#Ultimate Gear Bag

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Focus Gear Ultimate Gym Bag

[ellecdc]

Thoughts on bodyguard!james x reader in a hostage situation? I'm thinking like full Olivia pope bag over the head high stakes hostage situation. Would also love it as an established but secret relationship at this point. (obviously reader can stay unharmed but maybe they advertise as if they've hurt her?) and James and the team come in and get her out....

I looooooove some high sakes hurt/comfort. now, please note I've never seen scandal? but I felt like I knew enough about hostage situations to give it a try? idk, hopefully it turned out okay, and thanks for the prompt!!

bodyguard!James Potter x fem!reader who James [et al.] find [1.5k words]

CW: hostage situation, swearing, NCA = UK's version of the FBI, minor injuries, panic

James could vaguely register the sound of NCA members shouting from up ahead as the team cleared the first floor of the abandoned factory they’d tracked you to, but he could only focus on the raised hand of Remus - crouched beside James at a stairwell - who was waiting for their signal to move up to the second floor.

James knew three things: he was probably going to throw up whatever was left in his stomach from the last time he could manage to ingest more than a banana or an energy drink, the NCA team was definitely beginning to regret giving James one of their vests, and you were in this building.

Ultimately, that last fact was the most important. 

James also knew this was what Remus had warned him about; the conflict of interest when he finally admitted to himself (and thus to Remus and Sirius) that he definitely fancied you as more than just his principle. 

“You’re not going to be able to remain objective, James.” Remus had said to him. Not unkindly, of course, but James didn’t like the insinuation that he was incapable of a) doing his job or b) keeping you safe.

Of course, both of those seem to have been proven true, seeing as you were here; regardless of the fact that Remus insisted this wasn’t his fault, regardless of the fact that his hand off of your care to Peter that night had been fucking seamless - it was James who lost you. 

His ire wasn’t due to the fact that he’d lost a principle, nor even that he might lose his job because of it. 

No, what made him fucking sick with worry and rage was that you were here, you were scared, you were being harmed.

And that is what kept him from barging past Remus - NCA instructions be damned - and burning the entire fucking building down to look for you.

“Clear!” An agent called as James heard what he knew to be Sirius’ gait rushing towards them.

“Not on the first floor.” Sirius whispered; out of breath from racing through the building in search of you. 

“Fuck.” James breathed out as he stood, but Sirius - god fucking love him - pushed up against his back and kept him moving.

“We’ll find her, Jamie.” He promised. 

There were two teams of the NCA unit on the second floor by the time James, Remus, and Sirius made it up the stairs, and that’s when they heard it. 

“What the FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Someone bellowed, followed by a desperate sound. It was coming from you.

“I didn’t…I didn’t-”

“You fuckin’ call that boy of yours? Huh? He come runnin’?”

“For your sake, he better have our fuckin’ money.” Another voice threatened, and the three of them moved towards the door where the voices were coming from.

James, Remus, and Sirius flattened themselves against the wall next to the door, faces pointed at the NCA agents who were doing the same on the other side. One agent wearing head-to-toe riot gear nodded at their teammate with the battering ram, poised and standing at the ready. At their mark, the team moved. 

The NCA announced themselves and paired off with the suspects rather quickly whilst Sirius took off after one who tried to flee, Remus right on his heels. 

The abandoned building had high, exposed ceilings which your captors had suspended thick construction grade cord from.

You were tied to the rope by your wrists, both of which were bound together and suspended over your head as you tried to balance on your tiptoes to the best of your abilities. You were clearly exhausted though, and the moments of relief you managed to garner for your shoulders were brief when your body ultimately went slack one way or the other. 

James rushed towards you as he surveyed you for any other visible injuries; you were wearing the same clothes he’d dropped you off at your flat in - a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, though your jumper was missing - with the addition of a fucking sack over your head. He was only marginally relieved when couldn’t see any blood on your person.

His hands made contact with your waist first when you flinched violently; body swaying furiously as you swung your legs out at him, shrieking in fear.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay, angel. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.” He chanted, his heart working itself further and further up his throat with every panicked puff of air you let out of your lungs. “It’s James. It’s me; you’re okay, love.”

“Jamie?” You keened, and James felt the first tear of relief fall from his eyes.

“Hi angel, hi.” He let out in a whisper; one arm circling around your hips and lifting your weight to relieve your shoulders slightly. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I want to go home, James. I want to go home.” You cried.

“I know love, I know. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” He promised as a NCA member came to assist in getting you down. He stood on a chair and sawed away at the rope with a blade, barely managing to catch your wrists as the rope gave way and the rest of your weight fell into James’ awaiting arms.

“Don’t, don’t!” You shouted, struggling in James’ grasp. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N-”

But by the time the NCA agent let go of your wrists, you all but went slack in James’ embrace, and James understood your panic. 

“Okay, okay.” James placated softly as he placed you gently in the chair in front of him, untying the drawstring at the bottom of your sack and pulling it off of your head.

Your face was stained with tears both old and new; tracks etched into your skin that James wondered if they didn’t scar from the past three days of being alone and utterly terrified. Your eyes were wild and glassy as you assessed the space; watching NCA agents and members from James’ own company milling about the room. James wasn’t sure you’d ever seen the room you were being kept in, depending on when the bag was placed over your head. Your bottom lip was busted and swollen along with some bruising at your jaw, and the eye on the opposite side of your face was also bruised with a small cut to your eyebrow, but all of those injuries appear to be from the first day you’d been kidnapped as you struggled against your captors. 

James took a moment to saw away the rope still binding your wrists together - red, raw, and bloody - and though you remained perfectly placid, you were shaking something fierce. 

“I want to go home.” You repeated, as you stared unseeingly over James’ shoulder. You sounded so determined that James half expected you to stand and start marching out of the building on your own accord, but you simply sat in the simple wooden chair, eyes darting frantically around the room as you held onto James’ arms quite literally for dear life. 

“I’m going to take you home, angel, I promise. But we need to make sure you’re okay first.”

“I’m okay.” You argued quickly, still not looking at James. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I swear it, Jamie. I want to go home.” 

“Angel-”

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” You all but sobbed; the force of the breath that escaped you saw you deflating significantly in your chair. “I want to go home.” 

“Okay.” James settled on, because he couldn’t help but agree; he didn’t really want to be here anymore, either. He wanted nothing more than to get you home and perhaps never let you leave again. But he couldn’t leave without having you looked at first.

“Oi! Where the fuck are the paramedics?” James called towards Sirius who was just returning from his chase. James made to stand, but you screeched and dug your nails into his arm.

“Don’t James! Please. Please, please, please.” You begged nonsensically; eyes imploring and desperate, though James wondered how well you could actually see out of them with the way they pooled with unshed tears as you looked up at him. 

“What? What is it, lovie?” James - perhaps embarrassingly - cooed at you; both of his hands reaching to cup your face, and his heart splintered when you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, forcing the tears to fall. 

“Please don’t leave. Please. Take me with you - take me home.” 

“I’m going to take you home, Y/N. I will, okay?” James promised as Sirius made his way over; his heartbreak written all over his face as he spoke into his microphone to check in with the EMS on James’ behalf. “I’ve just found you, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” 

You seemed appeased, though you never did let go of his hand as the paramedics made it to you and completed their assessment.

James’ never let go of yours either, mind you.

He thinks he might never let go of it again.

[ddarker-dreams]

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in. 

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work. 

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication. 

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows. 

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?” 

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution. 

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans. 

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out. 

Very astute of him. 

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells. 

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does. 

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across. 

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.” 

Of course he does. 

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall. 

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. 

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground. 

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze. 

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges. 

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…? 

[totaly-obsessed]

Questions

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Mary gets jealous of the Reader for getting all the glory after an outstanding game -> requested by @michellelawrence222 under a different story - I hope you like it!

-> Cursing

a/n: I'll try to catch up with requests next week - Uni is killing me rn.

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Playing on the same team as Mary, your fiancé, was the best scenario there was for you. Not only could you play with your partner – but your job was your childhood hobby. Your life was a literal dream.

And so was Mary – she was your dream, your future.

She always paid attention to you, valued you and your opinions, and helped you find your voice and ultimately yourself. She was an angel sent from heaven – a much-needed sign of peace for you and your chaotic life when you had met her all those years ago.

But a side not many people got to see from your girlfriend was her jealous one. The goalkeeper was usually the calm and organized one in your relationship, but when someone got just a little too close to you? All thoughts went out the window.

You found it quite cute. Yourself not ever able to imagine yourself with anyone else than her, not even able to pay attention or able to think of anyone else than her. But Mary, sweet Mary tended to get jealous or as she liked to call it ‘protective’.

It wasn’t intense or overbearing. She didn’t make you change clothes or stay home or any of that cliché stuff you see in the movies. Mary just liked to know that you were hers and that she was yours.

Whenever she got jealous her cheeks would turn red, her brows furrowed and her cheeks would puff up, desperately trying to calm herself down.

But that certain day was a little different, she was jealous of you, not someone who got too close to you. You.

As a striker who scored as often as possible, you were often in the spotlight – seen as a ‘savior of the club’ – while Mary was the unsung hero. She worked hard. Day and night to get better and to be the best goalkeeper in the WSL. But the recognition got lost somewhere you could not understand – your fiancés's biggest fan.

On that unfortunate day, you had scored two goals in the second half after Nikita Parris had scored in the first, while Mary had scraped every ball off her own goal line, making this one of the best games of the season for Manchester United.

Yet the applause for Mary’s efforts fell short, all eyes on you and Nikita. Your fiancé had enough. How come she did everything she could to keep the score zero on their side, but no one cared? If she had let all those shots on goal in, this would be a very different situation and she would have been heckled by fans and critics alike.

After the game you were on a winning high, like everyone else on your team – it was a great game. But Mary was scowling in a corner, not even looking at you. Meanwhile, every interviewer there wanted to speak to you and you did your best to talk to each and everyone.

Once you finally entered the dressing room it was mostly empty, aside from your fiancé who looked busy sorting through her bag. “Hey, baby. You did so well! I’ll shower real quick and then we can go, hmm?” You pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, a little weirded out by her jerking her head in the other direction, and letting out a grunt.

The drive home was tense. You had hurried so much that your hair was still wet and you were missing your socks, trying not to make Mary wait any longer – you thought she was annoyed with you because you took so long doing the interviews.

Her left hand which usually found its home on your thigh was clutching the gear stick. The silence was swallowing you whole at this point – and it felt like shit.

At home she stomped into the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Meanwhile, you did your best to cook up a decent meal out of the stuff you had left in your cabinets – it eventually came down to a pasta dish.

But Mary didn’t make her way down, while you waited patiently on the couch, your partner's favorite show already lined up on the TV.

You had already called out for her, texted her, and knocked at the bathroom door – but she never made her way out to you. Tears brimmed your eyes as you sat the meal in silence in the harsh kitchen light. The usual setting of the couch made it clear that something was wrong – so you avoided it.

Maybe she just needed to wind down by herself, just some alone time?

But after three hours and falling asleep on the couch twice, you decided to head up to bed, packing Mary’s dinner portion into a Tupperware box in the fridge.

The bathroom door was now open and the lights were shut off. At least she had left the room.

The blonde was already in bed, a book in her cramping hands as she ignored your presence. “Mary?” She didn’t even look up. “I left your dinner in the fridge. Do you want me to heat it up for you? I can bring it up and you can eat in bed if you would like?”

She still eyed the book, aggressively turning the page which nearly teared under the force she had used.

It felt like walking on eggshells as you got ready for bed – leaving the bathroom door slightly open, scared that she would just vanish from the bed. The silence nearly drove you mad as Mary’s tense jaw shifted from one side to the other.

Eventually, you sat down on your side of the bed, feet still on the ground as you had your back to your fiancé. Your hands fidgeted nervously. Had you done something wrong? Why was she so mad at you?

“You really put in a shift tonight baby, you did so well.” The scoff that left the goalkeeper's mouth was immediate. You could not really understand why – she really did play great tonight and while she was her own harshest critic, she usually knew when she did well. “No, you really did! That dive you made-“

“Will you just shut up?” Oh. So, you really were the problem here – good to know.

You nearly wanted to vomit with how sick to your stomach you felt but if you being quiet made her happy, you would be quiet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you slid off your slippers, finally getting into bed, your back still turned to the love of your life.

Mary however didn’t care – in fact, she rolled her eyes at you. “Do you want praise for shutting up as well?” Her voice was cutting and you nearly didn’t recognize her. Gone were her soft eyes and lingering touches, instead you could feel a hate-filled stare hit your back as you remained quiet – sobbing into a pillow.

“Give me a second and I’ll post it for you: ‘Star striker good at staying quiet – she deserves a fucking Oscar’ Maybe if you beg you will finally earn a trophy instead of praise.”

Who was this person in your bed?

“I don’t understand what’s happening Mary. How c-“ The blonde started laughing like a maniac. Maybe she was just tired from the game and the stress. “Of course, you don’t fucking see what is wrong! Too busy bathing in the glory while I do all the goddamn dirty work!”

Mary had gotten out of bed, pacing up and down the open floor, pulling at her hair while mumbling to herself. “What if I hadn’t been there, huh?” she was shouting now, angrily gesturing through the air “Who would have stopped them from coming? No matter how many goals ya would have scored, still would have lost without me.”

You flinched as your cold feet hit the ground but your cheeks were still hot in anger, the tears on them nearly evaporating. “Where are you going now?” Mary looked well and truly out of her mind, crying as well. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch. Maybe you should just go to sleep and calm down. Drink some water as well, huh? I love you – good night.”

Your voice was curt as you pressed a short kiss to her cheek, tasting the salt of mixed tears. But you left your fiancé no place to argue as you left the room while she could just stare after you.

The couch was comfortable enough to spend a night as you desperately hoped that she would just come to her senses overnight. It felt like someone had body-switched the woman you loved so much, for someone really mean.

But Mary couldn’t sleep, lying awake in your usually shared bed, clutching your pillow to her chest – what had gotten into her? How were you to blame for the people not recognizing her efforts and work? You were the first to congratulate her on everything, always making sure to mention her in post-match interviews.

If there was anyone at fault it certainly was not you.

Fuck.

You could hear her trudging down the stairs before you could see her, as she stood still behind the couch, nearly standing like a ghost in the kitchen. “You wanna say something?” The nervous gulp showed you that the goalkeeper didn’t expect you to still be awake.

“I’m sorry – I fucked up.”

A sigh so deep that it nearly knocked out the rest of the air in your lugs, left your lips as you sat up again – your head would surely kill you, as a headache already forming from all the crying. Mary sat down on the spot that you had cleared for her.

“Say it again, to my face and tell me what has gotten into you.”

Gone was the scared woman from the bedroom, you’ve had enough. If she wanted to behave like a child you would treat her like one. Mary took your hands into hers, shocked at how cold they were. Her eyes met yours in an ashamed gaze, looking up through her lashes.

“I am sorry for treating you the way I did. I was angry that you had gotten all the glory after the game – but that wasn’t your choice and I shouldn’t have come at you because of it.”

Even in the dark Livingroom, you could see the frustrated tears making their way down her cheeks, wetting your hand as she pressed a kiss to it.

“I accept your apology, Mary.” She could finally breathe, pulling you closer to her and giving you the first of many kisses.

“Pull something like that again and I will kill you.”

You would always be her number one fan, and maybe you just needed to show her that bit more, tell her after more games how well she did – talk about her in more interviews because no matter how frustrating life could be – she was the answer to all your questions.

[eldritch-spouse]

I'd give almost anything to be squished between Vesper and Santi.

[You'll give your holes, that's for sure. Fem reader.]

" Are you sure I'm ready? "

Santi watches you squirm in place, picking and plucking at an outfit that shows more skin than anything you've ever put on before. He assured you, several times, that by the standards of Lust you're being very conservative.

The incubus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but tries to be patient. After all, going to Hell, even if just for a little visit, isn't something all humans treat casually. Especially not his darling match, poor thing that you are, so ignorant of his origins, his nature. Visiting the King of Lust specifically is twofold the stress for your little head, he must imagine.

" And why wouldn't you be, love? "

You huff.

" I... I don't know... What if I get nervous and say something really stupid? This is a -What did you call them?- An Icon of Hell, I can't be making a fool of myself- "

" Dearest. " The dark demonoid interrupts, lifting himself off a lush bed to stand behind your figure in the mirror. " Vesper may be a King, but he's also my friend. I only want him to know about us, you're going to do just fine. "

Averting your gaze from his, your lips are still firmly set in a frown.

Santi whispers sweetly. " Don't you trust me? "

" Y- Yes. "

There's a grin. He plays with the hem of your scarce top enough to let a nipple flash for a lurid second.

" Then do this one favor for me, I promise you'll like him. He's quite the character. " Understatement.

He can hear your heartbeat pound inside the vehicle.

The trip through his birth Ring has been uneventful for the most part. It could only have been that. You may be considered fresh meat by his kin that inhabit this particular zone of Hell, but you're accompanied by a high-ranker and being escorted in a limousine sporting the royal insignia.

No one would dare interfere.

It doesn't stop the curious glances, the oohs and aahs, or the sights Lust often has on display. The streets are an open ground for depravity, it's very standard to watch pairs and groups of demonoids crawling over each other in a cacophony of moans, humans and monsters alike giving into their carnal whims, lewd smiles on their faces as they're paraded in fetish gear and shown off like the prizes many of them are.

Santi watches your scandalized expressions as you nearly fog up the window in morbid curiosity.

" S- Santi! "

" Mm? "

" They're- Oh lord, they're tied to a post Santi! "

He arches a brow, fingers ceasing their casual groping of your thighs to glance out, seeing some poor sod of a human tied to a street post by the wrists. They look disheveled and pant in exertion, sweaty, infernal obscenities scribbled on their skin while gratuitous amounts of seed ooze out of their orifices. They lean on the post for support.

" Oh, the poor thing- " He jests, failing to keep straight-faced at your glare. " They're going to keel over! "

The fiend who had just finished using the community cumdump gives them a loving pat on the head and reaches from a bag to offer the human water. The two appear to be chatting idly. Santi watches confusion etch itself in your pretty complexion at the contrast of the human's bruised, exhausted state and the care they're shown by the one you recognize as an assailant.

The nature of Lust is conflicting.

It's oftentimes hard to tell whether or not someone is here of their own volition, partaking and letting go because they decided to, or because they caved under the Ring's influence and began to enjoy their unfortunate demise.

Some people argue that Lust is the most merciful Ring of Hell for those that get dragged into the annex, because while you may lose yourself, your last lucid moments are spent in utter bliss, and that bliss is what you'll know from henceforth. Others argue that Lust offers the ultimate humiliation of the soul, turning you into a beast of the flesh that craves only to use and be used.

Santi doesn't quite care. The end result is always the same, everyone enjoys themselves here.

Deciding that perhaps it's best not to let you get too into your own head, the incubus looms behind your concentrated figure and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck, gently coaxing you to turn around so he can pull you into his lap and shower you in idle affections.

" Santi... " You start while he kisses the back of your hand.

" Yes, love? "

" How did you and the King meet? "

What a question.

He doesn't want to think too much about those days, that past which seems so distant yet not at all. He was someone else, back then. Someone harsher, someone you wouldn't have fancied, someone who'd make you quake in fear even if your loins sang. He wouldn't have been able to appreciate you for the treasure that you are, during that period. You deserve more than that, you're worth the world and all its pleasures.

" I don't remember all that well anymore, but I know it was during a party, sweetness. " He vaguely replies.

" An orgy. " You correct him, having started to put two and two together about the cultural cues of a concubus' speech.

" Same thing. " Santi counters, knowing very well there's a difference.

A silence settles for a brief couple of moments where the incubus gets to close his eyes and bask in the comfort of your perfect form, feeling your every muscle twitch against him, the hitch of your breath as arousal has yet to fade from your system.

He's doing this intentionally.

For things to go well today, it's ideal for you to always be somewhat stimulated. Plus, he's always loved watching you writhe and try to conceal your own desires. Not as much as Santi adores seeing you boldly demand he do obscenities to you. For you. To please you.

" You used to live here before, right? "

" Mhmm... " He hums smoothly.

" What made you want to leave Hell? "

Santi halts, gathering his thoughts, coming up with a decently abstract yet still valid answer.

" I wasn't happy with myself back then, love. I figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt. "

Half-truths, oh bittersweet as they are, he almost doesn't feel bad when you smile your blind acceptance.

" I'm glad you decided to leave. "

The monster's heart stirs in its confines.

" What, you wouldn't want to move in here? The heart of Lust? " Santi mocks.

" Fuck no- "

And he cackles.

You've entered mansion grounds.

This sly-eyed imp with pointed hair introduced himself as King Vesper's head imp, and has been escorting you two through the halls of the royal mansion so far.

If you had to describe the place, you'd call it deceptive.

Deceptively ornate. Suspiciously calm. Questioningly beautiful.

There's something amiss, is a better way to put the vibe of this location.

Varying shades of pink fade invitingly into purples and reds that seem to comfort and beckon. Many were the gold-swirled corners and turns that you peered into momentarily before returning to following the guide. The furniture and décor is just standardly royal enough to make you wonder if many of the set ups are meant to be as phallic and yonic as they seem. You could swear one of the walls had patterns carved into it that resembled the vulvas of countless individuals. A statue was poised just suggestively enough that it resembled malehood. Many are the paintings and figurines scattered across walls and vases depicting pairs and groups of lovers entangled in dirty yet passionate acts. Are the objects on the shelves meant to be sex toys or just peculiarly shaped abstract figurines?

When passing by what Lacai called the "Hall of His Majesty's Favorite Commissions", Santi covered your eyes occasionally. As far as you could tell, it appeared to be furnished with many differently styled depictions of Vesper's raunchy adventures with a plethora of his attractive playmates. You trust Santi's judgement that maybe some of them are too potent for the human eye.

Since the moment you set foot here, your grip on the dark incubus' hand has been iron-like, trying to siphon some of his calmness. Santi looks absolutely enamored with some of the design choices present, making you wonder if maybe he'll do some tweaking to your living space later.

" And we've arrived. " The imp, previously idly chatting with your lover, exclaims.

Two incredibly tall doors separate you three from whatever lies beyond. Infernal is engraved in them, statements you can't discern, stylized in a type of perfect, gentle cursive and accompanied by sculpted tendrils embracing the torsos of emerging demonoid figures sporting androgynous builds.

You can't help but get lost in the expressions of such visceral bliss captured in their faces. They appear to be molds, almost. Alive. Suffering the torments of eternal pleasures. Grotesque, beautiful. Maybe you really are Santi's match after all... Or maybe that's this sweet smell you've been drowning in for a while getting into your head.

" King Vesper will welcome you shortly, if you need anything, do scream my name. "

A wink, directed at both of you, and the head servant is gone, slinking back into the previous halls without a moment's notice.

Perhaps your gulp was a little too loud.

" Deep breaths, you know what's going to happen- " Santi pulls you into a big-titted hug, rubbing your goosebump-riddled skin. " No need to sweat about it. "

Much more easily said than done.

Chuckling and giggling is heard from the other end of the doors.

" There there, all set to rights, head on out honey. "

One of the massive doors parts forward, and a small hand struggles to find balance upon it. A grayish monster woman emerges, shaky, glazed eyes unaware of either of you. She tries to rearrange her fur and tuck loose tufts into her clumsily worn suit, but only succeeds in nearly wobbling to the floor. The stacks of paper and cases under her right arm tell you that this woman came here for some kind of diplomatic task, and probably didn't get much done...

Santi politely helps the lady step forward, unable to wipe away the only slightly mocking grin on his face.

" Do come again, I believe our business isn't quite complete! "

The same voice calls.

It's hard to describe it. Strong, potent, undeniably demanding of everyone's attention to a scary degree, but also loving, desperate, begging you to listen, to come closer. Velveteen reverence and the authority of someone who can take it away from you in the snap of a finger, a tempter, a lover, a challenger.

You don't need to think too hard to understand whose voice that is.

The poor woman mumbles some kind of exasperated farewell before she too disappears into the same halls Lacai had left through.

You recall a conversation about royal etiquette you had earlier with Santi. When the King of Lust accepts a request for a meeting, even if he's not being summoned, it's considered polite and common sense to also bring him something to eat. This meal could come in the form of a second person, or the requester themself. You suppose you know the choice the monster girl made.

" Next please! "

A shudder wracks its way down your body, but a firm warm hand on the small of your back prevents you from stepping back.

You're guided forward, into what appears to be a lavish lounge room, sharing the same inviting tonalities from before. Big couches and beds and tall mirrors with rails and steps spread across the room, even what you think is meant to be a pretty discreet altar in the middle, disguised as an artistic design choice. A neatly arranged table is set up next to a balcony, half obscured by darkened curtains. A great chaise lounge is clearly meant for your majesty, the other smaller two are meant for guests obviously.

The two of you stand politely at the entrance, waiting for acknowledgment, and the odor permeating this room is so intensely thick it feels like it's dripping into your skull, caressing every inch of you.

Alarmingly, your skin becomes feverish and you gasp for much needed air, feeling the peaks of your tits perk immediately, a rush of blood flying to your nethers. You feel the overwhelming urge to drop your already light clothes and throw yourself into one of the many soft cloths offered.

Santi too sniffs and rumbles at the atmosphere, no doubt incensed by the scent of what might have transpired only moments earlier. Although he's much more in control of himself than you, a gentle touch guiding you back into focusing on the present. You thumb at the bracelet he gave you, the one that presses into the inside of your wrist, dispensing a countering substance into the thin sheet of skin there.

Said substance is the only thing that's keeping you from crawling on the floor like a dog in heat.

A large, flowing tail swishes, and the two of you finally have the composure to glance right, met with the visage of King Vesper, naked as the day he was spat onto Hell, grabbing belongings from a fancy cabinet. When he turns around, your breath catches.

It's not entirely news to you. Santi described him to you, and Vesper has got to be the Icon of Hell who most desires to be seen by everyone, so you knew he was pink, voluptuous and fluffy in a few sections.

But seeing him in person is a whole other matter. It doesn't compare to any detailed descriptions.

Only Santi has managed to captivate you more intensely than the demonlord standing before you. It's... Well, if you had to try to put it into words, when you gaze into those big, predatory magenta eyes, it's like the shock of when you first glanced at Santi- But without the warmth in your chest.

No, this here is just warmth in your loins.

No soul in Heaven or Hell is stopping your eyes from dancing all over Vesper's body. From flowing tendrils to piercing pinks, heart-shaped nipples, golden chains, neatly-arranged fluff and thighs for days, a second mouth grinning at the two of you- There's so much to focus on, so much to ogle, that your sight nearly crosses for a moment.

He's a lot.

It's hard to steady your breathing.

Eventually, you notice those purpled claws are holding onto a spiral-shafted bottle and three miss wine glasses. You don't know what's inside the bottle, but it looks like a regular wine.

" Your Majesty- "

" Vesper, Santi. We've been over this. " The Icon frowns.

" Vesper. Long time no see. " Your incubus smiles, a slight wag of the tail behind him.

In contrast, the Icon's entire head tendril curls with happiness. " Oh say less! Much too long! And after this news, I would drag you here myself if you refused my invite. "

Santi nods with an expression that clearly shows he doesn't doubt the King one bit.

Suddenly, the ruler's gaze snaps to you, like a hawk spotting its lunch a mile away. He bends, much too close, invading, before grabbing smoothly onto your left hand. This close, you can smell the lush, almost floral scent coming from what must be that mane around his neck.

" And where have my manners fled- You must be this harlot's one and only match, the human I've so been aching to meet. " A thumb runs across your knuckles.

" Hhh- Hello- It's a pleasure, your majesty. "

Brilliant. Flawless. You definitely didn't choke up like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Santi chuckles, introducing your name to the monarch, who licks his lips.

" You may recognize me as a King, but just as I said to Santi, tonight you know me not as a ruler, but a friend. A lover, even. " The last part swooned dreamily, planting facetious suggestions.

Then, he does something you should have seen coming. Should have remembered, actually, but even knowing what was about to transpire, no one could blame you for blanking.

Gleefully, the Icon reaches down across his own figure, hands drifting along his front to grope and paw at his fattened slit. It looks good enough to make you want to shove your whole face in there, and frankly that might be the intended effect. In mere practiced seconds, Vesper's cocks proudly slide out.

To say he's hung is an understatement, but he wouldn't be the King of Lust if he didn't sport a trial of willpower between his legs. Two of them, actually. Ringed and slick, with this restless tentacle poking and prodding between them, occasionally latching onto one of those lengths before switching to the other like its indecisive. You can appreciate the pigment of his cocks, which is a weird thing to say but true nonetheless. It makes you wonder how they'd look stained by the wetness of your puffed cunt.

More than gawk, you huff some kind of bewildered animal noise, hues flickering between the Lord's own and Santi's face. When Santi kneels, so do you, blinking as Vesper grows half-hard in a twitch or two.

The lump in your throat won't go down while you observe Santi lean forward and chastely kiss the tip of Vesper's right cock, before swirling his tongue around the head as best as he can and leaning back. He made that look like the most erotic thing you've ever seen, seemingly unbothered by the effect that view had on you when he expectantly beckons you to tend to the spare member.

Nowhere near as charming as a concubus, your small lips tremble when you close your eyes and lean in to imitate the act, cheeks aflame. This will be the first person you've put your lips upon after having started a relationship with Santi. You decide not to think too hard about it. A small peck is planted against Vesper's length, and the shudder that rocks your body afterwards has you exhaling hard through your nose. Although you glance at Santi for approval, he smiles and arches a brow as if to tell you that you're not quite done yet. The cock hovering in front of you flexes and you understand you're going to have to put some heart into it.

By the time you decide to try and swirl your small tongue around the King's tip, he's already beading in excitement, the view of a still somewhat timid human trying to appease him probably doing something for the demonlord.

It's messy. You have to turn your head and put more effort into it than Santi, ever practiced, did. Unfortunately, Vesper tastes almost as good as the other incubus next to you, so even if you're struggling, it's hard to let go. You could suck at him all day if it meant keeping that taste on your tongue.

Eventually, when you do pull away, a string of precum follows, snapping onto your chin and making you try to clean it away with your fingers. A bad idea, they're sticky now. Thankfully, Santi is there to lick them clean for you, winking to let you know you did a good job.

" I do so love making new acquaintances. " Vesper seems to ebb satisfaction. He doesn't bother with his exposed malehood and motions over to the chaise lounge area. " Please, both of you, sit. Talk with me. "

And you do. Of course you do. Your legs might eventually give out if you don't.

The King gracefully splays himself on his seat, uncorking the bottle with his index claw and placing the three differently sized glasses onto the table. You and Santi sit closely on one of the opposite chaises lounges.

" Can I get you lovebirds some temptation rouge? " He purrs, beginning to pour the drinks anyway.

Santi nods. " I'll have some. None for the lady, please. "

Vesper pauses his pouring, the alluring stream of purplish delight fading enough to allow you to focus.

He frowns. " Oh come now. "

The high-ranker doesn't budge. " Vesper, this isn't something humans should- "

" Mmm really? I recall you offering it quite generously. " The King taps idly at the shaft of the bottle, his tone petty.

The black-horned demon offers a look that begs Vesper not to push on the matter, which is apparently met with mercy.

" But I understand, you're in love, the world has a different hue. "

" Yes... You couldn't guess how distinct. "

Not quite deciphering the exchange the two fiends had, you choose to speak up when Vesper inches Santi's drink his way.

" I can have some. "

Santi shoots you a look. " No. No, that's silly- "

Santi's tense, sighing.

But a large paw has already been raised. " Hush! The lady has spoken, and who are we to deny her? "

" Surely, just one sip is alright. Besides, she's a virgin of Lust, let her enjoy some of my land's exquisite offerings. "

You watch the King pour half a glass for you. You're no virgin, how could you be with Santi by your side? Though saying that someone is a virgin in Lust generally means that it's their first time visiting the Ring.

You spot a muscle on Santi's arm twitch when you cautiously grab the miss wine cup. You know the contents within are likely a very potent aphrodisiac, perhaps a psychostimulant, something that'll make you trip balls essentially. After all, concubi don't drink or eat out of necessity, so this clearly has a use.

" Thank you. " Santi responds, a bit flatter.

Reclining on the seat, the Icon sips out of his glass, the mouth on his stomach licking its chops at the shared taste. A tail flicks, you note that he's been idly stimulated this entire time by the tendrils still squirming between his two dicks.

" So, tell me sweetheart, what do you think of my Ring so far? "

You hope he didn't catch you staring, but that face says it all.

" It's... " You have to think for a second, finding it difficult to articulate a plethora of mixed feelings.

" Freeing, in a strange kind of way. " You trace the rim of the glass. " It's still Hell, still scary, and I don't understand much of what I see out there... But I wish- " Your cheeks grow warmer. " I wish sometimes... That I could join. "

When you look back up, Vesper is grinning, this very amused glint in those magenta pools. " Mhmm, an honest response. I appreciate it. "

You smile politely in return.

Conversation unfurls easily afterwards as both demons partake of the rouge, their faces darken with time and they seem to sway the slightest amount, bodies restless. When you take your first sample of wine, the room is already thick with a scent you've grown to understand means hungry concubi are looming around.

Pungent. Thin but so sweet that it seeps into every pore in a wave of fruity warmth beckoning more and more of its sampler's attention. You'd have this for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, quickly turning into some shameless alcoholic. It's of little surprise that all of Hell's confectionary is as addictive as it is to humans, that's how fiendkind tends to assert their power over other species. You suppose Lust, as the Ring of desire, has a particular ease creating concoctions of great addictive power.

Your idle reckoning is entirely derailed by the jolt of wetness from your loins, something you expected but couldn't calculate the intensity of, throat burning as you clumsily choke down the whore noise that wanted to flow forth. Maybe you drank too much at a time? How can those two have several glasses of this and look only mildly buzzed?!

Right on cue, Santi reaches to pluck the glass out of your hands. " Aaand that's enough for you. "

" Hah, oh the poor thing! You know that's properly aged, honey, try not to waste it. "

An embarrassing amount of time clearing your throat later, the King pipes up again.

" Ah, I've been meaning to ask, what is it like? " He waves a hand, his head tendril wraps around it fluidly, allowing the demonlord to toy with it.

" The sex? " Santi prods.

" No, the fighting- Of course I'm talking about the sex, you bumbling slut! "

The incubus straightens, eager to talk. " Oh, well- "

" Nuh-uh, quiet. " Vesper's tail nudges Santi into silence. " I know that part. Oh, sex with a perfect match is like pure ambrosia, it's the richest source of energy, a taste so delectable it fries you harder than the cocktail of an orgy of kissless virgins! You can never go back and you'll never have an experience half as pleasurable, it's the greatest gift a concubus can have but also the bane of their search for newer sensuous experiences because it causes obsessive infatuation- Etcetera etcetera... "

The Icon rises much faster than you'd guess his mass could ever allow him to, only to drop to a crawl, gaze piercing into you with an almost violating intensity. " No... " He murmurs sweetly, stopping to squat mere inches from your already overheated body, the chain anchored by his tits swaying hypnotically in front of you. " I want to hear it from you, darling. Regale me! "

Put on the spot like this, you don't actually know what about your perspective can be so appealing to the King, but his tone is authoritative, demanding. You must give an answer.

And so, you allow the hellish alcohol to speak for you, memory drawing upon the moments of your most intimate moments with Santi. The definition of his body, the noises he makes as he partakes of your form, the form you never gave much thought to yet the same one he reveres and coats in his drool. The whispers against your skin that you can never quite make out and the dance of claws on sensitive areas bordering between the sweetest caress and the plunge of a jealous lover.

" I- " You laugh breathlessly. " Well, I didn't know what sex was before I met Santi, real sex, real desire. There isn't a thing he does that I dislike, every time I lay with him, I only wish that it never ended, and I'm thankful he knows when to stop, because I might just tell him to keep going until I draw my last breath. "

You don't know where all of that came from.

The King's wolfish grin now turns shark-like, and he nods ever so fervently, egging you on. Santi has set his own glass down, blinking in bewilderment at your words, until a rumble bursts from his chest, and he seeks to hug you closer to himself.

" I know it sounds cheesy a- and dumb but I always want to try new things in bed with him because I've always felt so appreciated and- Santi makes me feel like I'll always look gorgeous no matter what I have on or what little accidents we have. I never knew sex could be so fun and feel so good... And I guess I only have him to thank for it. "

Santi doesn't say anything, just pulls you into a searing kiss full of tongue and approval. One you get lost in far too quickly, uncaring of your surroundings, or the demonlord ogling the two of you like steaks on a platter.

Maybe the King was looking for something a little more lewd and descriptive, but it seems the drink took you to a more emotional lane. Either way, what you said apparently resonates with the incubus in question, because he beams like a spotlight, eyes bright and smile so full of heated love it might just melt you.

It wasn't always like this. You remember the rocky start of this relationship. It could have turned into something ugly. It could have hurt you badly. Don't think about it.

" Oh- Oh, love does win! " Vesper dramatically rises, pretending to wipe a tear that isn't there. " So romantic, so heartfelt, I could just about write a whole drama from this alone. "

Eyes closed, getting a tongueful from your now overly-excited lover, you feel hands pawing at your body. His, you initially think, squirming playfully as they nudge your barely concealed breasts and squeeze at your tummy, palming at the swell of your ass possessively. Then, what you thought to be two hands become three, become different. It takes you a second of sloppily making out to finally open your eyes and check.

The Icon is now looming above you both, all glowing eyes and slobbering chops, cocks twitching for attention while he hastily reaches to place both hands on each of you. You're barely able to complain before your shorts are pushed aside with your thong and a large hand is palming at you insistently, met with the rush of wetness Santi's saliva has helped create. Speaking of, the high-ranker himself has already parted his legs to allow the King to tease his girth out of his slit, getting leisurely pumped. You watch each other get fondled for a moment, the shock fading into shameless acceptance and a burning need for more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

" Mm, why'd you stop? Enjoy yourselves. "

The other grins, placing a finger under your chin and guiding you into another embrace. This one is slower, more measured, not just to savor the moment but to make a proper show for the sovereign of carnality. Santi works just well enough in tandem with the King's hand to draw out a wanton moan from you, eating it up with his own. Vesper apparently finds this very appealing, sighing his appreciation and rewarding the two of you with more attentive touches.

Your clit is flicked a certain way that forces your legs to jerk, and the situation is fixed when Santi readjusts to hold your leg slightly upwards, encouraging you to slide down a little. Just so, just so... Until Vesper has a finger in you, his index. Then two- His hands are large, larger than the average demon's, this is a stuffing on its own.

Whatever shred of composure you had left is gone, starting to keen and whimper as the demonlord immediately hammers onto the spot that usually has tears welling in your eyes. You don't know what kind of faces you're making, but they're probably not pretty in the wake of such intense stimulus. It feels as if your entire body is throbbing with sensation, the peak of it making your nethers pulse like an epicenter of delight.

Vaguely, you feel someone tug your top down so your tits can bounce free with every thrust upwards, turning to spot Santi rocking into the fist offered to him while he bites his lip to the debauched sight you make. You didn't think you'd be getting off to something like this, but seeing the desperation to use you in his eyes has you fuming in arousal, and likewise, he's loving your helplessly wanton exhibitionism.

" Ahh, she likes that. " The demonlord keenly observes. " Don't you, princess? Like the sight of your pretty incubus fucking my hand like a needy animal because he can't have you yet? Does it turn you on how lost he is in you? Do you think I should make him cum like this? You're both adorable, I'm loving this so much already! "

His depraved purring is the straw that breaks the camel's back, you can only roll your eyes and choke out some kind of plea for mercy before squeezing like a vise around Vesper's fingers and soaking him for all you've got, barely able to breathe in-between the thunderous pulsing of your orgasm. He rides you through it, nice and hard and milking the entirety of it for his own selfish gain, until you're spasming and gasping erratically.

Unfortunately, you missed Santi's own climax, finding him sagging against the seat in a state similar to yours, while the King whorishly sates himself with the mix of your released fluids, sucking and lapping at his hands for every hint of slick and humming pleasantly at the flavor you make together.

" Not bad... Not bad at all. Again, now, I can't wait to see your bond up close! "

You're a little bit confused when he plops himself back down on his massive lounge chair, then taps his thighs invitingly. Santi gets the idea however, tickling and nudging your clothes off you before settling on the monarch's lap.

Vesper hums, rearranging him so Santi's back is to his front, and then you are invited on. The resulting position has Vesper serving as a kind of living support with you seated atop Santi, giving the King a perfect view. Casually rumbling his glee, the King takes hold of your hips and steals any kind of autonomy from you by leading the pace, grinding you against the delectable ridges of Santi's hardness.

Laps are delivered to the side of Santi's face, and you know the mouth on the demonlord's stomach is also sampling around, tendrils closing in to shift between stimulating him and coiling luridly around your bodies like he just can't get enough.

One moment the two of you are locked in an desperate rut against the slow pace of regal hands, the next, you feel the sting of the demon's exquisite girth as you're swiftly impaled, the pain much too quickly blossoming into momentous relief.

It's a frenzy of movement you can hardly process. Maybe it's the effects of that drink, maybe it's just the cacophony of pheromones that being glued to a high-ranker and an Icon produces -You hardly doubt that bracelet is doing anything to protect your poor mind at this point- But you get well and truly lost in it. The world spins, only flashes of the experience register in your muddled brain, goosebumps, a swaying vision, waves of pleasure heightened to such a degree that you cease hearing anything but the muffled echoes of your lover's moans.

In that moment, there's nothing more to reality than the monster in front of you, looking as depraved as you, and leaning into it. Santi drools onto his own chest openly, pupils dilated, eyes relentlessly hypnotic as he swallows every twitch of your tormented form's muscles. No hint of higher thought lies in those acidic green hues, only the beastly impulse to have you, to reduce you to a spasming mess, to make you lose your mind and grow addicted to him.

Faintly, you can hear low whispers in a foreign, harsh tongue, and it never occurs to you that might be the source of your current trance. You don't know what it's doing to you or Santi, and you don't care.

You don't care about anything expect the constant pistoning driving you to a filthy paradise. If the Icon wasn't the one moving your legs, you'd be mush by now, point proven further when your top half simply flops onto the incubus' body, useless.

It must have been about an hour or more when the two of you are stopped, and no matter how gentle the winding down was, you still grunt and whine wordlessly in frustration, met with laughter from the two of them. Santi recovered faster, because of course he did. Looking down to where your bodies meet, you're disgraced with the sight of a sticky mess coating not just your mons and thighs, but plenty of Santi's lower half. It doesn't even reek of sex, you've gone nose blind at this point. It's almost terrifying, you have no idea how many times you orgasmed, or how many times he did for that matter, but the overwhelming evidence is clearly there, and your throat is quite sore. Whether from gasping, screaming or simply breathing through it, you don't know anymore.

Vesper says something to your partner in clear infernal, met with a reply you cannot hope to interpret either, and you're pulled forward to kiss the King, the three of you exchanging lips in a disheveled mess.

By the time you start giggling and breathing hard, Santi sighs.

" We... We should stop for now, no? " There's a mildly guilty look on his handsome features. Probably because you're going to be feeling this for a week.

The demonlord huffs. " Ugh- Fine fine, but only because you two were such a show, the imps flocked to the doors you know? I can feel them peeping. "

The darker demonoid snickers in amusement, reaching out to pet your face and try to ground you in reality, to no avail. You're eventually lifted to a stand, latching onto his arm for support and starting to somewhat ferally bite him in adoration.

Vesper follows suit, look too predatory to mean anything good, and both hands coiled around vastly neglected lengths. Making quick work of himself to the filthy view you and Santi make. He's the one who gulps now.

" I have been very patient however, the least my adorable guests could do is give me a lasting farewell. "

Santi looks like he's about to try to politely renegotiate.

" Pretty please? "

You clap and cackle in enthusiasm, entirely out of your gourd. More, more!

The incubus watches you jump in place, then turns to his old friend. " You have spare regeneration ointments, don't you? "

[kitkat238984]

Love Means A Free Babysitter

Summary: As a single mother of a three-year-old, you are constantly struggling to keep him under control, and boy are you glad Tyler was there at Rampage when you needed help. It worked out better than you expected.

TW: An annoyingly adorable child. You either love him or you hate him.

“Asher! Wait for me, please! Don’t run off!” You called for your three-year-old son who thought it would be a fun idea to make you chase him around backstage. 

The babysitter you’d hired had cancelled a mere hour before she was due to arrive at the hotel, so you made a quick call to Tony Khan’s team to ask if you could bring your son to Rampage and he reluctantly agreed so long as you kept him under control. 

“Oh yes of course. I promise you he’s an angel. You won’t even notice he’s here”. 

An ear-piercing shriek echoed through the hall you were running through and you ignored the shocked, puzzled looks thrown your way. So much for being unnoticeable. It probably would have been easier to catch up with him if you weren’t carrying all his toys, snacks, his blanket, your own water bottle, and your gym bag with your ring gear in. 

“Asher…”, you warned. “If you don’t stop running, mommy will be very angry with you”. Still nothing. You swore this kid had as much energy as if he’d drank dozens of energy drinks and eaten a bowlful of sugar. 

If everyone here didn’t know you were one of the professional wrestlers, they would most likely mistake you for a crazed fan. 

You didn’t take your eyes off Asher for one second, cautious of where he was running to, not wanting to find him somehow running through somewhere and into the arena. 

However, you gave an audible sigh of relief when a figure appeared from around the corner, causing Asher to bump into their legs and ultimately stopping him in his tracks, now wordlessly gazing up at the person’s face. 

As you drew closer you realised that the person your son had crashed into was Hook - or Tyler as you and some others preferred to call him - who returned the intent gaze into your child’s eyes, but his eyes filled with perplexion as he glanced around him trying to figure out where this random kid came from. 

“Uhh…”, he uttered before you closed the distance and placed your hand over Asher’s shoulder and pulled him away from your coworker. 

“Tyler, I’m so sorry about him. I’ve been trying to catch up with him for five minutes already and he just won’t stay still”. You managed to speak whilst catching your breath, proving difficult with everything you were holding as well as keeping Asher at bay who was now clinging and leaning against your leg. 

“Uh it’s cool. What’s with the kid?” He asked with no hesitation. 

You could see the obvious bewilderment in his features, glancing back and forth between yourself and Asher, and giggled before answering his question. 

“This is Asher. My son”, you told him, and he responded with five seconds of lip-mimed stuttering until speaking up again. 

“Since when were you a mom? You’ve never said anything before”. 

It was true that you’d never told Tyler before that you had a young child to take care of, but that was only reasoned with the fact that you never spoke to one another all that much. The closest you’d get to a conversation would be a few remarks on someone’s match in the viewing room or in one of the locker rooms. Your paths simply never seemed to cross naturally very often. 

“Since three years ago. I fell pregnant at eighteen, gave birth at nineteen, and now I’m a very tired mother and professional wrestler”. 

Hook felt he needed more than just a couple of seconds between bombshells to wrap his head around this discovery. You were a mom of a three-year-old boy. You were younger than him and had somehow managed to climb up the ladder of success into AEW whilst carrying around a baby in the background. 

He felt a sudden rush of respect that he’d never had before. Truthfully, he always thought you had a few screws in your head loose as you always scurried about everywhere and constantly looked like you had somewhere you needed to be. It had never the slightest bit bothered him and it never made him think any less of you, but now knowing there was a reason behind your madness made him feel guilty for thinking such things about you. 

“Can’t the father look after him?” he asked. 

“Oh um no”, you told him plainly. “He left me when he found out I was pregnant. Thought he was too important to deal with a child”. 

Then he felt worse than ever. You were a single mom, juggling everything all at once. How were you even sane? 

Frustration was visible in Tyler’s demeanour, evident in his clenched fists, pressing into his thighs and a small wrinkle in his nose which did not go unnoticed by you. 

“I’m kind of glad he left actually”, you continued. “I was trying to find a way out for months. He wasn’t a very nice person and would have been an even worse dad”. 

He appeared to relax slightly and you were thankful that he hadn’t burst into some fit of rage, however, what confused you was that he was angry in the first place after telling him about your ex. 

You hadn’t realised he cared so much about single mothers, let alone care about yourself. You wouldn’t exactly call Tyler a close friend so it surprised you that he would… well… actually give a damn. Whatever his reason for caring was, it brought you happiness that he felt the same way you did when your ex told you he was leaving you. 

“Anyway”, you snapped out of your thoughts. “We’d better get going if I actually want to fight tonight”. 

“The show doesn’t start for like four hours”. 

“It will take that long”. 

Hook gave you a questioned look before stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie and putting one of his earbuds in his ear. 

“I might see you later then. Good luck with uh… that…” He nodded towards Asher beside you and walked away behind you. 

“Thanks?” Was he scared of Asher or something? 

Taking advantage of the opening in front of him to continue causing chaos, you found yourself running after Asher yet again. 

“I swear that child is on steroids”, you huffed. 

—

Before even having gone in the ring yet, it felt like it had been the most stressful match day of your life, and you were waiting patiently in the viewing room with Asher standing in between your legs whilst you were handing him surprise tickle attacks. 

At least he wasn’t running wildly and screaming. 

You weren’t alone in the room as Hook was sitting on the opposite side with his earphones in and distracted by whatever was happening on the screen. You were a bit too preoccupied with your son to notice anything, even the frequent glances Hook gave the both of you. All you really knew and cared about at that moment was that you were to have a quick match with Saraya and that you were going to win. 

“Hey hey hey, Asher”, you addressed your littlun to get his attention. “When mommy’s done here we’re going back to the hotel and you, mister, are going straight to bed. Okay? So you’ve got to be a good boy”. 

“I am a good boy”, he said, nodding his head. 

“Good”. You kissed his head and reached down to Asher’s bag to pull out a bag of carrot sticks since it had been a while since he ate his dinner. 

As you were doing so, the door to the viewing room opened and you spun your head to see - as you expected - one of the producers. “Y/n, you’re needed now”. 

“Alright. I’ll be there in just a minute”. 

You quickly gave Asher his carrot sticks and got him to settle on a chair with his ipad so he should have been fine there for a while, however, you didn’t feel comfortable just leaving him alone the way he was. You had hoped that someone around you would be available, but one look at Hook made you feel… reluctant. 

As funny as it was that he called your son ‘that’, you shamedly didn’t have much faith in his babysitting abilities, and you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. 

But in all honesty, you didn’t care too much. You were sure he wouldn’t let anything bad happen which was all you needed to know, and taking another look at Asher, he seemed pretty absorbed in his game so… 

“Hey, Tyler”, you called and he raised an eyebrow up at you. “Can you look after Asher for me? I won’t be long and he’ll be good. Thanks. Bye. I owe you”. 

He was in safe hands. 

Rushing to get out of there, you kissed Asher’s head and ran through the door to get to your match, leaving a dumbfounded Hook staring at the empty doorway where you were just standing.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ He thought. 

Hook unfortunately knew absolutely nothing about children and so felt very awkward about the situation he was forced in, however, he thought maybe if he kept completely silent and didn’t move then the kid wouldn’t notice he was there and that his mom had disappeared. 

Of course, that didn’t last long. After a couple of minutes, Asher’s head poked up and looked for his mom but found only the man with the fluffy hair staring at his phone. 

“Where’s mommy?” he asked, which attracted Hook’s attention. 

Here goes nothing. “She’s in the ring. She’ll be back soon”. 

“What’s a ring?” 

“It’s where people go to fight”. 

Asher looked puzzled and tilted his head to the side as if he were a puppy. 

“Mommy said no fighting. That’s not good”. 

“Well your mommy fights. Everyone here fights”. 

“Mommy doesn’t fight”. He began aggressively shaking his head. “Mommy’s a good girl”. 

A smirk turned into a chuckle at the thought of you telling your own child that fighting is naughty and there you were on the screen throwing someone’s head against the padding of a corner post. 

“I think mommy’s cappin’. Look up there”. He pointed to the screen where you were now being thrown onto the canvas with Saraya’s foot making contact with the arms that covered your head. 

Hook had assumed Asher would feel offended that you had lied to him yet think what you were doing was cool like he had when he first saw his dad wrestle, but when he looked over, what he feared would happen, happened. He was never good with kids so making one cry caused him probably the most panic he’s ever felt, even more than when he’s been pinned and desperately tried to find an outing. 

“Hey hey, kid, don’t cry. Your mom’s fine. She’s not getting hurt”, he said, rushing to Asher’s side, crouching to his level and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t like it”. 

Asher’s whines alone were enough to make Hook’s heart break. What would you say if you knew he’d just made your son cry? 

He needed to fix this before you came back. He needed to fix this now. Fast. 

“Uhh it’s only pretend. It’s not real. They’re just… tickling each other”. 

“Tickling? Why are they tickling?” 

“Because it’s fun. They uh tickle each other until one of them gets too tired to carry on”. 

That’d have to do. At least the tears had stopped now. 

“Mommy being tickled?” 

“Sure”. 

“I want to do that”. He pointed to the TV and stared at Hook with large hopeful eyes. 

It wasn’t his position to start play-fighting with your son, let alone being the one to tell him what you do for a living, but the thought of a little kid wanting him to teach him wrestling made him forget about all that. He wanted to teach your kid the child-friendly version of wrestling and that was what he was going to do. 

“Alright. So have you ever had a tickle fight before?” He nodded. “Well it’s just that but you have to try and get me on the floor and for me to stay there for three seconds. Can you do that?” 

He nodded again with a gigantic smile that brought Hook some pride. He was about to guide Asher to the first move, but he beat him to it, flinging himself at Tyler who in turn flew back and hit the ground. 

His instinct would have been to push him off, but he had to restrain himself from being aggressive. 

In fact, he almost laughed when Asher made a poor attempt to tickle his neck. Three-year-olds were apparently terrible ticklers. 

“One two three”, the small person said, clearly not knowing how long one second is yet with how fast he was, but Hook went along with it anyway. 

“Heeeyyy I want a rematch. I wasn’t ready”. 

Hook surprised himself with how well he was with Asher and how easy it was to get along. It was pretty amusing how innocent and naive he was. He honestly thought that he could tell the kid anything and he’d believe him. 

Whilst ‘fighting’, he also noticed elements of Asher’s appearance and behaviour, small habits that easily resembled you. The little sparkle in his E/C eyes were the complete replica of your own, and the dimples in his cheeks was something he’d seen before many times when you’ve laughed at something someone said. 

There were parts about Asher that didn’t quite match, like the hair colour was completely different to yours which he presumed was from the dickhead ex-boyfriend. However, Hook didn’t hate the way it looked on Asher like he thought it should. It suited him and brought out the good in something wicked. 

He didn’t want to sound like a creep and say he’d been staring at you long enough to notice all these little things about you, but… well yeah he’d been staring. Truthfully, he thought you were a beautiful, sexy sight to behold which is why he was so surprised to see you with a child. 

How had he not noticed? 

How the fuck did you manage to carry that for nine months?! You looked fucking incredible for someone who had given birth and it only gave him another thing to love about you, that you were strong-willed and ambitious enough to make it this far with a baby. 

Again he was pinned to the floor on his front with Asher sitting on his back. If anyone saw Hook in that moment - pretend screaming and waving his arms and legs as if he was struggling - he would probably die of embarrassment. He had a cool reputation to keep up. But with his head facing away from the door, he didn’t notice that you were standing in the doorway enjoying the show from the sidelines. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at this sight for two reasons: you were happy Asher seemed to be having a great time (and would sleep really easily that night), and the smugness you felt seeing Tyler’s complete personality change from what you’ve ever known from him. 

“Ahh you’ve pinned me”, he cried. “Remember the count. Remember the count”. 

Asher giggled and counted to three on his fingers. As much as you wanted to continue watching the cute show, you knew you had to make yourself known. 

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” you called out and both boys whipped their heads to the sound of your voice. 

“Mommyyyyy!” Asher immediately jumped off Tyler’s back and ran to you, tightly wrapping his arms around your legs, a sign of affection which you kindly returned. 

“Have you two been having fun?” you asked. 

“Yeah! Yeah! I just learning wrestling”. 

“Oh really now? And who’s been teaching you that?” 

Asher looked back and pointed to Hook who was now sitting up and leaning against the chairs, running his hands through his hair trying to fix it. 

“Tyler taught you now, did he? How about you play with your cars for a bit and calm down, yeah? I think Tyler’s tired”. 

You and he knew that was all but the truth, but Asher had to come down from his energy surge somehow. 

“You told him? Really?” you asked, walking towards the chairs Hook was pulling himself onto and sitting beside him. 

“In my defence, I didn’t know you were trying to keep him away from fighting and I may have accidentally made him cry”. 

You gasped and your mouth stayed gaped open for a long few seconds before playfully slapping him on the arm. “How dare you make my son cry? You really are cold-hearted. And it’s not that I was keeping him away from it, I just don’t want him growing up thinking he can solve things with aggression. I mean, he still doesn’t fully understand the difference between right and wrong”. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry”. 

You chuckled lightly at his apology. “Don’t be. It was sweet watching him doing what we do”. 

“I thought the same. If he keeps that up he’s looking at a good future career ahead of him”. 

You nodded and watched as Asher so cluelessly played with his cars around the room, occasionally driving the toy cars across both your laps. 

“How do you make it look so easy?” 

The question took you by surprise and you unintentionally scoffed. “Easy? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” 

“What I mean is”, he corrected, “is that you’re a fucking good-” 

“Language…” 

“Right. Sorry. You’re a great mom, and even though you’ve probably struggled, you’ve had incredible success. I just wanna know how you do it”. 

You took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be a looooong night. “Well… truthfully… I’m a hot mess. I don’t sleep. When I first found out I was pregnant and Asher’s dad left me, I was so sure I’d get an abortion, but then I went to the clinic and had a scan and realised I had a helpless child living inside of me and I wouldn’t let it down by taking away its chance at life. Although at least once a week I stay up all night crying, regretting every life choice I’ve made, when I wake up to this beauty I’m proud to call my son, I become slightly more disgusted with myself that I even dared to think about giving up”. 

You had to force yourself to breathe after that confession. You completely shocked yourself because you’d never really had the chance to talk to anyone about what went through your mind almost on a daily basis and yet here you were, telling Tyler everything in one go as if he were your damned therapist. 

“God I didn’t mean to spill everything out like that”, you told him. 

“Ah  don’t worry. You shouldn’t hate yourself so much for it, though. Can’t imagine what crazy shit- uh stuff you’ve gone through. I bet all single mothers have gone through the same as you”. 

You sent him a heartwarming smile and he sent the same but in smirk form which you never knew was possible without looking like a complete jackass. 

It still wasn’t possible. He looked dorky but you loved it nonetheless. 

“Do you want kids?” you asked. 

“Whoa ask me out to dinner first”. 

You tried to hide the laughter that was begging to come out from that cheesy line with a shake of your head, but you knew it was no use. 

“Me? Kids? Nah. At least not now. I wouldn’t even know where to start with being a dad. I’ve never really been around younger kids being an only child and all. It’s not like I could just drag a wife and kid around with me everywhere I go. I’m not father material”. 

Your heart dropped at hearing his admission, because you yourself had thought the exact same thing when you were pregnant. You remember how frightened you were of being alone or having no one there as the role-model you so desperately needed. 

But how were you to know how rewarding it all was in the end? 

“Well I understand where you’re coming from but you’re wrong. Very wrong. When I walked in here and saw you and Asher, I would have been easily convinced that you’ve been hiding three kids back home. You’d be an awesome dad”. 

“Ha… thanks, but it still feels like it’s off the cards for me. My job just doesn’t work well with having a family. It sucks but it’s the truth”. 

“And what about me? Do you think I teleport from place to place? Of course not. Asher and I take a few days once or twice a month to go home where he sees his friends, and we don’t let the constant travelling stop us from doing the things that mean the most to us. Which goes for you too”. 

Your words truly touched Tyler’s heart. His parents had told him so many times that it was possible to have a family life and still do pro wrestling, but he still never quite believed it. He wanted to be there for his future wife and children whenever they needed him at any time of the day, not just the occasional weekend when he had time off. 

Hearing your story and how you’ve coped with all the madness in your life finally broke that barrier that’s stopped him from believing he had to choose between a career and a family. Tyler was only twenty-four and had a long time ahead of him for his plans, but he knew where he wanted to start his future - well he knew who he wanted to start it with. 

He had no idea how long he’d been staring at you, but he was happy you were staring back. 

‘There it is’, he thought. The same shine in your eyes as the one he saw in Asher’s earlier. It took everything in his willpower not to devour your lips right there and then. Who cares if the kid saw? He’d find out eventually that kissing was quite normal between a man and a woman. 

“Hey”, he began talking, snapping you both out of your trance. “Can you make time in your busy schedule for a date tomorrow? About 12?” 

You bit your lip to prevent you from grinning like some psycho serial killer and managed to nod which brought a broad smile to his own face. 

“That is if I can find another babysitter by then”. 

“Bring Asher along. We can go to the park and get something to eat”. 

Your heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture. “I wouldn’t want to invade your plans with a three-year-old”. 

“You wouldn’t. I promise”. 

“Then yeah. Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you”. 

“Perfect”. 

Tyler asked for your number which you willingly gave him and he sent a text to make sure you weren’t messing with him. 

“Alright, Asher. Say goodbye to Tyler”. 

Asher turned around and waved to your date. “Bye, Tyleeer!” 

“Bye, Asher. See you tomorrow”. 

“See you tomorrow”, he replied, not fully understanding what was actually happening tomorrow. Sweet. 

— 

When you got back to the hotel, you thought that the roles might have been reversed because you were exhausted from the long day and you could have passed out in the elevator, whereas Asher was straight on the small bed laid out for him and bouncing up and down like it were a trampoline. 

“Hey calm down. It’s time for bed. It’s been a very busy day and it’s very very late”. 

“I want to play wrestling”. 

“We can play wrestling tomorrow with Tyler. I’m sure he’ll play with you again if you bother him enough”. 

“No. I want to play with you”. 

You sighed deeply, just wanting to flop on the bed and let sleep overcome you. It was almost midnight which definitely shouldn’t have been a time a toddler was still awake at, and you were sure he’d end up waking you at stupid o'clock in the morning. 

Maybe one game wouldn’t hurt. He had such a confusing and stressful day. 

“Alright. One time then straight to bed”. 

He giggled before launching himself at you from the bed and you quickly caught him so he wouldn’t drop, but you still pretended to fall backwards on the bed. You were confused as to why Asher was fidgeting so much, but you carried on playing nonetheless and switched positions, rolling him over and throwing yourself over his torso, pinning him down. 

He had to learn to lose the hard way. 

“Nooo! Stop!” he cried. Thinking you might have hurt him, you quickly got off and scanned his face for any sign of pain. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“You doing it wrong!” 

“Wrong? How am I doing it wrong?” 

“That’s not how you do it”. 

“Then tell me how to do it”. 

Now he was sulking. Typical behaviour. You weren’t going to get a word out of him until you knew what he wanted. 

“Let’s just go to bed then”. 

“NOOOOO!” he screamed. 

“You’re tired. Come on”. 

“I not tired! I want to play wrestling!” he crossed his arms. You’d been through this situation before. Maybe if you just slept he would forget about it and go to sleep himself. 

“I want to play wrestling!” he screamed again. 

A lightbulb felt like it turned on in your head at the genius but probably the most logical idea. You hoped he wasn’t asleep yet but there was a slim chance that he was. 

“Heeey, Tyler”, you spoke into the phone. “Can I ask you a real quick question?” 

“You changed your mind already? I thought I would have had at least tomorrow’s date before you decided you didn’t like me”, he responded, his voice slightly muffled through the speaker. 

“Oh, no nothing like that. I haven’t dated in like five years. I need tomorrow. I just wanted to know how you played wrestling earlier”. 

You could imagine the perplexed look swept across his features. “Do I wanna know why?” 

“I think you’ve created Asher’s new favourite game and he keeps saying I’m doing it wrong”. 

“Well, are you tickling him?” 

“Tickling? You tickled him? You?” 

“Yeah, let's not tell anyone”. 

You almost burst out laughing at the all mighty Hook secretly being a softie and embarrassed the way he was then. 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to tell Ricky tomorrow and the word that you’re a secret teddy bear will have reached everyone’s ears before the week is over”. 

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Now go to bed”. 

“Thank you so much. Goodnight”. 

“Night”. 

You felt yourself swooning at his thoughtfulness and you understood why all those girls fawned over him and his unlikely charm. 

“Right. Now I know how to play, how about we start the game again?” 

— 

“Eminem is not better than Snoop Dogg. You’re insane”. 

You snickered, relishing in the satisfaction you had from teasing Tyler. 

“Eminem’s songs tell a story. Snoop Dogg just says a bunch of random shit”. 

“What’s storytelling about two trailer-park girls going round the outside, huh?” 

“Ah you got me there”. 

The three of you were walking down a trail down the side of the park, Asher running ahead of you hitting every tree he could see with a stick. You took a side glance at Tyler who was gazing off into the distance at your son. You thought it was pretty adorable that he was growing a liking to Asher, particularly after the awkwardness he possessed around him when they first met. 

A laugh escaped your lips which drew the attention of Tyle who whipped his head to face you. “What’s so funny?” 

“What happened to the guy who didn’t like kids?” 

“Ah he’s growing on me”. 

“I’m glad. Because he’ll be tagging around to a few of our dates”. 

He stopped in his tracks whilst you continued walking but turned around once you noticed he wasn’t catching you up. 

Had you put him off by inadvertedly inviting a third wheel? 

“What makes you think there are more dates?” 

Oh thank fuck. 

“Well, aren't there?” 

He let out a sly chuckle as you moved closer to him, mirroring his smirk, and he instinctively rested his hands on your hips. 

Tyler felt his fingertips tingle at the touch of you. It was like his hands had finally found their destined home. 

“I guess you’ll just have to find out”. 

His lips captured yours in craving and you felt in the small but powerful gesture all the longing he had for you and your lips. Both yours and his lips massaged each other and your body fell into complete ecstasy. 

Until the little monster ruined the moment… 

“Why are you kissing?” You pulled away and smiled at Asher’s innocence. 

“It doesn’t matter, sweetie. Come on, let’s keep going”. 

“I don’t want to. My legs hurt. Pick me up?”. 

You looked at Asher in disbelief. You’d seen this child practically run marathons without stopping and somehow an hour at the park has him too tired to stand? You weren’t believing it for a second. Besides, as strong as you were, the kid was heavy. 

“You’re too big to pick up now. You’re a big boy”. 

“Pick me uuuuup!” 

“I told you no”. 

Ah there was the grumpiness again, his arms flailing everywhere and foot stomping on the ground. You sent him a stern look that you held for all of five seconds before Tyler decided to speak up. 

“Hey, do you want to sit on my shoulders?” 

“Yeah!” 

Hook knelt down whilst Asher climbed up his back and swung his legs over his shoulders, Tyler’s arms securely holding them in place so he wouldn’t fall backward. 

You rolled your eyes and you all continued walking down the path - with the exception of Asher, of course. 

It was a beautiful sight, you had to admit to yourself, but he was a cheeky mother fucker. 

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” 

He chuckled at your comment for he knew you were telling the truth, but he loved the drama. 

“First, you make Asher cry, then you teach him wrestling, and now you’re his personal chauffeur. I hope you’re happy”. 

“Oh I’m more than happy, baby”. 

You couldn’t have agreed more. You had hope that this situation would progress into something much more wonderful than it already felt. 

THE END. 

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Six

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Six is here, sorry it took a bit but it's been a long week and I've lacked the incentive to actually start writing:/ BUT I honestly do love this next part, so I hope you do too!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

We’d kept the whole outing on the low during the ride over to Rosie’s school– seeing as the kid couldn’t tag along– and instead spoke of her lessons, what teachers she was dreading as well as the snazzy lunch they’d all been promised the week before, before she then mentioned the call that she’d had with her sister earlier the previous day. Which had ultimately reminded me to text my own on our way over.

After we’d watched the girl waltz up the school steps, bag in hand, Em and I finally managed to pull out of the mayhem that was ‘drop off’, Marshall having received more than his fair share of lingering looks from mums in passing cars and the one teacher that was on lookout, much to my amusement. And so it was only as we drove off that I looked over to find that he was wearing this tiny, barely there smile that on him all but screamed drollery.

“What?” I questioned around a wry chuckle, glancing between him and the stereo whilst I messed around with its many buttons in hopes to find a better channel.

Marshall shook his head minutely at me and continued to drive, though that smile of his stayed put.

“Come on,” I prompted again after settling on a station that would just have to do and hiked up a knee so that I could turn a little to face him better, “What’s got you all smiley?”

He cocked a single brow and shot a look my way. “Smiley?” He repeated sardonically.

“Yes, smiley.” I pestered, then impulsively reached out to drag my finger over the curve of his mouth, not even second guessing the gesture. To my surprise though the action only made him blow out a mirthfilled breath and swat the offending limb away. I bit back my own grin, “It’s this thing, see, that happens when you contract the muscles in your face.”

“Huh,” Em said, pretending to mull the words over before he eventually turned to me wearing the stupidest face, “How many you reckon I’m pulling now, hey? Nah, come on now. How many?” He continued to prod after he’d only received an amused scoff in return from me. 

Marshall pushed away from the steering wheel when we slowed at the next stoplight so that he could lean over the centre console far enough to poke at my side. The move had me laughing at his sudden playful manner, backing me into the passenger door to escape.

“It’s all in the wrinkles!” I exclaimed in retort to his question, exerting myself even further when a hand jumped over again to pinch at my waist in retaliation, “You just gotta pay attention to them and–” I attempted to dodge the next onslaught of fingers which threatened to dig into my side, “and then I reckon you can count the muscles!”

“Fuck you, man.” Marshall snickered in relent, shaking his head at me after one last prod before we both jumped at the sudden sound of a blaring horn. All those facial muscles of his were quick to drop into a prominent scowl at the scare we’d been given when he shot an aggrieved look back at the driver behind us. Em gritted his teeth and switched gears, letting the car roll through the now green light at a pace set just to further aggravate the guy following us.

I rolled my eyes at the second beep and went to gesture something at the other guy when I was hastily reminded of the car’s too-tinted windows, so instead I just slumped a tad in my seat. “Americans.” I clucked, lips then twitching at the way Marshall’s head snapped over to me, eyes narrowed.

“Careful there, woman.”

With an impish grin, I widened my own eyes tauntingly in retort as he sped up, “Or what?”

Those familiar baby blues flickered across the expanse of my face, taking in the faint freckles and the bow of my lip, then they dropped down to the position I’d since manoeuvred myself into, observing, analysing even. Before they eventually slid back out the front window. 

“Tempt me and find out.” Is all that he replied before we were going around the next bend a little too quickly, fast enough to have me bracing myself on the side door just so that I could catch my balance. 

I watched on as he merely smirked, thumbs tapping effortlessly against the wheel to the radio, knowing full well what he’d just done.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was much of the same antics throughout the rest of the journey too, Em pointing out stupid shit just so that he could jerk around and swerve a little too hard, which then prompted me into winding down my window so that I could call shit out to whatever unlucky fucker just managed to be passing by. 

The first time I’d done it he’d almost lost his nut, eyes as wide as dinner plates whilst he’d attempted to reel me back in and away from the window, probably waiting for somebody to recognise us, or rather him. But we’d been gone too quickly, only the last few decibels of my thick English accent trailing through the air behind us. 

I’d practically cackled at the picture he’d painted when I’d fallen back into my seat, his head swivelling every which way in a bad impression of an owl to try and catch a glimpse of the next supposed pap. Eventually though, he’d started to chuckle too, obviously having found somewhat of a thrill in it, and then egged me on to do it again. Not thinking that I actually would.

So we made a game out of it, switching up accents, pretending to know people we didn’t, telling pedestrians that their fly was down or that they had shit on their shoe. Even managed to get someone to knock on some random door, telling them that we were waiting on the guy who lived there. 

The one that Marshall seemed to prefer though was when we’d stopped at another red light and I’d wound down my window once more to start up a conversation with this older looking fella crossing in a pair of sunnies. He’d blinked at me, the guy, when I’d asked him how his husband was doing, questioning the most recent surgery and the man’s pruning addiction, before I’d switched up tactics completely and mentioned the dodgy kebab I’d had the night previous, clinging to my stomach and grimacing through the supposed unease I felt. 

The second the light had flashed green Marshall had floored it, shaking his head at the expression that had marred the poor guy’s face and grinning over at me like a madman. It’d made me wonder when was the last time he’d granted himself a little freedom, instead of constantly stressing about the public and media's perception. It got me thinking.

Soon enough though the crowded city shifted and changed once more, morphing away from the high-risers and scenic views into too many condemned buildings and yellowing sidewalks. I’d leaned forward in my seat to get a better look out of my window as we’d passed by a block of shuttered shops, taking in the swift adjustment. Em though, he only seemed to get more and more tense the further in we drove.

“Oh, shit! Look at that.” I suddenly awed after a short while, eyes having immediately been captured by the grand display of colours which lined the next street we drove down. It was a mural of sorts, painted along the side of what I could only dub as an offie, and so precise that it almost looked like the letters and characters were jumping out at you, forcing you to actually look and see. 

“Fuck, you don’t see work like that often,” I added as we drove on, Marshall’s gaze flickering back and forth between the mural and I before it was out of sight. Me though, I was still grinning and giddily leant in to explain how… “Back home it was all gang tags and area codes, but you could always find the odd piece hidden away if you knew where to look. More central though, you know? They put them on display up there like some kind of gallery, especially in the touristy parts. But in truth, they’re nothing like that– or that!” I found myself gasping again, crowding further forward in the car, enough so that my knees knocked into the dashboard to get a proper look at the next graffiti outline that cropped up.

It was of Diana Ross, afro swooping along the building's top edge as she posed, shoulder facing forward, eyes staring off into the sky above us. Her skin was a flood of blurred blues and vibrant purples, blending into a dark contrast that had been used to further accentuate her features; the long lashes, the effortless pout, and those all too familiar statement earrings.

Passing by, I almost wanted to ask Marshall to stop, I even went as far as to open my mouth to do exactly that until I witnessed the calculating look he’d since taken on. My brow furrowed at the sight of it, but he must have realised me looking all too quickly because in a split second he was watching the road again, face blank as he turned the wheel effortlessly down the next street.

I settled back into my seat and allowed my gaze to linger on the window and the world beyond it, feeling a tad bit settled now that we were away from the hustle and bustle of the inner city. It wasn’t that I disliked it so much that I would go out of my way to avoid it completely, it was just that I’d always been wired that way, no matter where I went. Much preferring the back streets, side alleys and cramped parade of shops to the metal structures that rose cloud high and the people who didn’t give a fuck beyond where they were headed. 

Trips into central London as a teenager, and even now as an adult, I supposed, always seemed to leave me feeling all itchy and cornered. It was just a lot to take in being surrounded by so much mayhem and all I ever really wanted to do once I was able to step through my front door at the very end of the day was to wash it all away completely in a too warm shower.

Even the thought of home had me smiling though, listening as the radio carried on humming out a dull tune, the frequency buzzing every so often. Em stayed tightlipped beside me, hunched in his seat as we drove through the next couple streets full of worn and tired houses, some boarded up, others littered with cardboard boxes and the like.

I licked at my lower lip and shifted after a while, dragging my stare away from the many mailboxes, and how they differed from the letterboxes we had back home, over to Marshall himself. I waited a beat or two, figuring he might finally speak up, but to no avail. “So,” I began instead, voice soft in the stillness that had since encased the car, “You gonna tell me where we’re headed yet?”

There was a pause, and then, “Figured I’d give you a real tour, didn’t I?” His eyes flickered over to me, then darted away again. I gave way to the small bout of patience I seemed to somehow own and it actually paid off because although Marshall’s jaw worked itself around his next bout of words, he did eventually say them, “City’s cool and shit, but it ain’t me.”

Looking over at the man, I observed the way his lips pressed together ever so tighter into a fine line that dimpled his chin and how his brow then furrowed even when his stare on the road didn’t dare falter. After hearing the reply I had an inkling of sorts about where we were heading, but nothing concrete enough to get my hopes up, especially not with the way he was acting. Growing more uneasy the further the wheels beneath us travelled. 

“And what’s that meant to mean?” I wondered aloud, keeping my voice soft and light as my head lolled back to rest against the seat rest and continue watching. The picture of pure innocence.

My gaze tracked the motion of his tongue when he rolled his lower lip inwards to lick over it. His front teeth prominent in the slight gesture, reminding me of the fact that once upon a time they’d been a lot more bunnylike. “You shared some tough shit with me yesterday,” He spoke, releasing his lip just as his hand rose to knuckle the underneath of his nose, “And you know, this is my way of repaying that, I guess.”

I couldn’t help my slight frown, “You don’t need to repay shit, Em. I didn’t tell you all that crap yesterday to gain something from you, especially not something that’s obviously making you uncomfortable– ‘cause yeah, I’d have to be an idiot not to have realised how your shoulders have pinched higher and higher the closer we’ve gotten to wherever the fuck we’re headed.” 

Letting slip a faint chuckle at his slight grimace, my eyes roamed over his side profile, willing him to look back at me and see the sincerity I felt. 

“But telling you about my sister and my past, that was me letting you in, alright? Means we’re friends now, even if you don’t see that. And, you’ve let me into your life too, in your own odd way– into your home even. So whatever you think this is,” I paused to shake my head at his stupidity and couldn’t seem to help the heavy exhale I then let go of, “I don’t know, just. I don’t want it, Marshall.”

Silence settled for a stuttered moment. There, there, there until–

“I know.” He sighed, fingers gripping the wheel a little harder in his evident struggle to form an actual reply, so I gave him another second or two to recite whatever it was that he wanted to say. Like usual, Marshall came through, “I know it ain’t like that. This bullshit truth for a truth thing, I never meant it like that. Just–” 

He released another weighted breath, this time it fanned out into a self-deprecating chuckle as he shook his head at himself. I waited in perch, breath captured somewhere between my lips and lungs. 

“This shit’s jus’ weird for me, yeah. I mean, all my guys are people I grew up with here, the same ones I’ve known since before I met Dre, since ‘fore high school even. I kept them round ‘cause I just couldn’t trust the people in this game, you know. But I did try. Tried bringin’ people in after Z got old enough to realise that me and her mom weren’t never gone work out, but that shit never stuck. They see all this and then they pull away ‘cause they realise too quick that this dump is me, that the man with the money is just that. A man that don’t have to just survive no more. That the cash and the rest of all that bullshit is just something that’s there. ‘Cause it aint never been about that for me, I said it from the start. This stretch of road is the place that raised me. That made me. They don’t understand why I can’t turn my back on that.”

I understood what he was saying in a way. I mean, I didn’t have his level of fame, nor had I been in the game for as long as he had. The man was an icon, not just in his genre but to the kids and the people who had grown up in poverty, who’d been seen as the outcasts. 

But still, it was always hard to see just how far past that line you’d drawn in the sand for yourself that the people you let into your life would get. 

Sometimes, they just bulldozed on through it before you’d even known that you’d been letting them toe at it. 

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.” I murmured after a beat, trying to control the way my chest had torn itself a new hole, something that only tended to happen whenever I let people slip so surely past my own defences. “And I know that you know that, Em. I mean, I’ve listened to your music, heard you even talk a bit about your life before this. So I can sort of comprehend how hard it must be for you to allow me this. But again, you don’t have to.” I assured him with a fond smile, humoured by his rational fear. “You could take me to the studio and we could work on lyrics, or we could just go grab some ice-cream. I’d be happy with whatever, so don’t go beating yourself up over this.”

I laughed lightly afterwards, the sound escaping me almost involuntarily at the thought that then hit me, and felt how my eyes wrinkled with the emotion when he turned to peer over at me. “Also, that was probably the most I’ve heard you talk since I got here.”

Surprisingly, his response to that was to just toss the closest thing he had in my general direction, which ended up being a pink pencil of Rosie’s that had been sitting in the cup holder, its top accented by a feather boa. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

Chuckling away, even though he’d managed to target the pencil somewhere between my collar and sternum, I turned to flash him another grin, mostly just to quietly reassure him that I’d been honest with my previous response and that nothing much had changed with him admitting what he had. “You made up your mind then?”

Marshall’s brow furrowed a tad.

I puffed out another disbelieving laugh, “On where we’re headed. Because I should let you know now that I get motion sick after a while.” It was funny at just how quickly his head snapped round to face me at that, looking vaguely alarmed. I snorted in turn and raised my hands up in a mocking show, “Just saying!”

Em shook his head, appearing forever hassled by me. But then those blue eyes of his strayed back on over and I noted how they’d now taken on a whole new sheen. “Come on then, fangirl. Tell me, the numbers 19946 mean something to you?”

I could only blink in answer but apparently that was all that Marshall had needed as he’d laughed around a growing smirk and slowly pulled into the upcoming street reading Dresden.

I didn’t recognise the name, but he hadn’t been wrong in assuming that I’d know those specific numbers. Although, who wouldn’t when they’d been hung above his head on multiple album covers?

Still it was more than a little surreal to me as we drove on closer, dirt slipping under the SUV’s bulky wheels and wilting trees no taller than me passing us by. I kept on glancing around to try and spot the famous build but was surprised to see a condemned lot waiting for us instead of a row full of houses sat on one side. 

Eventually, the car rolled to a slow stop at a roundabout the midway mark, the street practically empty, aside from the few vehicles parked outside of the neighbouring bungalows and those which lined the low curb. It appeared as though the building I’d been searching for had since been charred and had caved in on itself, leaving only a rubble of brick and a lone standing fence removed of all paint in its wake.

I couldn’t help myself as I unbuckled my seatbelt to turn my bemused expression over towards the man perched beside me. But Em had since turned off the car, his own stare caught on the site the same way mine had. 

“Fire.” He said after some time, the low hum of his voice slipping easily throughout the silence we’d since enveloped into, “State owns it now but they tried to contact me after it happened, seein’ if I wanted to bid or some shit.”

I kept quiet, eyes raking over his face which had since taken on a neutral expression, hands laying still in his lap. Not many could relate to seeing their childhood home condemned, I mean I couldn’t. I'd left our tiny flat on the estate the second I’d gotten the chance and had only returned when Lottie had come along, my hate for it growing greater and greater the longer I’d stayed copped up there. When I’d gotten the money off of my first real deal the first thing I’d done was rent the house my mum lived in now, managing to buy it a year or so later just so that Lotts would have an actual home to grow up in, seeing as though I wouldn’t always be around.

“Hurt, I think.” Em admitted with a slow blink, pulling me from my thoughts. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but this here was the one place I considered ours. Why it made the album I guess. That, and it looked tough.” 

We shared a small smile when his eyes flickered over to mine for a split second. 

“This why you made it the second cover too then?” I pondered, leaning in closer against the centre console almost thoughtlessly.

Marshall shook his head minutely, thumb flicking over his forefinger once, twice, three times. “Nah, coincidence. Happened a couple days after the release.”

“Mad.” I breathed out and though it had been an unconscious reaction it garnered an airy chuckle out of the man beside me.

“No shit,” Marshall hummed in turn, mouth twitching ever so. “I mean, didn’t expect it but it felt like some sort of weird sign from the universe.” 

I couldn’t help but silently agree with the statement, dragging my gaze away from the lot when the audible click of his seatbelt coming undone sounded. “You been back since?” I asked. It was October now, so almost a year later.

A dip of his chin gave me my answer, before his jaw then ticked beneath gritted teeth. He dragged in a long breath then let it go. “It was a dump even before the fire, all boarded up– had been for years.” He told me, his voice low, “Can remember a lot happenin’ here though.”

My head tilted towards him at the quiet admission and my smile answered it in the same soft ease, “Oh yeah, like what?”

He took a moment to think it through, then this smile etched itself a home on his lips. “Nate, my brother. I remember ma coming home with him from the hospital, seeing the kid wrapped up in this big blue blanket. Man, he was this tiny thing. Jus’ couldn’t wrap my head around it.” He wet his lower lip and his eyes darted back over to the property as though he could visualise it all playing out again, “I was like thirteen, I think. Had been waitin’ for her to get back from, wherever the hell she’d been– ‘cause see, ain’t nobody told me that the woman had even gone into fuckin’ labour.” 

The laugh that trickled out of him at that was unbelieving, as though he still couldn’t accept that fact even now. My own smile grew a little wider. 

“Was here that I wrote my first real song, too.” Marshall revealed after a brief pause, blue eyes meeting mine just before his shoulders slumped a tad, “‘d been writing for years ‘fore that but nothing I was truly excited by, you know. Actually ended up usin’ parts of it in a battle a couple years later, can’t remember against who though, but it stuck with me.” 

I could picture that. A baby Em cooped up in his bedroom writing away for hours on end, losing himself in the words and their meanings. Finally feeling like he’d managed to create something people might react to. 

“Remember it now?” I asked him with an impish grin, my tone teasing but even I wouldn’t say no to a little rendition. But alas, he simply shook his head. Although, I was gifted a round of effortless chuckles. I shrugged, “Worth a try.”

Rolling his eyes, Marshall allowed his arm to come to rest right beside my own on the console stationed between us, he looked to me, “And here I figured you’d grow bored with all this crap.”

My mouth parted in a playful gasp, though there was a big part of me that was really shocked he’d even thought it. “Bored? You could go show me a dumpster you shat behind and I’d be like ‘ah right, that’s cool’.”

He levelled me with an unimpressed stare that had me choking back a cackle. It was almost too easy with him.

“Fine, maybe not.” I relented with another grin as I nudged my arm against his, “But, I don’t know. I’m intrigued, is all. I like knowing shit about the people I care for, even the weird parts. Like, take my mate Sal, yeah? I’ve known him since we were youngens and this guy was always up to something dodgy, but after his nan passed he kind of just dropped off the face of the Earth. None of us heard from him for ages.” I revealed, my own gaze straying back towards the lot, picturing a two storey town house stood there instead. “Didn’t know it before, but he’d lived with the woman his whole life, she’d raised him. So when she moved on, it was like he had nothing left to live for, you know?”

I figured most, if not everyone, had gotten to a point like that at some time or other. Though Sal had been fifteen back then and that had ultimately meant care and getting social services involved, and for a kid like him with a few dots on his record, it had been hell. 

“I went round and knocked a couple days before the funeral, but he didn’t open up. Neighbour said she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the paramedics had arrived the week before.” It felt weird explaining this now, not when I hadn’t thought about it in so long, but I wanted Marshall to understand where I was coming from and this was the first story that had come to mind. “I ended up grabbing Danny and had him kick Sal’s back door in– which had been impressive if you’d have known the kid before he enlisted. Scrawny as fuck our Dan, but built like a beanpole.”

Em huffed out an amused chuckle through his nose, recapturing my attention. My eyes slid over to him and I smiled, noticing I’d lost myself a little there.

“Anyway,” I tittered, shaking my head ever so, “I ended up finding Sal upstairs in the tub. He hadn’t been about to do anything stupid, mind, was just sort of sat there staring into nothing. Hardly even recognized me when I finally shook him out of it, but then I managed to get him down the stairs and into the kitchen. We made tea, I forced him to chew on some toast, and it was then that the dam broke, I ‘spose. He just let it all go. Everything he’d been feeling.” 

I swallowed at the memory even then, of the tears and the snot, the way Sal’s eyes had kept drifting away. But then Marshall’s arm was pressing closer to mine and the touch drew me back to the present.

Blinking, I peered back at the man. “Eventually, he sobered up and sort of apologised for the state he was in. But it hadn’t bothered me none. Got him up and walking about, and he took that as a sign to show me about the house. Sort of like going down memory lane.” 

I laughed softly then, unable to help myself, none of us had ever visited Sal’s in all the years we’d known him but somehow I’d been lucky enough to have been the first. 

“They had this height thing in their kitchen doorway that measured Sal’s growth throughout the years. Fucker went from 5’4 the year of ‘96 before the next indent of change had been jotted down. 6’1,” I told Em around a humorous grin, vividly picturing the multicoloured markings, “He’d always been lanky, would have fit better as a ladder than the trady he now worked as.” I let slip, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “But less than a year had passed between the two measurements and all I can remember is us just laughing about it. And then about how his nan hadn’t even managed to reach 4 foot 10.”

Marshall’s chuckles filled up the car, easing the emotions I’d gone and dredged up. “How ‘bout now?”

I thought about it. I hadn’t seen Sal in a couple months, but he was my go-to whenever I needed something doing, a proper handyman and somewhat on the straight and narrow. “Uh, hitting that 6’6 mark now. I think?”

Em blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

Laughing, I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. “Yeah, he towered above everyone at school and that was before I left, so I couldn’t even imagine the leaver’s pictures.”

Our amusement radiated between us, our arms still pressing tightly against one another even though the console could have fit a whole other arm either side of us. The radio’s hum was kept low and so I heard the slight rustle Em’s trousers made when he moved and his knee pushed against the dash. “You left?”

Stupidly, it took me a minute to understand his question and when I did I ended up dipping my head in a show of reply. It wasn’t something I was proud of, leaving school, nor embarrassed about, but it wasn’t something I spoke about very much. Especially not since I’d garnered a base full of dedicated fans. It was one thing to say you didn’t like school but to admit you’d practically dipped and failed out was another thing altogether.

“How old was you?” Marshall asked, looking genuinely curious.

I toyed with the cuff of my sleeve, thinking back on it. “Uh, fourteen? I think.”

“Wow.” He blew out, then grinned, “Got me beat.”

It was the last thing I expected him to come out with, but it was what I’d needed. I laughed before I glanced over at him, a little surprised to find him already looking back. “Why, how old were you?”

“Seventeen.” Em admitted, lips tugging up on one side far enough to form a small crater in the hollow of his cheek, before he let it go and released a huffed chuckle, “Failed the ninth grade three times over. Figured I’d just stick to what I was good at.”

Music, I figured, and thank God for that.

“I just hated it.” I replied, voice breathy but steady. “Messed with my head and I had shit going on at home. Figured it was easier to leave it all, so I did.” I shifted in my seat then, peering at him, “Went to three different schools before they sent me to this pavilion place, full of kids who’d been excluded or were on their last chance. I’d never been a bad student, was smart enough when I applied myself, but I had bigger shit to worry about, you know? Didn’t have time to waste mucking about.”

Marshall hummed in a show of understanding, those piercing eyes of his stuck on mine. “I get it.”

And I knew that he did. There was no judgement or pity, just a shit ton of compassion. The sight of it made me smile and I let go of a small chuckle that had been lurking, gaze flicking away and then back to him again.

Marshall broke the silence that settled after his words, smile smug as he reached for the car’s door, “You wanna walk?”

Eager, I agreed.

–

The sun was still rather high in the sky when we finished Marshall’s short tour of his old neighbourhood. The pair of us had wandered around the rubble, looking for anything that stood out or caught the eye, he guessed whereabouts his bedroom would have been had the house still been standing and let me in on the secret to slipping in and out of its creaky window. We walked a little further down the street after to look out across the large football pitch the block of bungalows surrounded and Em pointed out 7 mile, a stretch of road which separated Dresden from the Baptist church on the opposing side, explaining how he remembered walking it to and from school. 

The many American road signs humoured me to no end and I’d told Marshall so on the way back to the car, hand tucked in our pockets to better shield them from the October winds. “You hungry?” He asked me just as the door rattled closed behind him, already moving to start up the car and get the heat going, “Need gas, gonna stop by the next place we see. That cool?”

I nodded, buckling in. “Could go for something sweet.”

“Shit, and here I was thinking I was sweet enough.”

Gagging theatrically at that gross reply, Marshall snorted at my antics and then shifted the car into gear, pulling away from the curb and away from the lot that once was 19946.

We ended up ducking into a 7-Eleven just off an intersection a while into our drive to… wherever it was we were headed next. Em jumped out first to fill up the tank whilst I waited by the car’s hood, content to just people watch. Soon enough I heard the clunk that let you know that the cylinder was full before I glanced over to watch Marshall jiggle the hose back into its place. The man looked up at the gas pump’s number just before he gestured his head towards the store, joining me on his way over.

It wasn’t too busy, I noted as soon as we stepped through the entrance. There was just an older dude standing over by the fridges full of alcohol and then a kid trying to get his mum to buy him a pack of Takis whilst she struggled with her purse and attempted to keep him in line.

Marshall wandered straight on over to the confectionary aisle and so I followed, eyes surveying the many shelves for anything I might like. Em plucked up a couple candies, some of which I hadn’t seen before, as well as some cherry Twizzlers. I steered clear of the chocolate, never having been a fan of the stuff they sold here, it being so different from those back home, and instead opted for a pack of Sour Patch Kids. Em pulled a face at the selection, which had me rolling my eyes even as I cradled the packet a little closer to hide the sour babies from his horrific judgement. 

“Anything else?” I asked, glancing about the store. It wasn’t too often I got to step into one of these in truth, the last time I’d been on tour and even then my manager, Mila, had been a stress head about it.

With a jerk of his chin, Marshall started to lead me further into the store, past a display case of bakery items and a freezer chock full of ice-creams, and over to where a couple of drink machines were stationed. I raised a brow at the bright assortment of colours I was met with.

Em smirked at the face I must have worn, then pointed towards the many cups that had my eyes widening even further.

“If I got this one I’d need to piss every five minutes.” I marvelled, taking in the Big Gulp cup they offered whilst shaking my head.

Marshall snorted and went to grab at it anyways, “Come on, pussy. We can share.” He then gestured towards the flavours, “Which one you feelin’?”

Still reeling a little at the whole sharing bit, I allowed my eyes to dance over the few levers. The amount of flavours they offered was a little daunting, I couldn’t lie, so with a lost expression I turned back to Em, who looked all too amused by my sudden anxiety. I swatted at his arm with the back of my hand in playful retaliation, “There’s like a hundred.” I hissed out, throwing a glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was around.

“Okay.” Marshall merely dragged out in retort, still smirking away, “Might have been a drop out but I know you can count.” That quip earned him a surprised glare which he just brushed off as he moved closer towards the machine, “Figure we go simple, ight? Next time we can switch it up.”

“Next time?” I wondered as he stuck the cup under the Blue Raspberry fountain, which settled things. Because who didn’t like Blue Raspberry anyway?

Em grunted out a hum, finishing off the slurpee with a slight swirl that had me smiling, figuring that there was a technique to it. “Here for two weeks, gonna load you up on sugar. So best prepare.”

Snorting, I just shook my head at him as he stuck a straw in the drink’s top and began trailing his way over to the counter. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked whilst he lingered by the gum options, waiting for the guy by the till to wrap up his purchase.

Looking over at me, he grinned, “Gotta give you some incentive to come back, right? Slurpees a sure way.”

I couldn’t bite back the laugh that escaped me at that, grin widening even as my eyes narrowed a tad. “Reckon Rosie’s enough to have me visiting again.”

Marshall slapped the hand that wasn’t holding the frozen drink to his chest and gave me a mock look of shock, “I’m wounded.”

It was then that the door sounded and I glanced backwards to see the earlier man headed out of it, Em caught on too and slid on over to the till after he’d grabbed a pack of spearmint and some sort of gummy. 

“Just this and pump 7. Thanks.” He said to the cashier, settling everything he’d been holding down onto the counter before he reached for the sweets I held. I would’ve kicked up more of a fuss about him paying yet again. But my gaze had already been captured by the cashier and how he was now watching Marshall.

“You that rapper?” The man asked as he started to scan our items. Nervously, my eyes flitted back and forth between the worker and Em, the latter who looked up at the guy for a long second before he dipped his head curtly.

“Yeah, man.” Marshall answered him, lips quirking up politely as he made a grab for his back pocket to grab his wallet.

The cashier let out a huh, “Didn’t think you’d ever be back in these parts. Not with your girl at least.”

I blinked at the assumption he’d made of us but Em breezed on past it, shooting the other man a quick smile. “Ain’t like that, it’s home, man.”

Nodding, the cashier’s fingers worked their way over the till, “Like your shit. Honour to meet you, brother. You too.” He added as his gaze moved over to me, which earned him a genuine smile from both Marshall and I. Mostly because I knew straight away that he had no clue as to who I was, and was simply including me in the sentiment seeing how I was with Em. It took a lot of respect to garner that sort of reaction from people, the cashier’s sincerity stretching out onto the people Marshall just knew.

“Appreciate it.” Marshall told him, clapping the man’s hand in one of those manly shakes guys seemed to do before the cashier then handed over our Slurpee and the rest of our purchases.

“It was good meeting y'all.”

Em stepped back at the obvious farewell, but before I could move to follow him, I jumped forward instead, eyes grazing over the Lotto tickets the store offered. “Can I also get two scratchers, please?”

I felt Marshall’s stare linger on me but didn’t bother looking back as the man behind the counter stepped on over towards the case, “Any specific number?”

Thinking, I licked at my lower lip before I ultimately shook my head, “Your pick.”

With a quick glance over the array of cards, the man tore off two scratchers and settled them down, typing out the total for me. I tapped my card on the reader and then picked up one of the tickets before turning swiftly on my heel.

“Hey!” The cashier called out just as I reached Marshall, the man having hovered a foot behind me the entire time, “You left this.”

I continued to walk towards the exit though, but did stop to flash a grin back over my shoulder, “It’s all yours!”

His mouth parted for a second in obvious confusion, stare dropping down to the ticket he held, and before he could deny it, I was grabbing Em’s hand in mine and leading him out, waving the other man a goodbye.

“Don’t even know if he can take that.” Marshall mentioned once we reached the car, forcing out a disbelieving chuckle as we slipped inside.

Shrugging in reply, I allowed him to pass off the bag to me and watched as he settled the Slurpee in the cupholder alongside the pencil I’d since returned. 

“Where to now?” I questioned, clipping my belt before I handed over the remaining scratcher. Em frowned down at it, so I nodded to prompt him into taking it, “Used to get them with mum when I was younger, we’d get one and then take turns scratching it off. Last time had been mine, but it's been a long while since we mentioned it, let alone bought one. So I’m passing on the tradition. Your go.”

Marshall, for the first time, actually looked beyond stumped, watching me with a heavy gaze, seeming to understand what I was giving away here before he slowly reached out to take the ticket from between my fingers. 

“Go on,” I urged with another smile, tilting my chin at him. “See what you won.”

“If.” Em corrected gently, but did as told, taking his keys and using a stubby silver cut to scratch at the foil. He looked it over once it was clear, then with a small smile handed it back to me. “Five bucks.” He said, buckling in and checking his mirrors before we set off.

I grinned triumphantly and didn’t hold back on my “I told you so.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the grin behind the hem of his hood as he pulled away from the pump, but before I could actually point it out, our attention was then caught by a frantic waving of arms. 

Simultaneously, both Marshall and I’s gazes snapped over to the cashier we’d just left, spotting him all but dangling out of the store’s night-pay window. Marshall was hasty in rolling down his own, stopping the car just before we could roll past.

“I won!” The guy hollered across the lot, “I fucking won!”

I giggled at his excited face, the pure joy that left him in waves. An utter contrast to the chill cashier we’d just been talking to moments before. And couldn’t believe it. 

“Spend it wisely, brother!” Marshall called back to him and there was no mistaking the giant grin that overwhelmed his face as he watched the other man come close to tears, clutching the ticket I’d left for him.

“I fucking won!”

Marshall and I shared a look and by the time we managed to drive away, I was still in a cloud of disbelief. Awed by the reaction and how one gesture had changed another person's life. Em must have felt it too, because he looked over at me and took my hand in his, squeezing ever so whilst still wearing that grin.

And was it stupid of me to admit, if only to myself, that I felt like I’d gone and won the lottery then too?

[11rosebunny]

┆彡 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

Chapter one

HAJIME UMEMIYA X READER

It was extremely out of place to see an unconscious boy around your age. Anyone would have to be a fool to deny that it was more than odd and horrifying to see an unconscious body.

You felt your back start to sweat, it would be scum of you to leave a person that's unconscious to the hurt of this world. It was still fairly bright outside so you questioned how this person even ended up like this in the first place.

But still, you couldn't leave him there.

Upon walking into shadowed area, you felt a stench of nervousness beginning to find it's way to inflict worry in your brain. The senseless body before didn't move a muscle as you began approaching the lifeless boy.

As you got closer, you took note of his features; a lanky-tall body, wispy long hair that fell to his shoulders, and sharp features amongst his eyes and long nose. He gave the image of a first-year.

'He's extremely lean, even so, I can still see few of his muscles point out...' Your mind lingered away as you scanned his body up and down.

You crouched down and placed your shoulder bag on the ground as you put your hand on the boy's arm. You pushed his body gently to make him lay on his back, doing so, his eyebrows and eyes began to twitch.

The look on his face made you panic.

Backing away in a flash, you stumbled a few steps behind as you watched the boy emerge from his slumber. Now you felt it.

The feeling of an itching sensation of gaudiness began to light fire in your head. You felt like running, but to your surprise, you swallowed a thick load of saliva and stood your ground.

"Aah—" You stuttered. Your eyes continuously blinked at the image of the navy-haired male slowly erupting from his lifeless body to a now annoyed sensation.

It wasn't like you—to be found in a hectic situation like this. Could you even call it hectic? Probably not but still, this whole circumstance was able to turn all your gears to spin at an extremely fast rate.

The boy sat up, clutching the side of his head in pain with angered eyes. You heard him hiss when he felt the droplets of blood escaping from the thin layer of skin.

"Um..." Your voice was barely a whisper but the teenager in front of you caught your presence. He stared back at you with that same scowl but once he took a good look at you, it soften to a look of confusion.

Your body jolted at the harsh stare he shot you. He ultimately took notice of your jumpiness but seemed to not have cared. He stayed silent and only remained looking at you.

"...Do you need help?" You asked inquisitively.

He blinked at your offer.

"No."

A gut wrenching silence engulfs the two of you. You knew he was faking his toughness and he knew you saw right through him.

You blinked right back at him.

Your eyes travelled across his figure again. The multiple scratches and wounds on his face, the rips on his white shirt, dirtied up hands, and disheveled hair made you narrow your brows in confusion. Was he being serious?

Your stare on his face eventually made him look away with a tint of blush hiding on his cheeks in defeat.

"...Yes."

After helping up the tardy teenage boy, you found yourself walking with him to the nearest convenience store when he had told you he needed to buy treatments for wounds. After having a short conversation with him, you learned that his name was Kyotaro Sugishita. And indeed, he was first-year as you assumed. He learned that you attended the High school down from Furin and you were a third-year student.

You immediately recognized the famous Furin uniform that he wore. The High school was not too far from the one you attended and you even came across some fables of the delinquents serving justice for your town's sake. Even so, you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the school's stories they kept making.

"Don't speak much either?" You spoke softly as the two of you left the convenience store. Throughout your first instance with this random guy, you quickly came into terms he was quiet, stubborn, and funky; in the way he walked.

You held rolls of bandages and antiseptic wound cleaners in your arms while staring at the boy from the corner of your eyes. For some reason, you didn't feel as nervous when speaking to him, especially the fact that this was the first time you two met, you liked the way his personality was almost to the equivalent of yours.

He looked back at you with a blank expression and nods.

You hum.

"I need to go back to Furin." He says.

You raised your brows at the unexpected reply. "But your wounds..." Your voice barely came out as a whisper.

This time he looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

"...Come with me then."

Your mouth gaped at the sudden invite, "Is that really okay? I don't even attend the sch—"

"Come."

You stood in front of the graffitied High school in shambles, if you weren't feeling scared earlier, you were now beyond terrified to enter the school. It never really clicked in your head that a school of delinquents that focused on fighting would have a normal building. You've never come across the school till now and the moment you were able to witness the sheer size of it, it sent you off to another planet.

The sight of four floors and a rooftop was more than intimidating along with the excessive amounts of vandalism and green vines that grew over the walls in the cracks of the building. You took notice of the numerous roots that emerged from the top of the school accompanied by the random sprouts of bushes.

Sugishita continued walking forward up the steps to the doors and momentarily pushed them open and waited for you to come in.

You could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest upon entering the front doors. You thought the insides would be more nicer.

It surely was not.

"Uh, Sugishita is this really—" Before you could even speak on further, the tall-lanky boy began to walk towards the stairs without much thought. You hesitated to follow before running after him.

You convinced yourself to be lucky that school had ended about an hour ago, so luckily, Furin seemed to be empty each time you commenced to another floor. The stairs were echoey and had an ominous feeling as you soon realized the arts of graffiti continued to every single wall.

He was silent the entire time, the both of you probably exchanged a max of ten words by the time you made it to your destination.

By now, your hands and body were extremely sweaty. You could feel your heart jumping out of your chest when his long arms reached for the metal doors and pushed them open allowing the blazing sun beat down on your face when the both of you entered the roof.

From where you stood, the rooftop of Furin was something much more different than you had imagined.

Instead of the horrendous amount of graffiti scattered everywhere, it was rather kept clean and you soon realized where the roots had come from.

As you stepped onto the roof, your eyes stared in amazement at the widowed tree that grew at the top of the school and managed to adapt it's roots to grow against the concrete walls.

"Hey!! Sugishita you made it!" A cherry voice called out loud.

Your head shot back at where Kyotaro had brought you.

He never mentioned he would be bringing you to new people.

Your eyes widened at the sight of three other high school boys around his age.

'Ahh...' You mentally began to cry in your head as an image of yourself with fake tears crowded your thoughts. 'It's over for me...'

The three boys were sitting under a shed that had vines all over it, in the middle stood a wooden square bench with four plank seats on each side.

"Oh? And it seems like he brought a girl?" The boy with an eye-patch commented when he noticed your presence.

Approaching the table, your nerves couldn't handle the amount of thoughts that kept spewing from your head when you stood stupidly beside Sugishita. On the other hand, he looked almost bored.

That's when you noticed each of them were equally all roughed up like he was.

"Who're you?" The guy in the middle said. You took note of his oddly coloured black and white hair and golden eyes.

You cursed at Sugishita for not telling you in advance he was bringing you to other people you didn't know of.

As you approached the table awkwardly, you placed down the numerous rolls of bandages and liquids of hydrogen peroxide, antiseptics, medical tape, and padding wounds.

The navy-haired boy sat at the table right away and didn't even bother to introduce you to the others as you stood there awkwardly.

Thankfully, the other three were more interested about your presence.

"I've never seen you before..." A boy with bright blonde hair looked at you curiously. Looking at his face, scratches and wounds were found all over his arms and neck. From the sidelines, the lanky boy began to fiddle with the treatments he had paid for but made you carry.

"Perhaps you are Sugishita's girlfriend?" The one with the eyepatch said. You failed to notice how the one with the black and white hair jumped at his accusation. While the boy in the question didn't even bat an eye.

"Er— No..." You said awkwardly looking away.

"I apologize for intruding..." You bowed your head slightly making the three look at each other weirdly.

They returned your gaze back to you and completely ignored the way the navy-haired male was struggling to figure out how to clean up his own wounds.

"There's no need to apologize."

"Right, we were just curious on who you were. We've never seen you is all!"

"G..girl...friend?"

You began to mumble when your eyes winced at the way the first-year boy broke the cap of the antiseptic bottle causing the three of them to turn their attention to his. The liquid began to spill making the blonde one out of the three whine at him.

The one with the eye patch sighed at the wasted cleanser while the black and white haired boy began to insult hm.

You didn't know why you were still there.

"[Name] right?" Nirei shut one of his eyes as you held one of the cotton pads to the side of his cheek after cleaning it with hydrogen peroxide.

You hummed in agreement. After offering to help the four of them, each of you introduced yourself to one another. You soon realized that this group of boys were in the same class as Sugishita and had been on patrol earlier leading up to the state they were in. But still, you were wondering why Sugishita was found unconscious in the middle of a random alleyway when you stumbled across him.

"Yes?" You questioned back plainly before taking a piece of the medical tape and placing it on the cotton pad.

"[Name] huh..." He repeated again as you turned away to treat Sakura's wound on the tip of his right brow.

He jumped when you got close to him.

"That's weird, I've never heard about you before...." Nirei continued looking up at the ceiling of the shed. Suo smiled.

"Is it because you don't do well with women?" He chimed in with a kind grin.

"What! No!"

You remained silent the entire time, not feeling as imitated as before once you learned that they were also first-years. Compared to you, being a third-year had it's many perks.

"Say [Name], what school do you go to?" The blonde-haired boy asked as Sakura stared back at you with wide eyes and a red face as you began dabbing the cotton ball of cleanser on his dry bloodied wound.

"Hikari High."

The other three listened inquisitively.

You focused on Sakura after answering Nirei's question. One thing you knew right away, the boy you were dealing with now was the most difficult of them all. You were able to clean up Sugishita, Suo, and Nirei's most prominent wounds with very little trouble but as soon as you got to the black and white-haired boy, you could tell he was more nervous than you've probably ever been, and he did a terrible job at hiding that.

"Please stop moving." You warned him removing the cotton ball away, "I don't want to accidentally hurt you."

His eyes shot away from yours, "I-I'm not moving!"

"Yes you are." Suo objected.

"SHUT IT!"

There were very few times where you would be annoyed, somehow, this was one of the very few times. A small sigh of irritation left your lips when you stood up and walked behind him as a last resort. The others questioned what you were doing until your hands reached over his body and you began to treat his wounds from there.

"Is this better?" You asked.

You somehow made it worse.

"Y-yes!" He yelled loudly making everyone snicker at his reaction.

The atmosphere the four of them perceived was easygoing. You didn't even notice the way you quickly grew comfortable to their company which you usually do not see yourself doing. It was supposed to be another bland day of school as nothing big never goes on in your life. It was the first time you felt something remotely interest happen to you and seeing that you found yourself in the most infamous High school of where you lived, nobody would have believed that someone like you managed to climb your way up here.

They continued to converse with each other as you continued cleaning on Sakura's wounds, mostly Nirei, Suo, and Sakura since you learned Sugishita fell into the categories of the less talkative people. They didn't mind that it was mostly them speaking. They quickly learned you were possibly shy coming across newer people.

Having been so caught up with the new group of people you met, the sounds of the metallic doors opening caused you to jump on spot.

All of your attentions were not directed towards where the sound came from, to your disbelief, a pair of two older guys walked in and turned to where you stood.

The strange strands of grey hair flowed gently in the wind when his eyes met with the group of people already at the rooftop before him. He hadn't noticed the the display of people upon entering at first, too caught up on his thoughts of worry and concern and so the moment he came across an unfamiliar feminine face, his ocean blue eyes stared back into yours with a hint of curiosity completely forgetting about the others that he originally came to see.

You stared back at him in shock, already taking note of how much matured he looked. Well defined features, bulky muscles, and sharp features on his face made you realize he was someone about your age now. You couldn't see him in detail due to the distance that separated the both you, but when he realized he had been caught in a gaze in the depths of your eyes, he failed to shake out of it as curiosity began to shape in his head.

'Who is she?'

Chapter two

[thatchickwiththecamera]

If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.  

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway. 

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour. 

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history. 

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording. 

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.” 

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie. 

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker. 

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker. 

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own. 

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions. 

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical. 

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport. 

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle. 

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe. 

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it. 

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.” 

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate. 

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix. 

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.” 

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.” 

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew. 

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out. 

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate. 

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a  bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know. 

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral. 

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed. 

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand. 

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door. 

Y/N ran. 

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass. 

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well. 

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders. 

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran. 

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone. 

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop. 

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone. 

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run. 

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone. 

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came. 

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest. 

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home. 

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church. 

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service. 

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.” 

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years. 

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again. 

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal. 

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

[ohtobeleah]

First time Iris stays over the whole night with Jake, and he’s trying to figure out all the ways to make it happen again. Maybe he brings her breakfast in bed?

I feel like Jake & Iris experience a lot of first together. But especially the whole next morning after the first full night together after they become ‘exclusive’ I.R.I.S Masterlist Here.

Warnings: Smut! Jake Seresin x F!mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

After about a two hour debate, a solid rebuttal and a flawless conclusion as to why you should be let into the TopGun program again, Beau Simpson ultimately caved and gave you one final shot. He gave you one chance to prove that you could keep a lid on your temper, you’d admit that you knew you had to work on that. Guess hot headed egos ran in the family. But you made sure not to leave until you’d heard that Cyclone would take back the command he’d given to have your points pulled. He did, internal investigation be damned. 

“The only reason I mouthed off in the first place was because you held a gun to my back, sir—“ You explained as Cyclone looked at you with an expressionless face. “You know I’m better than those guys, who my dad is shouldn’t mean shit—it’s not like he helped me get here?” You couldn’t have said anything more perfect, Cyclone raised a single brow your way, you were right. Pete Mitchell had never offered you a helping hand your entire career. “Fuck Bradshaw got more of a handout than I did! He’s a gold star! That’s nepotism too and Goose isn’t even around!” It was a dog shot, but in your case you needed every ounce of leverage. 

“Okay, okay—I hear what you're saying, Lieutenant, I’ll expunge the record.” Tickled pink, you beamed, ecstatic you’d been able to plead your case and enter back into the program. “You Mitchell’s age me ten years every month I swear—“ 

“I still don’t think I should have to suppress myself because of what those idiots think of me. You would survive through this knowing one day your rage would truly be witnessed by the men who poisoned you with it in the first place. “But I’ll do it if that’ll appease them—“ 

“They’re a sensitive bunch I’ve noticed.” Cyclone smirked for a millisecond of time as you sat across from him at his desk—looking all kinds of like your father. Just a little scarier and a lot more unpredictable. “But it’s more to keep you in check than anything else, I’ll scratch your back and keep any allegations of nepotism off your back if you scratch mine and keep your nose clean and out of trouble, understood?” 

It was game time. You were back in business and you were heading back to Jakes to celebrate such a victorious moment. Because fucking a superior officer didn’t correlate with keeping your nose clean and out of trouble did it? 

“In abundance, Sir, you have my word.” But first? It was off to the Hard Deck. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’mnothometonight—“ You practically said it without so much as a second in between words. It all came out against your dads cheek in one single moment as you kissed him goodbye and headed towards the front door with a bag full of stuff slung over your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

“Woah woah?” Pete frowned as he looked up from his book, perched on his favourite recliner enjoying a good cup of tea. He was in full relaxation mode. “Where are you off to?” You’d prepared for this moment, you knew there was a chance Mav would ask you where you were going. So you’d already come up with a cover story to get you out of the house. 

“My friends in town, Lily? She got a hotel room up at the gorge.” 

“You didn’t tell her she could just stay here?” 

“What? And have you all up in my business?” You groaned. “I’m not sixteen anymore dad, I’m an adult—I’ve got my work gear with me so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Pete just looked at you over the top of his reading glasses, something was up, something was incredibly up here and he knew better than to trust your word. Why? Because you were his damn daughter. 

“Alright well just don’t go crazy, you fly a multi million dollar fighter jet for a living—keep your wits about yourself on a Wednesday night, kid.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you wanted to as you grabbed your keys from the key bowl near the front door. 

“Bye dad, love ya guts.” You chuckled to yourself as you left, did you feel bad about lying to Mav? Not entirely. It was for his own good. The poor guy would have a heart attack if he knew what you were up to and who you were doing. 

But did you feel any ounce of regret? No—because Jake Seresin was the perfect amount of thrill, the perfect high, the perfect rush to any thrill seeker. And you were addicted. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake knew you were coming over so he did his best to freshen up the place. That’s not to say his house wasn't clean–because it was. But he lit a candle and fluffed the pillows on the lounge and spent a little longer than he would ever like to admit researching what was the correct way for toilet paper to roll. Over and under he still didn't know. He went under. 

“I parked down the street–” You made sure to tell Jake as he opened the door for you. “Mav grilled me pretty hard when I told him I was heading out for the night so I thought it was probably a good idea.” 

“Hi to you too Iris.” Jake chuckled as you walked on it. 

“Hi Hangman–” You cooed. Turning on your heels as you dropped your bag off your shoulder.” You look. Good.” 

“Oh I am good Iris–” Jake smirked wildly as he backed you up against the wall in the entryway. Leaning on the cream painted dividing wall with his hands on either side of you, trapping you there against him. “I'm very good, but I'm even better now that you’re here.” Jake maintained his gaze as you drank in the sight of him, dropping your hands to play at the waistband of his sweatpants. Exposing the elastic band of his boxer briefs. “It's good to see you.” It was a nod to Jake's declaration that he was officially seeing someone, Hangman was off the market and very much invested in the entanglement he had going on with none other than Pete Mitchell's incredibly hot headed and beautiful daughter. 

“You just saw me when I demolished you at pool.” 

“Ah, ah, correct yourself there Iris, you mean when I let you demolish me at pool.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night there deadman–” Jake was the one who leaned in first, connecting his lips with yours in a fever dream kiss. His hands made quick work to cup your cheeks, spreading your legs further apart with his foot against yours. “Jake–” You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands came down to find its way into your sweat pants. Both wearing grey, just in different fonts. 

“I wanna try something, but you gotta trust me.” Jake had a wicked glare in his eyes as he ducked his hand into your pants. The gentle motion he used to spread your lips apart and find the sweet, sweet spot that needed all his attention made you forget how to breathe. “Do you trust me Iris?” Jake asked as he slowly but surely worked the pads of two of his digits against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come on baby, tell me you trust me?” 

“I trust you–” You sighed out, rolling your hips as Jake used his fingers to expertly guide you towards your first orgasm. You weren't there yet, you weren't even close. But you were going to be very soon if Jake kept going exactly how he was. “Fuck, yes, I trust you–” 

It was all Jake needed as he pulled his hand out from your pants and scooped you up. With a gasp you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist as he connected his lips to your once more and walked you to the living room. His bedroom was too far away, he needed you now and the lounge would just have to do. As he dropped you down carefully, Jake stood over you. He said one word that made you soak your panties right through, but it wasn't like you were going to need them anyway. 

“Strip–” You didn’t hesitate as you saluted your Lieutenant Commander almost seductively. 

“Yes sir.” 

In a needy and almost giddy fashion, both you and Jake stripped down, articles of clothing were discarded in not so respectable piles on the floor before Jake was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head as he kissed up and down the expanse of your next, leading down to your exposed chest to take you nipples in his mouth one by one. 

“God your tits are perfect, you’re perfect baby.” Jake mumbled as he looked up at you looking down at him with your tit in his mouth. It was truly a sight that made you feral. “Now I'm usually one for foreplay, you know me, but we’re gonna do things a little differently tonight.” Jake stated a matter of factly as he sat back and pumped himself a few times, just thinking about what he was about to do. He needed to confirm his suspicion because the unknown was killing him. “I know you're ready for me though–” It was true, you were, and as Jake jerked himself off, you reached out to help guide him down between your legs. 

“Need you, now.” Slowly, inch by inch, Jake buried himself inside you. Watching as your jaw slacked and your eye rolled as you stretched and welcomed him to the hilt. “Ohh yess–” 

“Fuck you’re so perfect, such a perfect cunt Iris.'' Jake made sure to kiss the pulse point at the juncture of your neck as he throbbed away inside you. Staying still for a second before he began to rock his hips. “Holy shit so good–”

“Love your cock so fucking much–ahh!” It felt so good to be so full, but this wasn't what Jake needed to do. He needed to call someone, he needed to fuck you while he called someone to see if he had really formulated a connection, if the idea of really loosing every he had got him off to a new extreme. Jake had called it the Mitchell effect, and he was as deep inside it as he could get. “What are you doing?” 

Jake reached out to the coffee table, not once slowly his thrust as he grabbed his phone. 

“Shhh–” Jake manoeuvred the two of you into a different position, he made it all look so easy with strong arms encapsulating you and putting you wherever he wanted, wherever he needed you. Where he wanted you was on his lap, warming his cock as you slowly rode his shaft, still with a curious expression on your face as Jake pressed the name in his phone that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing when he turned the phone around to show you who he was calling. 

Maverick: 

“Oh my god! Jake no what are you—!” Within seconds of your heart sinking into your stomach Jake sat forward to press a palm against your mouth. With wide eyes and a soft moan you looked at him as if he were crazy. He was, he was crazy because he was with you. 

“Shhh, don’t let daddy know you're riding me baby.” Jake's phone rang once, twice, three times on loud speaker. “You wouldn’t want Mav finding out his daughter is a little whore now would you?” It made your core tighten around Jake's cock as he thrust into you. Keeping a hand over your mouth and squishing your nose. “Would you?” Jake was waiting for you to give him a response, you nodded softly as the fourth ring rang out and your dads voice came through the phone. 

“Hangman—“ Pete’s voice was gruff as he answered the phone. “What’s up man? Is everything okay?” 

“Hey Mav—“ Jake replied as casually as he could as he fucked up into your tight little pussy, your arousal dripping down his shaft like to tomorrow as he kept a palm pressed harshly over your mouth. “Yeah nah everything’s good, I was just ringing to see if Iris had any luck with Cyclone today?” It was a question Jake could have asked you, it was a question he could have asked you at the Hard Deck even—or asked Pete! But he wanted to wait, wait until you were riding his cock. “I didn’t get a chance to catch you.” 

Jake placed his phone down beside him on the lounge as he pulled you forward against his chest, reminding you to keep quiet before he pulled his hand away from your mouth. Mouthing a silent ‘keep quiet’ your way before he took your arms and wrapped them behind your back. 

“Yeah, yeah she said he’s gonna give her another chance, so long as she keeps a lid on your attitude and doesn’t get into any mischief.” Mav laughed to himself all the while Jake placed his feet firmly on the ground as he held your hip with your hand and your forearms behind your back with the other and fucked up into you. Deep and harsh. 

“Oh yeah that’s real good isn’t it.” Jake smirked as he buried himself inside you. “She’s a good kid man, didn’t deserve that—“ 

Against Jake shoulder you sunk your teeth into golden skin to stop yourself from singing out in utter euphoria. This was wrong, so fucking wrong yet you felt like every nerve ending in your body had been set alight. Jake could feel you tightening around him, your velvet walls took him in without mercy and threatened to keep his length hostage. 

“She is, just do me a favour and don’t give her any special treatment?” Mav added. “People know you’re like family, just like Rooster, if she slips up you pull her up no questions no hesitation.” 

“You have my word Mav, no special treatment for little miss Mitchell.” Jake could feel his orgasm barreling towards him as he let go of your arms and let you sit up. Gripping your hips as tight as he could as he lifted his own and fucked harder and deeper and faster into you as you threw your head back and cupped at your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming. “Anyway, I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, Seeya tomorrow Jake, have a good night.” Mav signed off as Jake hung up with the single press of a button. The moment you knew the call was over you cried out into the heavens above. 

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!” You hissed as you and Jake toppled from the lounge to the floor. “Ahh god I’m gonna cum, fuck!!!” You cried as Jake fell on top of you. Wrapping you in his arms as he continued to fuck you with force. He was so close. 

Damn—his suspension was true. He had formed a connection. Fuck. 

“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna fill this little cunt of yours baby.” Jake babbled to himself as he reached between the two of you, rubbing small circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Cum for me Iris, cum with me, cum on my cock beautiful I know you want to.” 

“Jake! Fuck yes yes don’t stop!” It was nearly overwhelming but you were there. You got there in the end and with a moan that could have only escaped from God's golden gates, you came as hard as you ever had as Jake spilled himself inside you. “Ahhhh god yes!!” 

“Fuck my life I’m screwed—“ Jake sighed and he buried his head in your chest. Kissing along the curves of your swollen breasts. “I’m so fucking done for.” 

“Jake?” You sighed, both panting heavily as you came down from your respective highs. 

“Yeah babe?” Jake looked at you, with golden hair clinging to his forehead and sweat coating his body, making him glistening in the dim light of his living room. 

“You have three seconds to get off me before I fucking kill you for that.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

When you woke up in Jake’s bed to see he wasn't there, wrapped in the mess of tangled sheets next to you. Your heart sank for a brief second. The slight nervousness was quickly replaced by reassurance and the smell of bacon and eggs and what could only be the undeniable notes of burnt raisin toast. You weren't alone–Jake was just in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. 

He’d never cooked breakfast for anyone the morning after, because you were the first woman he’d ever wanted to cook breakfast for the morning after and he wanted to do it over and over and over again. 

“Mornin–” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and padded into the kitchen. One of Jake's crew neck jumpers had become your attire of choice. It smelt like him in all the best ways. Notes of creamy vanilla and aged bourbon from his time at the Hard Deck, fresh ripe pear and hints of beautiful freesia coated the fibres of the navy crew–his scent of choice for cologne. 

“Hi–” Jake sent you a smile when he caught sight of you. Bed hair looking all kinds of messed up and unruly, no makeup–although you never really wore much to begin with. His jumper adorning your body just barely covering your ass. The sleeves were a little long on you which made it even easier for the fabric to just encompass you. “You sleep well?” 

“You run hot like a furnace.'' Jake chuckled softly as you came to wrap your arms around his mid second from behind, pressing your cheek into the warmth of his exposed back. “But I quite liked it.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the sound of bacon sizzling away in the frying pan babbled away. “You make enough for two?” 

“I didn't know how you liked your eggs so I just guessed.” There was a soft hume creeping across the apples of Jake's cheeks as he felt you unwrap your arms from his mid second. “Hope over easy is alright, and there's coffee in the pot.” 

“Man of my dreams.” You sighed as you padded over to the coffee pot, working to pour yourself some liquid energy into the mug Jake had gotten out for you. “You treat all hookups with this kinda bed and breakfast service?” There had been a definite shift in your dynamic with Jake recently. Things were becoming real, serious, all consuming and suddenly it wasn't just sex. There were feelings here, real and raw emotions the two of you didn't exactly know how to navigate. 

But there was no harm in being honest. 

“Uh, no–actually.” Jake turned to face you, a pair of tongs in his hand as the other came up to rub the back of his head nervously. “I actually haven't cooked breakfast for someone before, you know, after–” 

“Oh.” You caught what Jake was trying to imply. “I'm uh, honoured then, I guess.” As you took a sip of the coffee you'd just poured yourself and held the warm mug in the palms of your hands. You sauntered back over to where Jake stood with his low hanging sweatpants and his morning wood bulging through. “I'm very honoured actually, so much so I might just go back to bed with this amazing coffee and settle back in and wait–” 

“Wait for what exactly?” Jake questioned as he dipped down to take your lips hostage with his for a fleeting moment. Pulling you closer by the small of your back. 

“For you to bring me breakfast in bed.” You smirked, walking two of your fingers up the expanse of Jake's chest. “I'm still a little tired from last night, Lieutenant Commander–” Jake felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him, he felt his whole world shift when you swiped your tongue across his lip to gain access to his mouth. He let you in with ease as he followed your lead and deepened the kiss. Only to feel you pull away seconds later. “Breakfast in bed, you me?” It was an open invite for Jake to join you, the corners of his lips curled into a cheshire cat grin as he nodded. 

You really had become someone of import to Jake. Your weren’t just Mavs daughter anymore. You weren’t just Mavs daughter that Jake was messing around with. You were exclusive, dating, you were officially unofficial because no one knew. So as you smiled up at Jake, wearing his crew neck in his kitchen drinking coffee from his mug? He thought maybe you were worth all the risks that came along with being with you.

Because being with you made Jake Seresin feel more alive than flying ever had.

“Give me five minutes and it's a date.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Good Morning aviators, this is your captain speaking–” Maverick had somewhat coined this Basic fighter manoeuvres speech since he'd first done it with the dagger squad who were all now his friends and respected colleagues, some as it would turn out, were a hell of a lot closer to family than he thought. “Welcome to basic fighter manoeuvres–as briefed earlier, today's exercise is dogfighting.” If there was one thing about your dad you did admire, it was his ability to seamlessly and effortlessly get under your skin without even trying. “Guns only–no missiles.” He knew you were out for blood, he knew you were set on seeking revenge and this was his way of promptly and professionally telling you to pull your head in before he smacked it off your shoulders. “We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet, working as a team, you have to shoot me and Lieutenant Commander Seresin down, or else.” 

“Or else what, Sir?” P:E smirked into the comms as you rolled your eyes. You knew, it was kinda a drag that you knew your dad like the back of your own hand. You were one in the same. You knew because well, if it was you in Pete Mitchell's shoes you'd be just as cocky, if not worse. 

“Or else we shoot back–” Jake's voice came in hot and strong through the comms and the thought of taking him down a peg in such an exercise that could see you back in the game if you did had your whole pussy throbbing as your grip tightened around your throttle. “If we shoot either one of you down, you both lose.” Putting Jake Seresin in his place in the sky was your number one priority, especially after the stunt he pulled last night calling your dad. 

“This guy needs an ego check.” Back on land in the rec room, Bradley Bradshaw had never experienced a case of deja vu harder in his life as Rebound rolled his eyes and puffed his chest. “We’ll see to that, won’t we boys?” 

“Hangman, for a while there fellas, was the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.” Rooster didn't even look up from the written assessments he was grading on what it means to be a good TopGun pilot. He could tell right from the get go whose response he was reading before he even looked at the name. “He’ll be sure to make you work for it today, you can count on that.” 

“Did anyone notice Iris was back in Normex this morning?” Lieutenant Davie ‘Trash’ White asked as he stuffed his face with a protein bar he’d just brought from the vending machine, he always needed something in his stomach before a flight. Something small and light and that would keep him full for a while because he wasn't gonna wanna eat for some time after landing. “Didn't take daddy dearest long at all to step in and pull the ‘But she's my daughter’ card on Cyclone.” Bradley's ears grew hot as he tried to mind his business. He couldn't help but to listen as the guys who all sat around waiting for their turn ragged on you. All taking turns obliterating your self worth, your value. “The fucks that about? I thought she quit the program after Hangman dragged her into Cyclones office for a double-teamed spanking?”

“She's wasting her time, as if the Admirals would allow a Mitchell to take TopGun, they barely let Mav himself back on sight after his stint.” Coen ‘Rebound” Rhodes smirked to himself as he flipped through one of the old aviation textbooks on the bookshelf. “I would've just taken the spanking.” Rooster, as professional as he was, was a prankster, a grade A shit stirrer just like his dad had been. He’d brought the nerf gun to piss of Coyote but in all honesty, the childrens toy that say in the bottom drawer of the study desk he was currently sitting at came in handy right about now as he pulled it out, loaded it silently and sent a single bullet flying into the middle of Coens big ass forehead. “Aye! What was that for?” 

“I found out how you got your callsign the other day, just how the hell you ended up here really makes me question the state of the US Navy.” The group of aviators all chuckled and laughed at Braldey Bradshaw's comment that made Rebound go silent. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what Iris stands for, don't let her out of your sight because the second you do it's over for you lot and me and all the other guys around here don't need your poor performances to prove that she's already a shoo in for this, despite your ugly ass tactics to get her to bail on herself.” 

“You know. I don’t think I like what you're insinuating there Rooster—“ Coen snarked as he stood his ground with his arms crossed over his chest. Fanboy was only just now coming in to gather the next group ready for preflight. “Sounds an awful lot like you're defending someone who you see as a sister to me?” Everyone went silent as Rebound thought he’d gained the upper hand, he hadn’t. There was an awful lot Bradley Bradshaw could put up with in life, but listening to people degrade his family, the small select few he had left, was not something he could tolerate in a professional or personal environment. 

“You won’t like the foot that’ll go up your ass in three point five seconds if you don’t act your rank, Lieutenant.” Bradley fired another nerf bullet Rebounds way as he smirked and watched the sorry excuse of an aviator duck for cover. “Sit down and shut up before I report you for misconduct.” 

“Ill take him off your hands, Rooster–” Mickey chuckled. “You too krod.” Spell it backwards and you'll understand why Levi ‘Krod’ Henderson was such a huge dork. “Up in twenty, on my time so move it or lose it lads.” Mickey sent Rooster a nod that asked if he was good. Bradley nodded back, explaining in a single motion that he was in fact, okay. 

Just don't ask him to tell you that he knew for a fact Pete had pulled your name from the TopGun poll of potential candidates on at least three separate occasions because he knew that you'd get coined as the nepotism baby like no other person. Did Rooster agree with Mavs tactics, no– he didn't. But much like his own struggles with Mav pulling his papers for the Naval Academy, he grew to understand the motive behind his actions. 

He just wanted to protect his daughter. 

“What was that about?” Mickey asked as he walked over to where Bradley sat, watching as he stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan. Dropping his weapon in the process.

“Oh I don’t even know at this point, Iris has me all kinds of worked up as of late.” Bradley tried to shrug it off. “She doesn’t make it easy to defend her when she’s fucking around with Hangman and mouthing off to admrials and—“ 

“Woah woah woah, back up, Iris and Jake?” Mickey leaned over the desk Bradley was sitting at. “The hell are you talking about Rooster?” Bradley hadn’t even noticed what he’d said before it was too late to take it back. He looked at Fanboy like a deer caught in headlights. 

Fuck. 

“Fanboy you can’t tell a soul!” Rooster hissed as he stood, looking around the now empty rec room as he ran his hands through his hair. “Fucking hell and for the love of everything that’s good in this world don’t tell Mav!” 

“Tell Mav what!? I don’t even know what you mean by Iris and Jake!” Mickey shouted through gritted teeth, he could already feel himself burning up. His Abuela would kill him if she knew he was harbouring secret scandals like this. “Are they sleeping together?” 

“Worse—“ Bradley sighed. “They’re dating.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

[elisegravesbondageliberation]

"Kept Under Wraps, Part Two" featuring Kino Payne. In part two, we catch up with Nurse Elise discovering that her patient, Kino, has developed some feeling of lust for her. Elise is upset by this, as she maintains professional boundaries in her work. In an attempt to clear up any miscommunications, Nurse Elise switches gears with the implementation of two treatments. The first is using a thin, wooden stick, checking to see if, indeed, every bone in Kino's body is broken. Kino cries out in pain during this procedure. The next treatment is to assess the amount of air Kino is getting through all those wraps over his face. Nurse Elise pulls a plastic bag over Kino's wrapped head an ties it off with some thin rubber tubing. This way, she can monitor Kino's lung capacity. Ultimately, Kino gets cleared to be left by himself for a long while, as Nurse Elise leaves to lunch with her nurse friends.

[mendeshoney]

pyrrhic with your choice of man 😘

this is screaming "more angst" at me so again, you've all been warned

"pyrrhic - won at too great a cost" with vince dunn

They'd won.

They'd won the fucking Cup. The whole god damn thing.

He'd won it again. A second time.

Two time Stanley Cup Champion Vince Dunn.

While it had a nice ring to it, and while a part of him felt the victory, felt the will to celebrate, there was an even greater part of him that felt like ultimately, he lost.

"I hope it's worth it," you had told him all those weeks ago, when the playoffs were gearing up and he just felt like being with you was too much to handle - 'added unnecessary bullshit' to his plate, were the words he believed he spat at you. "I hope you make it, Vince. I really do. I hope you win it all, I hope you get to enjoy it a second time, and I hope it's worth it."

Except, it isn't.

He wonders belatedly if you knew it wouldn't be, if that's why you said it.

Even as he hoists the cup over his head and takes his victory lap around the ice, even as he sees the happy faces of his teammates, their staff, his family and friends in the stands, that fact that your face isn't among them makes this all incredibly bittersweet.

"Hell yeah Dunner!"

"Hell yeah!" He screams back as he hands the cup off to Adam, resuming his spot beside his team.

He plays along as he gets pulled to do an interview and then another, skates into place for the team photo, celebrates with everyone's families and friends when they're all finally allowed onto the ice, shouts victoriously under champagne showers, and joins along with the team when everyone sings along to "Lithium" by Nirvana when they actually shower.

But he's still...empty. Still so hollow inside that he can't bear to stay with his family and friends when he meets back up with them in the tunnel.

He misses you so much.

You should be here, be here with him, celebrating with him and his mom, celebrating with him and the team. You should be in his arms, should be the one thing he wants to hold when the Cup isn't in his hands.

You should be here.

And it's his fault that you're not.

"I just can't do this," he had said, the words replaying in his mind on a torturous loop. "This is too much."

"I'm not asking you for anything Vince," you had insisted.

"You are!" He had exclaimed, gesturing a hand at the space between you. "This is adding unnecessary bullshit to my plate, and I don't need it right now. I need to focus."

You had blinked at him, and he nearly fucking crumbled when you took a step back, a step away from him, but he had been so mad, just so angry and frustrated that he didn't do anything about it.

"I see." You had said, and it was the last thing you had said before giving him your parting words and leaving him in his place, alone, taking your bags and your battered heart with you.

The image plays in his head on repeat as realization settles in.

What the fuck have I done?

Vince promises the guys he's just heading home to grab something before joining them to celebrate at the club, but really, he drives straight to you.

He doesn't know if you're awake. You live with your best friend in a small two bedroom house in Beacon Hill, and though he hasn't been by in the nearly two month duration of the playoffs, he'd made the drive hundreds of time at this point that he still avoided the pot hole that laid unpatched at the right turn toward your street.

When he pulls into his usual parking spot down the street, he can see the lights inside your house are off. But the porch light is on, and you're sitting out front with your best friend, who's got her arms wrapped around you as you cry into her embrace.

His heart aches.

Almost like she can sense him, your best friend looks up, scanning the street, and then she spots Vince in his car. She looks only half surprised, and then she's tipping her chin down a little, shaking her head.

Vince knows her enough to know what she's telling him.

"Don't," her expression reads. "You've done enough. Whatever you're here for, whatever you're here to fix, it's too late."

He wants to argue, wants to protest, wants to get out of this car and march down the street, onto your porch, and hold you in his arms, beg for your forgiveness, for the chance to fix what he broke.

But he doesn't. He can't. Not now, not when your best friend is looking at him like he'd committed murder.

So he swallows the lump in his throat, and drives away, avoiding the image of you crying into her arms in his rearview mirror at all costs.

[twilightspinkyfinger]

Reader and Warriors have to pretend to be married

Use of suggestive language ahead

You weren't sure how you ended up in this situation, but you certainly didn't regret it.

You were wrapped in Warriors arms as the early morning sunlight poured through the windows of the inn the two of you were staying at. You snuggled further into the hero as the chill of the morning sent a shiver down your spine, maybe a few more minutes of rest wouldn't hurt.

It started with a series of unfortunate events that led to you and Warriors being separated from the rest of the chain in a snowstorm.

Luckily, the two of you were able to navigate to a nearby town to seek shelter from the storm. You hoped that the rest of the chain would find you soon, and if not, then the two of you would be forced to leave the town to look for them yourselves.

Warriors led you through town, a hand clasped tightly around your wrist, as he desperately looked for an inn. Soon a sign was spotted and you were being dragged into its threshold.

Warriors headed to the front desk, finally letting you fall free from his hold, and began to ask the owner if he could have two rooms. The owner replied that there was only one room available, Warriors sighed and replied with a quick, "That's fine"

However, the inn owner was not happy with this answer. He replied that he would only rent the room to a married couple in a stern voice as he glared at Warriors.

Warriors then looked over at you before wrapping an arm around you and stating, "We are married"

You wished you were anywhere but here. A blush rose on your face at the close contact of the man you had recently accepted that you had a crush on.

The owner of the inn wasn't buying the facade and questioned why a married couple would want two rooms.

Feelings Warriors tense beside you, you finally decided to speak up, "We wanted two rooms because my husband and I just got into an argument on the way here, and I was hoping to get some time away from him so he'll come to his senses" you replied matter of factly before glaring in Warriors direction.

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow in your direction, and seemed to accept your answer as he slipped the sign-in sheet towards your 'husband'

After Warriors signed the two of you in and handed the inn owner payment for the room, he grabbed your hand and began to walk towards the stairs before he was interrupted by the inn owner.

"Sir, on the off chance you do come to your senses and make up with your wife, try not to be too loud, I don't want my other customers to be disturbed by any obscene noises"

Warriors froze in his tracks a deep red blush covering his cheeks as he quickly dropped your hand, "I promise we won't be too loud," his voice croaked out. Embarrassed he practically dashed up the stairs.

You faired no better, pink dusted your face and you wished to fall onto the floor and die right then and there. You wanted to get away from the inn owner as soon as possible, but you certainly weren't looking forward to being alone with Warriors after that comment.

Ultimately you decided to quickly follow after the blond up the steps toward your room. After Warriors unlocked the room and stepped in you moved into the room plopping yourself on the bed and refusing to look in Warriors' direction. You hadn't even bothered to remove your snow-caked boots.

You heard shuffling behind you as Warriors moved about the room, stripping himself of his bag and gear. You stiffened as the sound of his footsteps got closer. Soon you felt a presence sit itself on the other side of the bed.

"That tired already?" Warriors questioned with a teasing smirk. You didn't have to see it to know it was there, you could hear it in his voice.

You groaned incoherently still refusing to look up at Warriors afraid of the thoughts you might have about him if you did. It was already bad enough that you had to share a room with him, but the innkeeper's comment was sending you over the edge.

"Hey, at least remove your boots before you fall asleep," Warriors softly voiced.

You felt him get back up off the bed and grab the pillow that was next to your head before you heard a soft thud on the floor. You glanced up to notice Warriors lying on the cold hard ground, no blanket, just the pillow he had snatched from the bed moments before under his head.

"What are you doing?" You asked awestruck at his behavior.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sleeping on the floor."

You moved to sit up and began removing your boots as you voiced an incredulous, "Why?"

"Because I'm a gentleman and I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he replied matter of factly

"Who said I was uncomfortable?" You said while looking down at his form lying across the floor in a clearly uncomfortable position.

Warriors looked up at you raising one of his blond eyebrows in response, "Nobody, I just assumed that you would be,"

"Well I'm not," you said staring him in the eyes despite the fact that you felt like you were going to explode due to nerves.

Warriors looks at you for a moment, as if he's waiting for you to retract your statement before standing up and getting into the bed beside you. You slip yourself out of your coat and under the covers before facing away from the man beside you.

He shuffles around under the covers, maintaining a small distance between the two of you, "Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," you replied in a soft voice, smiling while you spoke.

And the two of you struggle to drift off to sleep hearts pounding next to one another. Your nerves were at an all-time high at the proximity, but you didn't regret it. It just felt so domestic. You dreaded the blush and nerves that would surely greet you in the morning, but for now, you would try your best to embrace the calming grip that sleep was starting to encapsulate you with.

[multiversefanfics]

Best Friends (Part 2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You and Steve are best friends, but your friendship is tested when someone tells you he has feelings for you.

Best Friends (Part 1)

You woke up in your bed, trying to figure out how you got there, what day it was, what time. It was one of those sleeps, that deep sleep where when you wake up and you forget your own damn name. You grabbed your phone and checked the time, 2:30pm!? You jumped out of bed, quickly getting dressed, you were late for training, you texted Bucky letting him know you overslept and that you’ll be in the gym as soon as possible. You ran down the stairs and into the gym where Bucky was already starting his training “I’m so sorry, I overslept.” He smiled and nodded “It’s okay, I just started.” You were a little suspicious, Bucky would normally groan and make some sarcastic comment but he didn’t he smiled at you. You shrugged it off, and started your workout, usually you would listen to music but for some reason Bucky wanted to talk. “You and Steve have been getting pretty cozy lately.” You slowed down the treadmill to a walk “We’re best friends, that’s it.” Bucky chuckled “Steve is my best friend” You rolled your eyes and looked over at him “We can share, and besides so what you know I have a huge crush on him but he doesn’t feel the same way. So I’m trying to move on.” You shrugged your shoulders getting off of the treadmill, moving over to the punching bag, Bucky quickly followed. “All I’m saying is, don’t give up. Us men. We’re a little slow sometimes.” You groaned quietly placing your forehead on the punching bag “Dude, Im here to train not talk about my crush on Steve, so please can you drop it?” Bucky threw his hands up and walked away, you’ve never seen Bucky give up so fast before, it almost makes you think he’s hiding something from you. Bucky is also unpredictable, so this very well could be normal. You finished your workout and went back to your room for a shower.

Later on that day, you, Steve, and Bucky were sitting in the living room talking about a mission Steve was gonna be on, it was mainly them talking you would speak up every once in a while but ultimately you weren't listening, you were in your own little world thinking about the conversation you and Bucky had in the gym. Why was he so worried about your crush on Steve, did Bucky like you? No can't be Bucky is a very outspoken person although very private he would've told you if he liked you. You couldn't shake what he said, I mean men are a little slow but why would Bucky openly admit that. You realized you were zoning out when you felt 2 pair of eyes on you, you looked over and smiled "Sorry I was lost in thought." Steve chuckled and pat your head "It's okay, all I said was I won't be back until Saturday I was hoping we could watch movies when I came back" You nodded your head “Yeah, that sounds great.” He smiled at you then went off to go do something you weren’t really listening, you tried but you still couldn’t wrap your head around how Bucky was acting earlier “Whatcha thinking about over there?” Your head snapped towards Bucky’s direction but you didn’t make eye contact, you looked past him hoping he couldn’t see the gears turning in your head “Oh, I figured I’d get a jump on what movie we’d watch.” Bucky nodded like he didn’t believe you, and how could he, you weren’t very convincing. “You know you can tell me anything right?” You nodded and stood up to leave “I want to talk, I just need to gather my thoughts first.” Bucky nodded and watched you walk away, he wanted to follow but he knew that you’d talk to him when you were ready. You stayed in your room the rest of the day, you were trying to figure out how to ask Bucky if he likes you and if he does, you gotta figure out how to let him down so you two will still be friends, you valued your friendship more than anything in the entire world you would never jeopardize that and you know he wouldn’t either.

You got up and walked back down to the living room hoping Bucky would be there alone, and there he was sitting down with Steve watching a movie “Hey, where was my invite?” You pouted playfully plopping down between them “We’re sorry, doll we thought you were sleeping” doll? Bucky has never called you doll before you were confused but you also felt Steve’s leg tense up beside you, what the hell was going on with them, you rolled your eyes and stood up “Since neither of you smart guys got snacks, I’ll be in the kitchen making popcorn.” You walked over to the kitchen and started making popcorn. “Doll? Are you kidding me Bucky?” Bucky smirked and looked over at Steve “Funny how Friday is your cutoff day and you won’t be back until Saturday.” Steve tensed up again “This isn’t fair I have a mission.” Bucky nodded and looked at you struggling to open the popcorn bag “True, but you also had a day before you mission to tell her.” He slowly turned his head looking back at Steve, who was just staring he knew he should’ve done it already, and if he doesn’t do it tonight, Bucky would. Finally, you came back to them and sat down with a huge bowl of popcorn “So, what are we watching?” You looked between them then back at the screen “Sam suggested Scream, so we thought we’d give it a shot.” You nodded and glued your eyes to the screen, every so often the boys would jump at a scary part to which you would giggle, they fought some pretty scary stuff and they find this movie scary. When the movie was over Bucky suggested another scary movie but Steve wasn’t having it “I’m going to bed, you guys have fun.” You watched as he stood up and walked away “Goodnight, Steve” You turned towards Bucky looking at him “We need to talk.” Bucky looked up at you “Uh oh, I’m in trouble.” You shook your head, giggling a bit. “No no, uh I don’t know how to say this.” He raised his eyebrow “What’s wrong?” You shifted in your seat “I need to know how you feel about me” He furrowed his eyebrows “What do you mean?” You sighed throwing your head back “Do you like me?” He chuckled and nodded “Well, yeah.” You shook your head “No, I mean do you like me like me?” He thought for a second confused, then it hit him and it sent him into a fit of laughter “Oh god, no Y/N don’t get me wrong you’re amazing and very beautiful but you are like a sister to me and our friendship is too valuable to me.” You let out a breath “Thank god, I said the same thing I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship” You smiled wide and leaned over and hugged him, when you pulled back Bucky looked over, you followed his eyeline and there was Steve, he looked upset he didn’t say a word he just walked away. You were confused “What was that about?” You looked over at Bucky who had his head down “Shit, shit” He mumbled under his breath, he got up and ran to Steve’s room, when he got to his door he heard things being thrown around he walked in watching Steve throw his pillows around the room “Steve, calm down.” Steve was now pacing around the room, Bucky knew how much you meant to Steve, but Steve didn’t know that the hug was strictly platonic. “Steve, get a grip.” He stopped pacing and looked at Bucky “Get a grip? What the hell was that down there?!” Bucky put his hands out keeping the distance between them comfortable. “You need to tell her how you feel, she’s getting suspicious and she thought I had a crush on her.” Steve relaxed and sat down on his bed “Bucky, I have never been so nervous in my life. I have to tell her, but I need more time please.” Bucky shook his head “We had a deal, and we’re sticking to it.” Steve threw his head back “Fine. I’ll tell her in the morning.” Bucky nodded and put his hands down “Are you okay?” Steve nodded “I’m sorry for blowing up like that.” Bucky shrugged and chuckled “It’s okay, I understand.”

It was the next morning, and Steve is no where to be found he said he would say goodbye before leaving but it looks like he already left, you saw Bucky walk into the kitchen “Hey, is Steve still sleeping?” Bucky raised an eyebrow “He didn’t say goodbye to you?” You shook your head, you could see in Bucky’s face he was pissed but you didn’t know why, you didn’t question it either, it was better if you didn’t. He walked away and left you there wondering what was going on, why didn’t Steve say goodbye? Was it because he saw you hug Bucky the night before and now thinks that you two are a thing? What is going on?! The next few days seemed to fly by, although Steve was only gone for 2 days you still missed him and couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow night when he comes home, you missed the nightly movie, the cuddles, the snack, his laugh, smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles big, his smile was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and you couldn’t help but blush at the thought of him smiling because of you. Suddenly you were pulled from your thoughts by a knock at your bedroom door, you knew it wasn’t Steve because he has a special knock, yeah corny I know but you loved it. You walked over and opened the door revealing Bucky “Hey what’s up?” Bucky looked like he was up to something but then again when isn’t he. “We gotta talk.” You nodded and stepped aside letting him come in, he didn’t sit down even though there were many comfy chairs just spread out “Steve likes you.” You froze while you were shutting the door “W-What?” You finally looked over at Bucky and he’s staring straight at you “Scratch that, Steve is in love with you.” Your throat got dry and made it hard to swallow “Why are you telling me this?” You couldn’t move, no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t, Bucky sighed and walked over to stand in front of you. “He was supposed to tell you this morning and yesterday, and for the past year.” Your eyes widen, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Steve loves you, you love him too but you always thought it was one sided. “Okay, okay what do i do?” That’s when Bucky started to smile and that was scary sometimes “Steve actually comes back tonight, so why don’t we put together a little movie night.” You shook your head “No, I gotta do something big. Meet me on the roof in an hour.” He nodded and you both went your separate ways.

You went to the store picking up all the snacks he likes, you got him some flowers, you thought that might’ve been too girly but who doesn’t love getting flowers? You got some LED lights and candles a couple cute stuffed animals, you’ve never done this for anyone before and you were glad it was for Steve, he meant the world to you. You got back to the compound and went straight to the roof, where Bucky was setting up a white sheet and a projector he looked over at you and smiled “You look amazing.” You thanked him and looked around “Bucky this is great” You stood in awe as you watched him finish tacking the sheet to “Yeah, well don’t tell Tony about this he warned me before not to.” You smiled and set up the lights and candles you didn’t light them yet just in case he was late, laying out the comforter and pillows you two will be leaning on, you set up the bowls and put the snacks in them along with the various drinks you got because you couldn’t decide on what to get. You stood back admiring the cute scene in front of you “This is so cute it’s making me sick.” You playfully shoved Bucky’s shoulder rolling your eyes. “Just send Steve up when he gets here, tell him to come up here immediately” Bucky nodded and went downstairs to wait, you looked around smiling “I hope this goes well.” 2 hours went by and you got a text from Bucky saying Steve was on his way up, you hurried and lit all the candles and stood there waiting for him, you tapped your fingertips against the outside of your thighs you could hear him grunting at the top of the stairs before he opened the door “Hey, Bucky said- Woah what’s all this?” You took a deep breath and stared at him smiling wide “I like you too, Steve.” His eyes widened as he dropped his bag “Bucky told you?” You nodded watching him walk towards you “Believe me, Y/N I wanted to tell you I promise it just wasn’t the right time-“ You cut him off by placing your lips against his, Steve had a tendency to ramble on and on apologizing about nothing. Steve finally kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. The kiss was innocent and sweet yet there was something that laid beneath it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, you wanted Steve in more than just a physical way, you wanted him for everything he is, mind, body, soul, his personality was the thing that struck you as hard as a rock, he was everything you’ve ever dreamt of and more. The two of you pulled back, breathless and happy “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” You smiled up at Steve, then led him to your makeshift bed where you two talked, laughed and watched your favorite movies together.

A/N: I hope you guys like it.

I hope you don’t mind me tagging you guys: @megamindsecretlair @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist - Steve Rogers Masterlist

[muriels-brainrot]

Sick Day

When the apprentice falls ill, Muriel finds himself worrying about her.

Muriel x MC || TW?: None || Finished: 2022-09-02

I caught a cold this week and I wondered what it would be like if Muriel took care of sick MC. Hope you like it!

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'...Once, there was a prince who mourned over his beloved. His bride fell to the curse of a bitter witch who envied her beauty. Cursed to be beautiful until death, his beloved fell into a bewitched slumber to last for a hundred years. It is said the prince became so distraught that he sacrificed a part of himself to see her once again.

His humanity-'

"Good lord!"

I groan. The only thing distracting me from pain is this book. The gloved hand pressed against my forehead is a sharp chill against my burning skin. I'm annoyed, but the cold feels nice.

Julian tuts as he checks his doctor's bag. "A hundred degrees! Thirty-eight in Celsius. And you say you've been feeling this way for a few days?"

I feel guilty as Julian flicks off his gloves with a dramatic air. He must have been swamped today to be in his full doctor's garb.

He didn't need to be here. But at the slightest mention of me being ill, Julian dropped all his morning appointments and hurried to the shop. I'm not sure why. But it was a lovely gesture.

Or so I thought.

Imagine our surprise when he showed up head to toe in black leather and a ghostly plague mask. Suddenly it's as if the ultimate bearer of bad news is monitoring my last days rather than a friend simply checking my slightly higher-than-average temperature today.

"Is it bad?"

Another face hovers next to Julian. The one with the stubbled jaw and furrowed brows is my Muriel. The shadow deepening his brow makes him look more worried than he actually is. His large, scowling presence is a natural fright. But not to me. His being here by my side is a constant anchor keeping me grounded. I know I can rely on him. Despite his dislike for the dramatic doctor, he was the one who told Julian about my fever.

"Quite. I had a feeling she had been feeling under the weather since yesterday. But really, you two should have told me days ago." Julian says, "Though no need to worry, big guy. With plenty of bed rest, she'll be fine once the cold virus leaves her system. Which should be about a week or so."

I whimper. A week? Will the shop survive without me for a week? And the bills?

Julian hovers over me, and Muriel instinctively follows. Their dark silhouettes peer down at me, like two eager medical students examining their newest specimen under a blinding light. They become human again once they remove their gear. Julian's eyes are sad and sympathetic. He gently pats my arm as he brightens up with a warm smile.

"Sorry. That means no working, alright? Doctor's orders. And look, this time it's me!"

Muriel rolls his eyes. The doctor is left to laugh at his own joke as he moves to pack up his medical equipment. Muriel leans in to whisper into my ear.

"Don't worry, I already told Asra. He said that he'll manage the shop while you recover."

A gentle kiss graces my forehead, and I deflate with a relieved sigh. I'm so glad he's here.

"Right, I'm off. Still have that one appointment to get to." Julian's gaggle of red hair disappears into the staircase. "I'll tell our dear friend to bring you some fresh ginger this afternoon. Tell him I said hi!"

Muriel accompanies him. "But you and Asra see each other everyday." And they live together.

"I know!"

With one last laugh, the front door of the shop slams shut. Though his peppy energy was a welcome one, all is quiet and peaceful once again.

The bed creaks as Muriel slowly settles down next to me. Even when I'm sick, he runs warmer than my burning fever. It's almost too much, but the weight of him next to me and the steady beat of his heart bring a familiar comfort. The earthy herbs he works with daily linger in his clothes and it quiets the ache in my head.

"This sucks." I wheeze with a hoarse throat and stuffy nose, like a dying animal. Ugh. "Sorry." Muriel's deep chuckle is a soothing thrum, "I guess the raw salmon in the city isn't as fresh as it is in the forest." "I wouldn't know if that's true." I whisper to avoid wheezing. "Yeah. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

He wraps my shoulder with his arm, bringing me into his loving warmth. His hands have rough callouses built over years of hard labor, yet his touch is gentle as he rubs slow circles on my skin. I may be dying over this biting fever. But it'll take me losing an arm or shattering my femur before I fall into despair while my Muriel is here.

I open my mouth to tell him as much, but all comes out is a pained whimper. 

Muriel snorts a quiet laugh. "Mm, that checks out."

Sorry, Muriel... "And that's okay." A sudden chill returns to the bed as Muriel gets up, "Here. Let's try this."

He grabs hold of my person. I'm no different than a raggedy girl doll in his powerful grip. Compared to his massive frame, I may as well look like one too. But Muriel is careful as he rearranges my body between the mountain of furs, blankets, and books. 

Until he wraps me into the blanket like how one wraps a burrito. 

"I know what this looks like." he hides the tiny smile on his face, "But it's supposed to make you feel better... somehow. Asra said something about warmth and hugs."

The burrito blanket is adorable on fussy babies and feisty kittens. But I look like a brown cocoon with a human face. 

But he's right. The blanket acts as a warm hug on every part of my body. The sudden chill is gone. And I am strangely soothed. Is this how those babies and kittens feel?

"From the look on your face, I'm going to assume it's working."

I nod. "But I look silly," I say, whispering to save my voice. 

Honestly, who cares though? The only person whose opinion I care about the most is Muriel. And he can deal with it. We're already dating. Plus, it was his idea. 

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"Also Inanna said she'll come by later. Someone you know is coming by to say hi."

I tilt my head at him. Who could that be? 

I get that I'm sick. And Muriel is naturally caring and generous. But today feels different. As if him asking Julian to help me was strange enough.

"Okay. I know that look. And I know what you're thinking..." 

Muriel climbs back into the bed with me, his weight against the mattress oddly brings me at ease.  

I'm not complaining in the slightest. I remember when I had to do this all by myself. It wasn't hard. But it was lonely. Asra had no idea, and I hope he never does. It is strange to go from having no one care to a lot of people caring. But now Muriel is here too, with enough love and warmth that I'm no longer afraid to fall asleep on my own. 

I look forward to his sudden weight next to me on our mattress. For his arm to hug my waist as he occasionally comments about his day out in the forest. And when he smiles, as he rarely does, I'm filled with sweetness.

Just like how we are now. I smile back at him. 

"...You're going to think I'm being silly. So..."

I shake my head with the few energy I have left.

"...Alright. Last night, I had this dream." he whispers as if sharing a secret, "At first I thought it was you, then Khamgalai, but it was actually my mom. I guess. She had my eyes and my nose. Anyway, she was also sick like how you are now. Since I was a kid at that time, I guess I thought offering her favorite things would make her feel better. And it did. The next day, she got better.  And she seemed...happy."

Muriel smiles to himself, lost in thought. "I don't think it was a dream. I think it was actually a memory. It felt... real. And that was the first time I've ever really seen her like that, much less that happy."

"...So yeah. That's all."

He shrugs it off as if it was a trivial thing.

But it's not. I look up at him and he shyly avoids my gaze. Or he is staring off into space. Either way, he doesn't hide the sorrow in his eyes. It must mean a lot to him to see his mother so clearly that night.

"That's wonderful." I whisper in turn.

I rest my head on his chest. The quiet symphony of his heartbeat and slow breathing play in my ear.

"And she's right. I do feel better already-"

But a cough escapes me. My throat aches with a sharp pain with each cough. Muriel gently pats my back as he chuckles. 

"Mm, I guess a little is better than nothing."

We stay like that for the whole day. The day bleeds into a few more days. And those days bleed into a week. Aside from a few visits from our friends, everyday was pretty much like this. 

The night before my fever left me was the coldest night of the year. It was freezing and I couldn't sleep. So I got up and placed socks on our feet. Muriel isn't fond of socks but the poor man was tired and freezing. The following morning, I woke up to his arm around my waist and his stubble tickling my face. He had taken off his socks, as they lie on the floor. But there was a tiny smile on his face. He somehow managed to stay warm all the same.

And the warmth was a relief from the biting cold. As I leaned into his side, I realized that I wouldn't have it any other way.