#Work soon but just 4 hours tonight so an easy week!

[cxpperhead]

Off topic but when I'm writing those caring for a child prompts, this is the picture that's always at the back of my mind.

[jennay]

my best friend (2)

Noah sebastianx reader

1/2/3/4/5

Two weeks had slipped through your fingers like sand, and still, you hadn’t retrieved all your belongings from Michael’s place. The apartment, once a sanctuary of shared laughter and whispered secrets, now loomed like a haunted chamber. Each visit was a walk between nostalgia and heartache.

Tonight, Noah accompanied you. His presence amplified your emptiness. It felt like an invisible audience watched your unraveling, their collective breath held as you traced the stain on the carpet, the wine spill from that picnic-turned-moment-of-bliss. Forest green turned to murky gray, just like your world.

“I love you,” Michael’s voice echoed in your mind, a bittersweet refrain. You’d smiled then, as if love alone could defy the gravity of your situation.

Noah’s touch on your shoulder was soothing, “Last box,” he said, his words a lifeboat in a storm. Snapping you from memories that were torturing your brain.

You nodded, tears threatening to spill. “Ok.” A whisper so soft that not even Noah heard you.

At the door, you hesitate. The whiteboard showed Michael’s farewell: “I’m Sorry :(”—a cryptic apology etched in marker. You added your own message, a silent plea: “I love you, you’ll be okay.”

The door closes behind you, sealing memories and pain.

In Noah’s car, you stared at the ceiling, willing your emotions to freeze. You couldn’t break down now, not in front of him. Home awaited—where you could shatter, piece by fragile piece, away from prying eyes. Maybe there, in the quiet of your room.

Noah’s touch on your leg is gentle, a silent reassurance that lingers. “You’re going to do good things,” he says, his voice steady. “Heal from this, feel it.” His thumb traces a soothing pattern on your skin. “Take a break from dating for a while, find yourself.” The car hums along, the world outside shrinking as you peer through the window. “You’ll find him when the time is right.” he adds softly.

Breakups aren’t easy, especially when they coincide with Father’s Day—the day your own father left this world.

Noah’s unspoken anger mirrors your own; he’d gladly give Michael a piece of his mind. Maybe even a few choice words about being a dumbass. He didn’t understand, to Noah you were amazing, sure you were rough around the edges but nonetheless pretty close to perfect.

He wanted to ask you more questions about Michael, but for now, he drives, and you both share the quiet, intertwined in this moment of vulnerability that made you feel defenseless.

Noah’s grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Let’s go to the beach,” he declares, glancing over at you.

You raise an eyebrow, skepticism etching your features. “We’ve got a car full of stuff, and it’s like an hour’s drive,” you protest. “I’m not exactly in the mood.”

His laughter bubbles up, infectious. “You’ve been home sulking for two weeks straight. It’s time for a change. You can’t live off working, sleeping, and sulking. You need some fun in between.” His fingers drum on the steering wheel, enthusiasm radiating. “Sun, water, sand—let’s build a damn sandcastle!”

The traffic light turns red, and he tilts his head, locking eyes with you. His happiness is contagious, and your resistance crumbles. “Okay,” you acknowledge, a smile tugging at your lips. “Let’s hit the beach.”

-

As soon as you step onto the beach, you kick off your shoes, feeling the hot sand between your toes. The warm breeze caresses your skin, and you feel your worries begin to dissolve, bringing a sense of calm you haven’t felt in what seems to be ages.

Noah’s smile broadens as he notices the change in you, clearly pleased that his plan is working. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him peeling off his shirt.

You can’t help but glance over, intrigued by the intricate tattoos that cover his well-toned body.

Quickly, you look away, not wanting to be caught staring. You know he’d have a sassy remark ready, so instead, you slip off your tank top, leaving you in your sports bra and shorts.

“The sun feels so good,” you say excitedly, feeling the warmth on your skin. “I needed this.”

Noah nods in agreement as the two of you continue to walk toward the water. The birds seem louder than usual, their songs mingling with the gentle sound of the waves. The sun catches perfectly on the water, creating a sparkling effect that adds to the serene atmosphere.

Noah’s hand catches the back of his neck, and he lightly rubs it, a telltale sign of his nervousness. He stares off into the distance, avoiding eye contact with you. He’s not one to delve into emotional conversations, but part of him feels compelled to. He pretends to admire the sea, the waves gently lapping at the shore.

He wants you to know you can talk to him about anything and everything. “You know…” he begins, dropping his hand to his side and tilting his face to look at you. His brown eyes are full of kindness as he speaks, “You can talk to me about how you’re feeling if you want. I didn’t mean that you couldn’t talk about things. I just wanted you to feel better.”

You smile sheepishly, appreciating his effort. You know he’s doing his best to be there for you. You want to share the thoughts swirling in your mind, but you hesitate, not wanting to burden him with your current mind-state

The breakup still feels fresh, and you’re not ready to open up about the pain just yet. “I know,” you quietly say. “Right now I just want to forget about it.”

“Good,” he says with a sneaky grin as the two of you wade shin-deep into the water. Suddenly, he kicks his foot, sending a splash of water your way. You gasp, momentarily stunned by the cold water hitting your skin.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that!” you laugh, scooping up a handful of water and flinging it back at him.

Noah dodges, but not quickly enough, and the water splashes across his chest.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischievousness. “Is that all you’ve got?” he teases, before launching a full-on splash attack.

Water flies everywhere as the two of you engage in a playful battle, laughing and shrieking with each splash.

For a moment, all your worries are forgotten. The sound of your laughter brings warmth to Noah.

Finally, breathless and soaked, you both call a truce. “Okay, okay, you win,” you say, holding up your hands in surrender.

Noah grins triumphantly, water dripping from his hair. “See? I told you I’d make you feel better,” he says, his voice warm and full of affection.

You smile, feeling a genuine sense of happiness. “You did,” you admit.

He steps closer noticing the chills on your arms, he wraps his lanky arms around your cold body, pulling you close to his chest in an attempt to warm you. Your body clenches tight, recoiling from his touch, as memories of the last person who held you with such love and care flood back—memories of betrayal and heartbreak. You awkwardly wiggle out of his grasp, your movements jerky and desperate. He looks at you with genuine concern, his eyes wide with worry, clearly afraid he did something wrong. When your eyes meet his, you see the confusion engraved on his face, but you can’t bring yourself to explain the turmoil raging inside you.

You know he wouldn’t understand. He’d say something like, “I’m your best friend. Let me love you,” or, “What do you mean? I’m just showing you how you should be loved.”

You blink, and without warning, you turn and start back for the shore, leaving Noah standing in the wake of the waves. Your only thought is to get back to the car, to escape.

“Y/n?” he yells, but you keep going, your pace quickening. It doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you; his long strides easily match two of yours. “Hey…” he says, reaching out to touch your shoulder. His hand lightly grazes your skin, and you stop, turning around to face him.

He’s greeted by a tear-streaked face, a sobbing girl who can no longer hold herself together. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. You snivel and try to wipe your eyes, but the tears keep coming, blurring your vision. Your hands shake uncontrollably as you try to expel the negative energy, but it’s no use.

The panic grips you tighter, your chest constricting as if a vice is closing around your heart. You feel like you’re drowning, the weight of your emotions pulling you under, and all you can do is stand there, trembling and broken, in front of the one person who wants nothing more than to help you.

His eyes widen with shock as he processes your distress. Noah quickly points to the car, showing you how close it is, and gently places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you there with a firm but tender touch.

You fling the door open and collapse onto the seat, your legs dangling out as you struggle to catch your breath. Noah crouches down beside you, his face etched with concern.

“Look at me,” he says softly, taking your trembling hands in his. “Deep breaths.” He demonstrates, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, and you begin to follow his lead, matching your breathing to his. “What’s five things you can see?”

“You… sand… the car… my shirt… the sky,” you say, closing your eyes and trying to focus on your breathing.

“Four things you can touch…” His brows knitted together as he watched your hands move from his.

“Seat, shorts… fingernails… your hands,” you say, placing your palms on top of his. Your breathing starts to soften, the panic slowly ebbing away.

“Three things you can hear,” he continues, his grip on your hands tightening slightly, grounding you.

“Birds, the ocean… your voice.” You take a deep breath, grateful as the noise in your brain begins to quiet.

“Hey, look at us, almost done. Two things you can smell.”

“Salt and your shitty cologne,” you joke with a weak smile.

“Ahhhh,” Noah says, standing up with a relieved grin. “There she is!” He gently squeezes your shoulders. “Just for good measure, what’s one thing you can taste?”

You glance around the car and spot your Red Bull. Cracking it open, you take a sip. “Liquid cocaine,” you joke, a hint of your usual humor returning.

Noah laughs, happy to see you coming back to yourself. He watches as you swing your legs into the car and buckle up. Shutting the car door, he jogs around to the driver’s seat, still chuckling. “Probably shouldn’t drink all that if your nerves are acting up.”

“I needed something to taste,” you say, handing it to him. “Here, you drink it.”

The car ride is enveloped in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft hum of the radio. You sit there, unsure of what to say after everything that happened. The weight of your gratitude for Noah’s presence presses down on you, you feel relief that the panic attack is over. Noah’s eyes are fixed on the road, his focus unwavering, unaware of your gaze lingering on him. You silently admire how he turned out to be such a good healer, despite his own struggles and hard times.

Your fingers reach for the volume knob on the radio, turning it down. The sudden quiet catches Noah’s attention, and he glances from the road to your hand and back again.

“It feels like someone died,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not ever seeing him again, and you can’t just be friends after you’ve dated. I lost the bond I was trying to make with the kids as well. I messed up, he messed up, and I just wish we could’ve changed it, but there wasn’t anything I could do anymore.”

Noah nods, his silence a signal that he’s listening, truly listening. “And we talked last week, but we were at a friend’s house, and he was getting this tattoo. He had the audacity to say he’ll always think of me when he looks at it because I was there… Anyway, we didn’t talk about anything because I’m not airing that out in front of a stranger.” You pause, but the words keep spilling out, your hands now resting in your lap, fingers twisting together. “I’m still waiting for his texts… I’m still hoping we can talk. I’m desperate for his attention, but I don’t even want him.”

Noah’s grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, his knuckles turning white. He glances at you again, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and frustration, not at you, but at the situation. He wants to say something, to offer words of comfort, but he knows that sometimes, just being there is enough. His presence is a silent promise that you’re not alone, that he’s there to help you pick up the pieces, no matter how long it takes.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 8

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Ao3

My unending gratitude to @azure7539arts for talking through this chapter and the next one with me, and helping to untangle all my thoughts!

-

Eddie spends the next week walking on air. He thinks that if his younger self could see him now, just smiling at random throughout the day, practically mooning over a boy—over Steve Harrington—he’d be horrified, but Eddie absolutely does not give a shit. 

He’s happy. He’s hopeful. 

He has no idea what the etiquette is for calling someone after a date, if there’s a certain amount of time that you’re supposed to wait so that you don’t seem like a desperate loser, but he figures he wouldn’t adhere to it even if he did know the rule. He calls Steve the very next day and they talk for an hour. 

He calls the next day, pushing his luck just a little, but Steve is on his way out the door to work and only has a few minutes of time to spare for Eddie. 

A couple of days later, Steve reaches out to him, calling the trailer and this time catching Eddie on the wrong side of a shift. Eddie is tempted to say “fuck it” and just be late to work, but, employing a strength of will he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he recognizes that getting fired wouldn’t help anything. He promises to call Steve back, and he’s at the phone almost as soon as he’s gotten through the door after work that evening. 

“So,” Eddie drawls into the phone between hasty bites of a peanut butter sandwich he’d slapped together before calling, trying not to chew in Steve’s ear, “not that playing phone tag with you isn’t fun, but do you think I could see you again?” 

“You mean like a date?” Steve teases. 

“Exactly like a date,” Eddie replies, not even bothering to quash his smile. 

He thinks he can hear Steve’s own smile when he answers, “I’d like that. And I’m actually free this Friday, if you wanted to take advantage of that.” 

“Perfect. Why don’t we meet here, at my place?” Eddie offers, and Steve gives a little laugh. 

“What happened to waiting until the third date?” he asks. “Trying to seduce me into your bed already?” 

“While you are very much worthy of seducing, I’m afraid I have different plans for the evening,” Eddie says. “So, meet me here? About six?” 

“Sure, Eddie,” Steve agrees, voice still warm with mirth. “I’ll be there.” 

And so, Friday evening finds Eddie on the front steps of his trailer, eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet and watching as Steve pulls up in front. He doesn’t even wait for Steve to fully exit his car before he’s crossing the distance with a few long strides; the moment Steve has straightened up and shut the door, Eddie is right there, leaning into his space the way he hasn’t been able to in what feels like too long. 

He’d like to drape himself over Steve’s back, wrap his arms around his waist, casual and easy like it had been before, but, apart from being in public, Eddie doesn’t want to push Steve too far. He keeps a small cushion of air between them instead, and leans up to murmur in Steve’s ear, “Goooood evening, sweetheart.” 

Steve laughs, nudging Eddie back with his elbow, but the fond look on his face says it’s not because he wants Eddie away from him so much as he just wants a little room to move. “You’re excited tonight,” he says, still smiling as he turns around. 

“Any night I get to see you is a very exciting night, indeed,” Eddie declares, just a little theatrical about it, grinning as Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” He’s trying to sound unimpressed, but Eddie clocks the pleased, pink flush starting to gather at the tops of his cheeks. 

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s true and I’ll say it. Now c’mon.” 

Eddie waves for Steve to follow as he sets off walking towards the entrance to Forest Hills, and Steve glances, confused, between Eddie and the trailer. 

“We’re not staying here?” 

“Nope,” Eddie says again. He keeps walking and, as expected, Steve heaves a sigh and jogs to catch up. 

“Then why did you tell me to meet you here?” he asks, falling in step with Eddie. 

“Because, I wanted it to be a–” 

“–surprise,” Steve finishes in tandem with him, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, you liked the last one, didn’t you?” Eddie asks, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Steve’s. 

Biting his lip around a smile, Steve glances over at Eddie. “Yeah,” he admits, bumping Eddie’s shoulder back. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Then hold onto a little of that faith,” Eddie says. 

“I’d have a little more faith if you’d told me we’d be outside again,” Steve grumbles, mostly for show. “I would’ve brought a heavier jacket, it’s almost November.” 

“Steve, you run like a furnace,” Eddie deadpans. “Besides, it’s actually nice out. We should enjoy the last of it before winter descends and we spend the next four months freezing our asses off.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve got on two jackets,” Steve says, nodding towards the battle jacket Eddie has pulled on over his leather one. 

“Are you actually cold, or do you just feel like complaining?” Eddie asks. 

Steve shoots him a look. “You’ll know when I’m cold.” 

Smirking, Eddie shakes his head. “I’m sure I will,” he says. “But we’re not going to be out here long enough for you to freeze your precious bits off, anyway – we’re just about there.” 

“We are?” Steve glances around, confused, and Eddie doesn’t blame him; there really isn’t much in this direction until you hit town, which is a longer walk than just ten minutes. 

In fact, the only thing around is just coming into view as the trees fall away and a stretch of cleared land begins at the roadside. 

“Here we are!” Eddie declares, taking a turn and ambling into the cracked and pitted parking lot of the diner. 

“You… brought us here,” Steve doesn’t quite ask. “To the diner?” 

“Yeah, c’mon.” Eddie reaches out and takes Steve by the hand, tugging him along until they get close enough to the building that he has to drop it again. 

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the diner since Steve brought it up last weekend – specifically, that night at the diner. 

The more he dwells on it, the more he feels cheated, in a way; like he’d robbed himself of the opportunity to experience his time with Steve the way Steve himself had seen it. And the way Steve had described that night, so full of warmth and potential – Eddie wants that. He wants to see it that way, too. 

“I figured we haven’t been here since– well, we haven’t been here in a while. At least, I haven’t. I don’t know if you…?” Eddie glances at Steve for confirmation as they walk through the door, and Steve just shakes his head, brows furrowed. “And I also thought, y’know, it might be nice. If we could both look at a time here as special.” 

The frown on Steve’s face doesn’t clear up at that, much to Eddie’s disappointment. He doesn’t look displeased, exactly, but he also sure as hell isn’t giving Eddie that same smile he’d given him last weekend. 

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a voice cuts across the noise of the diner, sharp and pleased. 

“Boys!” Both Eddie and Steve look up to see Dottie heading towards them with a smile. 

If they have anything like a regular waitress at the diner, it’s Dottie – a woman at least in her late fifties with curly hair dyed a violent ginger-red, bejeweled cat’s eye glasses, and heavy, colorful eyeshadow that never seems to dare smudge past her lids. She loves nothing more than trying to feed the both of them until they pop, as far as Eddie can tell, and she always snaps them up when they visit on her shift. 

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me. Maybe found some fancier establishment to take your business to,” she says as she reaches the front. 

“Are you kidding, Dottie?” Steve asks, suddenly all charm and earnest smiles, his previous mood apparently forgotten. “We wouldn’t go anywhere else. You can’t beat the service here.” 

Dottie rolls her eyes, but gives Steve a pleased smile and a pat on the cheek. She grabs two menus and leads them back to a corner booth, past handfuls of regulars, families out for dinner with their kids, and groups of teenagers milking a single order of fries for as long as it will get them a table. 

“So where did you two go?” She drops the menus on the table and moves to the side as Eddie and Steve settle in. “Seems like you dropped off the face of the Earth for weeks.” 

“Uh… we were just taking a bit of a break,” Eddie says, at the same time Steve tells her, “We were busy.” 

Glancing between the two of them, Dottie gives a slow nod. “Uh huh. Well, it’s nice to see you back from your busy break. Two Cokes?” 

“You know us so well, Dottie,” Eddie sighs, batting his eyelashes up at her, which earns him an eyeroll and a pat on the cheek, too, before Dottie walks off the get their drinks. 

When Eddie looks back over, Steve is looking down, studying the menu even though they both have their favorites memorized by now. 

“Is… everything okay?” Eddie asks, sliding his own menu over just for something to do with his hands. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Steve says, and he almost sounds convincing – Eddie might really have believed him if he’d actually looked up at Eddie when he said it. 

Eddie sighs, glancing over the laminated plastic pictures of burgers and pancakes, trying to decide what he’s in the mood for. 

“Look, I just thought since we haven’t been here in a while, it’d be nice,” he says finally, voice pitched low, so it doesn’t carry past their table. “I know it’s not a candlelit dinner in the park, or whatever–” 

“That’s not it,” Steve cuts in. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just– it’s fine.” 

Anything Eddie might have come up with to say to that is cut off by Dottie’s reappearance with their drinks. 

“You boys ready to order?” she asks, pulling her order pad out and holding her pen at the ready. 

“Yeah?” Steve half-asks, glancing up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, and Eddie can’t see anything there but the question of whether or not he’s ready, so he nods, and Steve looks back to Dottie. “Yeah. Can I get a patty melt, please? And fries.” 

“You got it,” Dottie scribbles his order down and looks to Eddie, who teeters on the edge of getting a waffle before deciding on the club sandwich and his own order of fries (he’s not entirely sure how well Steve will tolerate his being stolen tonight). “Alright, I’ll get those in for you. Wave me down if you need anything, alright?” 

They thank her and she sashays off again, leaving Steve and Eddie to themselves. 

The quiet that falls over them isn’t comfortable. It isn’t like the contentment of simply sitting in one another’s company that they used to have, nor even a natural pause in conversation like they’d had at dinner last week; it’s simply an awkward lack of knowing what to say, how to keep things rolling. 

Something is off with Steve, but he refuses to say what, and Eddie is desperate to distract from it. He reaches for the first thing he can think of. 

“So I didn’t know you and Jeff were, like… friends,” he ventures, thinking back to the way they’d acted familiarly around one another on Eddie’s last visit to the video store. 

Steve looks up at him, face scrunched a bit in confusion, and Eddie rushes to clarify. 

“I mean, not that I thought you disliked each other, I just didn’t know you were hanging out.” 

Wait, no, now it sounds like Eddie is jealous, like he’s trying to keep tabs on Steve, who is still staring at him like he’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about. 

“Not that you can’t hang out! That’s fine, I just – thought maybe that was a recent development.” Eddie bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying very hard to shut up. 

“Uh, yeah,” Steve finally says. “I ran into him at Melvald’s one night a couple of weeks ago and he invited me to come over to watch a game sometime, since we weren’t really seeing each other at… the usual places anymore.” 

“Ah. Right. Right.” Eddie nods. “You know, you… could come to the usual places, if you wanted to. You’re always welcome. In fact, I think your presence as a spectator at Hellfire meetings has been sorely missed.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve nods, but he sounds distant about it at best. 

“Did you wanna know what you’ve missed so far? I know we were kind of in the middle of the adventure when we, uh–” Eddie shrugs. “You always say you like hearing the story.” 

“Henderson’s been telling me,” Steve says shortly. He grabs his soda to take a sip, but now he actively seems irritated. 

Eddie does his best to tamp down his frustration. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong; he has no idea where the night went south, but he’s hopeful he can salvage it. 

They sit for a little while longer in mostly awkward silence. Steve folds his paper straw wrapper over and over on itself until it’s a tight little square, then drops it on the table and watches it expand in a little puddle of condensation from his glass. He asks how Wayne is doing. Eddie tries to return the favor, before realizing that the only people in Steve’s life that he doesn’t regularly see are his parents (off-limits if he wants Steve in a better mood) and Robin (who may or may not still want to kill Eddie). He glances around the diner instead, and perks up when his attention lights on the back wall. 

“Hey, you got any dimes?” he asks Steve, who sits up a little at the unexpected question. 

“Maybe?” he says, shifting in his seat so he can reach into his pocket. “Why?” 

Eddie jams his own hand down into his pocket and emerges victorious with a small handful of change. “Never mind, I’ve got some. Be right back.” 

He hops out of the booth and heads towards the back, where the behemoth of a jukebox squats, waiting to be fed coins and spit out songs that no one even remembers. 

Steve had been right when he’d said most of the music sucks; there isn’t anything more recent than mid-70s, and almost nothing in there had ever been what you would call a chart-topper. Sometimes Eddie and Steve waste their spare change having a contest over who can find the worst song to play, until the waitresses start glaring at them and they slink guiltily back to their table. 

This time, though, Eddie flips through for one of the few good songs he knows is in there. He clicks to make his selection and grins as the quick-paced strum of a guitar pours out of the speakers, followed by the crooning of none other than Elvis Presley. 

You can always count on The King to pick things up. 

“There we go,” Eddie says as he returns to the booth. “Had to set the mood.” 

Or maybe you can’t always count on The King, because Steve actually looks kind of pissed. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks, any confidence the music had given him draining away. 

Steve stares at him for a moment longer, unnervingly intense, before he blinks and looks away. “Nothing. It’s– never mind.” 

“No, what’s–” 

“Here we are,” Dottie announces, appearing at the side of their table with plates in hand. “Patty melt for Steve, club for Eddie, ketchup for your fries. How’s that look?” 

“It looks great, thanks,” Steve says, smiling up at Dottie as though he hadn’t just been glaring offended daggers at Eddie; he’s always been good at that in a way Eddie hates – putting on that shallow, easy-going mask at the drop of a hat. 

“Anything else I can bring for you?” Dottie asks. 

Eddie is about to say no when he scans the table and realizes the one thing he’d forgotten. “Oh, actually – could I order a vanilla shake, too?” 

And that is apparently the wrong thing to say. 

Steve’s smile falls away, and he’s giving Eddie a look that sits somewhere between angry and hurt that Eddie doesn’t fucking understand. 

“Actually,” Steve says sharply, “I just realized that I have to go. I’m – there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be, sorry.” 

He slides out of the booth around a shocked Dottie and pulls enough money from his wallet to cover his meal and a tip, pressing it into her hand before turning to leave. 

“Honey, did you want a box for all this?” Dottie asks, helplessly gesturing towards his untouched meal. 

“No, I – sorry, I just have to go,” Steve says, already halfway to the door. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears lowly, shimmying out of the booth to give chase. 

“Eddie!” Dottie calls out sharply, gesturing to his untouched meal when he turns back to look at her. 

“I’m not – I’m not leaving, I swear, I’ll be right back, I just have to–” He glances up frantically when he hears the bell over the door jingle, signifying that Steve is slipping away. “I just have to– Steve. I need to– I will be right back.” 

Dottie sighs and nods, and Eddie is off like a shot. He catches up to Steve at the end of the parking lot, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s shoulder when he doesn’t respond to Eddie’s calls. 

“Let me go,” Steve snaps, jerking out from under Eddie’s touch, but Eddie isn’t deterred this time, grabbing Steve around the arm and halting him in his tracks. 

“No. Not until you tell me what the fuck I did to piss you off!” Eddie says. 

Steve wheels around, shooting an incredulous look at him. “Seriously? I have to tell you?” he demands. “How could you think that any of that was okay?” 

“I don’t– You like the diner! Or you did!” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to know you suddenly hate it there?” 

“It’s not the diner,” Steve huffs, and Eddie finally lets him go, if only to throw his hands up in the air, trying to toss some of his frustration off. 

“Then what? I’m not psychic, Steve! How am I supposed to fix my mistakes if you won’t even tell me when I’m upsetting you?” 

“You can’t just rewrite the past, Eddie!” The look on Steve’s face is thunderous, until it slides away like he’s too tired to keep it up, exhaustion following in its wake. “You can’t just – you can’t.” 

The chill Eddie feels has absolutely nothing to do with crisp October night that had descended while they were inside. “What? No, Steve, that’s not what I was trying to do. Why would I–” 

“So what, then? I tell you about the night I thought of as our first date and you decide to just throw it back in my face? Show me what it could have been if you’d just fucking looked at me?” Steve asks. 

And suddenly it clicks – everything Eddie had done tonight, almost beat for beat, entirely unintentionally, had damned him. 

Maybe if he’d waited a while between Steve’s confession and his decision to take them to the diner, it might have been okay, but for a musician, Eddie’s timing had sucked. 

“No, that’s not what this was,” Eddie insists. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Then we’re back to you just trying to– to fucking recreate something we already did, so you can try to make it better!” Steve says. 

In his floundering, a little of Eddie’s frustration boils over. “Well you’re the one who said you wanted to just go back to doing what we were doing!” 

“I also said I wanted to go forward with more awareness! Not go back and do the same shit over again!” Steve snaps. “I’ve spent the last few weeks just– going over and over everything we did together, looking at everywhere I fucked up, everywhere I misinterpreted you, realizing that everything I was looking at as us wasn’t– it wasn’t the same for you. And I was getting used to that, I was… making my peace, or whatever, thinking we’d just move on, and then you go and– and do this.” 

“I–” Any of Eddie’s frustration, any anger, it all dries up, leaving behind a cold, rasping desperation. “Steve, I’m sorry.” 

Steve opens his mouth, but the sound of the bell over the diner’s door sounds off again, and another man’s stern voice cuts into the silence. 

“Young man, you need to come pay your bill.” 

“Oh, Herb, he’s a regular, he’s not going to just run out!” Dottie’s voice comes on the heels of the man’s, equally stern. “Just give them a minute.” 

“I gave them a minute, Dorothy,” the man—Herb, Eddie guesses—snaps. “I won’t have delinquents doing any kind of dine and dash nonsense.” 

“Well, he didn’t even dine, so get back inside. And he isn’t a delinquent. Honestly,” Dottie is practically scolding, but Herb won’t be deterred. 

“You’d better go take care of that.” Steve nods back towards the diner, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turning to walk off. 

“Wait,” Eddie calls out. “Just wait a minute, please don’t–” 

“Young man,” Herb barks out again, and Eddie hisses out a string of swears. 

He jerks back around towards the diner, yanking out his wallet and trying to count bills as he walks. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I tried to tell him,” Dottie says, genuinely apologetic. 

“It’s fine, it’s– fine.” He offers her a weak smile. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” 

Herb—the manager, if Eddie had to guess by his ugly, front-creased slacks and lack of apron—is unmoved. 

“Come with me to the register,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for Eddie to go in. 

“Dude, I know how much I owe you, can’t I just give you the money here?” Eddie asks, trying not to squirm with the antsy need to go running after Steve. 

“And how much do you owe me?” Herb asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s, like, ten dollars for the meal, and then tip. Here.” Eddie holds out a handful of bills, but Herb refuses to take them. 

“Like ten dollars isn’t an exact amount. Inside,” Herb demands. 

Eddie is half tempted to just throw the bills at him and run, but even as Dottie squawks at the man that he’s being unreasonable, Eddie knows she won’t be enough to sway the guy from trying to ban him—or worse—so he follows Herb in and begrudgingly pays his bill at the register. He makes sure to hand the tip directly to Dottie, making spiteful eye contact with Herb as he does, and then he’s back out the door. 

He doesn’t see Steve out on the road. He doesn’t see Steve at the entrance to the trailer park. He doesn’t see Steve’s car in front of his place when he finally gets back, winded from running at least halfway there. 

Bastard probably took a shortcut through the woods. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie hauls off and kicks one of the tires on his van, the nearest available object, which does nothing but hurt his foot and make him a little more miserable. 

When the jittering swell of anger and disappointment has receded a bit, no longer clogging his throat and giving him room to think a little more clearly, he considers his options. 

Like last time, he could give Steve room to cool off. To lick his wounds in peace and then maybe come back to Eddie, ready to talk again. 

Or. 

Or he could get in his van, go find Steve, and show him that he’s willing to face his mistakes and make them better, whatever that takes. That he wants Steve to tell him what’s really wrong, so they can address it and move forward. That he’s willing to fight for Steve. 

He’s already pulling out of his parking space before he even realizes he’s made his decision.

Part 9

-

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[yelenasdiary]

Kate Bishop x Reader. Taking place during Episode 2. Reader is a young surgeon and Kate's girlfriend. Kate returns injured with Clint. Reader may be Clint's daughter and doesn't know his daughter is dating Kate.

Secrets Out

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Surgeon! Barton! Reader

Summary: Treating your girlfriend wasn’t how you thought you’d be spending your Sunday afternoon at work.

Tiny Angst | Fluff | Mentions of Blood | Medical Talk | Slight Language Warning | 1.2K | 

AC: Thank you for sending this!! Although I have only seen Hawkeye once, I loved the idea and there needs to be so much more Kate fics! I hope you enjoy this x 

As part of your studies to become a surgeon, you had to do some volunteer work at the local hospital to help put what you've learned so far into practice. Of course, given you're only half-way through your second year of med school, you weren't expected to do any major operations like a heart transplant. You would scrub in on operations like that and watch as the surgeon did their magic and other times you'd help out in emergency. 

Tonight, was exactly that, a few hours in the emergency room helping out the nurses. You never knew what injury would walk through those big sliding doors. "Alright, Mrs Anderson, take it easy for the rest of the week, okay?" you smiled softly at the elderly woman who had slipped in her kitchen while making dinner. She required a few small stitches. 

"Thank you, doc!" the woman smiled before you showed her out. With her cart, you placed it in the filing system at the front desk before taking a much needed mouthful of your soon to be cold coffee when your eyes locked onto the next patient who walked into the ER.

"Dad?" you questioned as you wandered over to him, "are you okay?!" you asked in a worry. Your eyes scanning every part of him for any injuries or signs of blood.

"It's not me honey" he assured you, "it's Kate" he added. Your heart sunk as you saw your girlfriend standing behind your father with a soft smile and a large gash on her forehead as she mouthed "I'm sorry" when you raised a concerned brow at her. 

"What happened?" you asked. 

"I slipped" Kate lied which only made you tilt your heard at the dark-haired woman.

"Take a seat on bed four, I'll be with you in a moment" you replied, giving your girlfriend a non-impressed look. Your dad, Clint, followed Kate to the bed where they both waited for you to return with fresh instruments to stitch Kate's forehead up. It was hard for you to keep your worries to a minimum when your father was yet to know about your relationship with his crime fighting partner. 

You returned with everything you needed and began to clean up the blood that made a river down the side of Kate's face. She would see the worry in your eyes and knew she'd be getting a talk when she was home alone with you. Clint offered to get some fresh coffee as it would take a while for you to make sure Kate could leave in be better condition she arrived in. 

"What happened?" you asked as you jabbed her with some lidocaine to numb the area before giving the woman stitches. 

"It was just a little fight; you should see the others! I think they'll need a lot more than stitches" she replied with a chuckle. You didn't find it funny though. 

"Baby, I already worry about my dad out there fighting aliens and whatever else, now I have to worry about you as well and somehow, I'm more worried about you than my dad" you explained as you prepared the stitches. Kate gently placed her hand over your blue gloved hand, making you look at her once more. 

"I promise you, I'm okay" she assured you. 

"Honey, I'm about to give you 4 stitches, I wouldn't exactly say that's okay" 

Kate didn't want to make you worry any more than you already were, "what can I do to make this up to you?" she asked. 

"You could be more careful? Maybe not throw yourself into fights?" You raised a brow at her once more. Kate raised your hand to her lips and kissed your covered knuckles as she looked up at you, "your wish is my command" she smiled softly. Her cuteness was more than enough for you to forgive her and make you blush, you chuckled, "now I have to change my gloves again" you playfully rolled your eyes before taking off the now contaminated gloves. 

As you turned around to get more gloves, you were met with the very protective look of your father who had just seen everything. He moved slightly to the left and made eye contact with Kate while instantly gulping and sloughing in hopes it would hide her from the glaring look from your father. 

"So, which one of you is going to explain this?" he asked, placing the two take away coffee cups in the bin before crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Dad, not here, not now" you tried to keep professional as you grabbed a fresh set of gloves. 

----

You would've had Kate stitched up and out the door by now if it wasn't for the glaring stare your father was giving the two of you. Not a word was spoken as you stitched up your girlfriend's gash while your mind tried its best to not think about the talk you're going to have to have with your father. 

It was safe to say that your dad has always been extremely protective of you, you're his eldest child and nobody would ever be good enough for his little girl. Even through high school, anybody you dated not only got a talking too from your father but also his friends, the avengers. 

"How long have you two been dating?" Clint asked, breaking the silence. Kate looked at you as she chewed the inside of her cheek, it was clear she was slightly scared of what your father and her mentor might think of her dating you. 

"A few months" you replied as you began to finish up Kate's stitches. Your father's eyes looked direct at Kate as you backed away from her and removed your gloves once again. "Remind me again my number one rule, Bishop" he spoke sternly. 

"Not to flirt with your daughter" Kate confessed. 

"Lucky you because it was me to who flirted with Kate" you turned to your dad who wasn't impressed. "Why? I mean, you can ha-"

"Dad!" you interrupted him, "I know you love me, and you care about me but, so does Kate. She's amazing, she's respectful, she's funny, she's smart and beyond beautiful, she makes me happy and for once, please, just give this one a chance. No talks from your or the others, if I didn't think Kate would be good for me, I wouldn't have asked her out myself" you explained, slightly unloading some built up feelings. 

Clint took a moment to think about what you were saying, his eyes drifted back to Kate before he sighed in defeat. "Can I just say one thing?" Your father asked, you nodded. 

"You hurt her in anyway a-"

"I know, you'll kill me and then most likely the Avengers will kill me and for some reason I feel like you'd kill me again" Kate interrupted, chuckling nervously at her own words. You couldn't help but shoot your dad and unimpressed look before he opened his mouth again. 

"You best come to dinner Friday night then, Laura is going to want to know about this" he replied. Your dad won't admit it but he couldn't have picked anybody better for you to date. He knew Kate would never hurt you and that she would treat you with nothing but love and respect, it just meant now he had to really make sure that she wouldn't get hurt on the job.

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[be-with-me-so-happily]

There At The Box

ONE SHOT

|| Prev - The Grammys ||

Summary: After reuniting at the Grammys, it is now time for the Brit awards, where Harry has been nominated for four. He has invited YN to join him, and she will do whatever it takes to be there for him, as long as she can make it.

A/N: Finally got this out, over a week later. But it's here. Legitimately didn't think there'd be a part 2, but how could I not when our boy won 4 for 4 Brits?!?!

Warnings: Some explicit language, airport troubles, alcohol consumption

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry Ms. YLN, but we had to delay the flight."

You pinch the bridge of your nose, doing your best to take deep breaths and not completely lose it on this innocent attendant.

"How long will it take?"

"I'm…not entirely sure. It could potentially take a couple of hours…"

"This isn't happening." You mumble, throwing your face down into your palms as you sit there, helpless, in your seat on the airplane. "Diana, Peter, can you do anything? Please tell me you can do something."

Your manager and assistant give each other worried looks and it makes your heart sink.

Unfortunately, you had a prior commitment earlier in the day in Edinburgh, but told him that you would fly out as soon as it was done. You planned to have your outfit, plus hair and makeup teams, there on board with you and head straight to the venue from the airport. Everything seemed to be scheduled out nicely and going accordingly. Until now, that is. Because the jet you had managed to rent seems to be having some sort of mechanical issue, and is keeping you from being exactly where you want to be. Right by Harry.

You just got back with Harry, practically six days ago. He somehow, through the magic that comes from him being Harry Styles, managed to get you a seat at his table for The Brits. You were so honored, and happy, and excited that he wanted you there with him, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"We're working on it, YN."

"There's just not much-" Peter gets interrupted by a swift elbow to his side by Diana.

"We're working on it."

You're never a diva, at least you try your hardest not to be, but this is the one moment you wish you had the capacity to demand that everything gets fixed and figured out so that you can get what you want.

"I know you're trying." You sigh. "Just… let me down easy once you know for sure."

You stand as best you can on the airplane, while your stylist zips up your dress and your makeup artist applies things to your face during commercial breaks.

Everyone around you is already buzzing over Harry's first win of the night, for Best Pop Act, when Peter begins to hush them down and turn up the volume on the television. It's the second award Harry's nominated for, and you're already on the edge of your nerves.

"So the Brit Awards goes to…" Lucien Laviscourt begins, asking his co-star for a drumroll as he opens the envelope. "The man that just does not stop. Harry Styles."

The camera shows Harry's head drop and a wide grin immediately appear on his face. He yells a little 'lets go' as he stands up and makes his way to the stage. You can tell his emotions are already building as he looks down at his second award.

"Umm, thank you again. Umm… I wanna start by, umm, I wanna thank my family for being the most supportive, understanding, patient, loving, umm, family that I could've ever asked for."

He goes on to thank his mum, and the crowd goes wild when he mentions the other members of One Direction. As if you weren't already gutted to be missing out, that part pains you. To be there in that moment would be absolutely thrilling, and if it were not now safely carrying you and your team to the destination you so desperately want to be at, you'd be cursing the plane for making you late.

"I'm really, really grateful for this and I'm very aware of my privilege up here tonight, so this award is for Rina, Charley, Florence, Mabel, and Becky. Thank you so much."

Your eyes water as he mentions his 'privilege' and honors the women who were looked over for nominations in that category. If ever there were to be someone, other than one of them, to win, of course it should be him. He is such an ally, and supporter, and even though you don't feel as if he should apologize for winning, your heart is so warmed at how humble he is. How willing he is to give the spotlight to someone else.

The group cheers on for the next few awards, and you join in when Wet Leg wins their second. Shouts ring out when Harry wins this third Brit award for Song of the Year.

With each win, or even glimpse you get of Harry, your heart is torn further into two. You're so proud of him, and happy for him, but you are also simultaneously filling up with guilt that you can't be alongside him, or even just in the room, to support him. You know he won't be mad. You know it's not your fault, and he will understand. But you can't stop it.

The entire cabin of people laugh as Harry walks off stage to kiss Lewis Capaldi, and as the jet finally pulls into the hanger. But you can't help the sadness it's causing alongside the joy.

Finally in the car, and on your way from the airport, you huddle between Diana and Peter as Stanley Tucci presents the nominees for Album of the Year.

"And the winner is…" Stanley opens the envelope and takes a big breath, you holding your own as your hand squeezes the phone. "Harry Styles. Harry's House."

The three of you scream out, watching from behind the screen, as Harry heads back to the stage, for his fourth and final time.

Tears begin to form and Peter quickly hands you a tissue to not ruin the hard work your team put into your makeup look.

You watch on, as he hugs and laughs with Stanley, expressing how much he loves him as soon as he lifts the microphone. All the emotions, and probably a small amount of alcohol, fueling his bright smile.

"This, uh… this night has been really, really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home, I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He takes a breath for a moment as he looks down to the crowd of fans and peers, causing you to feel that even though his mind is most surely swirling around, that this moment is really sinking in. But what's sinking in more and more for you is the fact that you aren't there. "I’m so, so proud to be a British artist out there in the world. I’m so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m gonna hand it over to Tom and Tyler. Thank you so much for this, I’m so grateful. Thank you.”

You hand the phone to Diana, watery eyes and a smile displayed on your face. You missed it. In person, at least. But, as pained as it makes you, you are still going to show up for him. And you are going to celebrate with him the rest of the night.

"Well, to the after party it is."

You make a mental note to give your styling teams extra long vacations soon, because their magic has enabled your hair to stay in place and the usual stress-induced sweat to stay at bay.

You do what you can to catch your breath as you prepare to step out from the back seat of the car, and head into The Box.

A deep breath, followed by another, and as soon as the door swings open you are bombarded with bright flashes of light.

Your security guard guides you inside and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and your ears to adjust to all the new noise.

Instantly, and almost instinctively, your attention is drawn to that beautiful, loud laugh that you know so well, and you barely make out the figure of a very happy Harry Styles, beaming from the events of the night. All the sadness, guilt, and pain melt seeing him so joyful, and is replaced with pride. Pride, and the desperate need to be by him now.

You push your way through the crowd, and as you find yourself a few feet from Harry, who has yet to see you, your body is halted as Lizzo stands in front of you.

"Hey honey!" She exclaims, exuberantly. You attempt to glance past her for a moment, and when you look back you find her expression has quickly changed. "I thought you were gonna be at the award ceremony, what happened?"

"Don't even get me started…" You begin to scowl at how things unfolded earlier, but quickly wave it off, not wanting to slip back into that negativity. Especially since you're there now.

"Damn. Well, I missed you!" She states, wrapping her arms around you. Another glimpse of Harry sets your heart fluttering as you pull away from your friend's embrace. "Harry really missed you."

"I'm here now." You reply.

"YN… he's a little drunk…"

You let out a loud laugh, finding humor in the fact that it doesn't come as a shock to you.

"I figured as much."

"Yeah but, like… he was really bummed you weren't there." She replies, as solemnly as possible in such a loud, vibrant atmosphere. "And he had a few to drink…"

"Okay…"

You glance past her again and this time meet Harry's gaze. You give Lizzo a quick smile and maneuver around her, rushing up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hey there superstar! I'm so proud of you!" You exclaim, pulling back to meet his gorgeous, yet glazed over, green eyes.

"You didn't come." He states, a frown appearing between his brows.

Your eyes grow wide and your heart stops. That was not even close to a reaction you thought he would have. You smile though, hoping to ease the tension that you feel coming on.

"I'm sorry. The-"

"You didn't come!" He repeats suddenly, the furrow between his eyes becoming even more intense, causing a tightening in your chest.

"Harry… I was trying…"

"You coulda told me you weren't coming."

"I was trying! I texted you, Gemma, and Jeff!" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was a little busy…"

"I know, Harry." You reply through gritted teeth. You understand that alcohol is playing a role here, but his attitude is still not warranted. But this must be what Lizzo was trying to tell you. Or potentially warn you about.

Harry shakes his head and looks to the ground, the frown almost permanent on his face.

"This was supposed to be an amazing night." He sighs, swirling around the contents in the glass he has in his hand.

"What the hell? You just won four Brit awards! How is this not an amazing night?"

"You should've been there." He scowls, causing your jaw to clench and your entire body to tense.

"This isn't fair."

"No. It's not." He runs his free hand through his hair, annoying you in the way that it still manages to fall back into place perfectly. Especially at this moment.

"I think… I think you should walk away." You utter, your heart hurting and your eyes beginning to water.

"Fine." He quickly replies, turning around as fast as the words left his mouth, and walking in the complete opposite direction of where you stand.

You could fall over right there, feeling as if you were just punched in the gut. This is not how that moment was supposed to go. Or this night. It was not even a consideration that he would be upset. You thought he would understand, but he didn't even let you explain.

So, not only were you not able to be there to cheer him on when he won, but now you aren't even able to celebrate with him at the party. A sinking feeling enters your mind. One that causes your feet to instantly head in the direction of the exit.

The worry you had, before the breakup, comes creeping back in. What if he thinks this is too difficult to do with you?

Your plan for escape was foiled before you even made it to the front door. Rhian and Hester from Wet Leg managed to grab your attention, by grabbing your arm, and pulled you into their conversation with the rest of the band.

It's not that you really minded talking with them, especially since you wanted to extend your congratulations anyway, but your mind keeps wandering back to your conversation with Harry. The interaction has left you in a less than ideal mood for celebrations.

Your eyes wander around the room, and land on the man you always seem to want to find in a crowd. Your breath hitches when you see he is looking right back at you. The expression on his face is no longer of anger, or frustration, or whatever he was feeling that left you two needing some space. Now, his features have softened, but still don't display any positivity.

Rhian's laugh catches your attention again, and you turn back to focus on the conversation unfolding in front of you. At least the people close by are happy you're there.

You suddenly feel a presence appear next to you and turn to the side to see Harry's saddened expression meet yours.

"Hello friends! Congratulations again." He states, removing his arm and embracing each of them for a moment.

"Thank you Harry! For everything!" Rhian giggles, turning to Hester as they gush over how unbelievable their wins were. You remember that feeling. It really doesn't change, even when you win another award, and you love seeing how happy they are. They deserve a fun night. Truthfully, so does Harry. So you decide to return to your previous plan of getting out of there.

"I think I'm going to call it a night everyone." You state, keeping your gaze on the girls, but noticing Harry's shoot right over to you.

You give them all a hug, shooting a polite smile to the man next to you, and turn to head to the exit.

You feel an arm snake around your waist and squeeze your side, which makes you slow your speed dramatically.

"Can I have a moment with you…" Harry whispers, his lips close enough to your ear that you feel his breath on your neck and it makes you shudder. "Before you go? Please?"

You manage a nod and let him guide you to a corner that seems to be a lot less crowded, and a tiny bit more quiet.

He stands in front of you, leaning against the wall beside him, and drops his head.

"YN, I'm…" He sighs, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck. His eyes flicker up to yours, and you determine that the expression you saw earlier was one of sadness. "I'm… I'm really, really sorry."

Surprise fills you, because so does frustration.

"Harry, I don't think you know how much I wanted to be there for you tonight! My damn flight got delayed and we tried everything to get here on time!" You exclaim, your breathing labored due to your quick response.

"I know. Peter just told me." He replies quietly, dropping his head again to look down at the floor.

"But you should've listened to me. I thought we were going to talk about things when they bothered us, but you wouldn't even hear my simple explanation for why I wasn't there tonight! How is this even going to work between us if this happens not even a week after we get back together?" You blurt out.

Harry immediately straightens up and your chest tightens. You didn't mean to let that all out. Not there at least. But, you promised to communicate with him and if he isn't going to, then you will. Although, you never truly meant to question the reunion of your relationship.

"Fuck, YN, I'm so fucking sorry." He answers, a shakiness and hint of worry in his voice. "It was a crazy night. I was so grateful when I won, and genuinely happy that I did, but each time I got sad that you weren't there. And… maybe I got a little worried."

"About what?"

"That… it's so fucking stupid… that you changed your mind about coming because… maybe you changed your mind about me."

He pulls his lips inward and closes his eyes, giving you a moment to cover your mouth in an attempt to hide the unintentional laugh that threatens to come out. You don't mean to, but you find it funny that after your little confession at the Grammys, he would question whether you still want to be with him. And that you had the same worry about him.

"Harry…" Your palms cup his cheeks, holding his face in front of yours, waiting for him to open his eyes. "Hey…"

He pries them open slowly, and you can feel his body relax under your touch.

"There was, and is, nowhere else I'd rather be than by your side, cheering you on." You smile, swiftly being matched by his delicious, dimpled grin.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have… reacted that way. And I should've listened. I'm an idiot. I just missed you. So much." He states, moving his hands to grab your waist and drawing you closer to him. "So, so much."

"I missed you too." You bite your lower lip. "But we have got to be better about talking to each other."

"I know. I will. We will." He sighs with a small smile, and his nervousness makes you giggle.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you too. This really is an amazing night."

"Good." You place your hands in his chest, tracing the outline of the tattoos peeking out from his top. "But you know… I am still a little upset with you about something…"

His eyes go wide with shock and maybe even a little guilt, which you quickly want to squash.

"I saw you kiss Lewis, and then Stanley Tucci!"

Harry's expression immediately changes as he lets out that loud laugh that you can only fall in love with more each time you hear it.

"Well, you weren't there…" He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink as his gaze flickers down to your lips.

"Hm. I think I need to take back what's mine." You immediately reply, feeling a heat and need for him quickly growing inside. "Let's leave."

"What?" He chuckles, staring into your eyes as if to gauge your sincerity. You give him as lustful a look as you can, without being too obvious, and another grin quickly appears across his face. "Let me finish my dri-"

"Take it with you…" You whisper, your fingers traveling up the nape of his neck into his curly locks. You lick your lips, leaning closer to his, and press them firmly together.

"Jeff?" Harry shouts, swiveling around to find his friend. "Call the car. We're heading out!"

Main Masterlist

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[wittyno]

Im feelings nostalgic tonight so here are some tips for those of you thinking about going to law school

1. do not go to an unaccredited law school. I know they are cheaper. They may even provide a semi decent education. Yes law school loans suck I have them too and the amount school costs is a crime. But as someone who knows about legal hiring don’t do it. People will not hire you.

2. depending on the school you go to the school May encourage competing for example by posting your class rank / grade. Do not give into that. Do not view your fellow students as the enemy. They are your comrades in arms. Trust me, you will need them and they will need you.

3. it will suck. Especially 1L year because you are learning a whole new way of looking at the world. It is a lot and it’s going to be crushing at times. That’s ok. You will get through this.

4. there is this weird idea that if you didn’t get into the big fancy schools / can’t afford them, don’t have perfect grades, on law review, clerk, and that other fun stuff you’ll never get a job. That’s bullshit. You might not get the biglaw job but do you really want to sell your soul only to work 80 hours a week? Nothing against people who do it. We all got loans to pay but… it’s not biglaw or bust.

5. figure out your learning style, if you haven’t already. It will save you time and crying. There are guides online. Then design your learning around that. I used to record my outlines and listen back to them because I’m an auditory learner. But do what works for you.

6. social media / influencer lawyers are almost all big law lawyers at least the ones I’ve seen. Don’t base your goals on them. Again see point 4. they’re fine but again you are seeing a curated snapshot of their lives, not all of it.

7. do not give legal advice to anyone. The second you start law school you’ll start being asked for legal advice. Do not do it. It’s against the law and can get you barred from becoming a lawyer. I know it’s exciting because what if someone you know just had their fiancé walk out on them and they want the ring back and you just read a case on that in property. Don’t do it. Don’t fuck up your future.

8. do Social stuff. One of the things that I was most looking forward to in law school was to make new friends. COVID took that from me, which sucks. But you have a chance. Go out have fun.

9. some subjects will be hard for you and easy for others and vice versa. I hated property. If I could get into a ring with any legal concept it would be the rule against perpetuities. Though they might stop teaching that soon, because I think the bar is dropping it which is good. Or maybe Erie‘s got you down. That’s fine. Some shit is just hard. It’s ok to acknowledge that.

10. chances are you will get your shit rocked by your grades. Chances are you’re pretty good at school. You may have even tied your self worth to your academic performance. Law school is a whole other league. I don’t say this to scare you. I say this to prepare you for getting your shit rocked. The grading is different. The material harder, you have to take in way more quickly. if your first semester grades turn out lower than what you’re expecting. that’s ok. Know that what you’re doing is hard but you can do hard things. untie your self worth from your academic success as fast as you can. No one cares if you fuck up a cold call. They are too worried about themselves.

11. most important. There will always be more to do. More learning more reading. This was one of the biggest adjustments I had to make because up until that point in my academic career there was always an end to my to do list. There were natural end points. These do not exist in law school. There is always someone studying more than you. Remember study smart not hard. I mean it will still be hard, but at some point you hit a point of diminishing returns. If you’re staying up past midnight every night to study ask yourself how much are you actually learning. Take breaks, sleep, rest, keep work life balance at all costs.

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 6 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I’ve provided more of my thought process at the end as I don’t want to spoil the plot up here, but it’s there if you want to take a look beforehand!

As always - here's the ao3 link.

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Word count: 5,532

Content warnings: smut, discussions around mental health

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn’t the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.  

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you’d be finished with lectures for the term.  

Fast-forward to then, he’d picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he’d rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.  

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn’t have much time to explore, since as soon as you’d entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I’ve missed you he’d said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.  

“I was thinking,” he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, “we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?”  

“Sounds good,” you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. “Where’s there to eat around here?”  

“Uh,” Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, “there’s not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here.”  

“Either will do,” you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you arranged this.”  

“Well, I knew you couldn’t weasel your way out of it if we had something booked.”  

“I don’t weasel my way out of anything -”  

“No?” Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, “assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?”  

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “All valid excuses.”  

“Whatever you say, miss,” he chuckled light-heartedly. “I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration,” he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.  

“Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?”  

“I believe,” he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. “You’re now halfway through your time at university, correct?”  

“Sort of,” you took the glass from him, “technically, it’s not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though.”  

“And,” he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, “it’s been a year since you and I met.”  

“It has?”  

“There or thereabouts. You came over just before Christmas.”  

“Oh yeah,” you tilted your head, recalling the first time you saw Dutch casually lying on his sofa. “So it has.”  

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” Dutch scoffed, swilling the champagne around his glass.  

“Aw,” you said patronisingly, “I didn’t realise you’d been counting. Do you have a journal filled with my initials and hearts, too?”  

Dutch narrowed his gaze, a stern breath out of his nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”  

You smirked, clinking your glass against his and have a swig. “To romance.”  

With a scoff, Dutch leaned over to place his glass on the table. “Last time I do anything nice for you -”  

“What are you doing?” you gasped, picking his glass up and shunting it into his hand.  

“What?”  

“Drink it! It’s seven years of bad sex if you toast without having a drink afterwards.”  

“You know that from experience?”  

“Just drink it,” you tapped the bottom of the glass reprimandingly, and he did as you asked.  

“I didn’t have you down as the superstitious type,” he put his arm around you, amusement lighting up his face.  

You leaned into him all the same. “I’m not, exactly. But I don’t want to take the risk. I’m quite a fan of our sex.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, taking another sip. “Are you glad your first semester is over?”  

“I will be when the exams finish. But by that point, it’ll be second semester and I’ll have to do it all over again,” you responded begrudgingly.  

“How’s John getting along? He doesn’t tell me much.”  

“He’s fine,” you shrugged, not wanting to be the middleman between the two.  

Dutch let out a sigh and stretched his back. “I should’ve known you’d be no help on that front.”  

“I am not getting involved,” you laughed. “If you want to know how he’s doing, ask him yourself. Plus, I’d rather not be reminded that he’s your son.”  

“Can’t run from the truth, darlin’,” he mused, and the two of you took another sip.  

“I’m not running. I’m just ignoring it.”  

“How’s that different?”  

“Because I said so,” you shrugged, shifting slightly to look around the room. “I like it here.”  

Dutch glanced around too. “We’ll do it again sometime.”  

The statement hinted at a future, the thought of which had been ruminating around your head as of late. You pushed it back, not wanting to divulge away from the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Instead, you snuggled up to Dutch and sat for a while until your conversation was filled with more yawns than words, at which point you turned in for the night.  

-

Waking up laid on Dutch’s chest wasn’t something you were used to yet, but it was something you enjoyed greatly. So much so, that once you’d awoken the next morning, you remained in your position and didn’t check if he was awake, wanting to savour the comfort and warmth he provided.  

That was, until he shifted, and you heard him pull something from the draw, then a lid coming off. You peeked upwards, finding Dutch taking a swig of water and screwing the lid back on a bottle of pills that he hastily put back in the drawer.  

“What are those?” you asked, leaning up on your elbow to look over at his nightstand.   

Dutch tensed, slowly shifting his eyes to meet yours before swallowing down the tablet. He looked like he’d been caught in a questionable act, the expression on his face one you’d never seen there before.  

Shame.  

You put a hand on his arm, a minor attempt at soothing whatever worry had been prodded awake in his mind. “What is it?”  

“I - they’re -” he began, looking back at his glass of water and sighing deeply. “I suppose you had to find out sooner or later.”  

“Find what out?” you sat up, facing him as concern began brewing in your mind. “Dutch, are you okay?”  

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. They’re just,” he leaned back against the headboard, decompressing as his panic turned into acceptance. “They’re mood stabilisers.”  

“Oh,” you responded, glad to hear that none of the worst-case scenarios in your head were true. You wanted to know more, but this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  

He looked at you with mild surprise, blinking a few times to glance down at his hands which he was wringing together. You placed your palm over them. “I don’t necessarily want to, but it’s about time you knew about it.”  

You nodded, allowing him to go at his own pace, your heart wrenching at how raw and exposed he was for the first time since you’d met him.  This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from this weekend.  

“Not now. How about we go on a walk after breakfast? It’s a lovely part of the country,” he gestured out the window, hopeful.  

“I’d like that.”  

The two of you spoiled yourself with breakfast at a local café, idle chatter and comfortable silences accompanying your meal. Part of you wished you could go for a nap but walking it off was the more sensible option. Besides, you didn’t think letting Dutch hold that extra weight on his shoulders for any longer than necessary was a good idea.  

You walked from the local village to a nearby trail, with open fields and sky that stretched out for miles. You’d gotten lucky with the weather, despite not being hot, the sun was out and made for a nice addition to the scenery. After only a few steps, Dutch casually took your hand in his and the two of you began the walk.   

“I’ve been on them for years,” Dutch’s opening sentence was soft, as though he’d been deep in thought about how to begin the conversation.  

“Have they helped?” The question felt like a silly one, you doubted he’d take them if they didn’t, but you weren’t sure what to ask at this moment, or whether you were to ask anything at all.  

“Yeah. A lot.” He sounded almost glum.  

“That’s good.”  

“Was Arthur who got me on them in the first place.”  

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling for a boundary you didn’t want to cross. “What are you like without them? If you don’t mind me asking.”  

“No, it’s fine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you and felt reassured. “Uh, I think Arthur’s word for it was ‘unreasonable’. Though I think he was being nice, to placate me.”  

“On account of your unreasonableness.”  

“Exactly.”  

The silence extended, and you enjoyed the singsong of birds nearby while you waited for him to find his next words.  

“Arthur... he’s put up with a lot. A lot more than the other two. I half wonder how he still tolerates me.”  

“By put up with, do you mean with regards to you specifically?” you pried gently, hoping you weren’t putting words in his mouth.  

“Unfortunately. After Ann -” Dutch stopped, giving you a sharp look at the realisation this was the first time he’d mentioned his late wife.  

“You can talk about Annabelle,” you reassured him, “I’d like to hear about her.”  

He nodded, relieved. “After she - Annabelle, passed away, I guess I sort of changed. Well, John doesn’t agree with that, but -”  

“Agree with what?” you asked, unsure what he was referring to.  

Dutch sighed, visibly uncomfortable but with a lingering desire to continue his explanation. “John reckons I was always this way. Just that the circumstance brought it out,” he looked to the ground at the stones shifting beneath his steps, and you ran your thumb over his hand that was still clasped around yours. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.”  

Hearing him speak without an air of self-assurance was almost jarring, as though no matter how hard he tried to plan out the words there just wasn't a good way to say them. “It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to Annabelle’s passing?”  

“Right, good idea.” Dutch paused for an extended moment, ordering his thoughts. “I was so angry. That’s what I remember the most – just pure rage. She was a good person, and then she was gone.”   

You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was your place to ask but decided it might help you understand Dutch that little bit more. “How did it happen?”  

“She got sick.” That was all Dutch said, and that was all you needed to know. “We had a home, a good life, a family. Then it was just me, with these kids and I didn’t know the first thing about how to bring them up. Arthur was a teenager, poor Tilly just a toddler.”  

“But you’d brought them up until that point?”  

Dutch nodded diplomatically. “I suppose. Annabelle did all the tough bits, though, as most mothers do. But it wasn’t just that. The worst part was that I -” he trailed off, looking across the horizon and unable to hide the pain on his face. “I didn’t want to.”  

Your brows knitted together. “Bring them up?”  

“I just remember them wanting to... go away. I was heartbroken, I didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts too. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he looked at you, eyes sad and riddled with guilt.  

“Grief’s a funny thing.”  

A short, humourless laugh left Dutch and he turned his attention back to the scenery ahead. “Arthur,” his voice cracked on the name, “perceptive as he is, ended up doing a large part of that job for me. Mainly because I let him.” The pair of you took a few more steps, allowing the silence to dilute the tense air building around Dutch. “I resented him for it.”  

“Why?” you asked gently.  

“The kid was a better man than me. He’d lost his mother, and he had it in him to support his siblings. I just felt weak, almost like they’d -” he swallowed, his jaw ticking, “like they’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”  

“Oh, Dutch -”  

“Don’t,” he warned, not meeting your gaze, “it’s not sympathy I deserve.”  

While you didn't completely agree with that statement, you opted for doing as he asked and kept quiet on that front.  

“After a while, I got paranoid. I thought Arthur was trying to replace me, and I started to accuse him of it in not-so-many words. One night, Arthur did something he’d never done before.”  

“What?”  

“He shouted at me. Yelled at me. At that moment it was like seeing my own rage reflected, as he whittled off everything he hated about me. I was speechless. And at that moment, I hated him too.” Dutch’s face hardened with the memory, and he consciously shook it away. “The next day, Hosea – you remember him? I’m not sure you’ve met.”  

“I remember,” you nodded. Dutch’s best friend, the one he worked with. You’d never spoken with him, but you were sure you’d seen him at the barbeque back in summer.  

“Well, he came around. Sat me down with Arthur and they had an... intervention of sorts. He was more of a father to Arthur than I was at that time, and I hadn’t even noticed just how much he’d been there, taking the kids out and such. But I trust Hosea, always have.” For the first time in this conversation, Dutch’s eyes misted up, but he blinked it away. “He told me I needed to get help, and I did. I couldn’t have done it without him and Arthur.”  

You walked some more, Dutch’s hand comfortably intertwined with yours. “Shit,” you huffed, wishing you had better words to articulate your thoughts. “I - that’s a lot. I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It mustn’t have been easy, accepting you need help and then seeing it through to this point.”  

He looked at you, still a little puzzled.  

“You’ve come a long way,” you shrugged, and Dutch’s face softened as though viewing his progress as an achievement wasn’t something he often did. That didn't surprise you, for as hard as could be on his kids he was noticeably harder on himself. “I didn’t know Annabelle, but I like to think she’d be proud of you for it.”  

Dutch nodded, again looking at the countryside ahead and when his lip quivered you stopped walking, turning towards him and he mirrored your actions. You brought a hand up to the side of his face, running a thumb under his eye to catch one of his less-stubborn tears. “You’re very understanding,” his voice was weak as it carried the words, an odd thing to hear from such a proud, strong man.   

There wasn’t much you could say, really. John had never mentioned anything about this, and your initial thoughts about their perfect family life were far from the truth. Their money wasn’t enough to save Annabelle, work through their grief, or avoid the inevitable trauma that followed. The life they had was built from the ground up on a rocky foundation, and it told you a lot about Dutch to know what he’d worked through to get to this point. You wrapped your arms around his waist and embraced him, the two of you remaining like that for a short time before continuing the walk, a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you for the rest of its duration.  

-

After the walk, the two of you were hungry enough to go out for dinner earlier than planned, and promptly returned to the cottage once fed.  

“What did you do with the rest of that champagne?” you called into the kitchen, fiddling with the cardigan you’d draped over your shoulders.  

“I stuck it in the fridge with a spoon in the opening. Should be okay – do you want some more?” Dutch called back.  

“Well,” you shifted on the arm of the sofa you were perched on, “I was thinking we could give that hot tub a whirl.”  

A comical pause of silence preluded Dutch appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raising when he was met with you in your bikini. A half-smile inched onto his face, and he licked his lips absentmindedly. “You are full of good ideas,” he leaned up against the doorframe, his voice dropping in pitch. “You don’t think it’ll be cold?”  

“Not in the hot tub,” you shrugged. “I’ll go figure out how to turn it on.” With that, you stood and walked away, smirking at the lack of movement on Dutch’s part.  

Eventually, he pulled himself together and you were already relaxed in the warm water when he came outside, in his own shorts with the champagne in hand. The smile he couldn’t keep off his face was contagious as he placed the drink down and stepped into the water to sit opposite you.  

He did look undeniably cute surrounded by bubbles.  

Once he’d poured a glass, he handed it over and you held it up expectantly, waiting for his toast.  

“Oh no, you were rather critical of my toast yesterday,” he said amusedly, pouring his own glass. “If you want one, you do it.”  

You smiled surreptitiously, tilting your head while you thought. Once one came to mind, you flicked your gaze to his and cleared your throat. “To plentiful sex.”  

Dutch tipped his head back as he laughed, eyes shining when they met yours. “Well, the gods of toasting do seem to have a lot of power in determining sexual relations, it seems, so that is fitting.”  

With a nod of agreement, you extended your arm out and Dutch tapped his glass against yours. He made a show of retaining eye contact while you both took a sip. You jolted when something came into contact with your foot, but relaxed upon the realisation that it was just Dutch’s own foot inching towards you. Your body grew warmer at the insinuation, now heating up from the inside as well the outside thanks to the steamy water. He crept further up your shin, over your knee and up your inner thigh, then paused. He shunted his foot upwards, knocking your glass of champagne and did a good job of spilling it down your front.  

“Dutch,” you cried in a half-laugh, sitting up straight and shivering at the cool alcohol on your skin.  

The man just laughed, but soon leaned over onto your side of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, taking your glass and setting it down along with his, “I’ve got it.” With that, he brought his head to your chest and licked the champagne from your cleavage, all the way up to your neck. Your shock swiftly moulded into arousal, sighing softly and arching into his touch.  

“You’re a bastard,” you said despite yourself, but even that came out all breathy.   

“You love it,” he said against your skin, continuing to clear it of the spilt champagne. “Besides,” he lifted his head, “it’d be unfair not to test that toast of yours.”  

“Unfair?” you repeated, running one of his damp curls between your fingers, “unfair on who, exactly?”  

“Me, you, the toast gods...” he said in-between pecks to your chest, trailing down to venture between your breasts once again.  

Your fingertips ran into his scalp, spurring him on. “Well, we can’t have that.”  

Dutch kissed along your clavicle then brought his face to yours. “I admire your fairness.”  

After sighing out a laugh you pecked his lips, and one turned to two which turned to many. He tasted of champagne, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands moving behind your back to untie your bikini. Without breaking the chain of kisses, you made a joint effort to remove it and he instantly found your breasts, caressing them in his hands.  

You moved your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head, keeping his lips pressed onto yours. Dutch brought his hand to your face, reciprocating your desire until the kiss broke and you brought a palm up to his cheek, the pair of you catching your breath and observing each other as day turned to night. “Are you sure we can do this in here?” you asked.  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the wait to do it anywhere else,” Dutch huffed and that was more reasoning than you needed; you weren’t sure you’d survive it yourself. You encouraged him to sit where he was previously and straddled him, the warm water sloshing around your bodies.   

Dutch hummed as his palms felt their way up your thigh and you angled yourself so that his cock was pressed against you in just the right place between your combined swimwear. His fingers trailed around, squeezing your ass then trailing further still to press over your cunt. Thankfully, he couldn’t tease you for how wet you were this time.  

Your whine in response was likely enough for him to figure it out anyway, and he deftly moved your bikini bottoms to the side so he could slide a finger in, and you clenched around it, searching for more.  

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice thick and breaths short. You ground your clit onto him while he pumped his finger, soon after adding a second. It was greedy, but you always wanted more when it came to this man. His other hand brushed up your flank to reach your breast, running his thumb over your nipple as he intently watched the pleasure spread over your face. “You truly are magnificent.”  

You tutted, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Hush.”  

He shook his head with a smile. “Never.”  

Reaching down to remove his shorts, he lifted his hips to assist, and you decided you might as well go completely bare too. After untying your bottoms, you flung them over the side with his shorts and immediately ground onto his length. Dutch whimpered weakly as you lined up and slowly sunk down onto him.  

“Oh my,” Dutch breathed and held your hips in his hands, keeping your crotch anchored to his while your walls fluttered around him and got used to the feeling. His body was growing familiar, a thing you anticipated but admired all the same just as you had the first time you’d become intertwined.  

You shifted your knees and pressed your torso into his, a gentle hand on his neck to persuade him to look up at you. He did, and with a stifled sigh, you pressed your lips to his. Dutch was oddly pliant, allowing your tongue in and following your lead as you explored his mouth. Experimentally, you raised your hips some and sunk back down, finding a tender rhythm that made him dig his fingernails into your flesh.  

While the air was cold, the two of you were burning hot. Manoeuvring yourself up and down Dutch’s length allowed for a measure of control you hadn’t had previously, and the quiet praise he repeated as you moved told you all you needed to know about his thoughts on the matter. His thighs twitched occasionally, him fighting the urge to pound into you and rush to the finish.  

Leaning back from him, you took in the sight of his steamy, soaked skin, the pink flush that resided there and the defined curls, some of which fell forward onto his face. He was drinking you in, too, your wet skin and exposed nipples, along with the lust-filled expression on your face as your lips parted and eyes grew heavy. The angle allowed for a repeated pressure over the sensitive spot in your walls, and you dropped your head back with a moan as the intensity increased with each thrust.  

“Dutch,” you whispered into the evening air, thoroughly and contently filled with him.  

“I know, darlin’,” he agreed, enamoured with the view of you falling apart right on his lap.  

Dutch’s muscles, highlighted thanks to the blanket of water covering his form, grew taut with the strength of which he clung to you. He squeezed your thighs, dragging his fingernails over your skin and his carnal need flashed dangerously over his eyes. With a growl, you found yourself losing the rhythm you’d built as Dutch forced his own, pulling you down onto him at a much more brutal pace.  

You cried out, Dutch hissing through his teeth as his features scrunched. “Oh, yes,” he said approvingly, “I finally get to hear your pretty song.”  

The more noise you let spill from your mouth, the harder Dutch gripped your flesh and used your body for his enjoyment, the two of you slippery and still yearning for more. You wanted it so bad it hurt, your abdomen burning up as his cock fucked you further and further into a state of euphoria. It was just you and him, able to be animals of your own accord, nobody around to tell you it was wrong or immoral.  

But that was why you liked it. This older, mature man saw the value in you, grew almost obsessive at the thought of your body and the back and forth in your mind slowed every time he showed you just what you did to him. You clouded his judgement; you were worth the risk. You had him panting, pulling your body to his as he claimed all that you were. He had the same effect on you, you supposed.  

Dutch shifted in his seat, digging his feet into the bottom of the tub to try and get further in, to fuck you harder, deeper. “Fuck, darlin’ -” he moaned, tailing off almost into a whimper. “Oh my, my girl. You feel so good. So good.”  

His babbling praise filled your ears, seeped into your skin and fed your very soul. Making him lose his well-practised control only heightened your lust. You whined, feeling over the flexing muscle of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you floated right up into the stars above.  

“Shit, I can’t -” he grunted strenuously, “I’m gonna, sweetheart, I’m gonna -”  

And he did, pulling you as far down onto his cock as he could and dropping his head to your chest, his thighs twitching beneath you as he filled your pussy to the brim. You cradled his jaw, laboured breaths leaving the pair of you as he looked up with those dark eyes of his. He tutted at himself, muttering an apology and you chuckled as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing across it and pressing down at just the right moment.  

His teeth attacked your neck, and you knew he’d leave a mark but screw it – regardless of anything you couldn’t deny that you were his. It felt too good, his cock and his fingers and his lips exploring every avenue of your body. “Come, darlin’,” he said lowly, his voice hoarse, “let me feel you come on my cock. That’s it. Good girl, come on -”  

Your toes curled and your eyes tightened shut at the feeling that shot through you, a hot wave of shock that buzzed into your appendages. With a moan of relief, you dropped your forehead to press against his, still feeling the after-effects of your orgasm. “That was so -”  

Dutch hummed in agreement, and you were glad he understood.   

Tenseness turned to relaxation as you melted into him, and your body felt weaker and more fucked-out than it ever had. Dutch’s big arms wrapped around you when you rested your head on his shoulder, and you could happily fall asleep right there – even if it did mean you’d look like a prune come morning.  

“I think someone’s ready for bed.”  

“Oh no,” you yawned, “I’m full of energy.”  

Dutch snickered, and you groaned when he shifted, but he shushed you gently. “Just sit there for five seconds, darlin’.”  

You did, begrudgingly, and watched him step out of the hot tub and find his shorts from the floor, pulling them up before turning off the hot tub. Then he reached in and took you in his arms, cradling you as though you were his most prized possession. It was a fair trade, and you wrapped your arms around your neck as he walked into the house and carried you into the bedroom.  

“Now, tell me, you don’t exactly want to get this bed all wet, do you?” you raised your brows at him suggestively, and he shook his head in mild disapproval. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”  

“No,” you gave in, “I don’t.”  

“Right. So, I’m gonna stand you up here, wipe us both down with a towel, and then we’ll get comfy. Deal?”  

“Deal,” you parroted, leaning in to press your lips to his.  

Dutch followed up on his end of the bargain, gently dragging the soft towel over your skin. You climbed into bed while he dried himself. He changed into some dry, charcoal grey shorts and glanced over to you. “Would you like your pyjamas?”  

Your answer was a shake of your head, and his expression grew pleased. “Good. I’ll just be a second.”  

He left to lock the doors and turn out the lights and then returned to climb in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest and you wrapped your leg over his, attempting to get as close as you could.  

“You’re a special girl,” he hummed into your hair, and it was the last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off.  

-

This must’ve been on record for the most showers you’d ever taken in a weekend. Dutch had the expected reaction come morning to your nude form lying half-on him, and you didn’t blame nor begrudge him for it. The two of you were squeaky clean once again by the time you sat down for late breakfast Dutch had insisted on cooking for you.  

“I wish we could stay here,” you said melancholily, leaning back in your chair and taking a swig of orange juice to wash down your food.  

“Don’t tempt me,” Dutch agreed, resting his open palm on the table.  

You placed yours over it and offered him a bittersweet smile, the unfairly quick passing of time feeling almost like a robbery of sorts. Here, you'd been away from your troubles and stress at university, and you'd been able to just be with him without worrying about who'll hear you. It was just what you'd needed. “Thanks for bringing me.”  

“Of course. Fancy enjoying the view for the last few hours?”  

With a nod you stood, and Dutch led you outside, taking a seat on the bench facing the outstretched scenery and you took a sit on his lap in turn. He lit a cigarette and you relaxed into him, glancing up at the hard line of his jaw while he pressed the smoke to his mouth.  

It was so cliché, but god did he look hot while he smoked.  

“I was wondering,” he began, “why don’t the lot of you live in the same flat?”  

“We were meant to. But because I didn’t let the accommodation office know, nobody did.”  

“You really are the good girl of the group.”  

“Hardly,” you huffed, gesturing a hand to him.  

“Touché,” he smirked around his next drag. “Will you next year?”  

“Yeah, either merge our flats or rent a house. Whichever is cheapest.”  

Dutch hummed. “That’s pretty close quarters.”  

“Mhm. So you won’t be able to sneak into my room should you decide to come up again.”  

With a laugh, Dutch gently ran his hand up and down your back. “I won’t need to if you agree to spend the odd weekend with me.”  

“I will,” you relented.  

“Promise?” he asked, and you pecked his cheek.  

“Promise.”  

End Note: Lemme preface this by saying I am not a professional on psychiatry or anything related to it, however, a common opinion about Dutch in the fandom is that he suffers with BPD or something similar. I agree, to the end that I had a family member with it and with a bit of extra research the symptoms do line up with Dutch’s personality. With this being a modern AU, I wanted to delve into how his life could’ve differed with the advancement of medicine and knowledge. That being said, I only have the internet to guide me so I apologise if any part of it seems inaccurate - please correct me if that’s the case! For that reason, I didn’t want to go too deep into it and be irresponsible, but I do love picking this man’s brain apart and it felt wrong not to address it at least a little. I’m not entirely sure how common it is for people with BPD or similar illnesses to reach a level of self-awareness like he does here, but I know it is possible in some cases, and with Dutch being rich it makes sense that he’d at least be able to get access to decent treatment. What we do know from R* is that Dutch struggled with being suicidal (if you haven’t played RDR1 or at least watched the scenes he’s in I highly recommend it) and it ties in well with his circumstance so again I wanted to touch on it.

[lover-girl-estxx]

Don't Worry About It

part 6

*not my gif*

| Two Weeks Later |

Sean got me a job down the street a week ago as a server where I could bring Abel cause the owner has two kids that sit with him. It was about 7 and Sean and Axel walked through the door "hi" I smiled "we gonna eat" Sean said "come on," I grabbed menus "i'll go tell Abel". Me and Sean have been 'dating' but I haven't told the boys yet, i've really enjoyed being with Sean but i'm trying to take it slow not to rushed into maybe the same situation. "your brother and Sean are over there" he smiled and hopped down "hey dude" Axel said picking him up.

"Don't worry about it Sean really" "Y/n set me" "your not paying bye" I smiled he sighed as I waved "I can take Abel home" Axel said holding his brother "okay!" I kissed his cheek "what time you be home?" "an hour i'd say" they nodded.

Not an hour 4 hours later I walked in the door at 12:30 trying to be quiet softly closing the door "your home late" Sean said in the dark "jesus christ Sean" I put a hand of my chest "Sorry" he chuckled "we had a rush come in" I smiled wrapping my arms around his neck "next time text me I was getting nervous" he put his hands on my waist "okay" I nodded and pecked his lips "I do have something to tell you you might be happy about" I added "and whats that?" "girl at work has an apartment open I don't need to pay to get in" he lightly sighed "okay" he said flatly "what!" "nothing whatever you want to do" "Sean" I looked up at him "I just though you stop looking" he shrugged "now that we're together or whatever if we don't work out i don't what to..do you want to live with two kids?" "I don't mind it I've said that..I like having you guys, I think they think you guys feel the same?" "this isn't my house," I put hands on my chest "and- I don't want to talk about it right now i'm tired haven't made my mind up yet...that okay?" I asked softly "yeah" he nodded "thank you" I stood up and kissed him.

I got out of the shower and changed going out into the living room, where he sat on the couch. I sat with my legs on his lap "did I sound like a bitch?" I asked "no" he lightly laughed "cause I don't mean to be you've been- you've done so for us, maybe you just need a little break from a three year old running around" "whatever you guys want to do" he moved a piece of my hair with a smiled I leaned up and kissed him "this place is always open for you and them" "thank you" I smiled.

"mom?" I woke up to and a hand on my shoulder I open my eyes and look around I was pretty much on top of sleeping Sean "yeah" I whispered "school" "sorry," I stood up "I got home late" he smiled "i'll meet you in the car" I nodded. Sean groaned turning to his side "i'll be back Abel's asleep" he nodded "okay" "thanks" I kissed his head.

"so you dating?" He said as I got it I sighed "yes" putting the car in drive, "anything else?" he said "an apartment opened we could get in...would you want to do that? Seans is great but" "yeah i'd like that" "okay i'll talk to my friend tonight" I smiled sightly "you want to move?" "i think it would be good" he nodded.

"eat it before your mom gets back" Sean said as I walked in the kitchen "what! are you doing?" they both jumped holding ice creams Abel started to giggle on the counter, I kissed his temple then took a bite he gasped and pulled it away. Sean pulled me into him "hey" he smiled "hi" I leaned up and pecked his lips without thinking I pulled away looking right to Abel "i tho't Axel was joking" he said smiling taking another bite "that was easy" I whispered laying my head on his chest wrapping my arms around him.

| Week Later |

| Seans POV |

"baby you don't have a bed" I said "I have an air mattress" ' she shrugged "let's go to the store" "i'm fine i'm gonna get more cash soon and get more stuff". I walked in Axel's room he had old fight posters that were in the back of the gym "looks good?" he asked "yeah," I nodded "want me to get some stuff for your room?" "no don't worry about it". "bye babe" I said kissing her by the door "bye honey thanks for the help" I nodded "let me know for you need anything" "okay" she nodded and pecked my lips.

| Y/ns POV |

We got pizza and ate on the small couch that was there where they gave us the place and a small TV. "i'm going to bed" Axel popped up from the couch "okay goodnight" I smiled "night...night Abe". "you ready for bed?" I asked Abel he shook his head getting in my lap. Seany: how is it? M: i'm good it's nice thanks :) Seany: you sure? you need anything?" M: i'm fine promise! Seany: okay goodnight M:goodnight!

Abel already fell asleep I turned off the TV, and picked him up putting him in bed putting the blanket over him I laid in my bed next to his. I couldn't sleep I was turning back and forth I grabbed my phone 2:28am I sighed and got up. I was nervous I haven't been in a place without Sean what if Ethan finds us here. I sat on the couch turning back on the TV, I grabbed my phone going on IG Sean posted on his story I viewed it and hearted it. almost as soon as I did my phone rang from him.

"Hey" I whispered "what are you doing up?" "couldn't sleep" "why?" "just cause" "that so?" "its just...didn't know how u-um safe you make me feel I guess" I played with the blanket over my lap "really?" he said softly "yeah" "you want me to come over?" "No no it's fine" " put me on facetime i'll stay on till you fall asleep" I smiled "okay"

It wasn't a school morning so Axel was still asleep, Abel was on the couch I made eggs. "t'hanks " he said and I gave him a plate sitting next to him. "morning" Axe said opening the fridge "I was just about to make lunch" I chuckled "I was tired" he yawned a knock came to the front door "must be Sean!" I hopped up and smiled "your like a teenager" he whispered. I opened the door, my smile dropped and I closed the door so he couldn't see in "go away!" I said "you need to come home and stop with the bullshit" Ethan said "go now" "come on you've been at that assholes house for a month you had your fun" I went to shut the door and his hand stopped it "mom?" Axel ripped the door open and grabbed Ethan by the collar telling him to get lost walking him all the way to the car.

A/n: part 7 tomorrow and all the V day ones will be out by V day

[boldlyvoid]

No Longer Alone Together: Part 3

Part Three | Masterlist

December 5th: 

They slip back into normalcy quite easily. She goes back to her normal shifts for just 1 week before her Christmas break starts, and a similar thing was true for the kids, their last day was on the 23rd, however. 

Spencer is up at 6am, he answers the door for Emily and gives her a big welcome home hug. PJ sits with them in their bed for an hour, babbling and driving his little toy cars over the sheets while Y/N gets another hour in. Luna comes in around 7, and Spencer has to wake the other 2 up at 7:30 so they can have breakfast and get ready for the bus. They’re gone at 8:15, the first bell rings at 8:50 and they’d be home around 4. 

On Monday, she goes to her doctor before work to give a blood sample, she’s welcomed back by the secretary who has sat in the same wheelie chair since they had Atlas, she’s very happy to see Y/N again. 

In the doctor's main office, on the wall, all the healthy babies that Doctor Morison has delivered, have their photos hung on the wall. All three of her children are on there, Atlas covered in cake at his first birthday, Noelle all dressed up for her first professional photo with the chubbiest cheeks… and a newborn Luna sitting in Atlas’s arms with Noelle resting her head on her, hugging her brand new little sister with a huge smile. 

There’s going to be 4 up there soon… she shakes her head, thinking about it while she waits for the nurse. 

This time not even a decade ago, she was completely alone and crushing on some guy who kept coming into her wing of the museum. The one with the curly brown hair and the sweet blond boy he carried around on his shoulders to see the dinosaurs better. She spent over a year dreaming about being with a man like him… or just him in general. She wanted to mother his children and take them to the museum and live a happy life with someone who loved her… 

She has Paris to thank for the family she has now, if her dad didn’t take his girlfriend to France, she would’ve never had the courage to talk to Spencer… leave it to the city of love to be strong enough to bring people together even when they’re in the privacy of their own home. And then like magic, Taylor Swift wrote it into a song which plays in her headphones while she waits for her doctor. 

She has her blood taken, the nurse is lovely about it, and then she gets to talk to her regular doctor. They share a hug, it’s been a while since she’s seen her in person. They’ve been through a lot together… 

“So, you know this is considered a geriatric pregnancy now that you’re 40 and it comes with higher risks, right?” Dr. Morison asks. 

She nods, “yep… pretty nervous about it, actually.” 

“It’s not going to be too different, you’re just going to get poked a bit more often, but it’s just to make sure you’re both as healthy as possible,” she assures her. “How are you feeling, 9 weeks and 3 days is right when everything starts to get worse for you, usually…” 

She chuckles, “yeah… well, I’m not throwing up as much as I was with the others but I think it’s cause I was too busy, I wouldn’t let myself.” 

“Ah, I take it Spencer is back home now?” 

“How’d you know he was gone?” 

“I saw him on the tonight show on the ER TV of all places?” she shares with a surprised smile. “I bought the books too… I can’t believe it’s all based on real stories?” 

“Oh yeah, it was wild when he was still in the FBI…” she can’t believe it either. “He’ll be here for the ultrasound on Friday, though.” 

“Good… now, we have some extra tests that we can screen for this time around, I can go ahead and run them all with this blood test?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she agrees easily. “I want to know everything.” 

December 9th:

And there he was beside her the day of the big ultrasound, with PJ strapped to his chest, taking his morning nap, heavy as ever for being 22 months old. 

They offered to take him every morning until the baby came, and then most days after that while they adjusted to having a newborn. PJ was an easy kid to watch, he was almost 2 after all, so he was in that peaceful stage between baby and toddler that they loved so much. It was a win-win getting to look after him. 

They don’t meet in the ultrasound room first. Instead, a nurse takes them back to that same office with the baby photos on the walls, nervous that something is wrong. 

Dr. Morison comes in with a smile, with nothing alarming in her presentation. And then she sits with a sigh and Spencer turns to Y/N with a look, reading her a lot better than Y/N ever could. 

“And who’s this?” She notices the baby on Spencer's chest. 

“Our nephew,” Spencer explains. “You know Laura and Emily Prentiss?” 

“Ah, Peter Joseph,” she knew exactly which baby that was. “Laura’s due any day now, isn’t she? I’m on call to deliver.” 

“We know…” Y/N can tell she’s stalling. 

There’s something she’s scared to say. 

“So, right to business, I guess… We ran your blood and found something,” she leads. “It’s not bad, it’s not life-threatening, but this baby does have 3 copies of chromosome number 21, meaning—

“They have down syndrome?” Spencer knows right away. 

Dr. Morison nods. “They do.” 

“That’s okay,” Y/N looks between Spencer and their doctor, watching their faces to make sure they thought so too. “They’re okay, otherwise, right?” 

“We have to do the ultrasound to make sure, but yes, they’re healthy according to all your other levels,” she assures them. “It’s highly common for women over 35 to pass on two copies of the 21st chromosome, actually 1 in 800 babies in the united states is born with trisomy 21 and as of 2022, the life expectancy of a person born with trisomy 21 is 60 plus years old… there is a high likely hood they will have some developmental delays and some physical disabilities too like sleep apnea or gastrointestinal problems… but we won’t know until they’re born.” 

“Okay,” Y/N takes a deep breath, accepting it easily, she always said she’d love every child no matter what. “um… do you know what their sex is on there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I have it,” she stalls, making sure Spencer has the time to catch up.

He’s quiet because he’s thinking about it all, he knows a lot about trisomy 21 in his brain. It was going to be an adjustment, but they could do it easily with him being home all the time and the child probably needing more support, it was going to work fine. Thinking about maybe homeschooling them to avoid bullying and ensure she learns to the best of her ability and any of the other kids could switch to homeschooling too. And he wouldn’t mind taking a huge hiatus from writings books, even if the publishers get mad. His family comes first. 

“Spence?” Y/N nudges him.

“Sorry. Please, go on,” Spencer realizes they’re waiting for him. “I’d love to know.” 

“You’re having another little girl,” she smiles, watching as they turn to each other with big eyes and matching gasps. 

“No way?” Y/N can’t believe it, she had an inkling they’d be a boy because this pregnancy was similar to Atlas’s so far but, clearly, she was wrong. 

“The tests don’t lie,” she jokes, letting them live in the moment for a minute. “Would you like to go see her?” 

“Absolutely.” 

They follow her into the ultrasound room she gets all undressed and on the table, nervous as ever to see her. Dr. Morison is quiet while she does the exam, watching the screen alone at first and then turning the screen on the wall on for them to see. She walks them through everything she sees, what’s normal and what she expected to see with the trisomy 21 diagnosis. It’s not as scary as she thought, the anxiety in her body fades as reality settles. 

They get pictures and pamphlets and book a million more appointments for different things over the next few months. It’s a lot to process, but thankfully they have a few months to get ready for everything. 

PJ’s back in his car seat, and the two of them sit in the front of the van, Spencer offers to drive home but neither one of them is really ready to go yet. They just sit there. Quietly. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know,” she can’t describe it. “I’m just worried about her…” she rubs her hand over her belly. “It’ll be difficult on us, sure whatever, but what about her? She’s going to have health issues her whole life and kids are fucking mean?” 

“Believe me, I know,” Spencer reaches over to hold her hand. “But she has two older sisters and a big brother to watch out for her alongside us. And like 10 cousins… she’s going to be very loved, very protected, she’s going to have a good life with us.” 

He’s right. He always is. He has a 6th sense for when things are good for them, like he can tell what was set out by fate and what was temptation just waiting for them to reach out and make their perfectly crafted stack of cards come crumbling down. 

They take PJ back to Laura, finding that Will’s truck is in the driveway, so he must be over too. Sure enough, they walk right in and find Will in the kitchen making Laura some lunch while she sits at the counter rubbing her big belly. 

“Hey!!” They cheer as soon as they see Spencer, although Laura doesn’t get up from her seat, she really can’t with how pregnant she is. “Welcome home!” 

“Hi,” he gives her a quick hug, “how are you feeling?” 

“Good, ready to be done, you know…” she shrugs. He’s heard it all, having witnessed the end of pregnancy many times already, he knew it was hardest on them. “How’s my little man?” 

“He’s good,” Y/N gives her a half-hearted smile while holding little PJ, still asleep and slowly waking up on her shoulder. “He slept a lot longer than usual cause we were in the car after his nap time and you know he loves cars.” 

“Where’d you go?” Will asks before Laura can get to it. 

“We had a doctor's appointment,” Spencer shoots her a look, wondering if they’re going to tell their support system now or later… he didn’t really have a choice, they read him like a book. 

“You’re pregnant again?” Will points at her, “I knew it. I had a feeling last week when we had lunch at the museum…”

“Yeah,” she takes a deep breath, “and— and we got news, it’s not bad news… we love her already no matter what, but we found out today she has down syndrome.” 

“Oh,” Will and Laura look at each other with the same expression. 

“That’s normal for people our age, though, right?” Will asks, “there are two boys with it in Henry’s class and a guy in my jujitsu club’s daughter has it, they’re all wonderful little kids…”

“Yeah, no, we’re excited, it’s going to be fine,” Spencer reiterates. 

“And you know Amelia from Grey's anatomy? Her daughter in real life has it too, she’s the sweetest thing,” Laura adds. “Did you guys plan this… is that why you’re so hesitant to be excited?” 

She takes a deep breath and bounces PJ slightly, soothing herself more than him with the simple rhythmic movement. “We don’t use condoms, never have, so technically we’re always trying… I’m hesitant cause— cause this is now a high-risk pregnancy on top of being a geriatric one. I have to do more tests, she’s going to go through medical problems her whole life, she’s going to be dependent on us for a lot of things well into her adulthood… and the world's not looking too good right now, so like, I’m feeling terrible like it’s my fault and— and,” she finally breaks down, covering her face as she cries. 

Will and Spencer crowd her, Will takes PJ from her and Spencer wraps her up in a hug, “hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I know, I’m just pregnant,” she cries harder, embarrassed more than anything to be doing this in front of their friends, but they were her best friends in the whole world. They would hear this at some point anyway. 

She takes a seat beside Laura at the kitchen counter, finally, Laura offers over half of her sandwich but Y/N doesn’t want it. Spencer stands behind her, rubbing her back gently, he knows they have to leave soon to make it back to the house in time for Luna to get off the bus, but she needs her people. 

“I’m just going to run home,” he whispers to the top of her head before pressing a kiss there, “you stay and chat.” 

“Okay,” she knows exactly why he’s going, the others do too. 

“Do you need anything while I’m out, Laur?” Spencer asks, offering to go out of his way for her in her time of need. 

“I’m good, just hurry back here with my niece, I miss her,” she teases, having a wonderful bond with all 3 of them actually. 

Once Spencer’s gone, the other two look at her carefully, “why didn’t you tell us?” 

She shrugs, “I didn’t want to believe it was happening until he was home, honestly.” 

“I get that,” Will understands. “JJ found out with Michael at work and told Spencer before me and I was genuinely pissed…” 

“I remember,” Y/N can recall the phone call they had after it. “I knew right away basically, but I didn’t take a test till last week.”  

“When are you due?” Laura asks more so she knows when they’ll all have to step up to take care of Y/N this time. 

“July 10th… Nichola Teslas birthday, apparently,” she remembers how excited Spencer got when he realized that, repeating it with a smile. “And she’s a girl and she looked really good, you want to see?” 

That was a no-brainer. She takes the ultrasound photos out of her purse and hands it to them. “How do they know she has down syndrome?” 

“The blood tests and that there,” she points at the back of the baby's neck, “the fluid build-up is a telltale sign.” 

“Ah,” they both follow along.

“And you’re okay?” Laura asks, “do you need anything?” 

She shrugs, “I feel fine… I’m just nervous and you know my anxiety is always 10 times worse when I’m pregnant.” 

“Look at me,” Laura takes her hand in hers and stares into her eyes. “You’re a wonderful mom, you and Spencer are so good to your kids, a special needs child isn’t going to be difficult for you. You’re going to give them so much love and accept them for who they are and help them grow into who they’re meant to be just like you’re doing with the other 3… she’s going to grow up very loved. That’s all you could ask for, right?” 

“Yeah,” she cries lightly again, leaning over and resting her head on Lauras shoulder, “thank you.” 

Its moments like this she’s so unbelievably thankful for Spencer and that trip her parents took to Paris. She would’ve never known Laura or Will without him, without that trip setting the dominos for the rest of her in motion. She’d never know true friendship and love like this without it. 

—

Back at home later that afternoon, they have to get the older two from the bus and head right back out to the doctor's office to get Noelle's cast off. Her doctor is so proud of her for keeping it on right and helping her bones heal to the best of their ability. She gets a special sticker for doing such a good job around the saw as they cut it off and then she asks to keep the cast… her eyes well with tears and she cries when mom says no at first.

It stinks, it’s gross, and Y/N doesn’t want it in her house, so they compromise and cut out her favourite signatures to put in a memory box in her room. She loved her cast. She told everyone about how she broke her arm doing a cool skateboarding jump in her cousin's backyard and how she didn’t even cry in the hospital. It was her proudest achievement so far and Spencer wasn’t even there for any of it. 

He goes into a bit of a spiral that night after the kids go to bed. 

He sits with Y/N in the living room, she holds her phone in her hands as she scrolls through tiktok’s with a Christmas movie on in the background and Spencer's head in her lap. Occasionally she’ll scratch the top of his head like he’s a cat and rake her fingers through his hair, it’s usually relaxing but he can’t stop stressing. 

“Do you think they’re going to grow up and resent me for missing the last month?” He whispers. 

“What?” She doesn’t mean to laugh but it does sound a bit ridiculous. 

“I didn’t even know she broke her arm until she was home from the hospital?” He cries, “and it was apparently the best day of her life?” 

“Thats just because I let her have a whole tub of ice cream from the corner store,” Y/N downplays it. “Seriously, Will would have called you too if you weren’t in Chicago… I wasn’t there right away either, you know?” 

“I just feel guilty,” he sighs, looking up at her from his spot in her lap. “I wish I was here for that, for you… I still can’t get over how much Atlas cried when he saw me again. That broke my heart.” 

“He’s a sensitive soul,” she coos, stroking his hair back out of his eyes. “Just like you… seriously, it’s one month out of the full 18 years you get to spend with them here.” 

“We only have 10 more with him—

“Ah! No!” She points at him. “I am not thinking about that night now. Believe me, I know the math and I hate it too.”

He turns his head to the side and stares at her tummy, “at least we get a fresh start again soon…”

“We should call dad and Diana,” she suggests. “they’re going to be excited.” 

“Where did they go this year, again?” Spencer genuinely forgets, his last few months were so busy that he’s barely talked to his mom and when he did it was about himself. 

“They’re on a cruise in Alaska,” she says while back on her phone, pulling up the photo her dad sent her of him and Diana on the boat the first day. “They come home on the 21st.” 

They started a tradition of trips for Christmas, but since becoming grandparents, they’ve always come home with a few days to spare before the big day. They didn’t want to miss any time with their grandkids, not when they didn’t know how much time they had left. 

“That sounds fun,” he’s envious. “We should take a trip before this baby, just me and you…” 

“When? We’re already taking the kids to Florida in March?” She reminds him, the whole thing was already planned with JJ, Will, their kids and Penny coming too. 

He shrugs, “we’ll find time… even if we just go to DC for 2 nights away. I miss this, just doing nothing together for hours on end.” 

“Me too,” she lets out a deeper sigh as she thinks about it. “We’re done after this baby, right?” 

“Do you want to be?” 

She nods, “yeah, I don’t think I can do this again… not with my bad eggs.” 

“You don’t have bad eggs,” he assures her, wrapping his arms around her middle and hugging her with his face pressed to her belly. “I know it's different and scary and it’ll be like being first-time parents again but that’s the fun part… I loved those first few months with just me, you and Atlas. Even with the sleep deprivation and getting shit on, I loved spending time with you and now we get to do it again.” 

“It’s taking everything in me not to google it,” she admits. “I want to know everything that can go terribly wrong but I also know thats the worst thing I could do to myself right now.” 

“Yeah, maybe don’t,” Spencer agreed. “We have another appointment in the new year and we’re going to learn everything then. It’ll be okay.” 

“You keep saying that.” 

“‘Cause I mean it,” he didn’t know what else to say. “We’ve gotten through some terrible things and made it this far. This isn’t a terrible thing, if anything, I’m glad that out of the 1 in 800 babies in the US born with down syndrome, it’s our baby who has it. She’s a baby who’s going to need a lot of love and who else loves like us? No one. We have a huge family, the kids will love her, Penny and Laura and Will, they’re going to love her and offer to spend just as much time with her as they do with the others. My mom and your dad are going to spoil her rotten and you know it. It’s going to be so absolutely okay.” 

She doesn’t mean to tear up but she does, overwhelmed with love. “I’m glad she’s ours too.”

[jodilin65]

Yay, Adonis is alive! He’s just been having a rough time.

Anyway, I tried to post the following entry last night so I’m going to backdate this, but we had a huge storm that took out the Internet. The Panhandle had tornadoes and we had a tornado warning here. Got tons of wind and thunderstorms. It’s a good thing I was up during the loud thunder, not that I don’t get woken up numerous times for other reasons.

I’m still sleeping shitty. Part of it is the sleep apnea and the other part is that I’ve been warm and hot flashy as if I’m back in perimenopause. I read that the Mayo Clinic considers that a serious side effect of Diflucan because that could mean an allergic reaction or liver problems and I’m now thinking the cramps I’ve been having was my liver after all. It’s a little better now, though. I took Ibuprofen for it, assuming that’s what it really is, and that helped a bit. I think that because the Diflucan is hard on the liver mine got some inflammation but it should go away. My eyes aren’t yellow or anything. I just hope I don’t keep waking up on fire again tonight!

The frustrating part is not knowing how much of the Diflucan was responsible for my emotions and feeling warm as opposed to my thyroid medication because they have similar symptoms. I might think most of it was the Diflucan if it wasn’t for the weight loss. As the Diflucan continues to leave my system, I’ll get a better sense of what may be on the levothyroxine. I still think it accumulated in my system and pushed my TSH down to 3-4 which would be great for most people but not for me.

Yesterday wasn’t the greatest. I wasn’t anxious but I was a little down. Just missing so many aspects of my past. The way I felt emotionally and physically. Some parts of it, anyway. You definitely see the world through a whole different set of eyes when you’re younger. You don’t realize in your twenties or thirties or even you’re early forties just how much things change when you get older. When you’re young, you laugh at the older people who worry about you but then you get older too, and then you get it.

I just wish I could bring a lot of the old me into the present me. I want some of my old feelings back but I also want to keep the knowledge I have today and my present life. Then again, I miss the days before my sleep disorder progressed and I was out more often. It’s just not easy to get out every day other than walking around the park which I barely have energy for since there’s no place to go but to stores and doctors. Plus, we have an old electric car and not much money.

I just feel like everything has been thrown off. Especially with the insurance change. Galileo finally responded to my email and all they said was that they’re not partnered with my new insurance company but I could still subscribe. I know I can subscribe but how would I coordinate the two? They didn’t answer any of my questions about that so I asked them on Facebook how things would work. If they ordered tests or medicine, how would they bill Aetna? Argh, why don’t they just partner with everyone?

Another thing that stresses me out is that they changed my losartan brand. Instead of a green oval pill, I now have a white round pill. We looked online on a pill identifier site to confirm that it is losartan and the proper dose but I don’t know what side effects may come with it that the other brand doesn’t include. I still have a week’s worth of the old brand, though. Maybe I’ll take one tomorrow and see how I do.

Lastly, I started getting this funny feeling in my mouth and I knew it couldn’t be thrush because I’ve been having yogurt and the Diflucan also kills that. I remembered probiotics can do that so I’ve cut those back along with vitamin D. That’s already improved.

Today I only cut my waiting time by 10 minutes so tomorrow I will be back to my regular levothyroxine regimen and waiting 4 hours before I take the losartan and we’ll see how I do. As I said, as soon as the Diflucan gets out of my system, anything else I feel is definitely on that.

Because my sleep apnea is still causing sleep disturbances and snoring, we’re ordering a device on Amazon that may or may not work. It says free returns so I can return it if it doesn’t. It’s similar to the nose pillow I tried with the CPAP. You stick it up your nose and if it works it will at least not have any hoses and I should be able to change positions easier.

Here’s where our perfect neighbor next door isn’t so perfect anymore. He’s blasting his TV so loud I can hear it in here. It’s not quite as bad as the guy across from us in Cali but I knew it. I just knew it. People wait a handful of months after moving into a new place and then say “fuck it.” I don’t know if they simply stop giving a shit about their neighbors or they figure they’ll be more tolerant now that they’ve been around a while, but this is totally typical. The guy’s up late, too. Some nights he’s out but I’m sure this isn’t a one-off but the new nightly norm. Oh well. As long as it doesn’t get any louder.

Tom gave plasma today for $65 and it made him queezy and tired. I hope it doesn’t keep doing this to him. Still, we managed to run out and treat ourselves to some BK. It was so windy that birds had trouble flying and we could feel the car being pushed.

[wc100playlist]

4. Plain White T's - Hey There, Delilah

It's 2:23AM and I'm pacing through my father's living room, phone in hand, my eyes bleary. In less than a month, I'll be off to University, where I'll discover how easy it is to stay up for days on end when motivated by caffeine and the rhythm of youth, but for now, I'm nearing my limit. I feel a psychic pull from the room on the right at the end of the hallway wherein lieth my bed with bated breath, brimming with dreams at the thought of my return to it. The tug towards it is terrible, and soon my murky mind turns me to follow it.

buzz

A cartoon ghost rings the doorbell to my phone. I blind myself by blue light to see that yes, it is her. Specifically, it's her hand in a peace sign and a bar of text saying, "He'll probably just text back tomorrow. I'm sleepy. Goodnight." I send black screen with a cursive "Good Night Calypso," which she opens immediately. That empty red arrow sends a shiver up my arm and a realize that sleep won't be so easy a thing tonight.

______________________________________________________________

According to various articles and my personal brand of hearsay, Tom Higgenson wrote "Hey There Delilah" after having a meet-not-so-cute with Delilah DiCrescenzo, a now-nationally-ranked runner, at a friend's party. Apparently, Tom told her he already had a song written about her, and played the track for her the week thereafter. Delilah, having a boyfriend, politely declined his advances. The two remained friendly enough that, when "Hey There Delilah" was nominated for a Grammy in 2007, Delilah herself put in an appearance on Tom's invitation. To my knowledge, their association ends there.

______________________________________________________________

I met her at the tail end of orientation. She was sitting on a rock outside the student union building. She wore bell-bottoms and a hippie T--at least, she does in my head. So many details slip like sand through my fingers and out of my ears, details I I could have sworn would be burned into my mind forever. It is, perhaps, my chiefest regret to not remember fully the scenes that shape the landscape where my soul treads.

I almost walked past her. She had been in the small group of Liberal Arts students in a computer lab ten minutes previous, and something in the way she spoke to the admissions counselor about her planned courses irked me. Unfortunately, I think that's why I found myself talking to her. She scared me, otherwise: she looked like she could look me in the eye and pick out my flaws like a stork plucks salmon from a river. That little touch of roughness at her edges unwound a binding in my brain and let me be bold in a way only fool boys can be--that is, in the smallest way. I said, "Hello."

For the rest of the summer, we carried on the conversation that we started at the rock. I called her Calypso. I'd steal moments during work to shoot off what I hoped was a clever quip; she'd send pictures of her shoes and make wild statements about her day. We'd skip from "how was your shift?" to "what makes you cry?" to "what's you're comfort food?" in about as many texts. I still remember some of her answers, though I expect they've changed since then. Mine have.

Often, we'd stay up late texting. She's an early riser, but her boyfriend at the time rarely responded in daylight hours. I tried to keep her company while she waited, and she didn't turn me away. She considered us friends, and did for a long while, even after our Freshman year started, even after she got to know me in person, even after I told her--via Snapchat video messages, the worst way known to man--that I'd been head-over-heels for her since that damn rock outside the union, even after she had to turn me down. She even managed to look past me asking her to turn me down again twice thereafter, as a reminder of where we stood.

I don't know if we were friends. I don't know if I'm capable of being friends with someone I can't look at without my heart rate rising ten percent. It's not for lack of trying: I gave it a three year run. If I was her friend, I think I'd have let myself drift away much earlier. That might have saved me some heartache, or at least some face. It might have saved our mutuals exasperation, and her the stress of dealing a dumb puppy of a man who lacks the courage and wit to make his exit when the music plays.

I last spoke to her in the Fall of 2022. We walked in the state lands with her dog and said a great many things that matter very little. A better send-off than I expected, honestly. I last saw her Fall 2023; she and her fiance attended the same showing of a stage play as I--a cruel joke by Dionysus on his least faithful priest. I can only hope she didn't see me, or if she did, she didn't recognize me. If she saw me, I hope she only saw a stranger trying not to cry.

[heartlessfujoshi]

the horndog and the prince(ss) - a rufusreno multichapter fic

Title: The Horndog and the Prince(ss) Chapter: 4 of 10 Fandom: FFVII Compilation Pairing: RufusReno (Rufus Shinra x Reno) Rating: Explicit (Explicit Sexual Content - Timeline what Timeline - Sex with Clothes On) Word Count: ~3,345

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

--- “Tseng returns tomorrow, yo.” Reno commented, a cigarette perched on his bottom lip as his arm was firmly around Rufus’ body. “I gotta sleep out there tonight.” 

“Tonight.” Rufus snorted, shaking his head as he adjusted himself. His naked body was tucked against Reno’s lithe one, his muscles more defined than Rufus thought they would be. Reno was a gym rat, so it would seem. “You act as if it’s not already one in the morning.” Rufus’ hand found its way to Reno’s defined stomach, letting his fingers walk down towards the streak of red that was coming up from a spot he’d become rather fond of over the last week. 

The cigarette bounced on Reno’s lip. “Ya know what I mean, Princess.” Rufus closed his eyes and hummed softly, his fingers now playing with the short hairs below Reno’s belly button. “And if ya remember, we haven’t really discussed anything.” 

Right. They hadn’t. Over the past week, after office hours they went back to Rufus’ apartment and got right down to business in the bedroom. There had been no time to discuss whatever this arrangement was, or what it meant. If it meant anything at all. Rufus wasn’t sure how this was going to work, seeing that Tseng would be back to watching him twenty-four seven. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Rufus mumbled, not at all interested in trying to figure out what to do later. He was happy to be in the moment right now, and right now his hand was dipping down further. His fingers touched Reno’s soft cock, but as soon as his fingers began to play with it, it started to grow hard for him. “What do you want it to be?” He asked, curious to hear how Reno would respond. 

He felt his shoulder lift him up, and then cigarette smoke clouded his face as Reno exhaled his drag. “I dunno. Yer a beast, Ruf’. I dunno if I could handle ya.” 

“I am not.” Rufus had no idea what he was talking about, and frankly didn’t care as he was more interested in what was in his hand. He kept moving his fingers along Reno’s length, enjoying how it was growing harder by the second beneath his fingers. He brought his lips to Reno’s neck, and left a few kisses there. “If you want this to stop, then fine.” 

A hand grabbed on to the back of his neck, and squeezed tight. Rufus gulped, and felt his adrenaline skyrocket. “I didn’t say I wanted it ta end, ya fuck.” Rufus was pushed towards Reno’s chest as he let go of his neck. “Why do ya gotta go to extremes, huh? I jes’ said that I don’t think I can handle ya.” 

“You’ve been doing a pretty damn good job so far.” Rufus breathed out, his hormones going wild at the display of dominance from Reno. It was such a turn on for him, to be manhandled by his Turk in a way that no one else would ever dare touch him. “Why stop now, when we could see what sort of fun we could have together?” 

“Yer gonna make me fuckin’ hate ye, aren’t ya?” Reno’s hand returned to his neck, but this time the grip was less threatening, and more loving. Rufus couldn’t help but drop his head back against Reno’s chest, as his hand now made a fist around his cock. 

He stroked his cock slow, savoring the way that it felt against the palm of his hand. “You already hate me.” It didn’t bother him. A hateful fuck was just as good as a fuck with feelings behind it. They were different kinds of feelings, and Rufus preferred it that way. Any other feeling was stupid. Unnecessary. 

“That’s true, yo.” 

Smirking, he lifted his head and caught Reno’s green eyes looking at him, the cigarette now gone from his mouth. “I say let’s see how it goes. If it doesn’t happen again, fine. I won’t bother you.” 

“Easy for ye ta say.” Reno pulled him up towards him, the hand on his cock being pulled away as he tried to find a way to balance himself in Reno’s arms. “Now, how’s about ya stop toying wit’ me, and let me fuck that pretty ass of yers again, hmm?” 

Warm lips descended onto his, kissing away the response that Rufus struggled to make, but then gave up as Reno was too insistent with his kisses. Rufus really liked the way the redhead kissed. It always began the same - an urgency that seemed to be unabated. His tongue would thrust into his mouth, and Rufus felt the world melt away as their tongues began to flick and touch one another. And then, when he thought Reno was going to pull away, the kiss would last another twenty seconds, leaving him gasping for air as their lips finally came apart. 

He was holding his arms tight around Reno’s neck, not wanting to let go but he knew he had to as Reno had to get a condom on. “Hurry.” He moaned low, anxious to have him back inside of him. 

“I know, I know.” 

As Reno slid back into his body, Rufus released a deep moan, pushing his ass down to receive more of it. It always felt amazing, that first push into him. Reno was so skilled with his hips, that Rufus knew that he was going to be coming again far sooner than he wanted to. If this was going to be the end of things, he wanted every second to last a lifetime, as the sex was so good. He felt Reno thrust forward hard, making a moan turn into a gasp as it left his mouth, Rufus clinging onto Reno’s shoulders as he was pounded into. 

“Gods, I love yer sounds…” Reno moaned into his ear, as Rufus struggled to say something in return. His entire body was consumed by the way that Reno was moving inside of him. Everything was burning, and it felt so good. “Ya wanna come, Princess? I betcha do.” 

“N-No…” He shook his head. “N-Not yet…” 

Reno understood, and as soon as he felt his lower belly begin to burn, Reno’s hand was around his cock, squeezing the life out of him. Rufus moaned and whined, bucking his hips to get the pressure to stop, but the redhead wouldn’t relent. “Ye said ya wanted it to last.” Reno murmured into his ear, sending a sharp wave of pleasure rushing through his body at how he spoke to him. “Make it last, baby.” 

He listened, and clung tight as they began to move again. Rufus held on for dear life, as the bed creaked and groaned with every rough thrust that Reno took. Rufus knew it was impossible to hold off any longer. With a hedonistic yell, he began to come hard, his body shaking from the intensity of his release. Reno moaned his name, bucked his hips wildly, and then he felt his hips stutter, the redhead finally finding his own peace. 

Rufus let go of him, and fell back against his pillows. He watched Reno get up and dispose of the condom, then returned with the towel they’d been using tonight, and got him cleaned up. Then, Reno turned the lights off and laid down next to him in the bed. Rufus’ eyes adjusted quickly, and he could see Reno’s face turned towards his. “What time are you leaving?” He asked, speaking quietly. 

“Soon.” Reno replied. He could hear there was a touch of sadness in his voice “Better that way.” 

“I know.” Rufus didn’t like it, but he understood. There was no way he was going to be able to explain to Tseng why Reno was in his bed naked without sounding like a moron, so it was probably better that they separate sooner rather than later. “Thank you for taking care of me this week.” 

“If I ask ya a question, will ya tell me the truth, Ruf’?” 

“Depends on the question.” He wasn’t an idiot. If Reno asked about something that was classified, he wouldn't be able  to answer, and he thought that the redhead would know this. But anything was possible. 

“It ain’t about work, yo.” 

Relaxing, Rufus gave a small nod of his head. “I will.” 

“Do ya fuck Tseng?” 

He blinked, not at all expecting that question. “No.” 

“Does he fuck ye?” 

“No.” 

“Are ya tellin’ the truth, Princess?” 

Rufus could see Reno was staring right at him. He reached up, and put his hand on his face, his thumb touching one of the marks just below his eye. The red marks that had been there since he’d met the Turk. He always wondered how he got them, but never bothered to ask because it wasn’t any of his business. Reno had other tattoos on his body, the artwork truly beautiful. But he’d never bothered to get a good look at them, as he didn’t want to impose on the redhead. He kept his eyes locked onto Reno’s, and nodded his head. “You’re the only Turk I’ve slept with.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“You asked me if I was going to tell the truth, and when I do, you don’t believe me.” He smirked, not at all annoyed. “You’re impossible, Reno.” 

“Why me?” 

That was a very good question. Why had he gone to the bar that night, to look for him specifically? “I guess I wanted to see what it would be like.” Rufus answered truthfully. “I would never attempt to do this with anyone else.” 

“Ye better not.” Reno brought his head closer to his, and then kissed him gently on the lips. The tenderness made him startle, but then he sank into the kiss, moaning softly as Reno kissed him with a sweetness that had yet to appear in their affair. “I don’t wanna hear about ya fuckin’ anyone else on the team.” 

“You won’t.” He breathed out, his heart beating faster than it had in a long time. 

“Ye’ll be punished.” 

Rufus moaned low. “Is that a promise? Or a threat?” 

“Ya know what it is, yo.” 

He nodded his head. “Very well.” 

Another sweet kiss touched his lips. “Sleep good, Ruf’. I’ll be out there, keepin’ watch. I may not be here when ya wake up.” 

“I know.” Why did it hurt hearing him say that? Rufus chose not to care at the moment. “Good night, Reno.” 

“Nighty night, Princess.” 

Reno left his bedroom, closing the door behind him with his clothes in his arms. Rufus stared at the closed door, hating that they were now separated, when they’d been together all week long. Reaching for the pillow that Reno had been using, he brought it into his arms and held onto it. It was a poor replacement for the body he wished he could be curled up against. But it smelled like him, and that helped ease the ache in his chest. Rufus hoped that when he woke up, that the redhead would be laying next to him again. Reno would sneak back into his room and kiss him awake, and they’d have sex again, like they’d been doing each morning since Reno had been assigned to him. 

But he knew that would never be, so he fell asleep with the pillow against him. 

---

Rufus took a long, hot shower in the morning, not bothering to move fast as he knew that there was no reason to. He didn’t have any pressing meetings this morning, nor did he have any this afternoon. Today was a day where he would be holed up in his office doing boring office work. Shit he hated with a passion, but was a necessary evil. 

Looking down at his body, he could see Reno’s hands everywhere. There were little dots on his skin where the redhead had manhandled him, and he touched those with a pleased smile on his face. If they couldn’t be together again, this was a good reminder of what they’d shared this past week. And that was good enough for Rufus. 

He put his suit on, then walked out to his living room where he saw Tseng sitting at his dining table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. “Good morning.” Tseng greeted him, as he walked over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “How’re you, sir?” 

“Great.” It was a lie. He was anything but great, but it was the normal response he gave his bodyguard. “How was your trip? Successful, I hope?” 

“It was. We’ll debrief you later this morning.” 

“Wonderful.” Rufus grabbed a donut from the box that Tseng had brought, and saw that there were a few missing. Tseng really didn’t care for the sweet treat, so he knew who had taken those missing donuts. He felt his chest ache, and hated the feeling. 

“How was the week with Reno, sir?” Tseng asked, as he sat down at the dining table with him to eat his breakfast. “I hope he behaved.” 

It took every ounce inside of him to not make a noise at the comment. Reno behaved perfectly. “He did.” Rufus didn’t bother to elaborate, as there was no reason to. Tseng had asked a question, and he gave an answer. 

“Good. I’m happy to hear that. He looked a little more tired than normal, which is why I was asking.” 

Rufus shrugged his shoulders, and grabbed a section of the newspaper he cared about. “Didn’t notice anything strange while he was on duty with me.” 

“Very good, sir.” 

He finished his breakfast and coffee, and then the two of them headed to their offices a few floors below where he resided. He saw Elena, Rude and Reno in the breakroom, Elena telling a story that had the others laughing. Rufus looked at Reno and wanted to pull him away, wanted to keep him all to himself. There was a different kind of pang in his chest now - I have no reason to be jealous. But he was, nevertheless. Jealous that Reno could act the same as always, while he had to pretend he wasn’t dying to touch the redhead. 

His office was a prison to him today. With Tseng in the corner standing guard, Rufus was forced to do work that he didn’t care to do. He typed replies with hard, fast strokes on the keys, clearly manifesting his anger through his typing. He didn’t care if he was being a child. He wasn’t feeling great, and the cure for his aches and pains wasn’t a viable resource anymore. 

Tseng’s PHS rang. “Yes?” Rufus tried to ignore the conversation, as he didn’t care one way or another what was happening. He was still typing angry responses, hating every single second of his work. “I’ll be right there.” 

This got Rufus’ attention. Lifting his head, he saw Tseng dial someone on his PHS. “I need you in Rufus’ office right now.” The call ended abruptly, and then the Turk turned to look at him. “Sir, I need to leave.” 

“I’m capable of keeping myself out of trouble.” Rufus reminded him. The door to his office opened, and in walked the source of the pain he’d been feeling all morning. And suddenly, that pain disappeared as he saw Reno standing there, with an annoyed look on his face. 

“How long ya gonna be gone, yo?” Reno asked, his EMR balanced against his shoulder. “I was jes gonna go and get some food.” 

“An hour, tops.” Tseng pocketed his PHS. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Tseng left without another word, the door to his office slamming shut with a definitive noise. 

Rufus set his hands on his desk and looked over at Reno. “You look like you’re in a shit mood.” 

“Could say the same for ye, Princess.” 

Instantly, Rufus felt better at hearing that nickname he’d loathed for so long. But hearing him say it now, he knew they were back to where they were only a few hours ago. He stood up from his desk and approached the redhead. “Are you miserable because of me?” He asked, standing directly in front of him now. 

“What do ya think, yo?” Reno put his EMR back on his waist, and he put his hands on Rufus’ shoulders. “Ye got under my skin, ya asshole.” 

“I did not.” 

“Ye did.” 

“Shut up and kiss m-” 

The redhead listened to his request, and slammed his mouth down onto his hard. Rufus moaned, lifting his leg to wrap it around Reno’s waist, needing to physically be closer to him. But then, their kiss came to a quick end as Reno’s PHS began to ring. The redhead yanked it out of his pocket, and brought it to his ear. “What!” 

Rufus pulled him over to his desk and pushed him down onto the chair. He sat down on Reno’s right thigh, needing to be able to get up quickly if necessary, so rather than straddle his lap he chose one leg to sit on. Reno kept the phone pressed to his ear as his hands settled on Rufus’ hips, guiding him to move himself on his thigh. 

He bit his lip as the pressure in his pants grew, his cock swelling to an engorged length. Rufus kept rubbing himself against Reno’s thigh, dying for more but was settling for what he could have right now. Reno was yelling at whoever was on the other end of the line, but his hands were gripping tight to Rufus’ ass, encouraging him to move faster. Rufus knew he was going to make a mess like a teenager, but he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that Reno was here. Reno was with him again, and so soon after they’d last been together. 

Reno pushed his hand up against his crotch, and Rufus had to bite down on his arm to stifle the noise that wanted to come out of him. He rocked himself back and forth on Reno’s thigh, his orgasm coming hard and fast. Reno kept pushing his hand against his cock, and then Rufus was tossing his head back with a silent moan, his cum now flooding his pants as he came hard. 

The PHS was slammed closed, and Reno’s lips were back on his, kissing him with a fire that had Rufus’ head spinning. “Sorry about that, yo.” Reno murmured against his lips, as his hand reached down into Rufus’ pants to collect some of the mess that was there. Reno brought it to his lips and licked the mess off, making Rufus’ eyes roll back in his head. “Can’t do anymore right now, beautiful. But I promise I’ll find a way ta get back to ya, okay?” 

“O-Okay.” He nodded his head, then stood up off of Reno’s thigh. The dark spot was hardly noticeable, which was good. Rufus went into his bathroom and got himself cleaned up, then returned to his desk, feeling much better than when he’d first come into his office this morning. Reno stood by the door, with a smile on his face that was making his chest ache all over again. When Reno winked at him, he couldn’t help but chuckle, pleased to have the redhead in his presence again. 

Tseng returned thirty minutes later, looking mildly upset. “Did anything happen?” Tseng asked Reno. 

“Nah, boss. Everything is quiet in here, yo.” Reno shrugged his shoulders. “Can I go now?” 

“You may.” Tseng replied, then took up his post in Rufus’ office. “Everything okay, sir?” 

Rufus nodded, as he watched Reno leave. He knew Reno would try, and that was all that mattered. He’d get to play with him again, and hopefully soon. “I’m good, Tseng. When did you want to debrief me again?” 

“We can go now, if you’d like.” 

Pushing his chair back, he fixed his bangs, and then fixed his coat. “Yes, let’s go now.” He walked past Tseng and left his office, his mood much improved after that lovely reprieve with the redhead. 

---

Cross-posted to AO3

[wildflowerwritings19]

Nightmares on 1-A

Wrote my first fic! Here's an excerpt.

Summary: A collection of Class 1-A comforting each other after nightmares. In this chapter, Bakugou Katsuki finds Izuku Midoriya awake, alone, and still.

------------------

Sleep never came easy after the kidnapping, but he made due. Excusing himself from the common room wasn’t a rare occurrence, and had basically been expected of him since they moved into these god forsaken dorms. At first, a few of them would straggle after him as he turned away, calling out with some urgent task only he could attend to. Mina tried to coax him with food she couldn’t finish; Sero, a video game he failed to beat; Denki, an argument that needed to be settled.

After two weeks or so, they got the hint. Even Kirishima, with his offer to spar or study, stepped back. No use in being near people when he was basically useless. They finally let him be, and he was able to get a sacred extra hour of sleep before the unease rocked him up and out again. 

It was never a particular image or sound. Just a feeling. A feeling that he needed to be ready, that something was happening somewhere and would soon be at his throat. A sensation of his insides burning, like his quirk turned inward and blaring an alarm. A silent ringing in his ears that screamed to get up and stay up.

Studying was pointless like this, so Katsuki paced. Push-ups, squats, handstands. Jumping jacks, stretching, pull-ups. Anything to get the alarm to stop. Leaving the room could cause too much attention. Sero stayed up till 4 am playing games sometimes, and the Bird Boy was often up at night - some crap about the darkness calling him to rise or whatever. The idea of someone seeing Katsuki up every night, and god forbid, being concerned, made his blood boil. It was already bad enough that Aizawa checked in on him every goddamn day. He didn’t need fucking extras acting like they were better than him. 

Katsuki had run through his routine three times before finally rolling onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The breath scraping through his throat burned, raw and hollow as it seeped through his lungs. He clenched, unclenched his fists, let the sparks pop and the heat flicker at his fingertips. He still wasn’t tired.

He pulled himself to his feet, stretching his arms for the tenth time. How long had he been up? He glanced out the window, searching for a hint of sunrise. Still pitch black.

A bushel of green caught his eye.

Fucking Deku. Of course he was up. Kid didn’t know how to quit. 

Deku sat on the concrete stairwell at the dorm’s entrance, illuminated by a streetlight’s soft hum. Katsuki lost count of how many times he’d glance out the window to see green flashes of light buzzing, crackling as he practiced his kicks or flips. Sometimes Katsuki would spot him just mumbling to himself, erratically scratching his head with one hand, crushing a pencil in half with the other, still scribbling out notes and blueprints. The kid was always doing something, always desperate and frantic and annoying. 

But tonight, he was… still.

Just sitting. Staring. No notebook at his side, no textbook flipped open. Just looking out at the grounds. Alone.

Katsuki snatched a jacket and slipped on slides, straight for the door. He opened and closed it as slow as he dared, careful to muddle the click of the hinge. He padded down the stairs at their edges, avoiding the inevitable creak of shifting weight. He passed the common room with only an ounce of hope that no one would be up...

-

Check out the whole fic here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45974143/chapters/115719949

[rozcdust]

Ghost in your arms

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, a little bit of angst

Word count: 800ish

Warnings: Canon divergent, substance abuse, extensive talk about drugs, profanity, violence, panic attack, ooc

Synopsis: You didn’t think your night would end up with you taking care of a drugged up manchild, yet you found yourself in your apartment at 4 a.m., holding him as he wept into your collar bones.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

It felt like deja vu, a repeat of the night two weeks ago, when you found him, held him and helped him.

Yet he found himself in the same club, in the same booth, panic overflowing his every sense, whole body shaking and unable to breathe, clothes too tight, air too stuffy.

He didn’t even take a lot, it was only a line or two.

He felt like he was going to die.

Kakucho was with him the whole time, desperate, trying everything he could to easy Sanzu’s panic attack, but nothing seemed to work. As soon as Sanzu seemed like he was getting better, breathing slowing down, it’d start again all over.

“Sanzu, how much did you take? Sanzu? Sanzu!”

Kakucho’s words barely registered.

This wasn’t drug induced, this was just a panic attack.

‘What are you on? How much did you take?’

Your voice replaying in his brain, he shut his eyes tighter, breathing becoming even more erratic.

‘Don’t die on me, Pinkie Pie.’

His world was spinning.

‘Yes, even with those.’

“Kakucho, take me to y/n. I know the address, she’ll help me, I’m sure she will. Please.”

When Kakucho ringed the doorbell, supporting Sanzu who was still hyperventilating, he didn’t think you’d answer. It was 3 in the morning on a Wednesday night, after all, and it was two men infamous for their criminal affiliations standing on your doorstep.

You opened, eyes wide at the scene in front of you.

The lights in the house were on, papers and markers strewn around everywhere on the kitchen counter.

“Bring him to the couch.” You instructed, closing the door.

Kakucho nodded, settling Sanzu on the couch. As soon as you sat down next to him, he latched onto you, climbing into your lap, burying his face into your neck, seeking comfort, seeking shelter, seeking anything you’d give him if he could just breathe again.

“May I touch you?” You whispered, hands by your side.

Sanzu nodded, his whole world spinning.

He’s dying tonight, he was sure of it.

“Come on, breathe with me. Deep breath, seven seconds in. Hold for eight. Good. Breathe out for nine. Excellent, good job, pretty boy.”

Kakucho left after you convinced him Sanzu is safe with you, you’ll take care of him and he’ll come back without a scratch.

You didn’t think you’d end up laying in your bed with him as he rested his head on your chest, hands gripping your T-shirt again, craving warmth again.

He asked you if he was crushing you. Your only response was brushing his hair off of his face, so he laid back down, letting you gently massage his scalp.

“Hey, y/n?” His voice always turns soft around you, his usually booming statements turning into gentle whispers.

“Yes, baby?”

“Tell me I’m pretty again.”

Sitting up to leave careful, tender kisses on his temple and forehead, you happily obliged.

And then again.

And again.

And as many times as he asked.

He liked the way you treated him. It was loving, comforting, so unlike anything he’s used to. He enjoyed the way you treated him like a glass figurine, like something fragile and precious that might break even if you raised your voice a bit too high.

It became somewhat of a routine. Him, knocking at your doors at odd hours of the night a few times a week, usually high or drunk, reeking of cigarettes and rust.

He didn’t know when you started welcoming him with open arms and pet names slipping off your tongue, never questioning him, but he welcomed it. He learned pretty fast that if something wasn’t your direct problem, you weren’t gonna ask unless it was pointed out to you.

He always ended up in one of your oversized shirts, situated on your lap, or laying on top of you with his face buried in your neck, enjoying your soothing touches and barely there flutter of lips, listening to you talk about your day, or about college stress, or about a fight you had with a friend.

It didn’t matter to him what were you talking about, as long as you held him in your arms and showered him with compliments every time he asked you to.

There were no official announcements, no “What are we” talk, no extensive discussions.

He just kept knocking on your door, and you kept answering.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yes, baby boy?”

He has heard that pet name countless of times. It still made his heart flutter and the tips of his ears turn red.

“Why are you always so gentle with me?”

A surprised look appearing on your face, you chuckled. Carefully, your fingers grabbed his chin, making him look up at you. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your hand slipping to cup his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“I know you haven’t always been treated kindly, baby,” your lips were now on his neck, “But you deserve touches that don’t hurt too.”

[luminari-mc]

4 Female with satan

Late Night Rescue (Satan x f!MC)

Prompt 4: “I know it’s 2 in the morning, but do you want to...”

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life

Warnings: N/A

A/N: First Satan piece! Coincidentally enough, he has been growing on me a lot more lately. I hope I get to work more on him in the future so I can explore other parts of his personality (I just think he's neat).

-------------------------------------------

It was with a long, deep groan that MC's forehead met with the surface of her desk. Three long hours on this homework, and she still couldn't see the end of it. When the teacher had first said that the entire class was about to "taste true suffering" for getting a low score on the previous assignement, she didn't think he would actually be this serious. But what was she expecting, really, when it came from a demon teacher?

With a hand that had turned stiff from writing down notes since the beginning of her study session, MC grabbed her phone and slid it close to her face. She sighed upon seeing the time flash on her screen, reminding her of her grim reality.

2:13am.

"Aaah, and we have to wake up in 5 hours..." the hard truth fell from her lips as she painfully straightened herself in her chair. If Lucifer knew she was still awake at this hour, no doubt she would get a full-blown lecture after coming home from RAD tomorrow. She ran her hands over her face in an attempt to wake herself up as she groaned. She wasn't about to get any sleep tonight, was she?

"What's this coffee made out of, seriously?" Frowning, a pout birthed on her mouth upon looking down at her notes. The pile of books next to her only let her see how much more she would have to write before finalizing her assignment, and giving it back to the teacher tomorrow afternoon.

"It's not doing shit." MC propped her elbows on the desk- maybe a bit too loudly given the time-, and placed her head into her hands. If only she hadn't made a detour to the store with Asmo after school! But she had desperately needed new skincare products, and Asmo's puppy eyes had proven to be way too effective against her. Ugh, she could have been in bed already...

She felt her heart skip a bit when the phone under her hand began ringing, the soft ringtone she had set for nightly calls much welcomed to her ears. Although, a small knot took form in her throat as she began to wonder who could be calling her at such an hour. Maybe a wrong number?

She instantly placed the phone against her ear, her tired mind making her forget to check the name appearing on the screen. "Huh, hello?"

"Ah, so I was right. You are still awake after all." The voice, warm and affectionate in its tone, gave MC the impression that it was the first person she was speaking to in a week.

"Satan?" She asked, rubbing a wrist over her eyes.

"You know, I had a hunch it was going to take you some time to finish your work, after you've left dinner so quickly to close yourself in your room. But to still be going at it at this hour..." The demon clicked his tongue. "Did you even take a break since then?"

"No... I mean, I've finished most of my regular assignements. But I've been stuck on this one for a while now." MC replied as she turned around on her chair to stretch her legs, before curiosity took over her. "How did you guess?"

"I went to the kitchen to grab some water." The blonde answered over the phone. "That's when I noticed the light from under your door. I didn't want to bother you, in case you had fallen asleep with the lights on, so I didn't dare knocking."

Looking back at the door, MC felt lucky it had been Satan who called, and not another one of the demons. The Avatar of Wrath had always been one of the few men in the house who had always respected her boundaries whenever she asked to be left alone, especially more when it was to work on something. Yet, she couldn't help but clutch the phone a little more against her ear, feeling grateful that he was checking up on her in the middle of the night.

"Well, I'm definitely not sleeping right now." She giggled slightly. "But what about you, though? Were you asleep before going to the kitchen? I wouldn't want you to stay awake because of me."

Satan's laugh brought a warm feeling in her stomach as it entered her ear. "Actually, I wasn't. There's been a particular problem that's been keeping me awake, you see. So I've been trying to find an idea as to how I can resolve it."

"A problem?" MC blinked, her eyes opening a bit wider.

"You left dinner relatively early today, so you didn't catch up on it." Satan explains. "But I've recently noticed the presence of a kitten in the cemetary. It's been there for a few days now, and as far as I know, it doesn't seem that it left the area to return to a home, so it's just been taking shelter in one of the mausoleums. I told Lucifer about possibly bringing it inside to give him in a warm place so it can sleep and eat, but of course, he refused on the spot."

MC arched an eyebrow. "I thought you of all people wouldn't care about Lucifer's rules when it comes to cats."

The demon laughed in response.

"Oh trust me, I'd love nothing more than to defy his rules on a daily basis. But I've sneaked cats in the house in the past, and it usually doesn't end well for me, and the cats eventually have to leave. It also wouldn't be easy to bring this kitten inside, now that Lucifer knows about it." Satan sighs loud enough for MC to hear over the phone. "No doubt he would be on my tail if I were to try anything."

She mimicked the demon, letting a puff of air escape her nose in frustration. Lucifer was very stubborn when it came to having animals in the House of Lamentation, the only exception obviously being Henry 2.0 since he was a small goldfish. Even Mammon had been yelled at whenever his crows would enter through the windows to drop freshly stolen goods at his feet, but they'd usually only stay for a couple of minutes. So convincing the first-born to let Satan take care of a kitten... would prove to be challening, no doubt.

MC didn't have the time to offer her support, than Satan immediately started speaking again.

"But you know, MC." The smile in his voice seemed to have doubled in an instant. "I think I may have found a solution to this problem of mine. Now, I know you're still stuck on your homework... And I know it’s 2 in the morning, but do you want to..."

Satan let the end of his sentence unfinished, probably waiting for MC to guess it. Her mouth stayed agape for a few seconds, until she finally took the hint.

"Do I want to... help you?"

"We all know Lucifer has a soft spot for you." MC could hear Satan move around his room as he continued to explain his plan. "I take that if you and I were to go and bring this kitten to one of our rooms, he would be a bit more mellow than if I were to try on my own. Would you be up for it?"

MC weighted the ups and downs in her mind. On one hand, getting caught by Lucifer could result in a punishment her exhausted body wouldn't probably be able to take. But on the other hand, she was the only one at this hour who could help Satan with this predicament. And MC would be lying to herself, if she said she didn't want to see this kitten and give it a better home than a cold, damp mausoleum.

"Ah, and if you need a bit more convincing-" Satan's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "I'll help you finish that assignement of yours tomorrow morning. Whatever it is, I can assure you we'll be done before lunch."

"You would?!" She found herself gasping as if she had just heard the best news of her life. "Satan, that would help so much!"

"It's for Curses and Hexes, isn't it?" Satan's chuckle felt like honey to her ears. "That teacher really is as sadistic as Lucifer, so no wonder you're having a hard time with it. Don't worry, I'll even complete the assignement for you if we need to."

"I'll help!" MC declared, practically jumping out of her chair to go grab her shoes near the door. "B-But, I was going to accept even before you offered me your help, just so you know!"

"Haha, I know MC. You are truly kind." Satan's words felt sincere. "Now then, shall we meet by the entrance? Be careful not to make any noise on your way there. This rescue mission depends entirely on our discretion, after all."

"I'll be so silent, Lucifer might as well think I turned into a ghost." MC grinned while crouching to put her shoes on. "See you soon, Satan. Let's help that kitten together."

"Thank you, MC. I'm really looking forward to do this with you. I will see you there." As Satan hung up, MC could swear all of the exhaustion she had previously acquired in the past few hours vanish in an instant. Who cared in the moment if her back ached a little? Something much more interesting than taking notes was about to take place.

As MC grabbed her jacket and flipped it around her shoulders, she found herself smiling upon stepping out of her room, this innocent but sneaky rescue mission with Satan making her the most excited she had been in weeks. And with him getting to help her tomorrow... it seemed like, for the first time in a while, her stubbornness had worked in her favor.

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs: 2

It’s been almost a week since Steve, Sam and Bucky came to fight the wildfires. You’ve got a routine down with the guys, and so does Cooper. You always have food ready for them when they leave and when they come home. Coffee is always ready for them when they leave and Cooper is waiting at the door for them when they get home.

Each man has taken huge comfort from your therapy dog, and he loves all the extra attention he’s getting from the three men. Cooper does force his way into each of their rooms at one time or another over the week and you’ve got a feeling that those won’t be the only time you’re alone on the couch.

Cooper had followed Steve into his room tonight and you’d gone to bed alone.

You wake as you’re being lifted. “What the hell?” You gasp with a start but you’re shushed softly, his scent fills your nose and you calm quickly.

“It’s me Fawn. I’m putting you to bed.” Steve says softly as he carries you up to your bedroom. “I’m gonna share a room with Buck, you can’t keep sleeping on the couch.”

“No, you’re fighting the fires. I’m just hanging out here.”

“And getting up at all hours to take care of us.” He argues as you try to get out of his grip. “Fawn, I’m not backing down from this one.” He says, his Alpha coming out as he tightens the hold he has on you, his face is close to yours, close enough for you to see the little flecks of green in those blue eyes of his. You sigh and loop an arm around his neck,

“Fine.” You grumble, you’ve heard the Alpha command in his voice, the voice that you literally can’t argue with. “But wouldn’t it make more sense for Sam and Bucky to share?”

“You’d think. If they have too much together time they get snippy. So I’ll just bounce between the two beds.”

“Are you sure?” You hope to change his mind but his face tells you that isn’t happening.

“Yes. You’ve opened your home to us, let us borrow your dog and taken care of us. You deserve your bedroom.” He says shoving open the door with his foot. He sets you gently on your feet and then gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He leaves and closes the door gently behind him. You climb into your bed and sigh softly, it is nice being back in your bed. Not that you’ll ever tell Steve that. It smells like him, it’s comforting and you fall asleep quickly.

You’re up a couple hours later, you pass a sleepy looking Steve in the hallway and a slightly confused Cooper. You head down the stairs and get some coffee going for Sam and pop the blueberry bagel he likes into the toaster. Then you move on to Bucky’s food. You take the plate you’d prepared the night before out of the fridge and peel off the cover. You turn the oven on warm and slide the plate in then go back up to bed and find Cooper sprawled out across it,

“Move over Coop.” You grumble as you climb back into bed. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

The next time you wake it’s 8:30 and you’ve got to get food ready for Steve. You can hear him in the shower as you head back down to the kitchen. You like to make a full breakfast for the first meal to make sure that they don’t get hungry too quickly while they’re working. Today you’re planning on doing breakfast burritos, something that you can each assemble on your own. Steve comes down a half hour later, just as you’re wrapping up your own burrito.

“How did you sleep?” He asks reaching for a shell.

“Pretty good, Cooper is a bed hog.”

“I’ve noticed he likes to be almost on top of you when he sleeps with you.”

“Part of his training. The weight can help people with anxiety or stress and you all have such high stress jobs.”

“We really appreciate both of you. You sound like the best host from what we’ve heard from the other guys.”

“I’ve always been a caregiver so it’s nice having people to help. Even if I can’t help in the same way that you guys do.”

“Believe me, knowing that we can come home to a bed, good food, a kind soul and a therapy dog is more help than you’ll ever know.” You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face,

“Good. Any requests for dinner tonight?”

“Something pasta?” He offers finishing off his breakfast.

“Okay.” You agree and hold a hand out for his plate.

“Thank you, for everything.” You nod as he stands up and heads for the door.

“Be safe.” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

“I will.” He says, a pleased scent rolls off of him before he heads out to work. Your conversation with him has given you an idea, but you’re going to need some help.

You get to calling other therapy dog handlers in the area. You know that it’s a big ask for them to come to the base of the mountain when it’s on fire but it’s for a good cause. You’ll set up with as many dogs for as many shifts as you can, every couple of days to give the dogs a bit of a break, the handlers too but mostly the dogs.

You’re able to get fifteen people in the area and you have two dogs per shift, even the 4 am shift. You’re able to rotate the dogs in a couple of shifts, so that no one is going too often and the dogs can get a little bit of a break.

You’re so excited that you’re able to do this for them, and you get to start today. You decide to head to basecamp to let Steve know. You want to make sure that the firefighters stop at Blots coffee shop before they head back to their homes tonight. You head toward base camp, it’s only a few miles up the mountain and park near one of the trails you know that skirts the forest. The smoke is worse here than it is near your house but it’s not terrible. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder then make your way up toward Pancho’s Bar where you know they run the fire fighting operation.

As you walk the air gets thicker with smoke, it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe but you can taste the smoke on every inhale. Before you get to Pancho’s you see Steve a little further down the street talking to two other firefighters. He seems so much bigger in all of his gear, as you make your way toward him he sees you and his brows furrow. He pushes past the other firefighters and makes his way to you with long strides.

“Fawn?”

“Hey,” you say and Steve looks, almost worried.

“Fawn, what are you doing up here? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve got a surprise for the firefighters. Down in town.” You tell him suppressing a cough, “I didn’t want anyone to miss it so I thought I’d come up.”

“Oh, hey Grey.” You have to stop yourself from frowning at Brock, he’s such a jerk and his smell is always so sour.

“Brock.” You say before you start to cough.

“C’mere,” Steve says pulling his face mask away from him you step closer and when he hands it to you you take it. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me okay?” He says and cool fresh air tinted with his scent flows into the mask that you hold over your mouth and nose. It soothes you more than you’d like it to. “The smoke is way worse up here. You should head back to town.”

“Please let people know to come down to Blots for the surprise okay?”

“So how do you know Grey?” You do frown this time.

“Sam, Bucky and I are staying at her place.” Steve says gruffly not looking at Brock but keeping an eye on you. You hand Steve back the mask and give him a little smile. “I’ll make sure to tell people. Please go right back to town.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Bye Grey!” Brock calls and before you can leave Steve stops you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“Why does he keep calling you that?”

“Because I’m boring. Like the color grey, there’s nothing exciting about me.” Anger crosses his face and he glares in Brock’s direction.

“That isn’t-“ he pauses as you cough again and he once more passes you his mask, “breathe.” You do as he says, “we’ll talk about this back at the house. But that’s not true okay? It’s not true.” You nod then hand back the mask. “How did you even get up here?”

“There’s a trail that Coop and I use a lot, on the edge of the woods and it’s quick and easy.”

“Straight home okay?”

“Yea.” You agree before realizing that he’s just given you an Alpha command, you glance over your shoulder at him and when you see he’s watching give him a little wave before you start walking back down the mountain. You feel his eyes on you until you round the corner. The wind has picked up a bit since you’d come up but it’s nice, and moving the smoke further up hill. It probably doesn’t make fighting the fires easier but at least it’s not pushing anything downhill.

You hear the crack but it doesn’t register until it’s too late. The branch hits you in the shoulder and you collapse under the weight of it.

You’re dazed, you must’ve hit your head because it’s throbbing but you’re not sure if you’ve lost consciousness or not. Your right arm is pinned under the massive branch and your left has some wiggle room but not enough to do you any good, especially with the throbbing pain in your left shoulder. You try to push with your legs to slide yourself out from under the branch but have no luck. Your phone is in your right pocket, right where you can’t reach it. But your watch might be able to help you still.

“Friday?” It beeps twice, “call Steve.” He’s the first person you think of.

“Calling Steve on Stark Phone.”

“Call him on watch!” You say but it doesn’t. “Damn it!” You watch the watch until it says connected. “Steve! I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m pinned under a branch. Halfway to my car. God please be able to hear me. I can’t reach my phone. I really need help.” You take a steadying breath to try and keep yourself calm. “Go down the hill by the forest, you can’t miss me. Please help.” You try to free yourself again but it’s hopeless, the branch is too heavy and you manage nothing.

God you hope that Steve heard you, or that his voicemail did. You don’t know how long you lay there, occasionally struggling against the branch but you suddenly hear him.

“Fawn!”

“Steve! I’m here!”

“Fawn! Keep yelling Honey!”

“I’m here! By the woods! Steve!” You can’t see him yet but you swear that you can smell him, so you keep yelling, “I’m here! Over here!”

“I see you Fawn! I’m coming.” Sure enough a set of hands lift the log off of you and another set pulls you out from under it. “Don’t move.” Steve says easing you gently back onto the ground. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know. I think so?”

“Buck, check for concussion.” He orders from where he’s holding your head.

“Bucky? What time is it?”

“Almost 7. Sam called about an hour ago, but I didn’t answer because I was busy. When you called I knew something was wrong.”

“Steve calm down.” Bucky growls pulling a flashlight from his pocket.

“I feel like such an idiot.” You whisper as Steve takes a deep breath. Bucky shines a flashlight in your eyes then holds up a finger.

“Follow the finger.” He says and you do as he says and he gives you a smile. “You’re good.”

“I’m just glad we found you.” Steve says softly. “And that you’re okay. Does anything hurt before we move you?”

“My left shoulder but that’s what the branch hit first.”

“I’m going to just check it really quick okay?” Bucky says and you nod, he gently probes at your shoulder. He hits where the branch did and you hiss at the jolt of pain, a low growl comes from Steve. Bucky runs you through a couple of moves to see if it’s dislocated and once he’s satisfied that it’s not he gives you the all clear and Steve helps you to your feet.

“Buck, let Fury know I’m going back with Fawn.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Last time I let you go alone you got hit by a branch.”

“That’s what we call a freak accident.”

“I’m still not letting you go alone.”

“But you’ll miss the surprise!”

“I’m staying with a therapy dog. I don’t need to go meet other ones.” He huffs, you can practically feel the irritation rolling off of him. You frown but he has a point, you glare up at him, “Let’s go Fawn.”

“Stop it.” You snap, even though your stomach lurches at your defiance of his Alpha command.

“Stop what?”

“You keep Alpha commanding me!” He looks surprised for just a second then schools his expression.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to. When an Omega does something dangerous it just kind of happens.” You stare at him, how the hell does he know you’re an Omega?

“I’m not an Omega. I’m a Beta.” He looks sharply over at you his eyes narrowing.

“Huh,” he doesn’t say anything else but gestures for you to follow him down the mountain.

When you get to your car you look over at Steve, still in all his gear.

“Do you need to go get anything?”

“Buck can drive the truck back rather than getting a ride. Do you want me to drive?”

“If you don’t mind.” You hand him the keys, you’ve got one hell of a headache and your shoulder is throbbing but Bucky gave you the okay to go. After you get in the car and buckle you sigh softly before muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Causing problems. I was just so excited about the dogs that I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have gone up.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He agrees, “I had a big long speech ready for you but you beat me to it.” You laugh softly then wince, laughing hurts. “Let me know if we need to take you to the ER.”

“I will.”

“If you’re comfortable I’d like to take a look at your shoulder and probably ribs before we go to bed. Bucky is our best EMT but I still know what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” you grumble and he shoots you a look. “I’ve learned over the last week it’s just easier not to argue with you. Besides, I don’t need you Alpha commanding me again.”

“Damn right it’s best not to argue with me. But I won’t Alpha command you to do anything, at least I won’t on purpose. Please let me know if I do again okay?”

“Oh, okay.” You’re surprised, but you do appreciate it.

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