediately zoned into where she sat on the couch, his eyes roving over her face and what he could see of her body. Almost like this time it was her that he was checking on, that he needed to know was okay. 

Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a single finger before making his way upstairs. When he was halfway up, he looked at her over his shoulder one more time before she would disappear from his view. 

The soft jiggle of Roux’s door handle being turned was her cue to rise from the couch. Her feet carried her to the kitchen where she immediately started a kettle for some tea and then began pulling the night’s dinner from the fridge to warm him a plate. If he didn’t come back down, it would be there when he did. Worst case scenario, she would just force him to eat breakfast in the morning even if it meant waking him from a dead sleep.

Fifteen minutes hadn’t passed when she heard that creaky step announce his descent. Aelin stayed quiet in the kitchen, readying two mugs on the island for tea while the microwave hummed a quiet song behind her. If she wasn’t always so acutely aware of Rowan Whitethorn, she probably wouldn’t have heard his bare feet as he made his way into the kitchen. Still, she said nothing in case he didn’t want to talk and simply proceeded to make his tea precisely how he liked it. 

As she placed the kettle down on a dishrag, Rowan’s arms braced either side of her, locking her in place where she stood. He was so close that his chest was pressed against her back. Even through their shirts she could feel the heat radiating off his body, off his biceps that rested against her shoulders. And then his forehead was gently resting against the back of her head while he took a deep breath, almost like he was… savoring the way she smelled. Like she hadn’t been wrong when he first walked in and she was the one he’d needed to know was safe. 

Instead of freezing up like her body wanted to, she kept up the task of making the tea. Or trying to, anyway. The few times she had been this close to Rowan had always resulted in her brain short circuiting, and more than anything she was trying to not make a mess of the boiling water and the glass cups she handled with shaking hands. 

“I made you tea,” she whispered, pushing the cups toward the side of the counter with the barstools.

“Thank you.” More-so than usual, Rowan’s voice was low and gravely. Another tell that at some point he had almost definitely been crying. The only other time he sounded like that was first thing in the morning or the few times she’d been around him when he was drunk and exhausted, accent heavier than usual and voice so low it gave her goosebumps.

Instead of replying she just nodded slightly so as to not disturb him. He simply kept breathing in the scent of her lavender shampoo, each exhale tickling the back of her neck and shooting small zips of electricity down her spine.  The microwave beeped three times to proudly alert that his dinner was finished, but neither of them moved to deal with it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Moving her gaze from the tea, she looked down at his hands. His knuckles went white at the question and he inhaled deeply one more time before turning her so she was facing him. 

Their faces were so close that she could count the small smattering of freckles he had across his nose from summers spent in the sun. The rich green of his eyes were more prominent than she’d ever seen them, the color enhanced by the vessels that were bloodshot. Gold and brown and every shade of green she could name was swirled in his irises. They weren’t just green anymore than hers were just blue. 

“I lost a patient today.” His words weighed heavily between them despite being barely more than the minty breath across her face.

“I know.” Rowan nodded once, his fingers ghosting over her hip. For several heartbeats she watched his hands almost touch her, graze her skin, and pull back into fists before starting the process over again. Like he was fighting himself not to touch her even though he wanted– or needed– to. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured, looking up at him through thick lashes. “You can– it’s okay.”

Consent seemed to be the key. Rowan was tender as he gathered her up in his arms, treating her like she was one of those cups behind them that might break if handled too roughly. Knowing he needed some sort of physical affection, she melted into him easily. That thing that had been brewing between them, that she had convinced herself was all in her head, was now a wire pulled taught as she pressed her cheek against his chest. 

Rowan let out a shaky breath, his lips pressing to the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Her own arms wrapped around his sides, hands sliding over the muscles of his back before meeting in the middle. With feather light touches, she traced invisible shapes and lines with her fingernails over the fabric of his t-shirt. One of his hands cradled the back of her head with his thumb making soft soothing strokes over the side of her neck. The other was splayed across her back to keep her tightly pressed to him. 

She didn’t have any complaints. He was freshly showered– likely using the facilities at work– and smelled like pine and snow and so distinctly Rowan. Aelin wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the way he smelled was quickly becoming one of her favorite things in the world. And even if this was all only in her head, she would take this small gift from the gods and run like hell with it. 

The cocoon of his arms shifted around her and he pulled back enough to look at her face. His fingers slipped between the silky strands of her hair until they rested in the little dip at the base of her skull with his thumb on her jaw. So much emotion swirled in his eyes as she looked up at him, not knowing what was going to come next. Her heart pounded like a timpani all the same. 

“The woman that died on my table tonight shared a birthday with you.” Aelin noticed the way his throat bobbed as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. His brows were furrowed, his muscles tight beneath her fingertips. “I didn’t know that until after, but… her hair was almost the same golden hue. Her eyes were blue. Not like yours, nobody has eyes like yours. But they were still blue. And in the brief second I saw her barely conscious before she was put under, from across the room they looked close enough.”

“Rowan–”

“I couldn’t save her. I tried but I couldn’t save her and all I could see was you on the table.”

“I’m right here,” was the only thing she could think to say. It seemed to be just enough because he nodded, leaning forward to rest his brow against hers. Their breath mingled between them, his eyes falling closed as he steadied his ragged breathing. Aelin was almost positive she could feel his heart thundering away in his chest– or maybe that was her own pulse she felt down to her fingers. 

Rowan’s eyes opened once more to search hers, his calloused thumb catching her full bottom lip as he said, “I think it’s about time we stop dancing around this, yeah?” 

“Not like this,” she whispered, the words falling like stones between them. His head lifted, eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t– I don’t mean no. I don’t–” Aelin let out a shaky laugh and moved her hands to his sides. Rowan didn’t move away, which was good considering the bang up job she was doing with words at the moment.

“You think this is just a grief response.”

“I think you’ve had a really long and hard day and I don’t want you to do or say something you’re going to regret tomorrow–”

“I could never regret you, Aelin.” 

And then his lips were pressing softly against hers, asking permission where she didn’t feel like she ever needed to give it in the first place. For months she had known that she was his, however he wanted to have her. That she had desperately wanted it to be this but never would have pushed without him giving in.

So she kissed him back fiercely, relishing in the way his hand tightened on her hips but softened where he held her face. She breathed every second of the moment in, the same way she had all the others.  It had been months of push and pull, of subtle touches and words with double meanings. Rowan and Roux were everything that she wanted for her future. She just couldn’t believe he wanted her to be part of theirs. 

They kissed until the tea had cooled and his dinner was cold. What he had been hungry for wasn’t food, she found out, when he carried her all the way up to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. He had been starving for her, to feel his hands over her soft skin, to feel her nails leaving marks across his back. Rowan swallowed up her moans as quickly as she released them from swollen lips and chased her own release with his own. 

They both drifted to sleep like tangled vines. When she was the first to wake just after the sun came up– her biological clock alerting her that Roux would be up and wanting breakfast soon– anxiety had begun to pool in her stomach. What if he did regret last night? If it had all been the result of grief and him needing a warm body to coax him into a dreamless sleep? He was her boss, and she loved Roux more than any of the kids she had ever nannied for. What if she had just thrown that all away on a whim? 

Her mind was reeling as she laid beside him. Back and forth she went about whether or not she should quietly leave, and just as she decided that she maybe should, Rowan began to stir from his deep slumber. His arm tightened around her waist, tugging her closer as he rubbed his nose against her shoulder. A laugh almost escaped her lips, but worry had an iron-clad grip on her nerves. 

It all vanished, though, when he opened his eyes and saw her next to him. Because the moment his sleepy eyes met hers, Rowan smiled.

[snelbz]

Better Or Worse {10}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

Warnings: language.

We sit in Gwyn’s office, holding hands on the couch.

The last few weeks have been good. Really good. Cassian has slept with me every night, his arms around me, tucked in close to him. We’ve kissed, we’ve snuggled, but nothing more has happened, even though I’ve been tempted. 

Especially when I can feel my husband’s cock against me for half the night and in the morning, long, thick, and hard. 

I know it’s been trying for him, I know he’s wanted me, I know he’s been holding himself back, but he hasn’t tried anything. Even if I’ve wanted him to, not that I’ve said anything to him, but sometimes when we’re lying there all I want is for him to slip a hand in my clothes, to touch me, tease me, fuck me until I’m nothing but a puddle in his hands.

Still, he’s respected my boundaries. He always has, which is one of the many reasons why I fell in love with him in the first place. 

Even if I think I’m ready to take that next step, to have sex again — protected, of course. Double protection. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to try and have kids again, and if it happens by accident…

I shake the thought away before I can psych myself out. Sex, with my husband. I think I’ll bring it up soon, very soon. Either that or I’ll just try jumping him once we’re in bed.

Something tells me that he’d like that. A lot. 

“Nesta?”

“Hmm?” I know my cheeks are warm as I focus my attention back on Gwyn. Apparently she had asked me something while I was lost in my lust filled daydream. I look at Cassian.

He’s grinning, like he knows perfectly well where my mind has gone.

He’s always known my tells. 

“Cassian said you two have been sleeping in the same bed every night,” she says, politely, as always. “What has that meant to you?”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve forgotten how much more…I don’t know, secure I feel when he’s in bed with me. I’m more at ease when he’s sleeping beside me. Comforted.” 

“So it’s been a good change?” she pushes.

“A great change,” I say, and when I look at Cassian again, his eyes have softened.

My knees are weak. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Gwyn says, closing her notebook and I have no idea how an hour has already passed. It always seems to go so quickly. “After reflecting on your progress, I think it’s time that you two took the next step. At this point, I usually recommend a couple’s vacation. It gives you time to ignore the real world and just focus on one another for a few days without any interruption.” 

“A couples vacation?” Cassian asks, intrigued. “That sounds—”

“I can’t.” The words are out of me before I can stop them. Cassian’s smile has faltered. “I just…my new book is set to come out next month and there’s still so much to do. I have nonstop deadlines. Unless we wait until after—”

“After you’ll have to do press shit,” Cassian says, his voice quiet, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his calm. “You’ll be even busier after the release than you are now. I think getting away for a few days would be good for us. I can sneak away from the restaurant for a long weekend, at least, and if I can ignore my work for a few days, you can, too.”

Don’t snap. I take a deep breath. “You don’t understand—”

“Then bring your laptop with you,” he suggests, taking a deep breath of his own. He looks at me. “You can get some work done in the mornings, then we can be together later in the day.” 

“I would recommend keeping your laptop at home,” Gwyn says, as if she was preparing for my argument. “If you bring it, it will be all you want in front of you, it will be all you’re thinking about. As Cassian said, you can even go for just a long weekend. Thursday through Monday. Find someplace you want to go, relax and reconnect for a few days, then come back and resume your work schedule.” 

I nibble on my lip and I know that Cassian is looking at me, waiting for me to respond, so I don’t make eye contact. “I just…I’m sorry, I don’t think I can right now, it’s not a good time.”

Cassian drops my hand, but before he can say something out of his frustration, Gwyn says, “Why don’t the two of you think about it and talk about it? Nothing has to be decided today, but I do think it will be good for you.”

Cassian says nothing else but I nod. We wrap up our session and make our way to my car, which Cassian hates because he’s a giant and can hardly fit in the passenger seat, but the truck had a flat tire and we didn’t have time to change it before we had to leave to make our appointment. If I know Cassian at all, which I do, I bet he’ll be angry-changing the tire the second we get home. 

He opens the passenger side door the second I unlock the car and shifts awkwardly into the seat until he’s comfortable enough before closing the door.

Opening my own door, I get in the car and turn the engine over, glancing in the mirrors before putting the car in reverse.

“It’s four days, Nes.”

Sighing, I shift back into park. “Four days is a lot longer than you think.” I don’t mention that I get the bulk of my writing done on Friday and Saturday nights when he’s at the restaurant. Uninterrupted time isn’t something I get often, so a long weekend is too long for me to be away. “I can’t take any time off from edits, Cassian, not if I want the book to come out on time.”

He doesn’t immediately say anything, so I shift into reverse and start heading home. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but the timing isn’t great. We can do it later, I promise, but right now isn’t good.”

“It’ll never be a good time,” he says, slumping down in his seat. It makes him look like a petulant child.

“I just said we can go after the book comes out,” I say, trying my best to keep my tone calm, but I can hear the bite in my voice. 

He turns to face me in the car, his shoulder pressing against the window in the process. “I think we should go now. We’ve been doing great, Nesta, this can only help.”

I get where he’s coming from, and I’m really trying to keep my rising temper in check, but it’s challenging. “I agree, but I already have Eris up my ass—”

“I don’t give a fuck about Eris,” Cassian snaps. His calm demeanor has vanished. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His temper, even worse than mine, has always been a stumbling block. 

“Well, you should, because he’s the reason I’ve been so successful,” I snap back. “He’s given me a schedule, I’m following that schedule, I have no choice but to follow the damn schedule, and there’s nowhere on that schedule that says I have time for a four day vacation.”

“Four days is nothing!” He shouts.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Cassian,” I hiss, “but I didn’t get to where I’m at because I neglected to do what’s necessary. I have fucking deadlines, and I’ve told you that I can’t fucking go, so I can’t fucking go.”

His jaw snaps shut and there’s a storm in his eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks. He stares at me for a moment, and even though I look back to the road, I can feel his eyes lingering. We ride like that, him staring at me, pissed; the silence overwhelming until we pull onto our street. 

Once I pull into the driveway, he’s already got the door open before I can even put the car in park, as if he can’t stand to be within a confined space with me for a second longer. 

Good.

I can’t stand him at the moment, either.

He’s being unreasonable, refusing to see where I’m coming from. 

As I expected, he’s storming toward his truck in the garage, opening the hatch to grab the spare tire. Without another look in his direction, I go inside.

Greg greets me, and I curse Cassian outloud to my furbaby before going straight for the wine cabinet. I pour a glass but don’t drink it. Instead, I lean on the counter, letting my face fall into my hands. 

What the hell is happening?

I went into Gwyn’s office today excited to talk about our progress, and now I feel like we’ve made no progress at all. 

Or maybe we have made progress and that’s the issue. 

I know there are worse things than my husband wanting to spend time with me, but he just doesn’t get it. He has no idea what it takes to be a published author, and I know I’ve subjected myself to my job too much in the past few years, but I don’t want to let my readers down. 

I stay leaning against the counter, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths. I don’t want this to get out of hand. I can’t let this get out of hand.

Cassian’s right. We’ve been doing really well. And a little couple’s vacation would be good for us. Great, in fact, especially now that I’m ready to be intimate again. We don’t need to be having these stupid little fights. Even if I feel passionately about what I’m fighting for, I know he does, too.

I try to think of a compromise. 

After taking a sip from my wine glass, I wander to the backdoor, where I can see through the little window into the garage. Cassian, with his jacket now off, is tightening the spare. His brow is set, his lips thinned, and he’s tightening the bolts probably way more than he should.

Cauldron help him next time he has to change that tire.

I watch as he finishes up, but rather than come inside, he continues around to each tire, checking them out one by one. Rolling my eyes, I take another drink of my wine and retrieve my laptop before settling in at the kitchen counter. Clearly, Cassian isn't interested in coming inside yet, so I’ll just sit and wait until he is.

It’s nearly twenty minutes later before the back door opens, my husband entering with grease on his hands and his hair tied back. When his eyes fall on my computer open before me, I can almost feel the ire radiating off of him. He doesn’t speak to me, goes straight to the sink and begins washing his hands.

Plopping my chin in my hand, I ask, “Do you think Skull’s Bay is nicer this time of year or the Coronal Islands?”

He’s in the process of trying to get the grease out from under his nails when he freezes and looks at me.

When he doesn’t say anything, I hum. “Or maybe Adriata. We’ve been there before, but who says it has to be somewhere new.”

Cassian turns off the tap, wiping his hands off on one of the kitchen towels. Turning to face me, he leans a hip on the counter and slings the towel over his shoulder. “When?”

I clear my throat. “I was looking at flights for next weekend.”

He’s moving before the words are fully out of my mouth, crossing the kitchen. “I promise, baby, this is going to be worth it.”

“I have some conditions though.” I push my laptop to the side, the travel sites half forgotten. “I know Gwyn said I should leave my computer. I can’t, Cass. There physically isn’t enough time for me to take four full days off.”

“That’s fine,” he agrees, his eyes bright.

Toying with the stem of my wine glass, I add, “I’m also probably going to be…distant in the days leading up to the flight.”

That grants him pause. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to try and get as much done as I possibly can before we leave, so I can ignore my laptop as much as I can while we’re there.”

Cassian stares at me.

I stare back.

“If you can’t go—”

“Are you seriously trying to persuade me not to go now that I’ve made up my mind that I’m going?” I scold. “Cassian—”

“I was pressuring you,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

It only occurs to me now that I’ve put him in a tough position. Since we’ve been distant with one another, since things have been weird, he’s probably extra cautious about pressuring me into things. 

I hesitate.

He picks up on it.

“Cassian—”

“If you can’t go—”

“I want to go—”

“But if you really can’t—”

“I want to go!” I laugh, unable to control the countless emotions running through me. I’m frustrated, but also excited and vulnerable. I stare at him, shaking my head. “I want to go. I just need you to meet me halfway. I know it’s not ideal—”

“You’ll go?” He asks, interrupting me.

I nod, taking a step towards him. “You were right. This will be good for us. I owe us this.”

Cassian is looking at me like he doesn’t believe a damn word that comes out of my mouth, and it hurts. Yet, he nods. “Okay.”

I haven’t realized how close we’re standing, how near he is to me. His eyes are still searching mine, his disbelief and suspicion on full display. 

“It’s almost as if you’re the one that no longer wants to go,” I say, quietly, and I mean it as a joke, to try and ease the tension, but it doesn’t come out like one.

Cassian doesn’t disagree. He says, “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up. I’ll believe we’re going when we’re on the plane. Until then…” he shrugs and takes another step closer.

He’s close enough that I can breathe him in. I want to reach up and run my hands down his chest, but I don’t. I just meet his gaze. “Aren’t we supposed to be working on trust? Trust me a little, Cass.”

“I trust you,” he says, and I note how his eyes dart to my lips for a split second. “But I also know you. You’re saying you want to go because you feel guilty, not because you’d rather be on vacation than here, working. I also know that when you’re stressed, it’s impossible for you to enjoy yourself or, you know, be pleasant.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “Promise me that we’re going, and that we’re going because it’s what you want to do, and that you won’t get sucked into work while we’re there.”

“I promise,” I say, and I allow myself to touch him now, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. “I promise I want to go and have this time with you.”

He searches my eyes for another minute before nodding, and his eyes are back to being bright and filled with excitement as a small smile twists his lips. His arms snake around my waist as he says, “Good.”

Making my promise more convincing, I kiss him.

Whatever tenuous hold my husband had on his self-control snapped, just like I expected it to.

He crushed me against his chest, his lips devouring mine. I wasn’t surprised when I felt his tongue against the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I parted for him, relishing in the feel of his kiss.

It had been so damn long since he kissed me like this.

My nails dug into his back as I kissed him back and before I knew it, he was cupping my ass, lifting me up and setting me down atop the counter. He no longer had to hunch over to kiss me, nearly the same height now and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders.

Cassian stepped between my legs, tugging me toward the edge of the counter, his mouth still ravaging mine.

This passion, this heat between us was what had drawn us together in the first place. He was my match, my equal, as ravenous for me as I was for him. In ten years, that fire had never gone out.

Until it did. And that’s something I will never let happen again.

I gasped as Cassian ground himself against me, his length thick and hard, telling me that this was affecting him as much as it was me. The second I broke the kiss, his lips found my neck, sucking and teasing the sensitive skin there.

I moan, quietly, and his hands on my upper thighs tighten. My head falls to the side, giving him better access and he licks his way up the side of my neck until he’s nibbling at my jaw, then trailing back down until his mouth is sucking at my collarbone. My hands can’t stay still, can’t stay off of him, and I don’t even realize that they’re slipping beneath his shirt until he growls against my skin. I don’t give it a second thought. I pull his t-shirt up and he leans back, meeting my gaze as I pull it over his head and toss it aside. His lips are swollen and he’s breathing heavily, his eyes wild and full of lust. I lay my palms flat against his chest and run them down his stomach, my fingers running over every hard, defined muscle before I grab him by the waistband of his jeans and pull him back to me. 

My legs wrap around him, getting him as close to me as possible, as our mouths clash. There’s nothing holding us back, not anymore, not now. He’s kissing me like he needs me to breathe, and the throbbing between my thighs has become nearly unbearable. Needing any sort of friction, I rock my hips against him and he groans into my mouth as he pushes off my sweater and grabs my breasts through my t-shirt. 

Apparently not finding that good enough, my shirt is quickly removed, and it’s only then that Cassian’s mouth leaves mine. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. I’ve always known that my breasts were one of my husband’s favorite assets of mine, and I can’t even remember the last time he’s seen them. 

He makes a show of it, dropping my bra, releasing the hook and letting it fall. I sit still, letting him admire me. As he does, I glance down where I can see him perfectly outlined in his jeans, doing a little admiring myself.

His eyes, impossibly dark, rove over me, his hand clasping the back of my neck as he kisses me again. Then he’s lowering me back, down against cool marble of the countertop. My gasp as the shock of the cold surface presses into my skin has me throwing my head back and his lips are no longer near mine.

I feel his warm breath against my stomach, just beneath my belly button, and I freeze. He presses the gentlest, most unexpectedly sweet kiss to the slight dip there, before trailing upward with another and another.

I was so focused on his mouth that I didn’t notice his hands until one was cupping the swell of one full breast. Arching into him, I whimper softly when his fingers brush over my nipple, the sensitive bud tightening almost immediately under his touch. His thumb sweeps it the other way before his forefinger joins in, rolling it between them. I’m unable to stop my groan as I look down to find his eyes w bb already on mine.

And his lips hovering over my other breast.

With slow, restrained movements, Cassian lowers his mouth, letting his tongue drag over my nipple. Fighting to keep my eyes open, my hand dives into his hair, his own hand working my other breast in time with his tongue.

I curse, which only encourages him. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer as his teeth graze my nipple.

I shift beneath him, a curse on the tip of my tongue, but then my phone is vibrating on the counter a few feet away. Unable to help it, I glance over and see Eris’s name flashing across the screen.

Every thought I have leaves my mind. 

My first instinct is to reach for it, but I hesitate. Then again, if it’s something important, I need to know now. Especially considering we’re now going on this vacation and I have to get as much shit done as possible before we go. 

He must sense the fact that I’m distracted, because he looks up at me. “Ignore it.”

I should ignore it.

I know I should ignore it.

But whatever the hell Eris has to say is all I can think about. He rarely calls after my office hours, only with important news to relay. 

Cassian sucks my nipple between his lips once more as I say, “Cass.”

He freezes, his body tensing, and looks up at me again.

“Just…it’ll only be a minute.”

His brows furrow but then the recognition hits as I reach across the counter and grab my phone, just as it stops ringing. I sit up, moving Cassian away from me as I do. When I unlock my phone to call Eris back, Cassian speaks up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is quiet, his breathing still ragged. “Can’t this wait until we’re done?” 

“It’ll only be a minute,” I say, pleadingly. “I promise. Then we’ll pick up where we left off—”

“No.”

My thumb stills where it hovers above Eris’s contact information. His voice is still quiet, but there’s an edge to it. “No?”

“Don’t, not right now,” he says, and steps between my legs again. He palms my breasts as his lips find my neck.

“Cass, it’ll only be a minute.” The words barely leave me before my phone starts ringing again. Apparently Eris isn’t waiting for me to call him back. 

Against my better judgment, I answer the call.

The warmth of Cassian’s body on mine is gone immediately and he’s scooped his shirt off the floor and is headed for the living room before I can speak.

But that’s mostly because Eris doesn’t give me the chance.

“Checked your email lately?”

I blink. My email? What about my email could be so important he’s calling me so late? “No, I’ve been busy this evening. Why, what’s—?”

“Your extension has been approved.”

My entire being goes still. “Oh.”

Pulling my phone away from my ear, I quickly skimmed over the email sitting in my inbox.

I had emailed one of the reps for the publishing company earlier, asking about an extension on the release. Although Eris is usually the go-between between the company and I, I’ve always had a good relationship with them. I’ve never missed any major deadlines or had a delayed release, but only because Eris would never allow it. I wasn’t even sure what the process to officially request for one was.

So I sent an email asking for information.

Apparently, all I’d needed to do was inquire, with my stellar reputation with them.

I hadn’t mentioned it to Cassian because, like he said, I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.

“We don’t have time for an extension, Nesta.” He sounded calm, but I knew he was anything but.  He was likely pacing, AirPod in one ear, his fingers steepled together. It was his standard not happy pose. “You are not pushing back this release.”

“I have to,” I argue. “I have too much on my plate right now. I need more time.”

“Do you know what I need, Nes?” Unlike when Cassian shortened my name, I hated when Eris did it. It sounded condescending and it infuriated me. “I need the final ten chapters emailed to the editors by Tuesday. I need you to respond to the email I sent you about cover artwork for the special edition we’re releasing later this year. I need you to get to work and leave the publishers to me.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And if I say I can’t do that?”

“You will,” he says, tone final, and hangs up.

I sigh, dropping my phone on the counter. My hands rub down my face before I look back up, expecting to see my husband there.

But he’s not.

I didn’t even notice that he had left the room.

“Cassian?”

He doesn’t respond.

And later that night, he never comes to bed. 

[tngrace]

Chapter 4

I feel like I jump from Pete to Tom to Mike and vice versa in this chapter a tad too much, so I tried to use line breaks to break it up. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the divider. Hopefully it doesn't make it too confusing. I'm planning on working on the last chapter today/this week so it'll be ready to post next Friday, and I'm so excited for how I wrap up this part! Stay tuned and I hope you enjoyed! <3

A03; Tumbler Masterlists: Main; Mav Chronicles

Cleaning out Goose’s things after getting home from the hospital is one of the hardest things Mav has ever done. He fights the tears with everything he has, knowing Carole and Bradley are just on the other side of the door, but some still fall. He’s doing his best to be strong, to be there for Carole to lean on, but holding Goose’s things is almost too much. He boxes up things he knows she’ll want to keep and leaves things he knows can just be donated. He pockets Goose’s spare tags knowing Carole won’t mind. Once he has the box together, he leans against the door just breathing. He doesn’t think he can do this, but he knows he has to. He takes a few more deep breaths, and then faces his best friend’s widow. 

Carole telling him Goose would do it without him feels hollow because he doesn’t think he can do this. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right without Goose by his side. 

The next few days pass in a blur. Mav spends most of it helping Carole and Bradley with anything they need. He hears from Cougar as well, which is a surprise, and Cougar is the only one Mav shares his thoughts about quitting with knowing Cougar would understand. It’s a refreshing conversation even if it doesn’t help him make a decision one way or the other. 

Mav is right back at class as soon as it resumes, his decision of what to do put on hold; his brain is too scrambled to think clearly anyways and Carole seems to think getting right back to it might be good for him, despite Bradley crying any time Mav leaves his sight. The board cleared him of any wrongdoing and returned him to flight status immediately. He doesn’t want to go back to work, but Mike pushes him to get back into the air. Mav is still so out of it, he can’t differentiate between Mike as his dad and as his commander, and he goes along with it because disappointing Mike is the last thing he ever wants to do. Mike doesn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable sending Pete up in his current mental state, but he knows that’s what any other commander would do. It kills him, but he tells Rick to get him up as soon as possible. 

He’s waiting on the tarmac for his first flight back, Goose’s tags tumbling back and forth in his hands as he’s lost in thought. 

Bradley is in his arms, his tears too much for Mav to resist picking him up. He has a hand on Carole’s back as she cries quietly. Mav’s eyes are tear filled, but he doesn’t let them fall. He stands at attention despite holding Bradley, as his eyes never leave the flag draped casket. He never thought he’d be here, standing next to his best friend’s wife, holding his best friend’s kid, while said best friend is being lowered into the ground. And it’s all his fault. He can’t get the sound of Goose hitting the canopy out of his head. It haunts him day and night. He can’t get the images of Goose, covered in blood, lifeless in his arms out of his head. It’s always there. Carole and Bradley will blame him, just as he blames himself.  His arms tighten around Bradley as the flag is folded and presented to Carole by Viper while the twenty-one gun salute takes place. He can feel Bradley jump in his arms with each fire, and it’s all Mav can do to stay at attention. He knows Carrie, Cat and Jamie are there somewhere as well, but he can’t act like he knows them. He feels Tom nudge his arm when it’s time for them to pound their wings into the casket. He sets Bradley down, despite the little boy trying to desperately cling to him, not understanding what is happening or why his favorite people are upset. The entire class steps forward, and one by one drive their wings in. Mav is the last one to do it, Tom standing by his side the entire time. He feels his breath catch, a tear falling despite his best efforts, and then it’s done. He stands at full attention at the end of the casket as the missing man formation flies overhead.  People start disperasing after that, some stopping to offer Carole their condolences, but Mav doesn’t move. It isn’t until Tom whispers to him that they need to go, does he snap back into reality. He gives Tom a nod and then he’s scoping Bradley up once more, the little boy burying his face in Mav’s neck as they head back to the vehicles. He sees Mike join Carrie, Cat and Jamie and he gives them a long look. He wishes he could fall into Carrie’s arms and let her just hold him until the pain disappears like when he was a child, but he knows that’s not possible. He gives them a nod and then joins Carole in the car, Tom taking them back to the house. 

“Lieutenant Mitchell you are cleared for takeoff” It’s being shouted in his ear by Jester, so there’s no telling how many times they’d tried getting his attention while he’d been lost in thought. He drops the tags in his flight suit pocket, and acknowledges the order. He’s in the air before he knows it and it just feels all wrong. He’s been so out of it, he doesn’t even know who’s in his back seat. He can’t engage, barely feels like he’s flying the jet, before he’s landing once more, only breathing once the canopy is clear and his mask is off. 

“He won’t engage Mike, not in the air or on the ground.” 

The rest of the week goes about the same. Mav stays lost in his head, doesn’t engage with anyone, and won’t engage in the air, half the time barely getting in the air. The whole time there’s only one thought circling through Pete’s head; I can’t do this anymore. Everyone watches as Pete falls apart, no one more than Tom, but no one knows how to help. 

“It’s only been a few days.” 

“I know. I know. But he might not make it back from this.” 

Mike sighs knowing Rick might just be right. “Keep sending him up.” 

“Mike…” 

“I know ok! I know. He’s my kid,” he hisses quietly because they are still on base, even though no one should be near his office. “I don’t like this any more than you. But I can’t… we can’t…. If we coddle him, it’ll look like something to the Brass. We have to keep sending him up.” 

“And if he quits?” 

Mike is silent, stewing over the question. 

“Mike, have you even talked to him?” 

“Not since the hospital,” Mike sighs, sinking into his desk chair. “I had to make sure the Brass were done snooping around. You know it would kill Pete if they made the connection now.” 

“Maybe you should talk to him… not as a Commander.” 

“Maybe…. I don’t know that he’ll want to talk to me though.” 

“Try.” 

He gives Rick a nod, and then his best friend is gone. Mike thinks over how to talk to Pete, but he’s not sure he can make it happen. The next day it all goes to shit before he ever formulates a solid plan. They thought putting Sunny with Mav would help him engage, but it didn’t. It just made things worse, and the entirety of the class saw him finally blow up. 

Mike catches Tom’s eye across the tarmac, Tom and Ron having been observing from a distance as well. Tom drops his eye before Mike can convey or deduce anything and then he’s gone.  

Tom finds Pete in the locker room, cleaning out his locker, but he doesn’t know what to say. He tries to apologize once more, but Pete won’t even look at him. It’s tearing him up inside to see Pete like this, but he doesn’t stop him from leaving. Tom hears Wolf calling Charlie letting her know Pete has quit. While it angers him, he can’t do anything about it because no one but Slider knows Pete is his. He finds Slider waiting by his truck when he finally makes it out. 

Word of Mav leaving reaches Mike and Rick before Pete is even off base, and Mike is lost. He let his kid down and he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. He just hopes Pete reaches out before he does something rash. 

“Well?” 

“He’s gone. I… I didn’t know what to say to stop him. He won’t even look at me anymore.” 

“He’s hurting Tom. He doesn't know what he’s doing.” 

“He asked for space and I gave it to him.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” Tom gives him the side eye glare because they’ve had this argument plenty over the last several days. 

“Don’t give me that look. Listen, you feel guilty so you’re giving him whatever he wants. And maybe he’s too messed up to say what he really wants; that he wants someone to fight to be there for him, to not let him push them away. Nick’s told us how messed up the kid was from his shitty past. Maybe it’s time you fight back and show him you’re not going anywhere.” 

Tom ponders his words and finally decides maybe Slider is right. “He’ll probably go to the airport,” Tom concedes. 

Pete doesn’t know where’s going, but he knows he has to get out of there. Being there without Goose is just too much. There’s too many eyes on him, and he’s letting too many people down. He doesn’t feel like an aviator anymore, and he knows he needs to leave before he hurts or kills anyone else. That’s how he finds himself at the airport. He’d sat down to rest while he decided where he needed to go, and hadn’t realized he’d been dozing off. Charlie’s appearance is a shock to his system though. 

“Let’s go get him.” 

“Excuse me?” Pete jerks at her voice. He has no clue what she’s doing there and he definitely doesn’t want to see her. “May I?” 

Despite not wanting to see her, Carrie raised a polite man, so he nods. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says when the waitress walks up. He can see a blonde figure watching from right inside the door, and Pete holds in his sigh knowing Tom won’t step in for fear of giving anything away to Charlie. He shouldn’t be surprised Tom found him either, but he is a little surprised Tom came after him. He clues back in when Charlie questions his drink; “Hemlock is it?” 

“Ice water,” he gets out quietly. 

She acts like she doesn’t believe him and it grates on his thin frayed nerves. He just clenches his jaw to keep from saying something smart. 

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” He’s not sure why she still thinks he owes her something. 

“I heard you got that job in Washington,” he says instead. “Congratulations,” he tacks on, again hearing Carrie’s voice in his head about manners. 

“Thanks. But I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.” Her hand on top of his makes him cringe, so he subtly pulls it back into his lap. He wants out of this conversation so bad it’s making his skin itch. He glances back to where he knows Tom is waiting, wishing the asshole would come end this conversation. He tries to be dismissive, tries to get her to see he wants no part of this, but she just won’t relent. 

“You don’t even have a ticket do you?” 

What the fuck it is to her, he has no idea. He glances around the airport once more, his eyes landing on Tom, but not long enough for her to notice. He knows his eyes are pleading, but he turns back as she starts talking once more. 

“Listen, I’ve seen all the evidence, and it’s not your responsibility. It’s not your fault.” 

He’s so sick of hearing that statement it’s not even funny. He won’t even look at her now; he doesn’t need her placating statements or her assessment of his flying anymore. Her voice is grating on him, so he totally shuts down. He can tell by her change in voice it pisses her off, but he can’t bring himself to care; manners be damned , he thinks.

“You’re one of the best pilots in the Navy. What you do up there is dangerous. But you’ve got to go on.” 

“No you don’t understand,” he says softly, hoping she’ll get the fucking hint and leave. 

“When I first met you, you were larger than life.” It’s almost a sneer, and Pete hopes she’s finally got the fucking hint that he’s so done. “Look at you.” 

Pete is getting pissed, and he knows he’s going to say something he can’t take back, but she just won’t quit. “You’re not going to be happy unless you’re going Mach two with your hair on fire, you know that.” 

“No. It’s over. It’s just over.” He makes it sound as lifeless as possible.

“To be the best of the best, you make mistakes and then you go on. It’s just like the rest of us.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he growls. He can finally see Tom moving towards them, and Pete curses him for not doing it sooner. 

“I’m here to help!” 

“If I wanted help, I would’ve asked for it.” He blows out an aggravated breath as her eyes scan the room. When they land on Tom walking towards them she scoffs. If he won’t take help from me, there’s no way he’ll listen to his arch rival , she thinks. 

“So I’m too late!” She carries on with more nonsense, but Pete tunes her out. His jaw is clenched so tight when she makes a dig about him quitting, like his dad . She doesn’t say it, but it’s heavily implied and Tom has finally had enough. “That’s enough!” His voice booms in the quiet room, and Charlie just rolls her eyes. 

“He’s already gone,” she scoffs. “Not like he’d listen to you anyways.” 

Tom doesn’t dignify that with a response and she stomps out of the airport. Good riddance , he thinks. He’d heard more of their conversation than he’d liked and he mulls over how to approach Pete as he makes his way to him. 

“Water you say?” Tom asks, nodding to Pete’s drink as he sits down letting him know he’d heard the previous conversation, even though Pete had met his eyes more than once. He gives Tom a nod and then he’s ordering one as well. They just sit there, Mav almost asleep on the table and Tom watching him. 

“Can I take you home? Get some sleep in a bed instead of this table?” His voice is soft like when they’re sneaking time just the two of them, and it makes Pete want to cry.

“Won’t sleep. Can’t sleep. I’m fine.” 

Tom’s hand closes around Pete’s forearm giving it a squeeze. He doesn’t give a fuck in that moment that they’re in public. Pete is his only concern. “You’re not fine, but that is ok. You shouldn’t be expected to just be fine after everything.” 

Pete cracks his eyes open and just watches his boyfriend, if he can even still call him that after the last couple of weeks of Pete avoiding him. “Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” He wants to scream that he loves him, that he cares about him, but he refrains. It’s not what Pete needs to hear in this moment. 

“Afraid of having no competition Ice man?”

Tom snarls at that, his icy glare boring into Pete. He knows Pete is just lashing out because of the conversation with Charlie, but it still stings. “No, asshole. You know better.” 

“Do I?” 

He takes a deep breath, counting to ten before replying. “You should.”  Pete seems to deflate before his eyes meet Tom’s once more. “I know things have been a lot. I know you’re not sleeping. But please…. Let me take you home right now? If you still want to leave after some sleep, I’ll bring you back and book the ticket myself.” 

Pete eyes him for several long minutes, before he finally gives in with a nod. Tom lets out a relieved breath, before he pulls Pete up and out the door. He takes the bike keys out of Pete’s jacket and tosses them to Slider as they head for Slider’s truck. “Thanks,” he whispers to his best friend, who just gives him a nod. Pete is asleep before they’re out of the parking lot. 

Tom carries him in and tucks him into bed once back at their housing. Slider hits the couch, and Tom isn’t the least bit surprised when Pete tries to cling to him when he goes to leave. He gives a small smile even though Pete is still asleep, and slides into bed with him. Pete sleeps like the dead, the exhaustion finally winning out. It’s early the next morning, the sun not even up yet, when Pete wakes. Tom rouses easily when he feels Pete moving, and he pulls him against him, barely kissing his forehead. 

“Morning,” he whispers. 

“Morning.” Pete’s voice is gravelly and Tom moves to get him some water. Pete gives him a small smile as he drinks it down before curling back into the blankets. Tom lays back with him, his arm stroking up and down Pete’s back in comfort. He’s thought over his words very carefully since yesterday, not wanting to make things worse or scare Pete off once more. “I know you’ve been avoiding me and I know you want to quit.” He feels Pete tense under him, and he barely holds in his sigh. “But I don’t think you should quit. You’re a talented pilot Pete, and the accident was not your fault. I know you think it is, and I know no matter what anyone says, you’re going to blame yourself. But it wasn’t your fault.” 

“Then who’s was it?” His voice is so small, and Tom knows he’s just looking for somewhere to place the blame so he can absolve himself of the guilt he can’t let go. 

“Mine.”

Pete shoots up, hovering over Tom, his head already shaking in denial. 

“How so?” Tom asks. His hand has not stopped rubbing up and down Pete’s back the whole time. 

“It wasn’t yours Tom.” 

“Explain it to me. How was it not mine?” 

“You’re not the one who lost control and couldn’t get it back!” 

“No. But you didn’t lose control Mav. You flew through jet wash. A freak accident that could happen to any of us. I know you did your best to regain control in the spin. But it wasn’t possible.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Pete sinks back down in the bed, his head resting on Tom’s chest.

“It was my jet wash Pete. I took too long to make the shot. If I had just got out of your way the first time maybe things would be different.” 

Pete struggles to find an argument for that, but he’ll be damned if he lets Tom carry any guilt for this when it wasn’t his fault. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“It wasn’t yours either.” 

They lay there in silence, Pete sinking further into the comfort of being with Tom once more. 

“Does your family know?” Tom eventually asks because he doesn't remember seeing anyone out of the ordinary at the hospital or the funeral. 

“Yea.” 

“All the details?” 

“Yea,” Pete whispers. 

Tom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it would do you some good to pay them a visit?” Tom suggests. He’s not sure what their relationship is like, but he remembers how carefree Pete was when he returned from family dinner after the volleyball match. Tom’s willing to risk anything at this point to help Pete. 

“Maybe. I’ll think it over.” 

Tom just nods and Pete ends up drifting back off in the silence. Tom manages to pull him out of bed around lunch and between him and Slider they’re able to get Pete to eat some pizza. He ends up curled in the corner of the couch watching a baseball game after, and then he’s crawling back in bed around sunset. They didn’t try to force too much on him that day, knowing he needed rest more than anything. 

Tom is surprised to find Pete still awake when he crawls into bed a little later. 

“I used the phone in here earlier.” 

“Ok?” He can tell Pete is nervous, but he’s not sure why.

“I took your advice. I think… I think I’m going to go home for a visit tomorrow.” 

“I think that’d be good for you.” Tom softly kisses his forehead as Pete finally relaxes once more and cuddles close. 

“I’d love for you to come with me,” Pete whispers in the dark. “But it’s… I’m protecting you too.” 

“I know Mav. Maybe one day, when you’re ready.” 

“Yea… maybe.” 

It’s not long after that Pete drifts off into another deep sleep. 

The next morning, Pete heads back over to his place to clean up and change clothes before his visit. He wasn’t lying when he said he wished Tom could come with him, but right now it’s too risky. He knows he still looks like death, and Carrie is going to fret, but he can’t change it. He throws on his jacket and his aviators before jumping on his bike and taking off. 

Once there, he notices his sister’s car in the drive as well and he sighs. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever inquisition Cat will bring, and heads for the front door. He tries to remind himself that it’s a good thing he’s here, but he just feels weighed down and nervous. He knows he’s probably been a huge disappointment to Mike the last week and half, and it’s killing him inside on top of losing his brother. After another deep breath on the stoop, he rings the doorbell - something he rarely does, heart in his throat. He's not surprised when Carrie answers. "Pete? Oh honey come in. You know you never have to knock."

He steps through the door, and before he can say anything she's pulling him into her arms. "Pete. Just breathe," she whispers, holding him tight. 

"Mom," he chokes out. 

"Jamie honey go help your sister," Carrie calls over her shoulder knowing Pete wouldn't want his siblings seeing him break down. 

"It's ok. You're ok," she whispers over and over, rubbing his back. "I'm here Pete. You're ok." 

He clings to her, breathing in the familiar scent as tears roll down his cheeks. He hears the stairs creak and knows Mike is coming down. He tries to pull back and straighten up, but Carrie just holds him tighter. "No. Right now you're here as our son. You stay right here as long as you need."

Pete's never been able to tell her no, so he stays right there until he feels his heart rate settle. "You're staying for dinner," she tells him, when he finally pulls back. She cups his cheek and gently wipes his tears. "Yes mam." 

She gives Mike a stern look before she leaves them. "C'mere kid." 

He breathes a huge sigh of relief when Pete still sinks into his hugs like when he was a kid. He’s careful of Pete’s fading bruises, but he holds him tight. Watching him struggle this week has almost broke Mike. He rests his chin on the top of Pete’s head. “I’m so glad you came home.” 

“I…. I’ve been so mad at you!” 

“I know. I know.” He lets out another sigh. “So has your mom kid.” 

Pete can’t stop the snort of laughter at that. Carrie has always been protective of him, so he’s not really surprised by that. 

“I…. I don’t know what to do Dad.”  Mike’s heart breaks hearing such uncertainty and heartbreak in his kids voice. 

Mike gently squeezes the back of his neck before he steers him towards his study. It’s been so long since Pete has actually called him “Dad” so he soaks it in for a minute. He settles on the couch beside his kid, weighing his words. 

“I heard you were gone,” he starts with. 

“Charlie?” 

“Mmmm. So I’m curious what brought you back?” Mike’s watching him carefully and it makes Pete nervous. Mike didn’t really believe much of what Charlie told him, but he also wants to see what Pete says about it.

“I….” Pete chews on his lip and stares out the window. “I couldn’t leave without telling Mom bye. She’d never forgive me.” 

“This is true. But…” Mike reaches over and squeezes his knee bringing Pete’s attention back to him. “But you wouldn’t ask me what to do if you were really leaving.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Pete… You’re not here as my Lieutenant. You’re here as my son…. I hope,” he tacks on at the end quietly. 

“I am. I just… It’s already dangerous enough that the brass might find out you took me in. How you’ve kept it a secret this long and kept it out of the inquiry, I don’t know. Them not knowing protects us both and I…” he gets up to pace unable to sit still any longer. “I’ve already almost cost you a lot. I’m no good just like everybody says and if I tell you…” 

Mike cuts him off at that; he spins Pete to face him, gently cupping his cheeks. “Don’t ever say that about my kid again. You are perfect the way you are Pete and if people can’t see that, then that’s their loss.” 

Pete gives him a feeble nod. 

“We’ll tell you as long as it takes, just like when you were a kid. But you are perfect just the way you are.” 

“If I tell you, I’m just asking you to keep more secrets, more things you’ll think you have to protect me from. That’s not fair to you.” 

“You’d be surprised at the things a parent would do for their kid. I know you probably don’t remember it, but I told you in the hospital if it came to you or the Navy, I’d pick you every time. That hasn’t changed kiddo. Never will.” 

Pete absorbs the words and knows they’re true. Mike would sacrifice it all for him, even if he doesn’t deserve it.  “It was Ice,” he whispers, his gaze dropping to the floor. “He came in right behind Charlie.” 

“Mmmm. I had a feeling.” 

Pete’s head jerks up at that, but Mike quickly reassures him. “Don’t. It’s just because I know you son. Nothing is obvious.” 

Pete lets out a deep sigh, his body sagging almost as if his strings had been cut once more. 

“Come on let’s take a walk. Get you some fresh air.”  

Pete follows him out the back door into the yard overlooking the ocean. He hates how close the neighbors are, but that’s base living for you. He briefly wonders where Jamie is running off to so close to dinner, but his head is quickly drawn back to Mike. He hasn’t been able to go near the ocean since the accident, but breathing in the salty air he grew up with, relaxes him. “You have two options. First you’ve acquired enough points to show up and graduate with your Top Gun class. Or… you quit. There’d be no disgrace in quitting Pete. That spin was hell. It would’ve shook me up. Hell listening back to it shook me up. Not just because you’re my kid either.” 

Pete stares out over the ocean, trying hard not to let the accident play in his mind. Mike’s hand on his shoulder draws his attention back once more. “So you think I should quit?” he asks less confidently than he’d like. 

“I didn’t say that Pete. I’m just laying out your options. But… you feel responsible for Goose, and you’ve been off your game. You’ve lost your confidence. I know you know this Pete, but a good pilot is always compelled to evaluate what’s happened so he can apply what he’s learned. Pushing it in the air is our job. We have to do it. It’s why I put you right back up once you were cleared. As a father, I would’ve never even considered it. As your CO, I had no choice. I had to push you.” He pauses as he considers whether to keep pushing in that moment, but thinks better of it. Pete’s had enough pushing since the accident. It’s time to just let him be.”I can’t make this decision for you kid. But I can say I will support whatever decision you decide. So will your mom.” 

Before Pete can answer he feels little arms wrap around his legs and he looks down to see his adorable niece clinging to him babbling in her little gibberish. “Well hey there Cin,” he grins, lifting her into his arms. He’d given her a nickname just like he’d given her mom when he’d been a kid. It was something just for them and it always made him smile knowing Cat let him get away with it to make him feel comfortable. Mike smiles watching Pete relax into himself and smile for the first time in weeks. 

“I’m guessing someone escaped from your sister,” Mike laughs, as they turn to head back into the house. 

His older sister is standing on the back steps with her hands on her hips. “Sorry. Someone was determined to see you.” 

“It’s alright. I’m glad she found me.” He tickles her belly, drawing out a giggle before Cynthia buries her face in his neck babbling “Mab” over and over. Mav was easier to say than Pete so they’d taught her the shortened version of his callsign for now. 

“I’m glad you're home,” she says softly, drawing Mav into a hug, squishing her daughter between them. 

“Just for dinner. You know I can’t be here much.” 

“Still. I’m glad you’re here.” 

He follows her into the kitchen where Carrie is finishing up dinner. “Where’d Jamie run off to earlier?” 

“The beach. She’ll be back.” 

Mav bounces Cin in his arms to hear her giggles once more. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to step back onto the beach or in the ocean ever again. 

“She got a boyfriend she was meeting?” Cat asks, causing Mav to freeze. 

“Nope. Nope. No. We are not doing this. No. It was bad enough when you started dating and got married. Baby sis is not doing this too.” 

“Like you can stop her. Couldn’t stop me. Besides, she's eighteen now, Mav.” 

“Oh I can talk her out of it. Just you wait.” 

Cat rolls her eyes and takes Cin from him. “Well go for it little brother,” she smirks pointing towards the beach. She’s calling his bluff and he knows it. 

“Fine!” he huffs as he stomps out. Carrie and Mike join her at the door to see if he’ll actually do it, all three holding their breath. He gets to the edge of the sand and freezes, his eyes staring at the waves. He feels his lungs start to burn making him realize he’s holding his breath, but he can’t seem to draw in any air. 

“Damn it Catherine. I told you not to push him just yet. I’ve done enough of it the last few weeks.” 

“Dad. You know he’s gotta work through this.” 

“Antagonizing him to go to the beach wasn’t the way.” 

“I got it,” she tells him with an eye roll, passing Cynthia off to Mike as she goes out the door. She walks up behind her brother, carefully wrapping her arms around him. She rests her head against the back of his neck as she keeps tightening her arms. “Just breathe Pete. Follow my breaths.” 

It takes several, several minutes, but he does end up matching her breathing. “Cat?” he chokes when he doesn’t feel like the world is going to fade to black. 

“I’m here. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought if I made it a challenge you could do it. I shouldn’t have pushed.” 

“I…” 

“It’s ok. I see Jamie coming back now. Let’s go back in and you can wear my child out so she’ll sleep like a rock tonight ok? She doesn’t get enough time with her Uncle Mav, so let’s give her all the time possible.” 

He gives a nod and lets his sister spin him back towards the house. “We’ll tag team Jamie after dinner too,” she smirks, letting out a relieved breath when Pete smirks back at her. “But first, please tell me you have someone and you’re not losing yourself in the Navy?” 

“Uhhhh not really been top priority there sis.” 

“So the blonde at the funeral that couldn’t leave your side isn’t your other half?” 

Pete freezes once more causing Cat to sigh. “Would you stop doing that?! Dad is going to have my head.” 

“What… Cat… you…” 

“Relax! It’s just me. Your big sis, your secret keeper, your partner in crime? Remember me? You know you can tell me anything Pete and it stays between us.” 

“It would ruin his career if it got out. He’s got big dreams, and he deserves to reach them. Why he’s wast....” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls. “You’ve never been a waste Peter Duke Mitchell-Metcalf and you never will be.” His big sister has always been overprotective of the sacred little boy that came into her life as her little brother. Some things never change. He also knows she’s really good at keeping secrets for him, even if he hates he has to ask her to keep this one if he wants to be honest with her. 

His head falls to her shoulder as he softly sighs. “Fine. Yes. Tom and I have been seeing each other since like the first day of class.” 

“So almost six weeks. I believe that might just be your longest yet,” she teases. 

“Oh fuck off,” he laughs as he pushes her away. 

“Don’t be letting your niece hear you talking like that!” 

“Like you don’t cuss like a sailor too?!” 

They reach the back door and Cin comes running back to Mav. “Hi sweet baby. Let’s go play til Gigi is ready for us to eat.” 

“My Mab,” she babbles, squishing his cheeks between her tiny hands. 

“Yea I’m all yours princess.”

The night turns out to be just what Mav needs, and when he leaves, he’s the most relaxed he’s been in two weeks. He heads back to Tom’s base housing, knowing he can’t go to his alone right now. Slider is perched on the couch watching a game, and Tom is in the kitchen when he enters. 

“Hey pipsqueak,” Slider calls as Mav heads straight through to the kitchen. He’s still not sure how to handle Slider being extra nice to him, so he just nods and keeps going. 

“Hey,” Tom smiles over his shoulder at him. 

Mav walks over and wraps his arms around him, burying his face in Tom’s back. “Hey.” 

“Feel better?” 

“Some.” Tom spins in Pete’s arms and tilts his boyfriend’s face up to him. 

“You look more relaxed,” he murmurs softly before giving him an even softer kiss. 

“Both of my sisters and my niece were there. Cin is… She’s two and she’s really good for somebody.” 

“Mmmm yea I bet. Carole stopped by with B. Told her you’d gone on a visit. She said to call her.” 

He feels Pete tense in his arms but he just keeps talking. “W… Wh…Why?” Pete finally gets out. 

“Why what babe?” 

“Why’d she… why would she…. Why call her?” 

Tom softly cups Pete’s cheeks as he stares into the eyes he loves so much. “Sweetheart, why wouldn’t she be looking for you or wanting to talk to you? She said she hasn’t heard from you in two weeks and she’s worried.” 

“I… I … Why? I killed Nick! I took her husband, Bradley’s dad! Why would she want anything to do with me?!?!?!?!” 

Tom sees Ron in the doorway, having come when Pete started yelling. Tom was at a loss on what to say though because Carole and Bradley were Pete’s family. 

“Because she’s worried about you, Mav. You’re like her brother. Bradley’s uncle. Bradley was looking all over for you here because he misses you. They don’t blame you,” Slider said softly. 

Pete turned, staring at him with wild eyes. “I killed Nick!” 

Slider walked closer, but kept some distance so Pete didn’t feel caged in by them. “No you didn’t. It was a freak accident. The board ruled on it. Viper’s told you that. We’ve told you that. No one… absolutely no one blames you. Everybody knows how much Goose meant to you and that you would never do anything to harm him. It was not your fault.” 

“Sli’s right,” Tom whispers into his neck where he’s holding him tight. “We’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, but it wasn’t your fault.” 

“It feels like my fault,” he cries, sagging in Tom’s hold. 

“It feels like ours too,” Slider says. He walks closer wrapping them both in his arms, both of them hugging Pete as tight as they dared knowing he was still sore. Once Pete is all cried out, Tom takes him to shower while Ron calls Carole with Pete’s permission to bring Bradley back over. 

It’s a night of more tears, of healing, of meaningful conversations reaffirming Pete’s place in their life as Carole’s brother and Bradley’s uncle. Bradley even falls asleep in Pete’s arms, and no one has the heart to move him. Graduation is in two days, and still no one knows exactly what Pete is going to do. 

[typingtipsandtails]

Fandom: Spider-Man ( Tom Holland Movies)

Status: in progress

Tony is trying his best to at least appear calm. He knows if he gets too upset he’ll just end up making Peter shut down more. And he wants, no needs, for Peter to just be honest. Tony needs to know whats Peter been through. What extent of trauma he’s had inflicted on him. So Tony can know how badly he needs to torture the man responsible for Peter being hurt. So Tony is trying his best to at least appear calm and not look like he’s ready to strangle the next person who even looks at Peter wrong. He’s trying and failing by the obvious side glances the detective been giving him.

The detective,Ramirez, keeps attempting to get information from Peter. She keeps gently prying, asking questions she already knows the answers too. Were you ever alone with him? Did he ever give you a ride? When was your first interaction with him? Peter just keeps avoiding her gaze and mumbling out denials and no’s. Tony is getting more and more visibly frustrated. He had one arm was around Peters shoulder. A gesture that was meant to be reassuring. The iron like grip he has on the kids shoulder is making the gesture more controlling then reassuring though.

The detective closes the folders in front of her and clears her throat. “You know we’ve been here for awhile now and I’m sure you can use a break from talking,” her smile is forced and strained. “Can I get you-either of you, a drink?” Tony is about to remark how he’d rather continue with the questioning when Peter mutters a yes please. The detective throws him a quick smile and an of course before leaving the room. As soon as the door closes Peter is squirming out of Tony’s grasp. He hunches closer to the table, hands pressed close to his face. As if he’s trying to hide from Tony’s gaze.

“Can we please- can we just go home now please,” whispers Peter. His voice comes out so quiet. So sad. A part of Tony wants to take Peter far away from this place and never make him have to talk about this whole sick ordeal again. To just go back to the compound and never have Peter leave his sights again.

There’s another, larger, part though. The part that’s filled with just anger and images of the pictures and text messages he saw. The part that wants to just draw out all the information from Peter. To hear every detail just so he can know what happened. Because Tony’s mind keeps coming back with more and more disturbing images of what that monster must have done. “Please, can we just go?” The question is said with so much pain in it Tony almost caves in and says yes. But his need for information wins out. “We’re staying.” Tony voice comes out low and angry. The opposite of how the detective been talking with Peter. The opposite of how Pepper or May would be talking to him in this situation. God, he should’ve let Pepper come instead of him. “We’re staying till you tell us everything that happened.” He’s trying his best to keep the anger out of his voice. “Nothing happened, please can we just go,” Peter is looking up at Tony with Bambi eyes. Pleading and begging to be taken away from this place. “Can we just go, I -“

“ We’re staying,” this time Tony can’t keep the harshness out of his voice. His frustration and anger leaking out. Peter opens his mouth to beg again but Tony cuts him off. “Don’t- just don’t start.” The anger is refusing to be pushed back down. “We’re staying and you’re going to tell them everything. Understood.” His tone is meant to imply no more debate on the subject. “Why are you being like - why are you so upset?” Peter asks more to himself as he slumps back into his chair. The questions ignites a new wave of anger in Tony. “Are you serious right now, you can’t comprehend why I’m upset?” Peter turns his body away but Tony grabs him by the shoulder and forces Peter to face him. “Do you understand why we’re here? Do you even understand how lucky you are that you’re not dead right now or worse?” Tony asks more forcefully then he intended. Peter just looks down at his hands refusing to answer. Tony knows that he should be more gentle with him. More compassionate, less angry. But all he can think is all the times Peter must have been alone with that monster. How many times he could’ve ended up dead. “You know he was taking advantage of you right?” Peter is shaking now, either form holding back tears or from the tight grip on his shoulders Tony can’t tell. “He doesn’t care about you. He’s just some sick pervert that was using you.” The voice in his head is telling him to calm down but anger is winning over rational.

“He’s not-it wasn’t like that,” Peter quietly responds to the barrage of questions.

“Oh he’s not like that. Is that what he told you,” sarcasm dripping form his voice as Tony responds. “He was using you, he doesn’t love you or care about you all he cares about is his own sick needs.”

“That’s not true,” Peter struggles to keep what little composure he has left. “He cares, he-“

“No he doesn’t care! Stop saying that. Stop thinking that,” Tony remarks back forcefully banging his hand on the table. As if to enunciate his point. “He’s using you and I don’t know how you can’t see it. How can you not understand what he’s doing is abuse? How can you be this stupid?”

The question is met with a hit to the face. “Fuck you,” Peter tries and gets up but Tony just forces him back into his seat. “We’re staying,” Tony is standing, hovering over the small child. You need to calm down. He ignores his own inner voice. Peters looking at him with a mixture of hatred and bitterness. “Just ... just shut up,” Peter voice cracks with tears. “I’m not ... you don’t understand anything,” Peter responds sullenly. Before Tony can give an angry retort back the door opens. Detective Ramirez closely followed by another person walks in the room. Ramirez raises an eyebrow at the scene before her but the other person remains a neutral composed face. “I’m Sgt Miller,I’ll be personally overseeing this case.” She extends a hang out to Tony, one which Tony begrudgingly takes. Her face is free of any signs of displeasure from the obvious contempt in the handshake. “I was hoping to get a chance to talk with you in private Mr. Stark. There’s some matters I’d like to discuss with you seeing as Peter’s legal guardian is unavailable right now.” Tony can’t help but notice the emphasis placed on legal guardian. “If you don’t mind following me to my office, we can discuss the trial in more detail. Detective Ramirez can finish up with Peter in here.” She opens the door and makes a gesture for Tony to follow. Part of him wants to stubbornly insist on staying with Peter. Another part of him can tell by the Sgt. demeanor she won’t be so easy to give into demands. There’s also questions he wants answers too. Questions that he didn’t want Peter to hear. With that Tony gets up to follow the Sgt. Before he goes he gives what he hopes is a gentle caring squeeze to Peters shoulder.

The Sgt office is a mess of files and boxes. The desk is covered with papers and books. Sgt Miller takes a seat at the cluttered desk and still manages to give of an air of authority and professionalism. “Have a seat please Mr. Stark.” Tony takes a seat and waits for the Sgt. to begin. “Can I offer you anything to drink; water, tea, coffee -,”

“I’d rather just talk about the facts of the case.” Tony reply is brusque. He’s too tired and stressed to display his usual charismatic self. “Not a problem,” Sgt. Miller says. “Now we do have the suspect in custody and we’re preparing to officially arraign him by tomorrow evening. -“

“So if he’s in custody why hasn’t he been charged yet,” Tony irritation is evident in the question asked.

“We’d like to make sure we have everything prepared so we can have the strongest case.”

“You have the text messages and pictures what more do you need? It’s an open and shut case. He should be in fucking jail already. Why the hell isn’t he? The anger rising at each question thrown at the Sgt.

Sgt. Miller remains unfazed at the outburst of anger. “Cases like these can be more difficult to prosecute. We just want to make sure we have all the necessary information and evidence we can get to make sure he is prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” She pauses for a moment to judge Tony’s reaction. “It would help us actually a great deal if we can get full access to Peters phone and -“

“No,” it comes out automatically. “ You don’t need it,” Tony replies bluntly.

“With all due respect Mr. Stark,” Sgt Miller smile is now strained, “ it would help us a great deal. In most cases like these usually guardians are willingly to let us access-.”

“Well this isn’t most cases now,” Tony says bitterly. “Like my lawyers explained before,” Tony hates how he’s emphasizing lawyers but he needs to get his point across. “-the phone and laptop were given under the terms of him being an intern at my company. There’s new designs Peter was working on that I’d like to make sure stay out of the public eye.” Tony hates the excuse he’s using. Right now he could care less about his company or his designs for new technology. But he can’t risk Peters secret identity getting out. Even with the case. Thaddeus has supposedly given up on trying to find out Spider-Man identity but Tony still doesn’t want to risk it. He can imagine though how this must make him look to the detectives and police squad. A selfish prick who cares more about his company than putting a monster away.

“Yes my detectives have informed me of the concerns you expressed,” Miller voice still remains neutral, despite her obvious disdain. “I would ask you reconsider though. It would help-“

“The answers no.” Tony making sure to leave no doubt on his stance by his tone of voice. “You’re not getting access.”

Sgt. Miller just stares back at him. Tony can’t tell if she wants to yell at him or hit him. He doesn’t care at this point. He feels tired and even more annoyed than earlier. Regretting listening to his Peppers suggestion about navigating this whole situation the “proper way” and get the police involved. Tony wishes he’d just gone with his original plan and taking care of this whole mess himself.

“I see,” she pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s getting late, I’m sure you want to get going. We can continue this meeting at another time.” Miller gets up opening the door for Tony. “My detective should be finishing up with Peter right now anyways.” There’s a smile on her face but the tone is no longer neutral. It’s filled with contempt and tiredness. Tony walks out the office not bothering with pleasantries.

He walks to the front. His whole body is shaking. With just a sense of hatred. Hatred at that sick bastard for ever being near Peter , the police for not just throwing that man in jail and himself for involving them in the first place. Tony wants to hit someone, to wreck something, to just have an outlet for his rage.

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

The drive back is silent. Peter still refusing to talk to Tony. Peter breathes deeply, shoulders shaking. Trying to hold back his tears. Tony sure if Pepper was here with them that she’d know how to handle this. How to comfort the boy. How to be a parent.

Tony can’t help but feel like a failure. The one thing he wanted to do was to protect Peter. He felt such affection for the boy. As if he was his own flesh and blood. Tony always wanted to be a father. To have a kid of his own to raise. Peter had been like a chance to have one. A chance Tony royally fucked up. While Tony hates with a passion that monster for taking advantage of his Peter, he can’t help but hate himself more. Can’t help but blame himself for pushing Peter away and into the arms of a predator. For missing all the warning signs. For not being there to stop the abuse.

Tony hates himself.

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 19

A manorian High School AU

Words: 4,7k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

cw: sexually explicit content

that's right guys, you're getting smut;););)

please excuse any mistakes though (and how bad the smut is) because it's 4am here, i just finished the longest chapter i've ever written, and i need to fucking sleep<3

You only get one night upon the shore

So dance like you’ve never danced before

And the dance floor is filling up with blood

But, oh, Lord, you’ve never been so in love

- Florence + The Machine, Mermaids

Dorian glanced at Manon for what was probably the hundredth time in the fifteen minutes they’d been sitting in the library, working on their homework together. 

She looked entirely consumed by her math problems, but Dorian knew her well enough by now to notice the tension in her jaw, how high her shoulders were. The whole day, really, she’d seemed…off.

He’d wanted to ask her about it earlier, but the whole day had been a whirlwind of catching up with friends he hadn’t seen for weeks, teachers bombarding them with fresh assignments, and just trying to stay awake after waking up so early again.

Now, though, things had calmed down at the end of the day, and Dorian finally asked, «Is everything alright?»

Manon didn’t even look up from her notebook, she just shrugged. «Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?»

To anyone else, she might have been convincing, but Dorian noted how hard she stared at the book in front of her, how her voice was a little too light.

«Are you sure? You just seem a little…tired today.»

She sighed, before finally looking up, meeting his eyes. Her own had dark circles underneath, giving further confirmation to Dorian’s worries. 

«I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and then I show up here and we get way more assignments than I had expected, and we’re not where we should be with the dance team, and-»

Manon halted, squeezing her eyes shut. «Sorry, you don’t wanna hear about all this.» 

The last words came out as a whisper, and she looked down at the table once more. Reaching over and taking her hand in his, Dorian said, «Don’t apologize, please. You can always talk to me.»

She didn’t answer, only stroked his hand once, twice. He could tell that there was something else on her mind, but Dorian knew when to stop pushing. They could talk about it later, when Manon was ready.

After a few moments, she gave him a teasing smile, glancing up at him. «As soon as I finish these math problems things will get ten times better. You don’t happen to be an expert on differential equations, do you?»

Dorian snorted. «I sit next to Aelin in that class, so I rarely have any idea what Mr. Kelley is talking about.»

«He’s the teacher who doesn’t give a shit, right?» Manon said with a chuckle, the she cringed. «I was lucky enough to get Mrs. Hughes for the second year in a row.»

«You have my deepest condolences,» Dorian said, putting a fist to his heart as he recalled countless horror stories from other students about the teacher. She loved giving huge assignments without warning and with way too little time to finish them, rarely gave anyone above a B- out of principle, and should have retired about twenty years ago.

Manon was laughing though, her eyes seeming a bit more alive. «I heard she actually got fired once, but they couldn’t get anyone else, so they had to rehire her.»

«This gives me a newfound admiration of Mr. Kelley, you know? He wants to be there as little as we do, and honestly, he’s so real for that.»

«Is it true that he just let someone sleep through an entire lesson once?»

Grinning, Dorian said, «Not just once. He believes that if someone doesn’t want to learn, then that’s not his problem, and if they’re not disturbing him, he doesn’t give a shit.»

«Ugh, why did you get all the fun teachers?» Manon fake-whined, rolling her eyes.

Dorian batted his lashes as he joked, «I guess someone as talented and good-looking as me simply deserve it.»

«Can you make out with a mirror somewhere else, please? I’m trying to do math here.» Manon gagged for emphasis, and then they both lost it, dissolving into giggles, homework forgotten. 

These study dates were fun, but they also had a habit of distracting each other so much they rarely got any work done. Not that Dorian minded, though.

«Hey, do you have any plans this Saturday?» Dorian asked when the laughter had died down, suddenly remembering another question he’d been meaning to ask.

Manon closed her book, giving up on the homework for now. Raising a single eyebrow, she replied, «Nope. I’m actually home alone this weekend.»

«Well so is Aelin, and she’s throwing a party, obviously,» Dorian smirked, remembering Aelin’s excited rambling from earlier that day:

«Those idiots has asked my cousin Aedion to ‘keep an eye on me’, so he’s obviously getting us booze and not saying a word about the party as long as he gets to join!»

«Would you perhaps like to go with me?» He gave Manon his best pleading eyes as he asked, hoping and praying she would say yes. When she didn’t answer, he added, «I promise it’ll be fun, and we can leave whenever you want.»

Humming, as if deep in thought, Manon stood up, walking over to Dorian’s side of the table. He pushed his chair out to stand up as well, but before he got the chance, she gracefully sat down on his lap, hands resting on his shoulders.

«I suppose I could…» Manon replied. «Would your friends even want me there?» The question was careful.

Dorian brought his hands to her back, going up and down in lazy strokes. That she even worried about this brought a stinging sensation to his chest. «Of course they would. They know I care about you, and I think you’ll get along pretty well, once you get to know each other.»

He actually worried a little, for the chaos that would unfold when Manon and Aelin eventually became friends and ganged up on the rest of them. He was mostly excited, though, because no doubt Chaol would be the one suffering the most. 

«How much have you told them about us?» Manon chewed on her lip as she asked, playing with his hair.

«That we’re friends, but also…more.» They still hadn’t defined whatever was between them, even if Dorian knew exactly what he wanted. He had known for a while though, he just needed to find the right moment to ask…

Fuck it…

Holding Manon’s gaze, her eyes like golden flames, he took a deep breath. «I would love to introduce you as my girlfriend, though?»

He’d known from the second he’d wanted to ask that there was a big chance she’d say no, but part of him had still hoped, and that hope grew as she smiled slightly.

Then she crashed her lips to his in a hungry kiss. While her hands cupped his face, his own traveled down her back until he got a good hold of her magnificent ass. Manon let out a low moan as he squeezed, and the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his dick.

Her tongue pushed against his mouth, and he opened for her, yearning for the taste of her. 

Dorian wanted more, needed more, but then they both seemed to remember that they actually were in the middle of the school library, and even if they were alone right now, anyone could walk by and see them.

They managed to force themselves apart, and Dorian was surprised he could even speak, since he was in the midst of the single fucking hottest moment of his life, and all that. «Is that a yes, then?»

Her forehead resting against his, Manon breathed, «Yes, I’ll go to the party with you…as your girlfriend.»

A grin spread on Dorian’s face, one that was mirrored on Manon’s, and she let out a bright laugh, the sound of it the most wonderful Dorian had ever heard.

«Can’t wait,» he murmured back, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

«Me neither,» Manon replied, then she stood up, moving back to her own side.

Before Dorian could even register what was happening, she’d gathered up all her things, putting them in her bag. «What…why…» he stammered out.

Giving him a teasing look, Manon said, «We should probably leave before someone catches us and gives us detention. I also have to be home soon.» Her tone got more serious as she said that last part, and Dorian wished they could have stayed in this bubble forever.

He didn’t move, though, and when Manon was done packing, ready to leave, she asked, «Are you coming too?»

Dorian glanced down, then shifted, trying to hide the boner he was currently sporting. «I can not walk out in front of other people right now.» His face was burning as he said the words.

Manon looked confused for a few seconds, before she broke into a taunting smirk, throwing a pointed glance at his lap. «That sounds like your problem to deal with.»

Then she turned around and left, throwing a careless «Goodbye» over her shoulder. Dorian was sure she swung her hips as much as she did on purpose, knowing his eyes would stay locked on them (and her ass, let’s be real here) until she was out of sight, It certainly didn’t help his situation.

Oh, how he fucking needed it to be Saturday already.

-

When Manon had agreed to go to the party with Dorian, she had still been a little skeptical, but now, as she walked up to Aelin’s house, hand in hand with her boyfriend, she felt nothing but excitement.

Naturally, meeting and hanging out with his friends made her a little nervous, but she trusted Dorian, believed in him, when he said everything would be fine.

Already, it was filling up with people, the bass of some pop song pulsating out into the cold January night.

Dorian stopped right before the porch, turning towards Manon. «Ready?»

Letting out a foggy breath, Manon gave him a bright smile, reaching up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth. «Lead the way,» she said, before Dorian brought his arm around her shoulders, tucking her in close.

Together, they entered the house, Dorian taking them right to a spacious kitchen, where Aelin, Chaol, and a few other people Manon recognized from school, were in the midst of an eager discussion.

Immediately, Aelin spotted them and leapt from where she was cozied up to Rowan Whitethorn. «You made it!» she exclaimed, throwing herself around Dorian. Manon didn’t really know what to do with herself, so she just stood there, giving Aelin an awkard hi once she was done embracing Dorian.

Manon had expected a short, somewhat friendly greeting in return, but Aelin had to be pretty drunk already, because to Manon’s great surprise, she threw her arms around her as well. Manon stiffened at first, unsure what to do, but then decided to just roll with it and return the hug. She threw a questioning look at Dorian, but he simply shrugged, giving her a warm smile.

«I’m so glad you wanted to come, too!» Aelin said as she took a step back. Then she turned towards Dorian again, pointing a finger at him. «It was about time you brought your girlfriend around!»

Dorian smirked in answer, and it quickly became clear that Aelin had said it as a taunt, having no idea that as of five days ago, they actually were official, because she went entirely still, then her eyes slowly widened, mouth gaping.

«You ass! You have a girlfriend now and you didn’t tell me?! When did this happen? Give. Me. All. The. Details.» Aelin punctuated those last words by whacking his arm, Dorian twisting away, walking further into the kitchen, to escape the interrogation.

Manon took in the spectacle with a grin, feeling giddy and light, both at being referred to as Dorian’s girlfriend and at the warm welcome. Looking around, she met the eyes of Chaol, Dorian’s other best friend, who gave her a wry smile, then gestured towards Aelin and Dorian. «Good to see you, just help yourself to anything in the fridge while these two wrestle.»

-

They stayed in the kitchen for a while longer, chatting, drinking and laughing together, music blasting through the house as even more people arrived. Aelin had shrugged when Chaol asked, a simple «Aedion» being her only explanation. 

Happy to mostly observe the friendly banter, Manon stuck to Dorian’s side, taking the occasional sip from her second beer. She found herself relaxing more and more, and not only because of the alcohol. 

It was so nice to not worry about anything for once, to just be. No expectations, no demands. Manon needed this after the week she’d had, full of important assignments, tests, and…everything else churning in her mind. She’d promised herself not to think about that tonight, and she would keep that promise.

Instead, she leaned further into Dorian, snorting as he told the story of how him and Aelin had made a bet on how long they could keep a carton of milk hidden in their middle school classroom, and how in the end, it had smelled so bad they needed to have class in the library for three days.

«The best part is, we never even got caught,» Aelin stated proudly, high-fiving Dorian.

«I think putting you two in detention would have caused more trouble than it was worth,» Manon found herself replying, earning a slightly maniacal grin from Aelin. 

Dorian laughed, his whole body shaking against hers. «It would have been absolute chaos.»

«And you two would probably have found some way to pull me into it,» Chaol sighed, which made them all howl.

Soon after, Rowan announced he was going to see if Lorcan had showed up yet.

Aelin grimaced. «Ew, tell him to fuck off, will you?»

He knocked back his drink, then pressed a kiss to Aelin’s lips. «Anything for you, babe.»

Both Dorian and Chaol pretended to gag at the sight, but Aelin just blew Rowan a kiss as he left, then turned her attention back to the rest of the group.

«Anyone wanna play beer pong?»

-

Dorian and Chaol more or less got their asses kicked. Dorian had first tried to team up with Manon, but Aelin had protested, claiming that both him and Chaol sucked, and therefore she wanted to be on Manon’s team. Manon had just smirked, flipping them off over her shoulder as she joined Aelin.

It was a terrifying sight, really, but it was also everything he had wanted for tonight, to see Manon getting along with his friends, having fun, even. And after their massive win, Aelin had dragged her towards the dance floor, claiming they had to celebrate, and that this song was amazing!

Manon had easily followed, laughing the entire time.

«You two seem really good together,» Chaol now said from next to him, nodding towards the two girls.

Dorian smiled, savoring the warm, fuzzy feeling in his body. «Yeah, she is just…»

Everything, he wanted to say, but one look at Chaol told him that his best friend knew exactly what Dorian meant. 

Chaol’s expression softened. «It’s nice to finally see you so happy. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.»

«Thanks, man,» Dorian whispered back, suddenly getting emotional. Because he was happy.

He was so indescribably happy. 

Looking over at Manon only heightened the feeling. She was dancing with Aelin, and he could see that she definitely knew what she was doing, her lithe body moving smoothly in time with the music, but it was also something carefree over her, something relaxed. 

She looked luminous where she moved in the middle of the room, head tipped back in laughter even while she still danced, her hair cascading down her back, glowing in the low light. She was surrounded by dozens of people, but Dorian only saw her.

Then Manon turned around, her eyes locking with his, giving him a bright smile. Dorian wished he had taken a photograph of her in that exact moment, cheeks tinged with pink, golden eyes shining with joy, but he knew if he had, he would have never stopped looking at it.

All Dorian wanted was to close the distance between them and crush his lips against hers, then find somewhere they could be alone. He needed to feel her, taste her. 

Manon must have seen the hunger in his eyes, because her smile fell, replaced by something just as wanting, something intense, all-consuming. She motioned towards the dimly lit, less-crowded hallway, and Dorian gave her a confirming nod. 

He watched as Manon said something to Aelin, then left the room. Dorian made himself count to ten, before he made up some excuse to Chaol as well, then followed her. 

As soon as he stepped away from the crowd, into the more private hallway, Manon was on him, pulling him against her. Their lips met in a hungry kiss, tongue’s clashing, eager to taste one another. Dorian’s hands immediately went to her hair, the long strands like the softest silk against his fingers.

While Dorian slowly backed them towards the wall, Manon’s hands roamed up and down his chest, exploring. She hit the wall with a soft thud, her body flush with his.

Dorian sucked on her lower lip, which made Manon let out a low moan, the sound going straight to Dorian’s hardening cock. 

Needing a moment to breathe, Dorian forced himself to pull away. He braced his arms on either side of her head, both of them panting.

«Is there somewhere we can…» Manon began, chewing on her lip.

 It took everything in Dorian to not lean down and capture that lip between his own teeth. Instead he nodded, leading her towards what he knew was the guest room.

-

Manon needed to be as close to Dorian as possible right now. She had never been so sure of anything in her life.

Holding her hands in his, he led them up the stairs, and into an empty bedroom, door closing behind them and reducing the noise of the party to a low, thrumming heartbeat.

Her own heart was hammering right now, but not from nerves, only from pure need.

So Manon reached up, claiming Dorian’s mouth while pushing him towards the bed in the center of the room with hurried steps.

He sat down, pulling her with him so that her knees rested on either side of him.

Manon could feel his erection pressing against her core, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through her. She rolled her hips once, drawing a groan out of Dorian, who started trailing kisses down her neck.

His hands moved beneath her shirt, slowly lifting it, and Manon found herself panting, «Just so you know, I haven’t done this before.»

He abruptly stopped, Manon mentally cursing herself for opening her stupid mouth. He looked up at her, his hungry expression replaced by that caring gaze she knew so well.

«It’s okay, we don’t have to-»

«I didn’t say I didn’t want to,» Manon interrupted, because she definitely wanted to have sex with him right now. It had been the only thing on her mind as she’d locked eyes with him across the room when she’d been dancing earlier. He’d been smiling from his conversation with Chaol, his deep blue eyes twinkling, his hair perfectly messy. Manon had wanted to brush her fingers through it, see how much more messy she could make it. Had wanted to feel his skin against hers with nothing between them.

Now, though, she felt herself blush under his attentive gaze.

«It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,» Dorian murmured, brushing a featherlight finger over her burning cheek.

Manon knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about. There weren’t that many opportunities to lose your virginity when you spent all your time at home, doing schoolwork, and she was fine with that, but being so unsure of what to do, what to say, was an unusual feeling for her, when she was so used to being in control all the time.

As if reading her thoughts, Dorian said, «If you tell me when something feels good, or when it doesn’t, and I’ll do the same, we’ll be fine. I promise.» He pressed a light kiss to her lips. «And we can stop at any moment if you need to.» Another kiss.

She had never felt so vulnerable before, but that was the thing about Dorian; being vulnerable with him never felt scary or overwhelming, it felt safe, good, even. It made her feel free.

So Manon reached down, taking the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head, before claiming Dorian’s mouth. His hands immediately went to her lace-covered breasts, fingers brushing over her hardening nipples.

Manon moaned in response, urging Dorian to take his own shirt off. The rest of their clothes soon followed, leaving them in only their underwear.

Then Dorian reached behind her to unclasp her bralette, freeing her small breasts. His mouth started trailing down her chest, and right before he reached one of her nipples, he looked up at her, asking, «Is this okay?»

«Uh-huh,» Manon nodded in answer, grinding against him as he finally brought his mouth to that nipple, sucking lightly on the rosy peak. Dorian was fully hard against her now, and Manon rolled her hips, needing more, more, more.

Dorian’s back hit the bed, pulling her with him, then he rolled them over so that he was on top. 

He cupped her breasts with his hands, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they then trailed down, down, stopping right before the line of her panties. Before he could even ask, Manon lifted her hips, urging him to take them off and just touch her already. She was burning from within.

Dorian obeyed with a smirk, then brought a single finger to her center, cursing when he found her to already be soaking wet. He stroked that finger up and down her slit, before he thrust it inside her. 

Manon moaned, rolling her hips in time with his strokes, her own hands palming him through his boxers.

That finger was soon joined by a second, and when Dorian started applying pressure to her clit, Manon quickly found herself cascading towards release.

«Dorian,» she moaned as she came undone on his fingers, her body going taut, then loose, Dorian’s fingers still stroking her through the entire thing. It was all too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

As she came down from her high, Dorian brought his hand up to his mouth, licking it clean. The sight had Manon ready to go again in seconds, and she reached into his boxers, pulling the length of him free.

She’d felt it earlier, that he was big, but her eyes still widened slightly at the sight of him, hard and ready. Dorian groaned as she stroked him once, twice. Meeting his sapphire blue eyes, she said, «I want you. Now.»

Dorian blinked, then leapt off her, discarding his boxers and picking up something from his jeans lying on the floor. Manon let out a low chuckle at his eagerness, but already, she craved the feel of his skin against hers again.

When he returned, Manon saw that the object he’d retrieved was a condom. He made quick work of putting it on, and when he was done, Manon reached up, grabbing his shoulders to pull him back down to her, their mouths meeting in a deep kiss.

She spread her legs to make room for him, and Dorian lined himself up with her core, but then he stopped.

«Are you sure?» Dorian asked one final time, his gaze so intense she couldn’t look away even if she’d wanted to.

«Yes,» Manon breathed, then he so slowly, so gently, pushed into her, all while stroking her clit.

Manon moaned at the sensation, at how he filled her, stretched her open. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t a feeling she was used to.

«You feel so good, you’re so good, Manon» Dorian groaned, and his words made her center throb in pleasure. She had never felt so full. 

He gave her a moment to adjust, but Manon soon found herself needing more friction, so when she wriggled her hips, he pulled out slightly before pushing in again. «Tell me if it hurts, right?» 

Manon nodded in answer, unable to form words right now.

Dorian soon found a slow, steady rhythm, and Manon started rolling her hips to meet his thrusts.

After a few moments, he stilled, though, and when he didn’t move, Manon asked in a breathless voice, «Why did you stop?»

«Just trying to make it last longer,» Dorian panted, burying his head in her neck.

Stroking up and down his back, Manon suggested surprisingly confidently, «Can I be on top?»

«Fuck yes,» Dorian mumbled against her skin, before he slowly pulled out of her and sat up, tugging her with him.

Manon could have cried at feeling so empty after being so full mere seconds ago, but it didn’t take long before her mouth was on Dorian’s again, and she fisted his cock, positioning him against her core.

They both groaned at the sensation as she gradually sank down on him, this position allowing him to go even deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside her.

She started moving up and down in a slow rhythm, one of Dorian’s hands going back to her clit, the other to her hip, helping in guiding her.

The deep strokes paired with the pressure on her clit made that blissful wave rise again, and Manon let her forehead fall to Dorian’s, her eyes landing on where they were joined.

It was the hottest fucking thing she had ever seen, and stroke by stroke, the wave rose, nearing the edge. 

Dorian was shaking beneath her, trying to hold back his own release. «Fuck, Manon.»

«I’m close,» Manon managed to choke out. She sank down on him one final time, right as Dorian pressed his thumb down on her clit, sucking on a sensitive spot on her neck.

She cried out as she came a second time, her whole body tightening. In her pleasure-haze, she was aware of Dorian’s rhythm faltering, him moaning her name against her neck as he joined her in that glorious release.

They clung to each other, staying as close as possible, as the world went quiet. Dorian brought a hand to her face, brushing her hair out of the way, and Manon gave him a soft smile, her body feeling wondrously calm. 

«Are you okay?» Dorian whispered, always caring about her wellbeing.

Manon pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips before she whispered back, «More than okay.»

-

Later, Manon lay cradled in Dorian’s arms, listening to his steady breathing.

She felt almost giddy, even if her eyelids were heavy, moments away from falling asleep.

Tonight had been probably the best night of her life, cliché as it was.

And it had made Manon realize what she’d missed out on, all this time. Not just the partying, but having friends, joking about anything, laughing, feeling so light and free and like she could just be, and no one would fault her for it.

She deserved to feel this way, deserved to be happy. And she deserved to be happy with Dorian. Because how could she go back to her old life, where all that mattered was living up to her grandmother’s impossible expectations, when she had finally learned what it was like to actually live?

Her grandmother could go and fuck herself, Manon decided. She only had a few months left before she could leave that house for good. And until then, she could pretend, she could be good, stay in line, but she refused to give up on all the good things in her life, refused to give up on Dorian.

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @gwynethhberdara @darklingswhxore @onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @rainbowcheetah512 @mirubyjane @zoyalovesbooks @wishfulimaginings

[cyberaxolotl]

Hinata’s Confession

SoS:3oT Romance/Fluff

Warnings: None

AO3 Description: With enough love in his heart to push him into action, Hinata gets ready to take the first step, wanting a relationship with Yuzuki, with just a little bit of help.

Words: 3.9k

Illustrations: 0 in fic, 1 cover art

See AO3 version for more specific tagging

Fic and cover art below the cut

It had been a quiet Thursday in the boarding house. Hinata was taking his day off in a slow way, cooped in the kitchen by a cookbook, studying several recipes.

The nearby door slid open, grabbing his attention. “Sumomo! How was school?” He greeted his young housemate, watching her drop an overflowing backpack onto the floor nearby.

“School was really good today! Miss Kasumi said that it seems like handwriting has “clicked” for me!” The young girl pulled out a few papers, held together by a paper clip. “She said that if I can do this test really well, I can move on to the next subject!”

“Hey, that’s what I like to hear! Good job.” He smiled at her as she came up to the counter.

“Are you getting ready for dinner? Ooh, can we have oden sometime soon?”

“Hm… If you pass this test, I’ll be right on it! But not tonight, I’m figuring out the recipe for yomogi dumplings.” He turned back to the book, making mental note of the ingredients he’d need to pick up.

“Then I’m definitely gonna pass this test, and I’m gonna pass it good!” She cheered, then paused. “I didn’t know you liked yomogi dumplings.”

“I don’t. Or, no, I don’t dislike ‘em, they’re just not my favorite.” He put the book down, pulling a notepad from his belt to actually write the ingredients down. “But they ARE Yuzuki’s favorite!”

“Ooh, is Yuzuki coming over sometime?” Sumomo looked excited at the notion of having someone over.

Suddenly, Hinata closed the book. “I needa talk to you about that, actually.” He turned around and walked up to talk to her. “Y’know when a couple of people really love each other, they start dating? Being boyfriends, girlfriends, or boyfriend and girlfriend?” He got a confirming nod. “Well, I’m gonna ask Yuzuki to… be MY boyfriend.” He struggled for a moment, realizing it was his first time saying it out loud.

The young girl gasped. “You are!? Oh, my gosh, yay!”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a confession pendant. “I wanna ask him on my next day off, but asking someone to be your boyfriend is something that’s gotta be done in private, just the two of us. Would you be able to hang around in the store or with Tatsumi and Yaichi until we’re done?”

“I can! I’ll ask Tatsumi and Yaichi if I can spend Monday after school with them!” She nodded excitedly, beaming. “You and Yuzuki are gonna make the perfect boyfriends!”

He reached forward and petted her head. “I’m glad you think so. Now get to that test, I’ve got an actual dinner to make us!”

Sumomo happily turned and walked off, letting Hinata prepare to actually start cooking. He could feel her excitement bouncing on him, and felt a bout of confidence for what he’d do in a few days. And he was really going to need it- the anxiety was worse than any show he’d ever done before.

~~~~~~

Monday, approaching 5PM. Having yesterday asked Yuzuki to come by, and knowing that he would be there soon, Hinata nervously set up two bowls of chirashi sushi. There were fresh yomogi dumplings beside him as well, sitting out from their new creation, but it was time that he turned his attention to them.

Setting aside the chirashi sushi bowls on the counter, he pulled over a small box, and felt like he had to act fast. Pulling out the confession pendant, he placed it at the bottom, then covered it with a thin sheet. Tying a string around the stick of one of the dumplings, he poked a hole in the sheet, tying it through. Finally, he laid the dumplings down with the tied one on the right, and the stage was set for a surprise confession.

Just in time, too. A knock at the door made his heart start to pound, and he walked over to open it.

“Yuzuki!” He greeted happily, succeeding at acting nonchalant.

“Hinata, hello. Thank you very much for inviting me over for dinner tonight.” Carefully pushing his rollator aside, Yuzuki accepted a gentle hug, stepping into the boarding house. “It smells delightful here. What’s the occasion?”

“Eh, no occasion.” He lied, “Just wanted to have a good dinner with my best friend!”

He smiled softly. “I see. Will Sumomo be with us tonight?” Bringing his rollator in and slinging a bag over it, he followed Hinata inside, watching him grab the bowls of sushi.

“She’s having dinner with Shizu’s family tonight, so we’ve got this to ourselves. Have a seat and relax- you look kinda tired.” Bringing the bowls over, he placed them on the table, inviting him to sit down.

“Do I? I’m sorry, it’s not because of you or anything. I’ve just been a bit slow today.” Yuzuki brought a bowl closer to himself. “But, this looks delicious. There's nothing quite like a filling meal to make me feel better.”

“I made yomogi dumplings too.” Hinata blurted out with a smile. When he realized how specific it sounded, he cleared his throat. “‘Cause I thought it’d be nice to make something thatcha really liked when I’m inviting ya over.”

The other’s eyes had lit up. “You made- Hinata, are you sure there’s no occasion?” He chuckled, “Yomogi dumplings are my favorite dish in the world, I’m overjoyed that you’d think to make them for us!”

The joyful smile on his face made Hinata’s heart pound. “It was no problem.” He said, finding that it came out more blunt than kind. “If I can get you to feel better, that’s more than enough!” He quickly added.

“Ah- heh.” It was Yuzuki’s turn to blush. “You’re always so very kind, Hinata. How has work been?”

“Work’s good! There’s gonna be a shipment of goods from waaaay up north soon, Moriya wants me to make sure they’re all sold by the end of fall. The theater started preparing for a new play this weekend too.” The two started to eat at that note. “How’s everythin’ with you?”

“It sounds like you’ve been busy recently, though I can’t say the same.” He hummed softly at the taste of the sushi bowl. “I’ve been feeling as though my designs are all very similar as of late. I want to stop that, but I can’t fix it until I find what I’ve been doing the same.” He sighed, sounding a bit defeated.

“Hm… Want some help?” Hinata asked through chewing. “A pair of fresh eyes?”

“I couldn’t ask that of you when you’re so busy. Though, my grandparents haven’t been able to help…” Yuzuki thought aloud, then saw the other’s determined expression. “…Hah, okay. If I haven’t figured it out by the next time you’re off, I’ll come find you.”

“Great! How are your grandparents, anyway?”

“Grandfather is working to make this month’s harvest extra large, which I’m very excited about, and grandmother has been feeling better than usual. Apparently she’s been spared some supplements by Megan, and they’re helping quite well. It’s soothing to see her so upbeat.” He relished a deep breath, “Aside from the artistic struggle, and a few rough flare-ups, everything has been very smooth. How is Sumomo?”

“Sorry to hear about the flare-ups, ‘n glad Omiyo is healthy! Sumomo’s doing great,” Hinata nodded, “Her handwriting got a lot better recently, so she’s doin’ better in school, and I’ll be makin’ her oden tomorrow if she passes a test today.” He glanced away, “Well, that’s what I told her, anyway. I’m actually gonna make oden either way. She deserves it.”

Yuzuki made no attempt to hide a warmed smile. “Sumomo is truly lucky to have someone like you looking after her. I can confidently say that, if you have one, you’d be a wonderful father to a child of your own.”

“Heey, I’m just givin’ her what I woulda wanted when I was still training here! Moriya can be rough, and Shizu and Ittetsu didn’t have much time to help me when I was young, so I want Sumomo to know she has an adult she can lean on. It’s the least I can do when I live with her.” He fidgeted with the sushi bowl, “And, wow- the thought of bein’ a dad? Hm… Hah! I haven’t even thought about being a husband, much less a dad!”

“I wonder if I’d be a big part of a child of yours’ life… Would I be like a fun, artsy uncle? Except, no-“ The jeweler winced at the notion, “That would imply that I think of you as a brother. I don’t think of you like that at all.”

“I hope you'll be a big part of my future kid’s life. I can’t picture my own life without you, so I can only hope that my family would like you too!”

“I’d like that. I’d want only the same from my family.” Yuzuki placed his hand further out on the table, “I couldn’t picture my life without you either- truly, you are one of my most valued people.”

“…” Hinata looked at his hand, a temptation pulling at him. Acting smoothly, he put his hand over the other’s, able to feel how cold he was. “Same here.” He couldn’t tell if it was obvious that he was blushing or not, but he smiled boldly anyway.

Yuzuki’s blush was obvious on his dull complexion, his eyes softening in the moment. It was impossible to tell whether he caught the gesture or not, but even if he didn’t, it still made his face flush. “…Ah. It looks like we’ve both finished our sushi.” Carefully, he pulled his hand out from under the other’s, bringing it to his chest.

“We did? We did!” Anxiously getting up, Hinata took his empty bowl, reaching out for the other’s as well. “Do y’wanna bring out the dumplings now, or wait a bit?” He tried to brush off how fast his heart was racing.

“Mm… I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist yomogi dumplings.” He handed up his bowl, “Would you mind getting me a glass of water? I’d like to take my nausea medication before eating more.”

“Got it!” He winked nonchalantly as he took the bowl, turning around. Putting the bowls by the sink, he could see his hand shaking as he reached for a cup. That was it, it was time.

Coming back with the box of dumplings and a glass of water, he could see two red pills in Yuzuki’s hand. His face lit up as the glass was handed to him, watching the box be placed on the table. “These dumplings look wonderful. I’m sure they’ll be all the tastier when they’re made by you.” He smiled, then popped his medication into his mouth.

“It’s my first time makin’ it, so tell me if it needs improving. Gotta make sure it’s perfect when a real occasion comes around!” Hinata sat back down, his voice coming out a bit tightly.

“I’m no harsh judge of sweets, Hinata.” He smiled softly, taking the first stick of yomogi dumplings with his left hand. “Please, take one as well. I couldn’t stand to have all three myself.”

Smiling nervously, the actor took the middle stick. He knew Yuzuki well enough to know his dominant hand, and that was part of the plan. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he watched the other rip the first piece off of the stick.

“…Mmh~!” He hummed sweetly, cupping his cheek with his free hand. “It tastes just as good as what’s served at the teahouse, and I thought I didn’t see any syrup on these. Did you bake the syrup into them?”

“…Y’know, I thought it was weird that the cookbook listed syrup as an ingredient but didn’t say what to do with it. I really should’ve put two and two together.” Hinata managed to snap out of his anxious daze just to be flustered, putting his hand on his forehead. “Thaaaat was an accident. Uh, whoops!”

“Hah- hahaha!” Yuzuki laughed, “You accidentally made a less messy way for me to enjoy my favorite food. It’s a little tougher than it would’ve been otherwise, but it’s nothing that I mind, hee.” Tucking away his laughter, he ripped another piece off, immediately distracted by the taste again.

His heart did a flutter at his laughter. Glancing between him and the box, love was mixed with anxiety, much worse than stage fright. He knew for certain that the confession, a relationship, was something he wanted, and he was too far to back down now.

“Hinata?”

“Whuh?”

“You’re staring.” Yuzuki said, “And you haven’t eaten at all, is something wrong?”

“Ah, sorry. You got me thinkin’ about the future.” He played into daydreaming, leaning onto his cheek. “I’m ready to date someone, but it’s hard to take a step, y’know?”

“I see. It seems like both of us are waiting for the right person.” The jeweler nodded, “Although, I am nervous at the idea of a relationship with someone new.”

“Yeah?” Hinata prompted to continue.

“It’s just… I feel as though entering a relationship would be putting the burden of taking care of me onto somebody else. I love my grandparents, and I hate being dependent, but I know I could never be fully self-sufficient.” He held his arm, “I have no idea how much I’d be able to give to a relationship.”

“I think if someone loves you, they aren’t gonna mind.” The actor blurted out, “Everything else about you makes up for it, and you should be able to be happy like anyone else. A lot of us love you anyway, Yuzuki, so why should romance be any different?”

“…Thank you. That makes me feel much better.” Yuzuki pulled the last dumpling off of the stick, “You really would be a good boyfriend.” With that, he popped it into his mouth.

Hinata gulped nervously, smiling. “So would you.” He said softly, finally eating a dumpling. “Hrk-“ He winced. It was harder to eat than what he’d had in the past, in a way that was less enjoyable to him. “I think the syrup made these too tough for me. Are you sure you like ‘em?”

The other put an empty stick down. “A little mishap couldn’t make me dislike yomogi dumplings. And, now you know for next time, so I’ll consider it good either way.”

“Well, I’m happy that you do. Last one is for you, though.” He motioned, crossing his arms with his stick in his hand. “I’ll see if Sumomo wants the rest of this one.”

There was a lump in Hinata’s throat as Yuzuki smiled at him, reaching for the last stick. “I hope- hm?” He noticed the string as he picked it up. “…Ah-!” He gasped as he pulled it away, smooth paper coming off to reveal the confession pendant, glimmering in the light.

Looking away, Hinata flushed red. “That’s for you. It- ugh-“ He cleared his throat, “Some of what we talked about today occurred to me a while back, about wantin’ to make sure we’d be friends for a long time. But then I realized, I didn’t just wanna make sure my future wouldn’t be without you- I wanted it to be WITH you.” Covering the side of his face with his hand, “We’ve been with each other since we were teens. I’ve seen your best and worst days, you’ve seen mine, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now, I want those days to be ones we go through together.” He made a glance of eye contact, trying to gauge the other’s expression. He was surprised and blushing red. “I’m goin’ to care about ya a lot no matter what happens. But now, I want to care about you as your best friend, and your boyfriend.”

“…” Yuzuki was bright red, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth. Seeing the other’s expression start to turn to worry, he held a finger up, suddenly taking his bag off of his rollator. Digging through it for a second, there was a jingle of metal, and then he pulled something out.

“-!”

A second confession pendant.

“I would’ve asked you weeks ago, but I was worried that you were too busy with work or life to want a relationship with me.” His face turned into a heartfelt smile, “Every moment I spend with you feels like a dream. You make me happier than I thought anyone would be able to when I was little, and after what you’ve said tonight, I trust you with all my heart. You confessing first has eased my worries- I love you, and I would LOVE to be your boyfriend, if you would honor me by being mine.”

“Yes-!” There was a gleam in Hinata’s eyes, putting the stick down and standing up. Stepping around the table, he got down to Yuzuki’s side, wrapping his arms around him. “Tonight was scarier for me than any play. Findin’ the recipes, cooking, setting it all up, and now I know I had nothin’ to worry about. I love you.” Arms wrapped around him as well, locked in a gentle embrace.

With a short giggle, the jeweler kissed the bridge of the other’s nose. “You did a lot to make sure tonight would be good for me. I am beyond lucky to now have a lover like you.”

The actor couldn’t stop himself from smiling, looking lovingly into each other's eyes. “…Hey, where’d ya get your pendant from, anyway? I don’t remember you ever gettin’ one at the store.”

Yuzuki bashfully looked away. “I knew you’d suspect something if I got the pendant from you, and I didn’t want you thinking I was about to confess to somebody else- it was Komari that helped me, actually. She supported me while we went to Westown and got it.”

“Komari?” Hinata’s eyes widened. “She’s the one I asked a couple a’ weeks ago what she thought you’d find romantic. I was wonderin’ why she was so confident in tellin’ me that it’d go well!”

“Oh, really? Aha~!” He laughed, “It seems like she knew we’d get together before either of us did. We’re… bound to get teased a little.”

“Hm…” The actor thought about something for a moment. “…Let’s make sure nobody tells her. See how long it takes for her to figure it out!”

Yuzuki was laughing with amusement, the two relishing each other’s presence, when there was a knock by the door. “Is that..?”

“I think I know. Come in!” Hinata called out.

The door slid open, and a little girl peeked in. “Hello? I’m not interrupting, right?” Sumomo asked, then her eyes landed on the pair. “Oh-! Oh, I am, I’m sorry-!”

“Don’t worry about it, Sumomo, come in! How was dinner with your friends?” Letting go of each other, Hinata watched the doorway.

She hesitantly stepped in, putting her backpack down. “Dinner was yummy, Mrs. Shizu made oshinko rolls and castella!” She glanced at the table, seeing the two confession pendants out. “Did it… happen?” She whispered loudly at him, a sparkle in her eyes.

He smiled at her. “It happened!”

“Yaaaaaay!” Her nerves washing away, she walked around the table, getting to Yuzuki’s side. To his surprise, she hugged him. “I’m so happy for you two, you’re perfect for each other!”

“Hah, thank you, Sumomo. I promise to make Hinata very happy.” Warmed by her blessing, he accepted her little hug. “I’ve got a bit more time before I need to go, if you’d like to help us finish these dumplings.”

“Really?” She stepped back. “I already had dessert with Tatsumi and Yaichi, I can have a second one?” She looked past him at Hinata.

“Hm… That depends. What'd you get on that test today?” He said, planning on giving it to her either way.

“Oh!” Sumomo’s face lit up, turning and skipping over to her backpack. She pulled out the binded papers with a smile, then showed it to them. “A minus, I passed!”

“I knew you’d be able to do it! Alright, get over here.” Hinata stood up, but not before Yuzuki got his attention for another moment.

“Psst-“ He called up, “Watching you and Sumomo like this makes me feel like I’ve become part of a new family.” He said, smiling warmly.

The actor smiled back, blushing. Picking up the stick of dumplings that he hadn’t finished, “Try this, see if ya like it.” He offered it to her.

Taking it, she looked at Yuzuki first. “Will I get to see you more now that you’re dating? Hinata’s my elder, so now that you’re dating, is it gonna be like you’re my elder too?”

“I can see about it, and I’d hope that now, if Hinata needs someone to look after you, I’d be his first choice.” He looked over at him, getting a nod of confirmation.

“You’d be willing to do that?” The actor asked.

“I think that it’s something I could bring to the relationship, yes.”

“Yaaaay!” Sumomo cheered softly, then ripped a dumpling off of the stick, excited. “…Mmhf! It’s chewy!” Her expression downed.

“Oh, yeah, I think I made it wrong. Is it too bad to eat?”

“Mmmh… Nn-nn!” She shook her head, continuing to eat it. “They’re not my favorite, but sweets are sweets!”

“I see that we have that in common.” Yuzuki happily agreed, taking off a piece of his own. Hinata stepped past Sumomo and sat back across from them, the little girl sitting down to join. “Oh, and, congratulations on your test today. Writing was not easy on me when I was a child either.”

“Thank you! Miss Kasumi was so proud of me, and we’re gonna have oden tomorrow to celebrate! Oh!” She gasped as she realized something, turning to her elder, “Can I help with the cooking? Please? Tatsumi has a friend that’s really good at cooking, so I gotta get good like him!”

“So long as you eat whatcha make, you can help.” He reached out and patted her head.

“Hehe~!” She squealed, her face bright.

Yuzuki couldn’t help but visualize the two as a father and child, watching how lovingly they interacted. Part of him was very excited to be part of their little family as well. Looking past them as he finished his stick of dumplings, his face dampened. “Oh, my apologies. It’s getting late, and I need to get home before it gets dark.” Putting the stick down and picking up the confession pendant, he held it tightly to his chest. “Thank you for the wonderful evening.”

Hinata stood up, walking around the table. “You’ll come by the shop tomorrow, yeah? I'll seeya then.” With a smooth motion, he leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

The jeweler giggled and kissed him on the nose, grabbing his rollator. “I’ll come by, most definitely. I’ll see you as well.” He gave Sumomo a quick goodbye as he walked up to the door.

“Goodnight, Yuzuki!” She sang, sharing a smile with him as he left.

Turning around, Hinata picked up the second confession pendant. There were intricate differences between it and the one he’d given, the gem made with a ruby rather than an emerald, and carved into a different pattern.

“…The pendants are super pretty. I wonder if I’ll get one from someone someday.” The young girl said quietly, a smile still on her face.

“Heh, I’m sure you will, Sumomo.” He smiled at her, then stretched his back. “I’m gonna wash the dishes and then get ready for bed, we’ve got work tomorrow.” With that, he picked up the gift box, gently placing the pendant into it. His chest felt very warm, and the redness and smile wouldn’t leave his face.

A confession that made him more nervous than any play ever could, gone so dreamily right.

[iheartgracie]

Red Sad Quotes

“And youse all owe me seven bucks for the snacks I got at the gas station.”

Red stared down at the chips left in her hand.

“Hey.” Maddy leaned over the table. “I’ll cover you for the snacks, don’t worry about it.”

Red swallowed. Looked down even farther to hide her eyes from Maddy. Not worrying wasn’t a choice, not one Red had anyway. In her darkest moments, those winter nights when she had to wear her coat to bed, over two pairs of pajamas and five pairs of socks, and still shivered anyway”

“Stop that. She felt a flush in her cheeks. Shame was a red feeling, a hot one, just like guilt and anger. Why couldn’t the Kennys heat their home on guilt and shame alone? But things would get better soon, right? Real soon, that was the plan, what it was all for. And then everything would be different. How freeing it would be to just do or think, and not have to double-think or triple-think, or say No thank you, maybe next time. To not beg for extra shifts at work and lose sleep either way. To take another handful of chips just because she wanted to.”

“Red realized she hadn’t said anything yet. “Thanks,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes to herself, but she didn’t take any more chips, it didn’t feel right. She’d just have to live with that feeling in her gut. And maybe it wasn’t hunger after all that.”

“Mom.

Like Maddy thought Red would split open and bleed just to see the word.

It had been the same for years. In freshman year, Maddy used to take kids to the side and tell them off for saying yo Momma jokes in front of Red. She didn’t think Red would ever find out. It was a forbidden word, a dirty word. She even got weird talking about the Mummers Parade in front of Red.

How ridiculous.

Except, the thing was, Maddy wasn’t wrong.

Red did bleed just to see the word, to hear it, to think it, to remember, the guilt leaving a crater in her chest. Blood, red as her name and red as her shame. So, she didn’t think it, or remember, and she wouldn’t look to the left to see her mom’s face in her reflection in the window. No, she wouldn’t. These eyes were just hers.”

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “You were such a smart kid.”

Don’t say it, please don’t say it.

“Seems a shame,” Oliver went on. “You had so much potential.”

And there it was. The line that ripped her open. She’d lost count of the number of times it had been said to her, but there was only one that truly mattered. Red was thirteen and Mom was alive, screaming at each other across the kitchen, back when it used to be warm.

“Red?” Maddy was saying.

It was too hot in here.

Red stood up, knocking her knees against the table, swaying as the RV turned.

“I gotta go—”

“Red wasn’t any help, was she? Standing here looking at the moon.”

“Sometimes it was difficult to pee when she thought about it too hard. So she thought about something else, thought about how good it would feel when this night was finally over. Thought about whether her dad had managed to find one of the ready-meals she’d left him tonight, or if he’d passed out before he could. It wasn’t enough. Nothing she could do for him was enough. There was a ghost in Red’s house, and it wasn’t her mom. Dad needed help, proper help, and you needed money for that. But Red would take care of that for him soon; that was the plan. She just had to see everything through. Not that she could see anything right now, apart from the outline of her phone.”

“She could not speak of her, would not think of her. Arthur hadn’t known Red in the before time, he was new, he wasn’t supposed to know about her mom. Maybe that was what Red liked most about him, that he was untainted by knowing. Except he did know, Maddy had told him. Did that change everything? Was that why he was always nice to her, why he softened his voice? She looked down. That was enough. Red refused to think about Arthur knowing, pitying her, or about Mom. Push it away, out of her head, skip to the next thought. Gone.”

“Red couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move? The voices of the others blurred into a high-pitched hum in her head. Arthur sprinted past her in the ringing silence, scrabbling for her arm, but she couldn’t move.

“Red!” he screamed from the steps.

She smelled something, bitter and strong and—

“Move, Arthur, get inside!” Oliver barked, pushing Reyna in front of him and up. “Come on, Simon, hurry! Take my hand! Okay, is everyone inside? Red? Where’s Red?”

Red faced down the darkness, breath trapped in her throat. Why wasn’t she moving? Just move. And then the voice wasn’t hers anymore, it was her mom’s. There’d been a shooting in the city, downtown. And Mom wanted her to know something. You have to run, Red. If there’s ever an active shooter. Run, don’t hide. It’s harder to hit you when you’re moving, so run! Run now, sweetie. Run!

Run, Red. She should run. She needed to run, out into the wide-open nothing.”

“Smart. Another word Red didn’t belong in a sentence with. She had potential, though, remember. Had it, but didn’t use it, that was why people said it.”

“This is the worst day of my life.”

It wasn’t Red’s, though, was it? No, she didn’t think so, she’d never replace hers. February 6, 2017. It wasn’t enough just to lose her mom that way, was it? No, there had to be that last phone call too, still hurting from their argument in the kitchen the day before, about Red not concentrating in school, about her grades slipping. Mom called the home phone at 7:06 p.m., to say she’d be late for dinner. Red was the one who picked up. Red didn’t want to talk to her. Fine, she’d replied, thinking Good instead. Maybe she could go to bed without even seeing her mom tonight, without restarting the fight. But Red restarted it then, she couldn’t help it, bristling when her mom called her sweetie.”

“That was when Red knew for certain that she and Oliver Lavoy did not live in the same world. She could never hear a helicopter and think it was sent for her. No one loved her enough for that.”

“Red was surprised there was any left as she passed the bunks and through the open door into the back bedroom. Surely there was just a hole in her chest now, an empty echo against the cage of her ribs.

She placed the walkie-talkie on the bed, laying it down carefully like it could feel pain too. With her other hand, she grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed, digging her fingers into it, the fabric pulling like spiderwebs around her fist. She brought the pillow to her face, held it there with both hands.

Red screamed.

She screamed, the heat of the muted sound hitting her in the face, stinging her eyes. She screamed until it started to snag in her throat, and then she stopped. Put the pillow back in its place, fluffed it up so it didn’t look disturbed. She picked up the walkie-talkie, checked it was okay, and then walked back to the others.

Oliver watched her as she returned.

“How did you know?” His voice was hoarse. “How did you know he would do that?”

Red didn’t know if she could talk, not until the words were there waiting, raw from the silent scream.

“Because he said. He told us he would kill them and I believed him.”

She didn’t need to say the rest, it was there, haunting the end of the sentence, finishing the thought. I believed him, but you didn’t.”

“She reached out and held his hand steady, gripped the pen and drew a check mark in the box next to NO. She wasn’t okay.”

“A second later, Simon’s words punched her in the gut, winding her, gnawing at her chest. Keep everything as cheap as possible so that Red could come. Her fault again. Simon and Maddy, talking about her behind her back, making Red their problem to solve. And why did it hurt so much that they all knew? Little Red Kenny, poor as dirt and a dead mom, but she had potential, hadn’t you heard? Everyone was looking at her now, everyone but Arthur. Red’s eyes glazed but she blinked the tears back, forcing her eyes open and closed. Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare. She didn’t need their pity, she had her plan.”

“Red had been prepared for any question about her testimony, including that, running through them like drills, memorizing her responses so she could make them look natural on the stand.

“Sometimes I go to the waterfront, by the piers,” she said, clearing her throat, pausing in the appropriate place. “Because it’s close to where my m…” She breathed, and that wasn’t part of the act; it still hurt to say, guilt churning in her gut beside the fear and dread. “Where my mom died.”

“Her heart was fast in her chest, too fast, it knew what was coming and so did she, both unraveling at their seams. She didn’t want to die. She wasn’t ready. And, oh god, she’d know it was coming, just like her mom did, lifetimes of regret and guilt and anger and hate in those last few seconds of life. No one’s world would fall apart without her, though, at least that was one good thing. Would it hurt, or would it feel like relief, when the bullet finally split her open? What should her final thought be? Please, not about the fucking pattern in those fucking curtains, why couldn’t she let that go? She was supposed to be thinking about dying, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t want to die. No, this couldn’t be happening.”

“Should she keep going, all the way into the back bedroom to scream into the pillow again? She wasn’t sure she could, anyway, this was beyond screaming. This wasn’t real.

She spun on her heels slowly, closing her eyes so she could pretend she was anywhere but here. Anywhere was better than this RV. Even at the funeral, Catherine Lavoy’s hard grip on her shoulder, bones shattering under the volley of rifle fire, the sad, high notes of the bagpipes. Or under her comforter, all the way under, pajamas, sweater, and a coat, gloves and three pairs of socks, and still somehow cold. Her cheeks weren’t, though, because she was crying, cursing her mom for leaving them and letting the world fall apart without her. Cursing herself because, actually, Mom wouldn’t be dead without her. It was Red’s fault. She broke the world, she took her mom out of it, and didn’t know how to put it all back after. What would Mom say to her now? Mom used to fix everything; found Red’s keys when she lost them, pulled those silly faces in the mirror to make her snort on a bad morning. Red could almost hear her voice now, the way she leaned into the word sweetie, warm and bright, but she pushed it away under the static of all those bad memories. Everything came back to Mom somehow, but Red couldn’t drag her into this, she didn’t belong. Mom was dead. And now the others were going to decide if Red would die too.”

“Her knees were wet against the road, the sweet, cloying smell of gasoline soaking through.

No, no. She couldn’t die like this. On her knees, like Mom. Knowing it was coming.

She tried to push up, but all the strength was gone from her, all the fight, crashing back down.

Red glanced down at her legs. Why weren’t they working?

And then she saw it.

The red dot.

Circling there, on her chest. Riding up and down the lines of her checked shirt. Hiding in the frame of her buttons.

This was it.

Soon there’d be a hole there instead, where her heart used to be.

This was it.

Red closed her eyes.

What thoughts should be her last?

The same as her Mom’s? Anger. Hate. Replaying that last fight when everything ended, so she lived for eternity in that horrible moment, stuck in the loop. Mom died and she took everything with her. How could she do that to Red? Mom died on her knees and it was all Red’s fault, and Red was going to die on her knees and it was all Mom’s fault. Blame enough to go around, doubling and doubling until there was too much and Red couldn’t bear it anymore. Take those feelings away, blow them out of her head.”

“The door slammed shut.

Red collapsed back against Arthur, looking down, searching her chest for the red dot, for a hole, for a burble of blood.

Someone was screaming.

It was her.”

“It was hot in here but Red was shivering, winter-night-without-heating shivering. Worse. Muscles vibrating uncontrollably beneath her skin, teeth chattering, crunching the last flecks of dirt in her mouth.

Her breath was too fast, whistling in and out of her chest, agonizing. Why was there pain everywhere? She was alive and it hurt to be alive.”

“He had his opportunity. You were right there. For three minutes. Why didn’t he shoot you, Red?”

“I don’t know!” Red shouted back, rage churning in her gut, taking over all those other red feelings. It was brighter, hotter. “I don’t know why he didn’t fucking shoot me!”

“Red knew real shame and this wasn’t it. Real shame was killing your mom and having to live with it, knowing that she died and the last thing you ever said to her was that you hated her”

“Her breath was too loud, like a windstorm trapped in her head, pushing at the backs of her eyes. She hadn’t said any of this out loud for years, she’d lived alone in the guilt and the shame ever since. “My mom tried to tell me something on that phone call, she asked me to tell my dad something. But we were in a fight, I was mad at her, I was so mad at her, and I can’t even really remember why now. But I hung up on her. I told her I hated her and I hung up on her. That’s the last thing I ever said to her, to Mom, and then she died. It was my fault, because maybe the thing she needed to tell me, maybe that would have been the thing that saved her. She’d still be alive if I hadn’t…”

“The rifle must have gone off, because there was a hole there in Red’s chest, blood pooling through her dark red shirt. But there wasn’t. She looked down. There wasn’t. But her body didn’t believe her, caving in around the wound, rib by rib. Red bent double, agony as her bones cracked in half, cutting through her skin, every piece of the puzzle coming undone. Maddy was howling again, but no, it was closer than that. It was her. A red, guttural sound in her throat, pushing out her eyes.

“No!” Red cried, and it was happening all over again, Mom dying a thousand times in every half second, the world blowing apart and stitching up wrong. “No!”

Red screamed, her hands balling into fists, the hard ridge of her knuckles pressing into her face, marking her skin. Five years of not knowing, not knowing who killed her mom so it could only have been Red, murdering her with those last words. But now she knew. She had the answer. And she was coming undone with it.”

“Red,” he said again, bringing her eyes back to his.

“Stop, Arthur,” she whispered.

“It’s not your fault.”

That last one did it. Red felt a shift in her gut, something untwisting, something finally letting go. Her face cracked and the tears came. She cried, the sound shuddering in her throat. She stumbled forward, into Arthur’s waiting arms, her head against his chest, and Red cried and she let it all go.

It wasn’t her fault.

She didn’t know what would happen after that phone call. She didn’t hate her mom and Mom must have known that, there on her knees at the end of all things, as Catherine aimed the gun at the back of her head. Mom was Red’s world, her whole world, and she must have known that, she must have felt it somehow, because that was how love worked.

It wasn’t Red’s fault.

She’d replaced her mom with the guilt and the shame and the blame. They’d become part of her, a limb, an organ, a chain around her neck. Red thought she needed them to live, but she didn’t, because it wasn’t her fault and she didn’t need them anymore. She cried and it wasn’t all because of Maddy or because of Catherine and the truth. She cried because she could finally forgive her mom for dying, and forgive herself too. Enough to go around.”

[count-alucard-tepes]

If your request are open I would deeply love to see a sort of remake of the wedding scene with pudding and sanji but make it katakuri and reader.

They could either be getting married or fighting whichever but I really want to see reader reacting with slow amazement and awe at the sight of katakuris face and she says...

"Why in the world would you ever want to hide such a handsome face?"

Please! Please I need this!

Katakuri’s getting married!🍡

As most marriages that happened in the Charlotte family, Katakuri’s marriage was a political one too. He was only doing it because he was asked to or rather he didn’t have a choice. He would make sure that he was the perfect son, and listen to whatever his mother had told him to do as it would benefit both him and the family.

He did not get the chance to interact with his bride to be but only met briefly, and the conversation was not much of substance. Both of them were nervous, and they were going to be married in a few hours.

He didn’t have much experience in dating or anything really when it came to woman he just mostly kept himself because he assumed everyone but not like him in that way. The only people that truly praised him were his siblings but they, too, didn’t truly know the true him only what they saw, or either only what he presented.

He made his way to his bride and stood next to them, still having his scarf around his mouth as he was very unsure of even mentioning the reason why he had worn it, but soon he’d have to kiss his bride and his secret of soon be revealed.

He offered his hand them and look down, “…it’s almost time, shall we head off to the alter?”, he asked gently.

His S/O gently took hold of his and smiled a little before nodding, “…ready as I’ll ever be…”.

He couldn’t help, but smirk under his scarf he knew they were pretty nervous. He was pretty nervous. After all, he was marrying a complete stranger, but he admired the confidence is kind of cute. He walked with them delicately until they were at the very top with the priest and then took both of their hands into his before the ceremony began.

“…and now you may kiss the bride”, the priest said gently.

Katakuri was dreading this moment he didn’t want to reveal himself to his bride of whom he barely knew what it was now and never. He sighed softly and close his eyes as he gently pushed his scarf down before leaning closer to his bride.

His face was not revealed, and he was waiting to hear those screams from them that he was so used of from his youth. He didn’t even want to make any eye contact.

Instead, it was just a pause as he felt his bride touch his face. Hesitantly, he looked up and into the eyes of his beautiful bride.

“Why in the world would you want to hide such a handsome?”, his bride asked with a genuine smile.

He was beyond speechless and gently placed his hands over his brides before smiling, “… no one has ever told me that before… color me surprised”, he’d say with a little smile before he kissed the inside of their hand very gently.

“… how about you kiss me instead of my hand… can’t keep your bride waiting”, his bride said gently before leaning up.

He couldn’t help but blush at this, and then lean down to gently kiss his bride for the first time.

Maybe this marriage thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all…