#and suddenly you're looking for six different things at once

[alex-guerin]

Guys...all I wanted was a blankie out of the chest under my window. My room was all nice and picked up...then I went and upset a delicate balance and now I sit on my bed wondering what hurricane blew thru my room while I looked for my blankie, going, "Okay...this looks bad..."

[sanguineterrain]

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Torn VI

Kewis x Child!Reader

Summary: You go to hospital

Kristie is at training.

Summer holidays usually means preseason for Sam. It usually means a few weeks where the three of you get to do fun things together before going back into preseason.

But with her knee, it means more time lazing around the house with you.

You're having a lot of fun playing dinosaurs with her, not yet changed out of your fuzzy Spinosaurus onesie as one of the Land Before Time episodes plays on the tv.

You drop your toy though and Sam gently moves it away.

Your seizures have gotten easier to deal with now that you've gone on your medicine. They've gone down to maybe two or three every few days and, while you're none the wiser about why your seizures are a bad thing, it makes Kristie and Sam feel safer.

But this one is different.

Usually, your seizures are only a few seconds long but, as Sam checks her phone, she knows it's been a few minutes now.

That's never happened before and, as your mouth opens and closes in repetitive chewing movements, she jerks into action.

There's blood in your mouth.

Blood that definitely shouldn't be there.

She fumbles with her phone for a moment, almost dropping it completely.

"Hello? Yes, er, I need an ambulance! My-My kid's having a seizure and she's bleeding and-and I don't know what to do!"

Questions rattle off the operator's lips faster than Sam can keep up.

"Yes. She's five, nearly six. Er, she's got CAE but this is different. I-I don't know! She's kind of jerking a little bit? And I think she's bitten her cheek because she's bleeding. She's on medication but...Yes, I'm Mum."

Sam rattles off more information, anything she can think of and the operator is nice enough to stay on the phone until the ambulance gets there.

It's only when Sam's at the hospital that she realises Kristie's at training.

Kristie's at training and is none the wiser about what's just happened.

Riding in the ambulance was the scariest thing Sam has ever done with you, far eclipsing the other scariest thing she had ever done with you which was hiding all of Kristie's eyebrow pencils.

You'd had an accident in the ambulance which all the paramedics said was normal. You bit at your cheek again which all the paramedics said was expected.

You'd jerked your little limbs and suddenly looked smaller than your almost six years as you lay in the stretcher in your fuzzy dinosaur onesie.

"Chook, baby," Sam had said in the ambulance," It's going to be okay. Alright? You're going to be alright."

It takes Sam a while to pluck up the courage to call Kristie, to let her know that something's happened to you and now you're in hospital.

Kriste's there within the hour, just as you wake up.

You'd briefly been awake when your seizure was over but so exhausted and so confused, Sam had coaxed you to sleep again.

“Mommy,” You say as your eyelids flutter open, reaching out for her.

Kristie grabs your hand quickly, squeezing ever so slightly like she’s making sure that you’re with her. “Hey, chook,” She coos as Sam appears at your other side,” How are you feeling?”

You frown. “Mom talked to me,” You say instead.

“Huh?”

“When I went all funny. I heard Mom talkin’ to me.”

“You could hear that, huh, chook?” Sam asks, taking your other hand and you nod.

“You said I was going to be okay. What happened?” You frown, looking down at yourself. “Where’s my dino pjs?”

“They’re going in the wash, chook,” Sam says,” They…They got a bit dirty in the ambulance.”

“Ambulance?”

“Yes, the ambulance. Do you remember, chook? You…You had a pretty bad…episode, didn’t you?”

“My arms went all floppy and weird.”

“That’s right. That must have been scary, huh?”

You shake you head. “No, ‘cause I had Mom saying everything will be okay. Mom doesn’t lie about important things like that.”

Kristie smiles. It’s a weak smile though and Sam knows that a crying session is inevitable once this is all sorted out. Kristie can hold herself together for you. She has to be strong for you, her little girl that only kind of understands what has happened to her.

“The doctors are going to come in and have a look at you, alright?” Kristie runs a finger over your nose and you giggle a little bit, going cross eyed to track its slope downwards.

“Okay and then we go back home?”

“Maybe,” Sam says,” We’ll see what they say. They might want to keep you a bit later.”

It’s not unlike your other doctor appointments, when they put you in the big machine and did tests. The inside of your cheek is a little tender when you run your tongue along it and your arms are kind of bruised and weird looking. You think your head is a little achy too but you’ve got pillows behind it so you don’t really notice.

“And you think this is a one off?” Kristie says from outside your hospital room, glancing back inside as you and Sam watch another Land Before Time episode on her phone.

“It’s not uncommon for children with CAE to experience other types of seizures. They go away with age-“

“That’s what they said about the CAE but look at her! She’s in hospital. The meds…They’re meant to be helping-“

“Miss Mewis,” The doctor says,” I understand completely but these things do happen. She’s happy and healthy and we’ve got information leaflets to help parents get through this kind of thing. We recommend a follow up with her neurologist and GP just to be on the safe side but this is all normal. Plenty of people live with seizures every day.”

Kristie releases a noisy breath. “Right. Yes. How soon until we go home?”

“Tomorrow should be good. We can set up a bed for one of your to stay here with her overnight but this is all just precaution. As long as everything is a-okay tomorrow morning, we can get you all in your way.”

“Thank you,” Kristie says,” I’ll just go in and tell her.”

You look up as Kristie comes in, head tilting to the side and hair falling over your eyes. “Mommy?”

“I’m going to stay here with you tonight,” Kristie says, sitting on the bed with you,” And then tomorrow, we’re going to go home. Sound good?”

You think for a moment. “And then my dino pjs will get washed?”

“I’ll wash them tonight,” Sam promises you,” And I’ll make sure they’re all toasty warm for you when you get home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You say,” We can stay here for the night.”

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so that's it's own warning if you don't like reading fics featuring him. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers. Some descriptions of illness and death

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,907

A/N: The next part is here and we've got some soft Doffy and in denial Doffy because lets face it the man isn't going to admit his feelings so easily. I hope you all like how this chapter turned out. I think this might be the longest chapter yet. Hopefully the next one won't have as long a wait

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(here) | Chapter Twelve(coming soon)

——————

Once again being soulmates had yielded unforeseen benefits- for a lack of a better term- with the way Doflamingo’s touch meant your body was incapable of feeling pain from your sickness. Doflamingo watched silently as one of the doctors approached to conduct their morning observations of your condition. The doctor, highly aware of his ruler’s intense stare, flinched when they lifted your hand into their’s, already braced and expecting your expression to contort into one of pain. He only relaxed when you continued to sleep, unbothered by the touch that would have caused you to audibly cry out in pain just hours prior. 

With a shaky breath, the doctor became a little braver and pressed their fingers against your wrist to measure your pulse. The night before, when they were first summoned to your chambers after being alerted to your illness this was something they couldn’t properly measure because of the extreme pain you were in. Now he and his colleagues could breathe a little easier, selfishly relieved their lives weren’t entirely endangered when it came to treating you now. 

“Any change?” The doctor jumped suddenly at Doflamingo’s deep voice breaking through the unbearable, tense silence.

“Uh their heart rate is still increased as we’re expecting to be the case for now. But it’s a good sign it hasn’t worsened.” They explained, swallowing the lump in their throat. Even though he was confident in his and the abilities of his colleagues, there was just no predicting how Doflamingo would take any of their statements. He could lash out quite easily and without any remorse or hesitation simply because he wanted to or because their phrasing didn’t fit with what he wanted to hear. “This long period of uninterrupted sleep has made a clear difference. When they wake we'll attempt them with something to eat-something light like broth- and if they can stomach that we’ll begin the first round of medication.”

The seconds ticked by heavily as the doctor waited for Doflamingo to make a comment on the proposed next course of action. He knew better than to prod or say anything that could be seen as forcing a response. So the doctor could only wait and continue to check over you, gently settling your hand against your body before doing another read of your temperature, knowing to monitor your fluctuating fever and chills. Still you didn’t even so much as twitch, the doctor didn't think he’d ever get used to seeing how the power of a soulmate could defy what he knew as a medical professional. “When you’ve finished, discuss an appropriate menu with the cooks and have them begin to prepare it.” 

Taking no further encouragement at his King’s finally uttered words, the doctor completed his checks and updated his notes before bowing and leaving quickly. Silently they were happy their next shift to check on your wouldn’t be until the next morning. Alone again, Doflamingo looked down at your sleeping form. With Doflamingo sitting up against the headrest, you were propped up too but sleeping soundly and unmoved since the second he pulled you into his hold. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Annoyance that he’d acted in the moment without thinking. The image of your twisted in extreme distress flashed in his head and he turned his head away to scowl, refusing to consider the implications of his actions anymore than he’d already begun to. 

Thankfully you broke his attention by shifting in your sleep, a long lazy groan breaking from your lips as you stirred and forced your eyes to open. Doflamingo noted how exhausted you still looked but the sleep you’d managed to get without feeling pain had helped in some capacity. As you stared blankly in front of you the haze of sleep fell, confusion began to take over. Then panic. Sluggishly you tried to push the covers away and sit up fully. “Late…I’m late.” You croaked out, voice thick with tiredness and trembling with the infection still coursing through you. “Captain’s going…to kill me.”

Doflamingo tilted his head to the side curiously, you didn’t seem to realise he was there and from your sickly rambling it seemed you didn’t even know where you were. With how warm your skin felt he saw the spike in your fever was leaving you confused. He watched your feeble attempt to fight against the covers and listened to you mumble about morning drills for another few seconds before he acted. With ease he pulled the cover back to its original place and lean in so his chest was against your back a little more so he could tell you softly. “You’re on shore leave remember?”

At his voice you stopped and numbly nodded with a small hum of acknowledgement. Slowly you rolled over and slumped to lie down again, your back against his side and head resting on his bicep. While you weren’t conscious enough to know being in his hold prevented your body to feel pain, it seemed like your body now knew out of instinct that this was the only surefire solution for relief. Already your breathing had evened out to signal you were asleep but still Doflamingo could hear the tightened wheeze preventing you from taking calmer, deeper breaths like you normally would. Doflamingo glanced at the clock on the wall, already aware of the doctors’ routine with checking on you. The next would be arriving in twenty minutes, and if the previous doctor had obeyed his order then a servant would be bringing something for you to eat as well. 

In the meantime Doflamingo used his strings to pull the morning’s paper from the table into his waiting hand. Bored and in need of something to occupy his time, he slowly leafed through the pages, taking in the reports from around the world. Some stories about skirmishes made him grin, knowing he was behind the reason both sides had so much weaponry at their disposal and the bloodshed was increasing as he’d expected it to. Other stories of other pirates causing trouble and increasing their bounties made him roll his eyes at the numbers. No doubt the weaklings thought this made them big-shots in the New World but it would only be a matter of time before they ran into someone of real power to knock them down to the harsh reality of these seas. Doflamingo turned the page and paused to see a full story dedicated to the illness you were afflicted with, claiming more lives on the island you’d caught it at. His grin lessened and the vein in his head throbbed as he read through the claims that the island’s best doctors and with the aid of neighbouring islands were administering the treatments needed but for so many it was too late.

‘The cruelty of the illness is so severe to the afflicted that they physically cannot bear to be touched long enough to be treated. Meaning that so many of those that could be saved are unable to endure help from their saviours. These poor souls are meant to spend the last days of life in constant pain while also being too weakened with internal ailments to take matters into their own hands. The only saving grace in this poor report is that thankfully the illness’ source has been dealt with and the island will not suffer more of its populace to fall victim to this calamity. The island’s ruler-thankfully one of those not infected- was quoted to say “We mourn the tragic loss of life but our island will recover.”’ Doflamingo clicked his tongue harshly and discarded the paper.

————

“Just try some please.” You screwed up your face in exhausted distaste at the bowl on the tray. Your eyes stung, even with them being half-opened felt so heavy. Even blinking felt like a massive effort and you had no energy. You just wanted to sleep but the servant and doctor in front of you kept insisting on coaxing you to eat so they could give you medicine. Your gaze dropped to the vial of dark green liquid on the tray and you felt yourself gag, already anticipating the foul taste. “Just a spoonful?”

“No thank you.” You croaked out, turning your head away slightly in case they tried to force it into your mouth. You spotted the fear in their eyes at your refusal to even take a drop of the broth made specifically for you. Even with your mind clouded with the illness you knew they were doing everything they could to avoid the stare of the man you were leaning against. You knew that the reason Doflamingo was in your bed and had your body propped against him, his arm around your waist had been explained but honestly you were too weakened and drained to have really processed what the doctor had told you. All you could really retain was because he was your soulmate and that it was somehow helping. Which only left you more confused about everything. You could feel how tense Doflamingo was, impatient and silently angry. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his tantrums and taking any frustration out on a servant and doctor so you sighed.“Just leave it to the side. I’ll try later.”

While that seemed to relieve the two in front of you, your words only brought an extra note of silent displeasure from the Warlord. If you had the power to roll your eyes you would have. Instead you blankly watched the tray get moved to your bedside table. The servant retreated to the wall closest to the door, silently waiting for permission to leave while the doctor began to check over your condition. Already you were sick of being poked, prodded, and pestered like this and fussed over so intently. “Everything is about the same from the last recordings taken. I don't think we’ll see any real change until the treatment properly begins.”

“Subtle.” You remarked dryly, feeling like a child being lectured for not eating their vegetables.

“Please try to take some before the next check.” You gave no further response to the doctor, watching him and the servant finally leave. The second the door clicked closed you felt movement behind you and glared weakly as the tray as pulled back onto the bed beside you.

“I said I’d-”

“I know what you said.” Doflamingo noted far too evenly for your liking. “I also know that you lied when you said you’d try later. You’d really hurt their feelings by lying?”

“Rather their feelings get hurt than you hurt them physically.” You uttered before breaking out into a cough. Thankfully this time you felt no pain or brought up any blood but the tightness in your chest and constant action left your wheezing and breathless. When you’d recovered you glowered at Doflamingo as he adjusted you to recline back and hold a spoon of broth out to you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re too weak and stubborn to feed yourself.”

“No. This.” You barely managed to tap his arm around your waist. “Why insist I get better? Why help? This could kill me if we do nothing.” Doflamingo felt his jaw tighten as he fought to keep his expression unreadable to you. Thankfully your usual perception was dulled considerably and you failed to notice how your words got under his skin him and made him bristle. Instead he brought the spoon a little closer to divert your attention away from the question. Unfortunately your stubbornness and deep—seated need to defy him was still very much in tact. “Tell me.”

“Well I didn’t infect you did I?” Doflamingo asked smoothly, deciding to opt for an easier explanation for his actions, more for his own benefit than yours. “It’d be the same as having someone else kill you and that’s not going to happen. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” You grumbled as you eyed the spoon hesitantly. If you gave in and tried the broth then it meant you were doing what Doflamingo wanted. Not wanting to lose to him in the strange sense of point scoring you both had you slowly looked at him, already seeing his grin appear when he could tell you were contemplating giving in and eating. Spurned on you pursed your lips slightly. “Say please first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Doflamingo ground out. Why did he expect that being sick would make you more agreeable. “Isn’t me holding you so you can sleep and spoon-feeding you enough?”

“You did that on your own.” You remarked with a pout, refusing to comment on how truthfully comfortable and reassured you felt against him. “You want me to eat? Say please.”

Doflamingo stared you down for what felt like an eternity. He was once a Celestial Dragon. Anything he wanted he took. Even now as Dressrosa’s king that was still the case. His every whim and wish was granted when he opened his mouth. Not once had he ever said please, or had to genuinely ask for something. Harshly he bit the inside of his mouth at the sheer absurdity of it all. Suddenly you began to cough again, this time more persistent that the previous bout that racked through your body. He glared at the sound of your worsened wheeze, no doubt because of the amount of talking and effort it was having on your body. Unwillingly he recalled the doctors telling him that your readings hadn’t changed and that  your body needed the balance of rest and nutrients to even be able to fight off the infection. Just because being in his hold meant you didn’t feel pain, it didn’t free you from the infection itself still coursing through your body and getting stronger. As you caught your breath, Doflamingo gnashed his teeth together and forced out a simple but audible. “Please.”

Surprise managed to bring a small amount of light to your eyes. Quite honestly you had expected Doflamingo to force your mouth open before even letting that one little word break from his own. Still you weren’t one to go back on your word and now having the knowledge that you made the Doflamingo Donquixote say please, made the fact you had to be spoon-fed like a baby less humiliating. Taking a breath you nodded and parted your lips, accepting the food reluctantly. 

For the entire process you were surprised to find Doflamingo didn’t rush you, simply waiting in silence for you to attempt the next spoonful offered. Even more surprising was that he seemed to know you’d reached your limit before you had to say so. The bowl was set aside and you let out a tired sigh of relief. Your relief was short-lived because immediately Doflamingo lifted the small vial of medicine and removed the topper and brought it closer. “You already used your ‘please’ so no absurd requests for this one.” 

“It’s fine…” You mumbled, more for yourself than anything else. “I’ve had awful shots in worse bars in the past…I can do this.” Doflamingo chuckled and helped tip the contents of the vial into your mouth, watching you force it down and tense as the full taste hit you. You winced and let out a shuddering breath. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d tasted in your life but even with the doctors making a clear attempt to make the experience more tolerable for you, it was clear it was medicine and nothing to be entirely enjoyed. You gratefully took a sip of water when it was offered to you and already felt the strange numbing warmth begin to spread through you from the medicine. You shifted to get comfortable and curled up, a yawn building in your chest that didn’t feel as tight as it had just a few moments ago. “You don’ have to stay…”

“Oh? You got someone else lined up to sneak in here if I go?” Doflamingo asked with a chuckle. You’d unknowingly moved your arm over his chest at the same time you told him he could go.

“Mhm…” You nodded, mind already hazy and eyes closed. “Don’ be jealous…’kay?”

“Oh I already told you I don’t get jealous, remember?” Doflamingo smirked as you sleepily laughed and forced your eyes open to briefly look at him.

“You also never said please before. First time…for everything hm?” Your sleepy triumphant smile was so endearing that Doflamingo couldn’t even get annoyed at your reminder of your getting the upper hand over him. Even if he did, you wouldn’t have heard anything because you were promptly asleep.

———

You were completely knocked out and in the deepest sleep when the doctors came by for their next check on you. They informed Doflamingo that your response to the first dose of medication was a promising sign. They explained that they’d ensured there was a good balance to assist your immune system to fight the infection, relax your airways, regulate your temperature, manage pain relief, and protect the vital organs. Doflamingo nodded in satisfaction at the report. “My King, there is something we’d like to test while they’re sleeping.” The doctor requested glancing briefly to your sleeping form still against Doflamingo’s chest. “Can you move them out of your touch? I’d like to ensure the pain relief is correct for them? We don’t want to risk them being under or over medicated in that respect.”

Doflamingo hesitated for the briefest second but relented, settling his arms around you and shifting to pass you down to lie against the pillows and climbed out of the bed. He watched silently and hands tensed, to use his strings and stop the doctor if need be. It seemed the doctor was nervous, already remembering what almost happened to her colleague the first night they tended to you. Experimentally her hand settled against yours, sighing in relief to see your fingers twitch at the contact but you gave no other reaction. your expression was kept at its calm, relaxed state as it had been while you slept in Doflamingo’s arms. “That’s promising. My King, you can leave them while they’re sleeping now should you wish? Stretch your legs or even attend to other business. They shouldn’t wake for another few hours if our assumptions are correct.” 

He nodded and offered you another glance. Immediately he felt reluctant to leave you and for that reason he forced himself to leave your quarters, needing desperately to clear his head and get away from your presence. He needed something recognisable, routine. Doflamingo headed straight for his own room and into his personal bathroom. The strong heat and stream of water from the shower helped to loosen the knots in his body and unravel some of the tension that had built in him over the course of the last few days. Between rushing home to Dressrosa from the Marine base until this moment he hadn’t let you out of his sight and had practically ignored everything else. When he was dried and changed, he made his way to the dining room, deciding to actually spend time with his family and eat while making sure to not give you a second thought, out of sheer determination to prove to himself he wasn’t in anyway concerned about you. 

“Doffy what do you think?” Doflamingo blinked in the middle of the meal, only now realising that he’d been absently looking at the time on the clock. Had he been unconsciously checking how long was left until you woke? No. He couldn’t have. He was just tired, he didn’t sleep at the best of times and the shower he had and wine he was drinking was just making him sleepy. 

“About what Diamanté?”

“We were just saying how funny the whole thing with that island is.” His elite officer said. “It’s further proof that you two are soulmates.”

“How so?” Doflamingo asked, not understanding how you getting sick was proof. Then again he’d not been listening to the first part of the conversation, a point no one at the table would point out. Doflamingo couldn’t help but think you would though. The second he slipped on anything, you would promptly call him out on it. Sharply he shoved that thought out of his head and focused on Diamanté who spoke, unfazed at having to no doubt repeat himself. 

“Well it was just a nothing little island, with nothing little criminals storing weapons for us. None of us were meant to even go there for the hand over.” He explained with an amused smile. “If I recall right we were going to send one of the middle tier pirate crews under your command to go. You decided last minute to go. If you hadn’t then you never would have encountered them and brought them here to then be treated by the doctors for that deadly infection. It’s interesting how it all played out isn’t it?”

Interesting certainly was one way of putting it and it was something Doflamingo couldn’t help but continue to consider it after dinner. He remembered now. It was just how Diamanté reminded him. A crew similar to Bellamy’s was instructed to collect the weapons and ammunition being stored at the warehouse. Then a tip came through from one of his other Marine informants that a unit was stationed at the island, waiting to strike and interfere with the operation without knowing it was his business they were sticking their noses into. He hadn’t gotten any names or further information about you or the unit. It was the vaguest report but still, Doflamingo had immediately made the decision to go there and deal with the unit himself. At the time had it been interpreted as something to entertain him. Had he been simply bored or had fate made him go? To inadvertently save your life from the sickness that was already in your system and incubating without anyone knowing? 

Harshly he rubbed his head as he walked down the halls, feeling a migraine coming on. Doflamingo reached for the doorhandles and pushed them open, stopping abruptly when he saw he’d made his way to your room instead of his own. Muttering a curse under his breath he closed the doors and stepped further inside. Silently he told himself he was only doing this until you were a little better and didn’t need the medicine. Pulling back the covers he got back into the bed and lay down beside you but knowing you were still sound asleep with the medicine in your system mean he didn’t need to touch you. Letting out a long groan, he closed his eyes and lifted his hand to press his thumb and finger against his temples. 

The slight sound of shifting fabric caught his attention, signalling him that you were shifting in your sleep. Doflamingo was caught by surprise when your body pressed against him, your head tucking into the crook of his neck. He could tell you were still fast asleep, your deep breathing the clearest sign. Everything in your movements was purely instinct, including when one of your hands lifted you lay over his head, your fingers settling over the point of his headache that immediately began to subside. As he felt himself drift asleep he began to consider that it was only fair you both benefited from the affects that being soulmates brought.

——————————————-

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[arminsumi]

“you’re short”

“okay? so put some inches in me”

-

all i can imagine is a sassy/bratty reader and a cocky gojo 😭

we’re going to ignore that i’ve only seen one ep of jjk and i’m already requesting smut over it ☠️

OOH, YOU FLIRTIN'?

💗 GOJO さとる

[ Note ] : 🥵😳 what a vision! and lol one ep into jjk n alr thirsty for gojo love that 👍 also u n me are so small compared to him 🫠 also idk if he's more cocky or dorky in this oops lol. and i am writing this on my phone at a sleepover lord help me i have been awkwardly shifting around and avoiding showing my screen to any eyes 😭😭

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : suggestive/18+ content/smut, mentions virgin reader, getting caught

[ Playme ] : XXX

"You're so short."

"Okay, so put some inches in me."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I would, actually."

"Ooh, you flirtin' with me, shorty?"

"Yeah, well you started it, big boy."

Big boy...? 😳

Gojo Satoru, your very cheeky and very bold classmate, who has not held back on flirting teasing you about your height since he met you, is rendered speechless for the first time.

But only for a moment. Soak up your victory quick. He stutters. His brain chokes up. His heart throbs like he's just developed an instant crush. His uniform pants feel uncomfortable.

And then he reanimates himself once he hears Suguru snickering next to him.

"That's pretty bold of you, huh?" he smirks toothily, sinking his shaky hands in his pockets. "Now you're gettin' me all worked up—"

"—oh yeah?" you lid your eyes and flirt. He's taken aback again. "Worked up how?"

"Get a room, you two. Honestly..." Suguru grumbles.

"Yes, I think we will." Satoru winks at you. It's a failed wink. Deep down, he's not confident in his flirting. No. Deep down, he's an awkward dork.

His brain short circuits when you continue flirt back. He actually runs out of things to say.

She's a mature flirt. I'm an immature flirt. How the hell do I keep up? Fuck.

When you and him get alone together, clearing up the chairs after a class, you tease;

"Come on, big boy, what's the matter? Lost your edge?"

"No... I'm just thinking." his voice cracks at the end, he clears his throat. It feels tight. His pants feel tight too.

"About what?"

"About what you look like naked."

You let out a laugh, and laugh and laugh, like he's the most ridiculous flirt you've ever met.

"What?" he raises a brow.

"You're so ridiculous."

Oh yeah. That irks him. That flippant comment. You're not even looking at him as you say it, you're scooting a chair into a desk.

He walks over to you and peers down, making the height difference between you and his 6'3 frame sorely apparent. What a big boy.

"Wanna repeat that for me?"

Ooh his voice is heavy and low, low enough to cause goosebumps on your skin. And the proximity? It makes you feel more than just small, it makes you feel a tingling between your thighs.

He comes closer. Grazes his lips across yours. Mixes breaths with you.

"Uh—" you get flustered.

"—haha, just kidding." he pulls away suddenly. Maybe because he got too nervous (true) or maybe because he felt victorious in knocking you off your high horse (also true).

"I thought you were gonna—" you begin disappointedly.

Satoru cuts you off.

"—do something? Aw, are you horny?" he winks.

"Yeah. For you." you roll your eyes.

Fuck.

My pants feel too fucking tight. Can she see the outline of my dick? Is she looking there?

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, staring right into your eyes. No one holds eye contact quite like Mister Six Eyes.

He chuckles, Addam's apple shifting up and down deliciously. "Aren't you a virgin?" he sneers.

"Yes. I am. Are you gonna do something about it, or just stand there like an idiot?"

He nearly chokes.

Wow. What? She actually just said that?

"Of course I'll do somethin' about it, sweetheart. But..." he leans into your air again, closer than before, 'n breathes tauntingly against your quivering lips.

"... does a goody-two-shoes like you really wanna lose her virginity in a classroom?"

"Stop stalling, big boy. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"; I'm fucking horny." you seethe lustfully.

Fuck.

He's not sure how to respond. His brain is malfunctioning.

"Alright... then use your words like a big girl and ask me nicely to fuck you." he mutters, lips grazing yours. You can feel how badly he wants to kiss you.

Please say it.

The sexual tension has his heart racing, pretty cock pressing flush against the fabric of his dress pants.

"Satoru..." you begin, pulling on his collar.

He gulps and listens intently. The small touch your fingers make with his neck drives him wild.

"... fuck me."

Something just snaps inside him right there.

He crashes his lips onto yours with a feverish intensity, the rest his history—

—er, until the teacher walks in on you two right as things get toasty, catching Satoru with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants. And then you giggle off to detention with Satoru.

He promises to put some inches to your height. Uh... you know... by lifting you off your feet while he stuffs you up with his cock 😌

© arminsumi

No copying/plagiarizing/reposting. Do not promote me on other platforms.

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Stanford Pines & Borrower!GN!Reader

[PLATONIC] Borrowers are really tiny humans who "borrow" items and food! requested,,, am so sorry if this isn't what u expected 😔

Ford's toothbrush is missing.

In fact, many of his things have gone missing for the past few days. Did Bill possess his body again and decide to prank him?

His eyes catch color behind the toilet. Ah, there's his toothbrush. It must have fallen off.

When he picked it up, it was much heavier than usual. Of course, anything else could've been a reasonable explanation and not some tiny human holding onto the toothbrush for their dear life.

Ford doesn't let you escape, immediately bringing you to his office. You spit out profanities on the way, banging your fists on his fingers.

"Fascinating," he mutters, moving your limbs around. "You're just a tiny human."

"They call us borrowers," you say as you keep avoiding his hands. You notice something. "You have six fingers. Did giants always have that? Never noticed."

He suddenly feels smaller than you. "Not usually."

Ford learned that you actually lived under his floorboards. He had to compromise with you so that you would stop stealing his stuff.

"Roommates?" you tilt your head. "As long as you don't kill me, I guess. And I said I was going to return it!"

He doesn't believe you. He hums, scratching his chin. "Your species must have been hit by the light of height-altering crystals. I'm guessing the way your people survive is by stealing from others."

"Borrowing."

He gave you all sorts of delicious food. Well, they're mostly store-bought, but it's better than anything you've gotten before.

Not to mention his stuff. He had way more than what you were expecting. All the more to decorate your house and expand your collections! He's generous; you'll give him that...

There's something you can't shake off though. Ford's a weirdo if anything.

Bill Cipher knows about you. But he doesn't really care because you're just like any other creature that Ford has gotten. He'll only intervene if you manage to distract Ford from the portal.

So it's a good thing you're doing the opposite. You're actually helping in your own little ways, such as bringing him pen and paper.

Sitting on Ford's shoulder, you keep yapping about rats eating your house. He doesn't mind the noise, albeit he's not really listening, but it's so much better than silence.

He has fallen asleep. You grab the blanket from a nearby table and drape it over his body the best you can. This man does more work than your entire lifespan; it's so concerning.

"You don't want to try becoming a full-sized human? Why not?" Ford asks sincerely, almost concerned. You becoming not tiny is what you were supposed to be.

"Me? Turning into your size?" you make a disturbed face, "no thanks. I feel like my life would be more complicated. You're taking care of me, and that's enough."

He smiles. "Interesting."

Once again, you find him asleep on the desk. You search for a good spot next to his arm and curl up to his warmth, closing your eyes and drifting to sleep.

...You wake up to relentless movement. Looking up, you meet Ford's crazed, hectic eyes.

"You," he exhales, his voice sounding different. "Not here to steal my eyes, are you?"

Without warning, he grabs your body. You tremble. "Bill didn't tell you to, right? You're the perfect size to scoop out someone's eye..."

"Ford—" A bright flashlight shines on your eyes.

He forces one eye open. A few seconds pass. "You're, ah, clear. I'm so sorry."

The human finally lets you go. "What the hell was that?! Are you okay??"

"There's something dangerous here," he winces as he goes around the room, locking all possible entrances. "We have to stop everything we've ever worked for! What I worked for!"

He walks over to you, a smile curling on his lips. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, little borrower. Won't let him lay a single finger on you."

Before you could even blink, you're pushed inside something. You quickly run to the front, holding the bars that kept you away from escaping. "Wait, let me go! You're being crazy!"

"I know this seems bad, but it's only temporary," he replies, locking your cage. "Not until I finish the protection around the house. I'll have to call Stan..."

yes he has cages.... he caged shmebulock 😭

gotta thank @shabbyshoebox for this treasure (tell me if u wanna be untagged!)

[gojoux]

『 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo never felt truly cared for besides from his best friend who had parted ways. In his doubtful phase, he keeps asking the question why would you care so much for him?

· CW: 5.8k // Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Angst. Gojo in badmood. Gojo against the world, maybe. Reader's patience is as thick as Toji's biceps but also as thin as his pet worm's hair.

You're sitting with Shoko in the classroom across from each other as you eat your lunch. “Have you heard anything from Satoru?” You ask her, wondering where the talkative lanky man is. You always call him by his given name when you're talking about him with Shoko, but never in front of him.

Shoko gives you a sad smile as she shakes her head. “No, not recently. The last time we talked was just before winter break. He came to me to ask a few things, that was it.” She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is something wrong?”

“Winter break?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But, that was two weeks ago.” You frown.

“I have to assume there's a good reason for it. You know, missions? He wouldn't leave without telling anyone unless something serious came up.” She shrugs. “Then again, he never tells me anything.”

You know how things are different now, things have changed. Maybe he did change, too? You can't help but wonder, you always found him quite mysterious despite his big mouth.

Ever since Geto's departure, Gojo has been going out on more missions. After one is done, he goes for another one. No stopping, no breaks.

You let out a tired sigh, the feeling of anxiousness keeps coming back whenever you're thinking about his whereabouts. “I'm just... worried. You know how it is...”

Shoko puffs her cigarette to the side. “I'm sure he's fine. Just because he's out there hunting curses alone, doesn't mean we should be worried.” She takes another smoke from her cigarette. “Well, I have to say, I'm quite worried for his health. Too much use of his Six Eyes could burn his brain to crisp.”

“I can't believe that I'm saying this but,” you rest your head on your folded arms on the table. “I miss him, Shoko,” you say quietly, looking at the wooden surface of the table up close.

She raised her eyebrow at you. “You miss Gojo?” She pauses, her voice softer. “What could you possibly miss about that guy?” She glances across the table at you.

“Oh, come on.” You groan quietly. “He's annoying, but he's... I don't know, likable?” You say unsurely because you know damn well that everyone in school, and the higher-ups, definitely won't think Gojo is likable. Well, not in a bad way, but he's not exactly unlikeable either.

It's hard to explain because he's just, him. A complex individual. And everybody have their own thoughts about him.

“You have to be kidding.” Shoko looks at you amused. “Likable isn't the word I'd use to describe him.” She pauses. “But, I guess I know what you mean. He's not all that bad once you get used to him.”

“Maybe you missed him because he hasn't been picking on you lately,” she says with a small chuckle as she puts off her cigarette. “Pshh, why would you think that?” You roll your eyes at her suggestion, brushing off her words with a hand gesture.

Then, the table vibrates suddenly. Shoko frowns at the sound of the phone ringing, noticing it was hers. She reaches over and grabs her phone, glancing at the screen. Turns out she was called to the school's infirmary, asking her to heal another sorcerer after a mission.

Shoko sighs and stands up from the table. “Duty calls.” She pauses. “I'll see you later, alright?” She smiles at you, heading off from the classroom after you wave your hand as a farewell.

As you continue to eat your lunch alone, another vibration could be felt from the table, this time it's yours. With a small groan, you look down at your phone in your hands. A text message has appeared on your screen. It's a message from Gojo Satoru.

I'm at school. A simple text to confirm his well-being.

Your eyes light up at the text before you quickly type in, where are you?

You huff when you didn't receive any reply. You haven't seen Gojo in a while so you quickly left your lunch to search for him while you sense his cursed energy.

You found it. You can sense him on the training field. You make your way there to find Gojo. The sky is overcast when you arrive at the training field. The wind blows around you, rustling the grass. When you reach the side of the field, you see a figure standing in the distance, his head angled down. His arms are crossed, creating a shadow across his face.

He glances up as you approach. “You found me.” His voice is calm, his eyes betraying no emotions. “Gojo?” You call out his name quietly. He looks different than the last time you saw him, he looks more somber.

Gojo's eyes meet yours. “Yeah... it's me.” He looks away from you again, “Are you here to scold me? For leaving without telling anyone?” There's a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. “If you came by to scold me for running off, then don't even bother.” His eyes are cold, unreadable.

You were taken aback by the drastic change of attitude. It's not the usual cheery and playful Gojo Satoru you know. “Have you been taking more missions?” You ask carefully like you're walking on eggshells around him. “You look... tired.”

His gaze sharpens as he glances at you. “More missions than usual... yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “I'm trying to keep myself busy.” There's a hint of melancholy in his voice as he talks.

“Some more difficult than others.” His voice trails off. “I don't want to be stuck in my thoughts when I'm at the dorm.” He glances away.

“Right...” You feel awkward after he's done talking. It's just the tone that he uses makes you feel unfamiliar with this ‘new’ Gojo.

“Are you... going on a mission soon?” You ask quietly, hoping he would say no or the very least, not soon. You just want him to rest.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. He glances around the field. “The old geezers keep pushing me to take on more missions, the threat of cursed spirits isn't getting any less. They want me to keep exorcising them." He looks back at you.

“I'm heading out tomorrow to deal with a colony of spirits that have been plaguing the city. It's a relatively small job for me.” His voice is nonchalant as if he were talking about any ordinary night.

“That soon? Shouldn't you be resting after all that missions?” You raise a brow at him.

Gojo turns towards you. “Resting is for the weak.” He crosses his arms, his gaze piercing. “I'm not weak.” He pauses. “I don't need a break.” He glances away from you, his eyes flicking across the training field.

You scoff to the side, shaking your head at his response. ‘He's like a child. So stubborn, too.’ You think. But you can't really blame him for feeling like this.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds more tired. “Besides... if I stop and rest, I'll just go back to thinking about him.” He pauses. “And I don't want that right now.”

“Look,” you try to find a word to convince him, “Just— take a break for a few hours, okay? You can go again later.” You try to persuade him. “The city won't fall apart if you're absent for a while, you know that's not how it works.”

“Of course, I know that.” He lets out an irritated huff. “I'm not stupid. I'm just... busy.” He glances away from you again, his gaze piercing the sky as he thinks.

“Besides, what if the curse spirits get worse while I'm gone? What if they're able to cause some serious damage while I'm sitting in my room on my ass.” He turns his attention back to you. “And you know I can't let that happen.”

“I know that." You let out an exasperated sigh. “There are other capable sorcerers who can take the mission, not just you.” You remind him. You stay quiet for a while, letting out another sigh. “Only for a few hours, please?” You offer again as you take note of how tired he looks.

He scoffs quietly, but his tone is less aggressive than before. “Fine. A few hours.” He sighs in defeat as his hands slip into his pockets.

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” He tilts his head slightly at you. “Maybe.” You shrug nonchalantly, even though deep in your heart, you're worried about him. You want to care for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone is more casual. “Yeah, sure.” You nod at him. Gojo's eyes shift back to the training field. “Why do you care? I thought I was annoying.” The tone of his voice is flat.

“I'm not weak and I don't need your pity. I can handle a few missions.” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing. “Why do you worry for me so much?” His voice is softer, not as cold as before.

“You actually care what I think of you?” You can't help but let out a small chuckle. “I can't deny that.” You ignore his question.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you, his expression blank. “What's that supposed to mean?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you trying to imply that I care about what you think of me? If so, I can assure you that isn't true.” He frown. “I don't give a damn about what other people think of me.”

“Right.” You hum casually. “You're the Gojo Satoru after all, why should you care?” You answer back with his words. “For your question, I do care, I won't deny that, too,” you answer him shortly.

His eyes shift back towards you as he listens to your answer. “You care for me?” He tilts his head in disbelief. “You always say I was nothing but annoying and a pain in the ass to you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Why?”

You smile at his response. ‘You do care what I think after all.’ You think to yourself.

“Well,” you thought of many things to say to him. Anything about him that makes you care for him so much. Anything about him that makes you like him so much. All despite his antics and shenanigans.

You hold your words behind your tongue, thinking that it's best to keep your true feeling hidden from him for now. “Just because,” you say simply, giving him a smile.

His face remains blank as he listens to you. After a moment of silence, a small smirk creeps back onto his face. “That's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets.

“I can tell you're lying.” His smirk quickly turns into another frown. “At least I know you care enough to lie to me.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “Don't be a coward about it. Just admit the reason you care for me. I won't judge you.”

You huff at his response. “I will tell you next time. Now come on, you agreed to take some rest.” You don't know what came after you, but without wasting more time, you grab his hand and lead him away from the training field.

He glances down at your hand as you hold onto his. He looks up at you and sighs. “Are you going to drag me back to the dorm... or something?” He sounds unamused.

However, he doesn't try to pull his hand out of your grasp. He simply follows along as you lead the way in front of him.

“Yeah, got to make sure you're actually going to rest. And what's a better place here than your own room?” You say as you both enter the dorm hall.

He doesn't say anything else as you lead him to his room. He glances up at you as you enter, still holding your hand. Gojo's face softens somewhat.

“What's this about, really? You seem awfully persistent about this.” He tilts his head in curiosity. “You want to cuddle with me or something?”

“What? Pfft, no.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Now, go, go. Have some sleep.” You open the door of his room, and let his hand go from your hold before pushing him inside. “Just rest, okay? No hard thinking.”

Gojo grumbles with annoyance. “Alright, alright...” He enters the room and sits on his bed. “I'm not thinking too hard.” He looks up at you, crossing his arms. It's like he's a sulking child.

However, after a few seconds, he sighs. He glances down at his room floor, his body language stiff. He plops himself down on his bed and rolls on his back, closing his eyes as he relishes the soft mattress on his back.

“Fuck... I guess I do need that sleep.” He turns around to face you. “Come on, just sit in here with me. I don't think I can sleep with you outside.”

This time, you raise a brow at him. “Huh?” You look at him dumbfounded by his out of nowhere suggestion. “You want me to stay with your or something? I can leave you alone if you want.”

Gojo's eyebrow twitches slightly. “I can handle sleeping alone.” He pauses, his expression shifting once more. “But... it gets lonely at times.”

He looks away from you. “It's... stupid I know, but I don't like the quiet when I'm alone.” His voice dropped to a quiet, hushed whisper.

“So... can you stay?” He shifts on his bed uncomfortably since he knows that this is unlike his usual self. “Please?”

You look at him amused as you lean on the door, internally laughing at his drastic change of attitude. You can't believe your ears when he said ‘please’, but you stay quiet, just wanting to drag this situation longer for your amusement.

It's rare to see him like this. Especially with those eyes and his pout, how can you resist, really?

“Come on... Just stay by my side for 30 minutes. I think if I feel your presence here, I'll feel better. I promise I won't bother you or anything.” He says once more. “Just... give me some company for a while.”

“Besides, I thought you cared for me?” He tilts his head to the side, a hint of tease is evident in his tone. He sits up a bit, resting his back against the pillows, waiting for you.

“Okay, okay.” You push yourself off the door before closing it. You walk towards his bed, and his expression softens as you sit down on his bed.

When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and relaxed. His eyes stare at you, a hint of vulnerability in them. “You know you didn't have to agree right away.”

“You're right,” you answer him lightly, your eyes looking around his room. He looks at you in silence, admiring your side profile before speaking, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.” you turn your head at him, waiting for his other question.

“Why... do you suddenly care so much for me?” Gojo looks at you seriously. "I know you always thought I was annoying and I didn't care if our relationship was hostile or not, but now you're acting like I'm some sort of important person to you.”

“I don't understand what changed.” He shifts his gaze away from you, turning towards the window instead. “And I don't get why you're trying to hide it either.”

You stare at him quietly, your eyes shifting down to his bed, and then the table beside it before returning to him.

You reach your hand towards his glasses, hooking a finger onto the bridge before taking it off from him gently, revealing the vibrant blue of his eyes, before putting the glasses on the table.

“You want me to answer that?” You ask back as you think how would you answer the question he's been wondering since you meet in the training fields.

Why do you care?

Why should you care?

Why?

“Yes.” He sounds serious as he looks at you again, not blinking. “Because I need to know.”

“You're hiding behind this facade you call ‘cool and laid back’, but it's pretty obvious that you're trying to hide something from me.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Why?”

You're stunned. You glance away, thinking of what you should answer him. And you can't help but think of how lonely he actually is to the point he seems to be in disbelief that someone does genuinely care for him.

He motions for you to go on. “So? Answer the question.” He sounds impatient, his expression still hard. His gaze doesn't waver as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“I don't know how to explain it to you." You finally answer. “I just care, I really do. Shoko, too, and Yaga as well. Even Nanami who always looks so annoyed around you. Those who are close to you care about you, Gojo. You're our friend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your answer. “I never asked you to care about me.” He sounds blunt as he glances back down at the bed, trying to ignore you for a few moments.

He stays quiet again, thinking about your answer. “You don't know how to explain it, huh?” He sighs. “So your only response is to keep being vague and beat around the bush.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you saying that you feel that you have an obligation to care about me because you know people who also do?” He's clearly annoyed by your answer. “Are you doing it out of guilt?” He sounds irritated as he gazes out of the window.

You let out another exasperated sigh at his response. It's clear that he doesn't really get this concept of care from other people.

His clan doesn't care for him as a person, let alone the elders. He grows up spoiled rotten, not out of care, but out of obligation. That's just how it is.

“That's not it!” You raise your voice in annoyance to deny his words. His bad mood starting to affect your own. “What's so hard to understand for you that I genuinely care? It's my choice to care for you because I just do!”

Gojo stays quiet as he listens to you snap at him. A slight frown comes onto his face when he hears your tone. “You just care? Just like that. There's nothing else behind it.” His voice is incredulous as he glares at you.

“Just give me a straight answer.” His eyes scan over you, looking for something. He stares at you defiantly, waiting for your response.

You look at him in disbelief before scoffing, “What else do you want me to say? ‘I like you that's why I care’ or something?” You shake your head after you said the first line mockingly.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to say.” His voice is sharp as he continues to glare at you. “Or at least, something along those lines.” He mumbles the finishing sentence.

“I want to know why you care for me. Tell me why.” He seems determined to get you to answer. His eyes narrow further, his gaze piercing. “You're not leaving this room until you give me an answer.”

“Fine, alright, since you're so damn stubborn about it.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I care for you as a friend, and I also care for you because I like you more than just a friend. There, happy?” you answer.

“You're so insufferable,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms and your body turning away from him.

Gojo looks at you with wide eyes as he tries to process what you just said. His shock continues to linger, making it difficult for him to speak. He looks taken aback at your response, and a smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?” His voice sounds soft, his tone completely shifting.

He scoots closer to you on the bed, almost hesitant. “Is that why you care for me?” He glances at you over your shoulder. “Am I hearing this right?”

After a moment, he leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you.” He sounds genuine as he continues to lean on you. You were stunned once more, but this time because of his unusual tone.

You stay quiet at his reaction, your heart beating fast as you try to process what's going on with his head resting on your shoulder. “Are you pretending to be clueless or are you just that oblivious?” You huff, not looking at him. Your face is heating up when you just realized what you said earlier.

“I'm not pretending to be clueless.” Gojo's voice is softer, almost gentle. “I've always wondered if you care for me as a friend or if there's a hidden meaning behind it. I was hoping it's the latter, but I kept denying it to myself."

He remains still in his position, comfortably leaning against you. His gaze studies your face intently. He scoots even closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.

“I like you too,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. Gojo's lips curl into a smile as he takes a slow, comfortable breath. You turn your head to the side to take a look at him.

“I've been dropping hints at you since forever, but I've always told myself it must have been a mistake when you replied the same way.” His face is still buried onto your shoulder as he speaks. “I always wondered if you secretly liked me too.”

You could only listen in silence, and your body slowly turning to him from the edge of the bed. You notice his eyes flick down toward your lips. “Am I that clueless, or did I know this whole time?” He pauses and glances back over his shoulder at your face. “It's hard to tell.”

His lips curls upwards as he stares at you, and slowly leans forward towards you. He doesn't look away, watching your face with intent.

His words are quiet, a gentle whisper. “What would you do if I suddenly kissed you right now?”

You didn't expect telling him to rest would end up to this. You stayed here because he asked you to company him, not at all imagining that this would be the place and time where the feelings would flow out.

“You do realize you should be resting by now, right?" You ask back, your voice equally quiet. You admire his handsome face up close. His eyes hold power and beauty, down to the shape of his nose, and down to his plump, pink lips.

Gojo grin at your words. “I can always go to sleep after. I think I have time for this.” His eyes flicker along your jaw, your neck, your lips. His breathing speeds up with each glance.

But finally, he leans in, his lips just a single inch away from touching yours. His eyes flicker downwards one last time. “Would you kiss me back?” He whispers, his voice just barely audible as if the volume was intentionally silenced.

“I don't know, would I?” You ask back again, secretly enjoying the closeness of your faces.

“Only one way to find out...” His eyes flutter closed as he leans forward. His lips touch yours for a brief moment, just a quick taste to test the waters. It's enough to make your heart skip a beat. His lips move slowly at first, but soon he presses his lips more on yours. He keeps one of his arms wrapped tighter around your waist to press his body more against your own, and the other one goes up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Gojo's lips are soft and tender on yours, and he slowly runs his tongue against your mouth. His eyes are closed, but he knows where you are. He's focused entirely on how your lips feel against his. You could feel the way his tongue brushing against your lips, and pushing it lightly to part them open for him. You let out a small hum of contentment, feeling the lips of the man you've liked for quite a while is definitely a dream come true.

His tongue slips into your mouth, moving slowly against yours in a slow and gentle dance, his tongue brushing against yours and exploring every corner of your mouth. His breathing quickening ever so slightly as his body leans into yours. His hands go up to the back of your head as he continues to kiss you. As he tastes you, his kisses become more intense and more passionate. 

Once you feel the lack of air in your long, you pull back from the kiss, “Gojo—” you call out to him. He lets out a soft groan at your voice, and slowly pulls away, but only a little. “Satoru.” He corrects you, his lips remain close to yours as he runs his tongue along your lower lip. He pulls away again a little bit, and stares back at you. “What is it?” 

He catches his breath and lick his lips, which are now parted slightly and slightly moist from his saliva. He's more excited than he's been in a long time, like he finally got a breath of fresh air after being stuck underground. “I've wanted to kiss you for ages,” he says quietly, his expression still soft. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he smiles. “You taste delicious.”

“Thanks, you do, too.” You chuckle before pulling away and grabbing the blanket to cover him. “Now, time for bed.” You tuck him in like you're tucking a little child to sleep.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He complains as the blanket is pulled over him and wrapped him up in it. “I thought you said you cared for me! Why am I getting tucked in like a kid?” He looks up at you, his voice full of mock outrage. “I want kiss.” He pouts at you. 

‘He even whines like a child.’ You let out a chuckle at his antics. You ignore him, not giving him the kiss just yet.

“That's why I'm tucking you to bed, Satoru.” You adjust the blanket on his body, staring at his messy hair on the bed. His heart does a small flip, but he quickly hides it as he hears what you say.

He doesn't oppose as you cover him with the blanket. In fact, he looks like a contented child, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and your closeness to him. “How are you going to get sleepy now? I just gave you a big reason to stay awake.”

“Hush, it's time to sleep.” You answer immediately, earning you another look from him.

The covers rustle as he moves around, making himself more comfortable under the blankets. He reaches his hand out to you from under the covers. “Could I pull you in? With me? I don't want you to leave just yet.”

You nod at him. “I'll hold you to my chest instead, okay? You need some comfort now.” You place a hand on his cheek before caressing the soft skin with your thumb. “I will give it to you,” you add quietly, knowing well when you once again see closely to his tired face.

“You want to hold me?” He chuckles quietly. “I wouldn't want anything else.” His eyes flutter shut again as you run your thumb across his cheek. His body begins to relax as he enjoys your touch. “You're so sweet...” He mumbles quietly.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still closed. “When did I begin to be so lucky? To have someone care for me so much?” He leans more onto your hand on his cheek, enjoying your gentle touch.

Gojo waits for you to lay down and get comfortable before pulling the covers over you both. After a moment, he lets his body settle closer to your own, letting you cradle him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. His face is pressed against your chest. 

You brush your fingers on his soft white hair, holding him close to you. You massage his head slightly once in a while. “You deserve it, Satoru. You really do,” you whisper onto his forehead before kissing it, your lips linger there for a while.

Gojo shudders a bit at your touch. He presses himself closer to you, letting his body sink into the comfort of your embrace. His hand brushes up and down your waist lovingly. You lift your head for a bit to give him another kiss on the temple.

“Mmm...” He sighs contently as he leans into you. His body sinks into yours, becoming one with the comfort and warmth of your touch. His eyes stay closed and his body becomes even more relaxed.

After a moment of silence and you thought he has already fallen asleep, he speaks again, “Do I?” He asks quietly, not quite believing what you just said.

“What am I really good for in the first place other than fighting cursed spirits?” A shadow of doubt flickered across his face. “Am I more than just a strong sorcerer?” 

You keep caressing his hair to bring him comfort. “You're more than just ‘The Strongest Sorcerer’. You're a human. A kind one deep down,” you answer him quietly. “Despite your upbringing." You add with a hint of playfulness as your hand goes down to pinch his nose between your finger before going back up. “And yes, you do deserve it. Never doubt that.”

His ears turns red as he hears your soft answer. He tries to hide it, but you can tell from his body language that he's happy.

“You think I'm kind?” He asks again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought that's something I wasn't.” He chuckles. “Does it show when I'm with you?”

“It shows to other people without you realizing it. I know because I see it myself.” You give him another kiss on the forehead.

He takes in a few breaths as you hold him close, his face inches away from your chest. “It feels so nice to just... not be alone for a while.” His voice is soft and quiet, unlike the usual Gojo Satoru who annoys others for his entertainment.

You answer with a hum. He had lost his best friend, the one that sticks with him through thin and thick on every mission and obstacle. He had lost someone who doesn't makes him feel like he was alone.

“Can I ask you something else? This is the last one, I promise,” he mumbles onto your chest. “You ask a lot of questions today. What is it?” You chuckle but let him ask anyway.

“Why do you keep defending me?” He murmurs. “Why do you care whether I think I deserve it or not?” He tilts his head up to look back at you. “All of these compliments you keep giving me... what are you getting out of this exactly?” He waits for your response, his expression serious.

‘Here we go again.’ You sigh, and this time, you smile at his other why question. There is so much he wants to know, so much he needs to know. If that is what brings him comfort, then you'd gladly give the answer to him.

“Because... I love you.” You hush him up with a kiss, not caring that you just used a strong expression of words. “There, now go to sleep.” You hope this would clear his doubts, at least for a while.

His eyes widen at your reply, his expression is completely frozen after hearing your words. “What?” He asks quietly, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. “You... love me?” 

After taking a few moments to compose himself, he slowly leans up and kisses you again. He kisses you passionately, putting the last of his energy into kissing your lips.

As he pulls away, he looks back at you. His eyes glimmer with tears that have yet to fall. “You love me?” He whispers again.

“Yes. I do.” You nod at him with a smile. Your thumb brushes against his cheek once more, shifting a bit up to caress the skin below his eye, looking into his teary eyes.

His head sinks into the crook of your neck as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Y-You love me?” He murmurs once more, sounding overwhelmed with emotion as he looks back up at you. “What am I supposed to do when the person I like, the person I've been thinking about this entire time, actually loves me back?”

“Hmmm, I wonder.” You caress the back of his hair, your fingers brushing against his hair, as you let him hide his face in the crook of your neck again. 

He presses himself against you, his body flushes against yours. His arms around your waist tighten its hold. He buries his face against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips against your neck, enjoying the comfort of the moment. “Your skin is... so much warmer than I imagined it'd be.” He whispers to you. His lips graze against your neck as he presses in.

“Can you... Can you hold me for a bit longer?” He whispers. “Could I sleep in your arms for a while more?” You kiss his forehead once again. “I can hold you for as long as you want me to.” You assure him.

His face lights up when he hears your answer. “For as long as I want you to?” He sounds surprised. His arms squeeze around your waist. “Do you promise you won't tire of me? I might not want to leave.”

“Then, don't leave. I want you here with me.” You say quietly. Now that you have him, you want him all for yourself, and you promise yourself to never let him go.

He smiles at your words and nuzzles your neck with his lips. “Well, my favorite place in the world is close to you.” He wraps himself fully around you and buries his face in your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for a while.

“I'll never get tired of you, never.” You assure him again. A smile breaks out on his face as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You'll never get tired of me?” He whispers to you, his words coming out soft and sweet. He holds you tighter to him, his face still buried against your neck. “Don't make promises you can't keep. I think I'm just that easy to dislike.”

“Not me. Nothing else should matter. I like you, and I love you. I could only hope that's enough to ease you, even just a bit.” You nuzzle your nose on his forehead.

He smiles at you, his eyes slowly fluttering close. “That's more than enough to ease me.” His voice trails off as he lets himself fall asleep. His breathing deepens as he enters into a peaceful slumber.

He's truly comfortable in your arms, his body relaxed against you. He's happy to be with you, happy to be held by you, and happy to be cared for by you.

He dreams that when he wakes up, you would pamper him with the love and care he'd always wanted. A genuine feeling that has managed to warm a place in his heart that he never knew he needed, all that in you, the person he loves.

Let me just test the waters (˃ ᵕ ˂) I'm soft for him.

[ferrarifinnick]

time zones | charles leclerc 16

charles leclerc x reader

in different cities, plagued by different time zones, charles misses your phone calls once again. suddenly things don't seem so sustainable anymore.

note: hate to do it to you, but here's some angst. get those tissues ready and prepare to clutch those pearls. also, first charles fic! what do we think? love <3

masterlist

warnings: angst, long distance relationship, miscommunication, heartache, sad charles poor charles :(

700 words

7:02am.

Charles stared at the blurry numbers on his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen and the sunlight pouring into his bedroom. He squeezed his eyes shut when he noticed the notifications from you. Three texts, two calls. All unanswered.

The first text, at 11:58pm.

I just finished work. I'll call you on the way home. Can't wait to hear your voice. I need it.

Charles' chest hurt. 11:58pm, minutes after he must have dozed off. He had tried so hard to keep his eyes open but his day had been so long and sleep was fighting a good battle against him.

At midnight is when the first missed call came through. It would've been 5pm for you. You would be getting out of work and Charles would be about to get into bed. You would've just got to your car, set up Google Maps, and called him. That was the only time you could find to chat to each other lately, and Charles had missed it.

Worse yet, he let you drive home with the disappointment of waiting all day to hear his voice, only to still be alone come night time.

Twenty six minutes later, at your 5:27pm and his 12:27am, the second text came through.

I made it home safe. I saw you got P2, congratulations! Very well deserved my love. Are you still awake?

That's when the next call came through.

Charles knew that you'd have been upset when he didn't answer. He knew you'd be holding back the intrusive thoughts. The what-ifs, the tears, the disappointment. It would have been keeping you up much later when you'd be trying to sleep. But he knew what was really eating at you was the hope that he would wake up and light up your phone with an incoming call.

He knew it was true when he saw the text at your 11:03pm and his 6:03am.

I think we've missed each other tonight. I was looking forward to hearing your voice, but I hope you celebrated that win well. Congratulations on P1 my love, well deserved. Goodnight.

He stared at the time of your last text, your 11:03pm and his 6:03am. One hour ago. You'd barely been asleep for an hour and here he was waking up to start his day. By the time you'd wake up, he'd be in meetings. By the time he'd get out, you'd be in work. By the time you'd finish, he'd be going to sleep.

Charles squeezed his eyes shut. Distance was never easy, but this wasn't the first time you'd missed your small window to talk to each other. It had been happening a lot lately. He knew it was hurting you because it was killing him.

He opened the tab on his phone of flights that neither of you could take. He was stuck where he was, and you were stuck elsewhere. There was never time. Something always changed the circumstances for the worse, and Charles sank his shoulders in defeat.

He deleted the tab on his phone.

Opening your messages, he sent his own reply.

Good morning, mon amour. I'm sorry we missed each other last night. I hope you're sleeping well. I'll call you after you finish work.

He stared at your missed calls again. There was nothing he could do except stare at them and wish they weren't real.

The alarms he forgot to set would have urged him out of bed over half an hour ago, and so he got himself up and dressed for the meeting he was about to be late to, but he couldn't open the door of his lifeless hotel room.

Guilt gnawed at his stomach. It wasn't fair of him to make you live this way for him. You deserved more than a short phone call every couple of days, and he realised that the only way for that to ever change was if you were here with him.

But he knew deep down that following him around the world wasn't what you wanted. While he could give you security, he couldn't give you stability. That's what you wanted more than anything, and that's when he finally realised, after suffering the long distance for so long, that there were two things in life that meant most to him.

The job and the girl.

He wanted both. But as he opened the door of his hotel room, he realised he could only have one. He had to pick. But he knew it wasn't really a choice. There was only one option.

And it wasn't the girl.

[peachyloveswriting]

ok but how about something a little wholesome and a dash of silly where reader is like literal golden retriever energy with the cod boys? like, they could be gone for 1 day and they come back and reader is like "oh my god i missed you 🥹"

GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY --- Cod boys

SUMMARY: The COD boys with a clingy s/o :)just a bunch of fluff and cuddles that's all.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

PRICE

You and your husband Price don't always get to have missions together so when he's required to leave for a day or two you know there are dangers involved once he's out there. The whole time you worry for his well being and physical health and stress your own in the process. It's hard knowing he's out there and you can't be there to help. Thankfully he has his team to protect him and finish the job nicely but once he comes back it's suddenly like your a different person.

Laying in your bunk with a book in hands your eyes skimmed the page. The words were flowing through your mind like a trickling stream, not exactly sticking or registering in reality for that moment in time. The words were being read actively as you looked at them but no matter what Price just wasn't leaving your head.

The door to the room opens, Price huffing, he tosses his bag down beside the door and kicks it shut behind him. Just the smell of his room being around him again fills him with a warm feeling. Something he associates with you. A bright smile on your face as you leap onto his arms with a laugh and squeeze him into a tight hug. Your body against his is a living sense that proves he made it home in one piece. You hold him down. But for some reason you're not in his arms yet.

Looking at where you lay on the bed he furrows his brows and picks his boots off to walk over. "Love?" He coos. In your head it's almost like he just walked in, Ghost said they weren't going to be back for another three days and that was only yesterday. At this point you must've been losing it.

Not seeing you acknowledge his presence, Price frowned. Normally you would have engulfed him in a hug by now. Something must be terribly wrong for you to have not moved yet. He speaks out again, this time with caution on his voice. "Love? Is something wrong?"

Finally turning to look at the door your heart slams against your chest. Something in your stomach flips and suddenly your tossing the book halfway across the room and jumping to your feet just to leap from the bed into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso and head tucked away in the crook of his neck. "You're home!" You squeak with a bright smile. He laughs heartily, warmth spreading in his chest as he catches you against him his his hands under your thighs. "Yes, I'm home love."

GHOST

"I only have to get a few things. Staying in the truck?" He asked before he took the keys from the ignition. You nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay."

Nodding curtly he left the truck running and pushed open the door. Sliding down from the seat and turning around he raised his brows. "I'll be right back." With that he promptly closed the door and you watched him walk away inside the store. He was coming to pick up a few drinks and some teabags for back home. One of his few times off work.

You started talking to him romantically a few months back, first thing he told you was what he did for a living. You knew then that it would be difficult to form a relationship with him because of how often he's gone. As time's moved on though, he's taken you out on six dates and on every single on of them he had just returned home. This would make seven. He was taking you back to his house for dinner and drinks. You're more than happy to be here sitting in his truck happily waiting for his eventual return. You'll have to give it to him, he's very dedicated.

Never once during that time that he was away did he not call you at least once to see how your day was. Most men don't do that unless you tell them too maybe that's why you like this one so much. Come to think of it, anytime he's not away he's with you spending money on you and taking you on dates. True dedication. At this point the other men you were interested men were blocked and dropped the moment you started talking to him.

Jogging across the lot with his hood covering his head, Simon grabbed the door handle and snatched it open to jump and climb in. Spooked, you lumped and shouted. Shutting the door he looked at you with furrowed brows. The moment you realized it was just him you started to laugh to yourself.

"I scare you?" He asks as he leans over with a smirk and puts the bags in the floorboard at your feet. Nodding, you grab hold of his arm and press your face into his bicep. "Don't do that again." You said. He chuckles, a hand coming up to pat your head. "I will."

Sitting back up with a satisfied smile on your face, you speak. "Good- wait."

SOAP

You're first night at the safehouse and Soap and Ghost had already left you alone with the rest of 141, left to talk to Price. Gaz and Alejandro weren't bad company, no, not at all. But after a long, grueling, and ongoing mission this would be your first nights laying in an actual in weeks. Sadly it seemed like your boyfriend, John, wouldn't be able to join you. It was already sundown, the sun set hours ago and your aching body was calling you to bed.

After saying goodnight to the team that stayed behind, you trudged your way to the bedroom you claimed the moment you saw it and secluded yourself to the comfortable mattress. You wouldn't dare lay down though, knowing that if you did you might miss John coming back. Till then you'd be stuck by yourself in a cold bed without someone to talk you to sleep.

The house was dead silent when Ghost and Soap returned, both of they're sore and tired bodies cried out for sleep. The sleep settled in Soap's bones as he made his way back towards the rooms. "Goin' to bed already Johnny?" Ghost queried.

"That's right L.T." He hums as he slowly walks away. Ghost watches him with blank eyes before he sighs and walks into the livingroom by himself. John felt bad for leaving Ghost in there all by himself but the bed was calling him home and so were you. Making his way to the door he pushes it open to find you sitting at the end of the bed with your elbows resting on your knees.

Hearing the door open your head perks up, the moment you see him close the door a bright smile spreads across your face. "Thought you weren't gonna make it." You observed as you turned and crawled your way over the bed to where he stood. Taking his vest off he drops it to the floor, when he looks back down at you your waddling your way across the mattress. Soon enough your arms are wrapped around his waist and your head is pressed into his stomach.

"It's nice to see you again baby." He hums, his hands gently rub the back of your head. His heart beats rapidly in his chest while his stomach does flips at the sight of you. "Stop leaving me." You whine. Smiling at your words he chuckles softly. Warmth spreads across his chest at your words, it takes all of him not to baby you right here.

"Let me get comfy first love, cuddles in just a second." He says. Letting go of him with a frown you plop back onto the mattress and watch him take off the rest of his gear. His shoes are the last to go, the moment their off he tackling you into the bed pulling you close to him with a tired smile.

It couldn't get my h better than this.

KÖNIG

König was supposed to be coming back on leave today, at least that's what he told you the last like he called. He was telling you he had one last thing before he could come home. It wouldn't be much longer but you spent all night cleaning the house and running around. Your feet are buzzing with excitement even after twelve hours of cleaning. Though your back and arms are sore you continue to find ways to distract yourself from waiting.

At the moment you were in the garage cleaning out your car. You're leaned over in the back seat with all the doors open so the music from the radio can play loud enough for you to feel comfortable and in a good mood. The music was so loud though that the sound of the front door opening and closing went unheard.

König could clearly hear the music playing from the garage. That was his first clue that you were distracting yourself. In a way it brought a smile to his face, knowing that this time it was only a few walls between you. Happy to be home he dropped his bag on the couch and strode towards the garage door.

Standing up to set your bag of trash to the side you spot a large shadow standing off to the side. Startled, you jolt and spin to look at what you saw. It took a moment to register that it was only König but once you knew, you screamed.

Your heart leapt out your chest as you bolted to him and engulfed him in a tight hug. All the while you feet danced beneath you, happy to have him home. "König!" You cheer. Hearing you call his name with such excitement fills his chest with warmth. He can't help the bright smile that tugs at his lips as he looks down at you in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. He wouldn't trade this for the world.

[saeun]

“satoru? you okay?” you ask, “you're zoning out a lot.” sipping on your juicebox, your eyebrows furrow in concern. something's wrong with gojo today—he's distant, unresponsive and quiet. he's there physically but he's not there.

gojo responds with a hum, turning his head to you before speaking, “i'm okay, y/n.” he plasters an artificial grin as he shoves his hands in his pockets, jumping off the railing whistling before he continues again, “you ready to leave?”

suspicion clouds your mind. he's deflecting, you think. if there's another thing gojo's a master at, it's deflecting. a sour taste enters your mouth as a strong feeling overwhelms you. something's telling you gojo's on the brink of breaking.

concluding that it's best to not pressure him, you jump down to him. “ya, let's go!” slinging an arm over his shoulder, you match steps with him, bringing up random subjects to help him clear his mind a bit.

──

the mind's a scary place. in the mind holds countless thoughts, each holding different emotions. some people disliked being left in their mind, gojo enjoyed it. gojo relished in the feeling—the unhealthy feeling, though, it only held insanity; it's home to distasteful, unfiltered thoughts.

gojo sinks into the soft mattress, one arm resting over his eyes as he grins yet again. he thinks it's funny—hilarious, even. who is he? he questions himself, but rather, what is he? what is his purpose?

for all his life, he never felt like himself. he disassociated from reality more than he let utahime chew off his ears. he feels unlike himself but did he even know himself?

gojo satoru, nonchalant to his peers yet disregards all respects for his enemies.

gojo satoru, the pride of the gojo clan.

gojo satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.

gojo satoru, gojo satoru.

again, his head feels fuzzy. swallowing a harsh gulp, he feels his mouth go dry, his heart rate increases each second, static covering his vision, he's near his limit.

humans feared the dark, ready to dismiss it but gojo greets it—he greets it with hazed eyes and his signature playful smile.

when's the last time gojo's let himself go? he wonders, looking for the absent answer. cold sweat introduces itself to the stage named ‘gojo’. he clenches his jaw hard, cracking his knuckles in attempts to distract himself.

the tsunami (insanity) grows in height each second. it sneers at the humans (gojo) below, grinning at the fear-instilled bodies before it crashes, dominating and marking the area (gojo's mind) as its own. it muffles the ear-bleeding noise (his remaining sanity) as it finally settles in—crashing everything like a tyrant overtaking his soon-to-be throne.

you again, huh? gojo thinks. he talks to himself, looking at the bloodied teenager. he, the teenager, is wrecked—beaten yet standing. a shadow blocks off everything on his face but one eye that illuminates in gojo's view.

it's a one versus one. a fight with himself; a fight with one of his many versions. to be honest, he'd rather have a battle with six year old gojo.

gojo turns off his infinity, though there's not a single reason to but he doesn't know that. he's already given into the feeling that's been creeping around him like a cat creeping around some tuna.

in gojo's mind currently, he's being attacked by everything. geto, toji, random people and curses he killed, himself, hell even sukuna; they're all at him at once.

he doesn't know why nor does he want to know. all he hopes for is that someone—more specifically you—brings him back to his damned reality.

──

“should i..? but it's kinda late...” mumbling to yourself, you fight your demons for an answer. your watch reads “11:27 PM” and your right consciousness tells you to leave, he's probably asleep but your demons tell you to open that damn door. 

you'd leave if you didn't suddenly remember the way he was lost in his head earlier. “you know what, fuck it.” you say to yourself before announcing your arrival, “satoru, 'm here!”

no response, which isn't uncommon yet the aggravated pores say otherwise. kicking your shoes off at the door, you enter his living room. it's dimly lit showing little signs of activity. did he even eat dinner? you question before resting the brown bag of snacks on his counter.

humming in disapproval, you quietly wander until you reach his room's door. a dark energy emits from under the door—almost as if a grade a curse broke in. clicking your tongue, you knock softly on his door, “satoru?”

yet again, no response. maybe he's really asleep, you think but the overwhelming feeling that something isn't right forces you into his room.

in your vision lies gojo—a raw gojo. there he lays, a numb body with an expressionless face, eyes red but closed. taking quiet steps to his bed, you sit on the edge brushing his fringe gently with a finger.

with that, he opens his eyes. he looks drained, tired, done; his body feels unreal—as if it's not his own. pushing the weak feeling aside, he greets you with another artificial smile and a hoarse voice saying “hey.”

he looks at your worried expression yet does nothing to soothe it. usually, he'd crack a stupid joke but he doesn't have the energy. even breathing tires him out.

you don't talk to him—at least not yet. right now you're busying yourself with the state he's in. his face holds little energy, his chest moves up and down in slowed rhythm, his adam's apple constantly dances at his every swallow, his eyes show no emotion that's not exhaustion. in short: he's done and completely dusted.

“you caved in again, didn't you?” questioning him with intentions of receiving an answer, you turn around to reach for your bottle of water.

“i guess i did.” he answered, eyes following your moves as he doesn't know what to focus on.

sneaking a hand under his head, you move the bottle to his lips, gesturing for him to drink. gojo accepts the water, downing at least half before laying back down. he sighs deeply, closing his eyes again as the aftermath of his episode settles in.

“wanna talk about it?”

“nah, i'm just chilling with the consequences y'know.”

“satoru.”

“my bad.” quick to apologise, a light laugh escapes him before he sits up to match you.

leaning against the headboard, gojo pulls you into frame, snaking his arms around your waist as he sinks his head into your shoulder. you lean into him, raising a hand to pat his head before speaking.

“how about we relax in the bath, hmm?”

“inna few,” he replies, tightening his grip on you before he continues, “just stay like this, please.”

you whisper a soft “okay” while you play with his hand, intertwining your fingers before bringing them to your lips for a kiss.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER SIX (BARCELONA & SPIELBERG)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, the usual.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: more heartbreak 😭 sorry but it has to get real bad before it gets good again

author's note: aaaaa thank you all for your patience!! december 7th is officially pepe day now. <3 im kinda mean to pepe here tho, but i also did one good thing which... if you notice what i mean when i say i gave him what he deserves, lmk and i'll give your head a little pat. okay anyways, hope you enjoy :) (also!! i feel like this isn't my best work but i am so so excited to write the silverstone chapter!! stay tuned for that for way more action (and heartbreak)!!!)

series masterlist

BARCELONA

returning to racing after a break always comes with a mix of emotions; anticipation, nerves, and the trace of hope that lingers in the air. this time is no different.

qualifying went great – another session in the top ten meant a good starting point for both races, a result that left the whole team buzzing with optimism for their home weekend.

but the real headline of the day wasn't about you; it belonged to someone else. the boy who had earned his first pole position in f2.

paul.

even though he was the on average fastest qualifier last season, he didn't grab a single pole – but now, he's finally done it. and when you close your eyes, you can still see the way his face lit up with a grin as he got out of his car and celebrated with his team.

it's well past sundown by now, but the paddock is still buzzing with anticipation for the weekend when it's finally time for you to go back to the hotel. having said goodbye to all remaining staff members, you pick up your backpack from the floor and make your way to the door of the truck. right then, your phone buzzes with a text – a congratulatory one from your father, happy with your results for once.

well, as happy as "congrats, good job today" can be interpreted.

with your eyes stuck on the screen of your phone, trying to figure out an answer, you don't even notice that you're about to walk right into someone as you exit the truck. thankfully, the other person does notice, placing their hands on your upper arms to keep you from stumbling into them. you almost consider not looking up, too embarrassed to want to acknowledge that this incident even occurred, but then you recognize the voice. "in a rush somewhere?"

your gaze snaps up instantly, meeting a pair of baby blue eyes slightly covered by a fringe of gorgeous, blonde curls.

right. the hitech truck is parked right next to the campos one this weekend. you already knew this was bound to cause some awkwardness.

"no, i'm not, sorry-" you shake your head to stop your rambling, instead taking a deep breath. "congrats on your pole position."

paul smiles at that – a very gentle one, but still one you recognize to be sincere. "it's pretty great, isn't it?" he asks, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "i mean, i still have to make good use of it, but..."

"i'm sure you will."

a few moments of silence follow. it's not too awkward per se; after everything that's happened between you both recently, you feel a lot more comfortable and safe around him after monaco. but then again, the last time you spoke was in the middle of the night, when you were dizzy and weird and possibly drunk, with your boyfriend sleeping just a few feet away with no idea of what was going on.

when you try to speak again, paul speaks up, too. "i really should-"

"could you wait here for just a moment?"

you really should go – a picture of ollie pops up in your head, and you suddenly feel an urge to check that his promise ring is still wrapped around your finger – but something in you tells you to nod. paul drops into the hitech truck again, leaving you to wait outside for a few moments, before re-appearing in front of you with a little box covered in wrapping paper in his hands.

"i know your birthday was the other week, so," he starts, holding out the present to you. "happy birthday."

for a couple of seconds, you don't say anything and don't move even an inch, just blinking down at the box in his hands. "are you serious?"

"you don't have to take it," he adds at that, suddenly a little insecure after seeing your reaction. "i just thought... i don't know, i'm-"

"stop, of course i want it," you intervene, shaking your head slightly as you finally take the box in your hands. it's heavier than you'd expected; you wouldn't have been surprised if it had been just a box filled with air, some kind of prank, but this box definitely has some kind of content. when you remove the wrapper, you're left with just a classic, black jewelry box. "paul..."

"i bought it for your birthday last year, but... you know that stuff happened." he shifts a little in his place, hands moving back to his front pockets. "since we're kind of friends again, i wanted you to have it. i have no use for it anyway."

as you slide off the lid, you almost lose your breath there and then. inside the box lies a golden chain, with a little heart pendant hanging from it – engraved with your initials.

"are you serious?" you ask, but you don't wait for the answer before stepping forward, engulfing him in a big hug. paul hesitates for a moment, and it makes you freeze. was it too much too soon? too big of a reaction for just a gift he would've thrown away otherwise? but then, you feel his arms wrap around your waist, and you can relax again. "thank you so much. it's gorgeous."

"you don't have to wear it if you don't want to," he says as you pull apart from the hug, but you shake your head.

"of course i'll wear it. i probably won't ever take it off."

but despite how happy you are that he not only remembered your birthday but made an effort to bring this to you, there's one thought that just won't leave your mind.

why did he keep it all this time, when he could've thrown it away or sold it?

"don't be too hard on yourself," you say, walking over to where pepe sits on the couch in the campos truck. your hand instinctively reaches down to his hair, messing up his dark fringe. "you did well, and you're going to do even better tomorrow. i have no doubts."

the spaniard merely groans, arms crossing over his chest as he slouches down even further in his seat. "i wanted to do better in front of my home crowd, you know?" he asks, shaking his head. "last year i won, and... i just wanted to give them as big of a show."

"you still can," you tell him as you slip onto the couch right next to him. "you have all race tomorrow."

your teammate rolls his eyes at this, but you see the hint of a smile on his lips. "you're just optimistic because you did well..."

"well, finishing in fifth after starting in fourth isn't the best i've done. but points are points."

"still, you- wait, is that a new necklace?" he asks, eyes darting to the pendant hanging around your neck. "let me see it!"

you're just about to swat his hand away when he reaches for it, feeling your cheeks heat up – from bashfulness or guilt, you're not sure – but you stop yourself in the last second. "it's a birthday present."

"from who?"

your answer doesn't come out as confident as you had hoped. "my mum."

he gazes up at you, an eyebrow raised. "you don't have to lie, you know," he says before looking down at the necklace again. "it's really sweet that ollie would buy you something like this."

ollie?

you can't help but look down in your lap at the mention of your boyfriend, your eyes already prickling with unshed tears. definitely guilt this time. pepe notices instantly, as he always does, and reaches over to place a hand on your arm. he doesn't say anything, knowing that you'll explain if you want to. "it's not from ollie…"

the confusion grows even stronger in the poor spaniard, frown so deep the lines in his forehead might go permanent.

"ollie gave me a ring. a promise ring, even…"

"a promise ring?" pepe asks, a gentle smile on his lips. "so things are really getting serious between you two? where is it?"

it hasn't occurred to you before this moment that the ring isn't actually on your finger right now.

you've been taking it off for most sessions – and whenever you work out, do the dishes, shower, sleep… really any chance you get. not because you don't like the ring; it truly is beautiful, but something about it feels off.

maybe it's the fact that it feels like he gave it to you just to trap you with him. it's a thought you've been trying to shake off since the moment he slid it onto your finger; the piece of jewelry should only be bringing you good feelings. why else would someone give a promise ring, if not to vow their unwavering commitment and ask for the same in return?

but with ollie, it doesn't feel like a shared promise – it feels somewhat like a leash.

as much as you've tried to convince yourself otherwise, it's hard to ignore the underlying truth that's been gnawing at you. he didn't give it to you because he wanted to, but because he needed to. like some kind of proof that you wouldn't slip away, that no one else would steal your attention.

it was more damage control than romance.

"it's somewhere in my bag," you say, throwing a glance towards your backpack on the other side of the room, before looking down at your lap again.

"somewhere in your bag?" pepe is trying so hard not to intrude or be too rude; he wants to be supportive, but something about your actions and words is making him suspicious. "you don't really care for it, then? is it ugly?"

"it's gorgeous, but… i just…"

he takes your silence as a sign to keep going. "who gave you the necklace, then?"

the first tear falls from your eye now, accompanied by a few more slow drops that roll down your cheeks. you're not in any rush to wipe them away; you know pepe has been studying you cautiously for a while now, so he definitely noticed already. but it isn't until you remain silent, other than a few occasional sniffles, that it clicks in his head.

"you're kidding," he says with a shake of his head. "paul has got a lot of nerve, you know that?" there's steam blowing out of his ears by now, and he stands up in just a second. "let me go punch the shit out of him-"

"don't!" you manage to grab the sleeve of his maroon redbull hoodie before he gets the chance to leave, pleading eyes staring up at him now. "i wouldn't be wearing it if i wasn't alright with it, i promise."

"then- what?" confusion takes over his expression once again, and he's still struggling to find his words when you pull him down to sit next to you again. "you're a smart girl. i think you know that the charm you're wearing is a heart. and, well…" he shrugs, still unsure of what to say – and with the whole situation, to be honest. "boys don't give away hearts to female friends."

"they don't?"

pepe shakes his head. "i thought you loved ollie."

"i do," you counter instantly, though you don't sound very sure.

"really?"

"well, i- i think i do." you reach up to your cheeks, brushing away a few tears from them. "maybe… maybe i don't. i don't know, pepe."

pepe has no idea how to react or what to say, it's easy to tell – so you choose to explain it all to him.

you tell him about how you were still in love with paul, even after breaking up with him. you tell him about how ollie wasn't supposed to be a rebound, how you felt like everything seemed so perfect from the start, but you could never really grow past that initial stage of adoration and go deeper.

you tell him about all of the moments that have made you doubt; the little interactions with paul where he's acted like the paul he used to be before your breakup, and the times you've been with ollie and felt like you should've been more present than you could be.

you tell him about the guilt of knowing ollie loves you, but not having been able to say it back even once. and you tell him that no matter how much you want to love ollie, no matter how perfect he is to you and how it all just clicks, you still aren't sure if you actually do feel it.

"can i give you my honest opinion on this?" pepe asks when your sobs have died down, streams of tears turned into mere teardrops waiting at the corner of your eye. "what paul did… you may see it as just something sweet that a good friend would do. but something is seriously suspicious about it." he pauses for a moment, and when you remain silent, he speaks up again. "like, why would he still keep that necklace a year later? and why would he bring it this weekend?"

"what are you saying, that he's still in love with me?" you question, eyebrows furrowed. "that he's trying to steal me back?"

"i don't know exactly what he's thinking, but i think you should be cautious." he leans forward ever so slightly, placing both hands on your shoulders. "i think that – and i say this in the most platonic way ever – you're so lovely that if someone were to fall for you once, i don't think there's such a thing as falling out of love. i'm sure he still feels what he felt a year ago."

"and what, you think i'm just going to let him steal me away? like it's that easy?" you shake your head. "i get to choose who i'm with, not paul."

"don't think that i don't know you're a strong and independent woman. but, you also just confessed to me that you're not even sure if you're in love with ollie, so…" he takes a deep breath. "don't get mad at me for thinking that you haven't really made up your mind, or for being suspicious of paul."

"they actually called you in to pit?"

ollie groans, running a hand through his messy, newly cleaned curls. "my steering was completely off," he says, leaning back against the desk in his hotel room. "what was i supposed to do? i had like ten warnings for track limits."

you shrug, flopping back against the bed behind you. "you did what you could, ollie," you say, hoping to bring him at least some solace.

however, the tone of his voice is far from one you had expected. "well, that hasn't been enough all season, has it?" he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. "i've barely scored any points all season. even compared to rookies, i'm terrible."

he doesn't need to say the name for you to know exactly who he means.

your eyes widen at this, and you struggle to find the words. you knew he's always been setting a hard standard for himself to live up to, but since when was he self-deprecating? "darling, we still have half the season left. it'll be alright-"

"easy for you to say," he snaps. "you're not at the back of the field every single race."

you've never seen him like this. he's practically oozing with anger, his gaze drilling holes into your soul.

you knew he was mad, frustrated and about a million other things.

you just didn't expect him to take it out on you.

he realizes it instantly – he notices the way your eyes flicker to the floor, your shoulders slumping slightly and your breath hitching – and regret flashes across his face immediately.

you press your hands into the bed, pushing yourself up to stand. "i think… it's time to go back to my own room," you say, voice much lower than before. "early race tomorrow, you know…"

ollie makes it over to you in just two quick strides, hands finding your hips easily. "hey, i'm really sorry," he says. when your gaze remains fixed on the floor, one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek, tilting your face up. "i didn't mean to snap at you like that. i'm just frustrated, and… you didn't deserve that."

"it's alright, i get it." you try to put on as much of a genuine smile as possible. you do understand it, at least partially; he's under a lot of stress and doesn't mean whatever he's saying. but at the same time, are you really the person he should snap at? "i really should go, though."

he gives you a nod. "kiss?"

he leans in, pausing just before your lips meet as if giving you the chance to pull away. you don't, and the kiss feels tentative, as if he's testing the waters. there's no spark, it just feels... mechanical. a fleeting press of lips that in no way conveys the comfort he's trying to offer.

ollie pauses for a moment, his nose brushing yours as he whispers. "i really am sorry..." his grip on your waist tightens momentarily, as if trying to hold onto something that's slipping away.

you nod faintly, not trusting yourself to speak. the warmth that usually lingers after a kiss is missing, leaving only an awkward stillness. you step out of his grasp, and before he can say anything else, you've grabbed your bag and made your way out through the door.

the sound of your footsteps against the carpet fades quickly as you walk down the hall, leaving a silence that seems to echo louder than his earlier apology.

p7 to p3 in the feature.

another good race, another podium, another congratulatory text from your father. what could be better?

the post-race media duties took ages this time, and yet, pepe promised to wait in the truck until you were ready to leave. despite the fact that he's most likely drowning in envy, seeing his teammate get on the podium in his own home race, the smile on his lips as he hugs you when you've come back to the truck actually seems genuine. "are you sure you don't want to stay?" you ask as you part from the embrace. "breathe in the atmosphere some more?"

he shakes his head softly. "with the roadshow and fans forum on wednesday, i feel like i've had tons of atmosphere by now," he says, doing his best to hide the hint of pain that attempts to make its way onto his face. "maybe i'll see some fans on the way to your hotel, who knows."

with your bag slung across your shoulder and your third-place trophy securely in your embrace, the two of you finally make your way out of the truck, saying your goodbyes and thanks to all nearby staff on the way. everyone seems to be in a good mood – even apparently your boyfriend, who walks out of his truck just as you're about to walk past it.

"congrats on the points," ollie says as he gives pepe a pat on his shoulder. "even got the fastest lap, right? well done, mate."

the spaniard offers him a smile back. "pretty alright day," he hums, before looking over at you. "though, this one was outstanding."

"isn't she always?" ollie asks, hand instead finding the side of your waist as he leans down to press a fleeting kiss to your cheek. "good job today, love."

"thank you," you answer, unable to stop smiling so brightly. yesterday night is long forgotten by now, your argument seeming nothing but tiny as you look at the bigger picture. how could something like that bring you down on a weekend like this one? "i think-"

you don't think he intended to cut you off by the action, but your breath hitches in your throat mid-sentence as you see ollie's hand nearing your throat. it takes a few moments to realize what he's doing, and when he's got your heart pendant in his hand, it's already too late for you to react. "cute necklace," he says, flipping it over to see the initials engraved in it. "where did you get it?"

now that you've practiced this answer once, it comes out more confident and believable. at least, you hope it does. "it's a birthday gift from my mum."

pepe seems to understand the subconscious signals you send him, because he remains quiet even if he doesn't agree with you lying to ollie like this. ollie puts on a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and brushes his thumb over the initials again. "i've got some competition, huh," he says jokingly, but you hope he doesn't catch your small, nervous swallow.

more than you could ever guess.

his words make you instinctively take your hand into your other behind your back, fingers instantly reaching to check the length of your ring finger. empty. you just must've forgotten to put the ring back on after the race. no big deal, right?

pepe can't hear your thoughts but he takes the now awkward silence as a sign that your mind is spiraling again. "we were just about to leave," he speaks up, giving your shoulder a pat. "you coming with us, ollie?"

he shakes his head, finally letting go of the necklace. "i have another meeting to get to," ollie answers. "but i'm sure i'll see you both tonight?"

you and pepe both nod as you part ways with your boyfriend, gentle smiles on your lips. however, your stress is practically oozing off your skin, and pepe picks up on it instantly. he slings an arm across your shoulders, holding you close as he leads you down the paddock. "he didn't catch on," he reassures you, seemingly managing to read your mind this time. "but it's better if he hears it from you than someone else, you know."

you swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a nod. "he won't overreact, right?"

pepe keeps quiet for a few moments, picking his words carefully. "ollie is a good guy. one of the best." he takes a deep breath. "it will be alright."

yourusername just posted!

yourusername podium for the team's home race, couldn't be more happy. thank you team for the hard work. 💗

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user amazing as always!!

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SPIELBERG

"it's not that i'm greedy or anything," ollie starts as he flops down on the edge of the bed, a huff escaping him. "i just… it would be nice to score some points, you know?"

if he had been greedy, you would've understood it. a mere three point-paying performances so far this season and a top result of p4 is not what he – or anyone – had expected. with the amount of pressure on him to perform, and all rumors about his future, everyone anticipates good things every time he jumps into the car.

you hum, pulling the duvet over your body as you get comfortable in bed. "you're in a good position for it, you know," you remind him. with his second top ten qualifying of the year, except for his pole in jeddah which he didn't get to claim the spoils of, he sure has a great chance for the sprint race tomorrow.

he nods slowly, pulling a hand through his messy locks before holding up his duvet and slipping in underneath it. "and you will do well on sunday. tomorrow too, of course," he's quick to add, turning to face you, who's already lying on your side. "good job today, love."

"thank you," you hum. a smile appears on your lips when his hand reaches for the side of your face, pulling you into him. his lips mold lazily against yours, fingers tapping against your cheek before tracing down your neck and arm. when he reaches your hand, his thumb draws random figures against the back of it, before finally falling down to brush against your fingers – and your breath hitches in your throat.

your ring finger is empty.

but where did you put it? when did you take it off? was it when you washed your hands before dinner? or when you showered after quali?

you don't know if ollie has noticed yet, or if the action is purely unconscious because he's too focused on your lips against his, but you pull away just in case. "i forgot my phone..." you mumble, retrieving your hand from him and scrambling to get out of bed. "have to charge it overnight..."

you rummage through your bag with feigned urgency. the phone is already exactly where it should be, on the floor where you'd placed it earlier, connected to your charger. but ollie doesn't need to know that.

what's important is that he doesn't know about the ring, or about the currently cool press of the gold heart against your chest beneath the fabric of your shirt. the thought sends a chill down your spine, and you force yourself to breathe as you stall for time.

your actions are all for nothing, however. of course he noticed.

a first podium of the season is always a lovely feeling. you would know, having already experienced it, and now you got to be happy for your boyfriend claiming not only his first podium but also his first win.

it's even better that he got to share it with pepe and paul.

even though things currently are a bit tense between ollie and paul, those two have been through so much together. they've been friends for years, and all that doesn't disappear just because they've dated the same girl, right? on the podium, you're supposed to let go of everything else and just have a good time with the other two drivers, no matter who they are.

so why were both ollie and pepe so reluctant to pay any attention to paul? why did neither of them seem to want to spray him with champagne or pour it over his head? why did they walk away from paul to pose for the cameras without him?

you saw how paul and pepe clung to each other on the podium in bahrain. that weekend, it was those two who left another driver out. what's so different now?

ollie and pepe could've been heard chattering from miles away. you only noticed the sound once they stepped out of the elevator on your floor of the hotel a little past midnight.

you hadn't seen either of them since the podium – and frankly, you hadn't wanted to, either – but you assumed they would be in their best spirits. unfortunately, the videos and screenshots of the podium ceremony, along with other content the formula two instagram account posted, have been constantly appearing on your social media feeds all day.

needless to say, this hasn't put you in the best mood.

you stick your head out through your door once you hear their voices get closer, and the two of them are clinging onto each other and giggling like never before. ollie is the first to notice you, his pace slowing and his smile faltering. "what's with the frown?" he asks before you even realize that you look about as mad as you feel. "bad race?"

he usually isn't this blunt. has he been drinking? despite the fact that he has a race tomorrow? "i couldn't care less about my race," you tell him, still staring the two boys down. pepe looks about ready to crawl out of his skin already; sure he's done something wrong, just unsure what.

"then..." your boyfriend begins, eyes flickering up and down your pyjama-clad body. "what's up?"

"what's up?" you repeat with a scoff. "the two of you are terribly immature, that's what's up."

the boys exchange a look before inching closer to you, soon standing right by your door with you. "it's really just the champagne- maybe one other drink, but..." pepe begins, words slurring and mixing in one big mess. "but we'll be okay for tomorrow."

"do either of you have any idea what the time is?" you pull a hand through your hair, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "the feature starts in like ten hours-" you interrupt yourself, taking a deep breath. "that's not even the point."

"okay... what is the point?" ollie asks, voice weak and unsure.

"i'm so disappointed by how you both acted today on the podium." neither of them seem to understand, so you keep going. "how you treated paul... that was so childish of you."

"wha-"

you don't even let them interject. "it was obvious. you were both shutting him out, even though he's done nothing wrong. he fought just as well as you both for that podium – if not even more, considering how he gained more positions than both of you together – and he did not deserve to be ignored."

the boys are speechless.

they stand still right in the middle of the corridor, mouths hanging slightly agape, not believing their ears at the sound of your little outburst. however, you don't feel even a sliver of guilt; they deserved it. "neither of you have anything to say, huh?" you ask eventually, shaking your head. "unbelievable."

without giving them a chance to say anything, and without wishing them goodnight, you slam the door in their faces and retreat into your room.

the silence on the other side of the door confirms one thing – they got the message.

after a quite chaotic feature race on sunday, with dennis stalling on pole and ollie having to retire due to yet another engine issue, you and the team managed to squeeze every little drop of success out of the race. two podium finishes – you in second and pepe in third – meant that you got to strengthen the lead in the team's championship even further.

considering the fact that you were also shoved wide at one moment when battling with paul and still managed to secure that podium finish, you're definitely pleased with your own race. you and pepe celebrate with the team when you get out of your cars, but the only acknowledgment of his race you give him is a quick pat on his back without even looking at him.

instead, you reach gabriel with a big grin on your lips, throwing an arm across his shoulders as you congratulate him on his first win. he doesn't even seem to notice how you both leave pepe behind as you walk towards the cooldown room together, already going off about the different happenings of the race.

pepe arrives a few moments after you, grabbing his flask of water and slumping into his chair without a word. gabriel tries to involve him in conversations, seemingly too stuck in his race-winning haze to notice the tension, but both you and the spaniard stay mostly quiet throughout the cooldown.

when the cameras cut out and someone tells you all it's time to get to the podium, you're the first to stand and make your way towards the door. but suddenly, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back a meter until your shoulder bumps into a body behind you. pepe's breath is warm against your ear when he whispers into it. "are you going to ignore me all day?"

you turn to throw him a glance over your shoulder – your first eye contact since last night – and after a few quiet moments, you shrug. "probably."

and with that, he's left speechless behind as everyone else hurries to the podium for the ceremony.

with dino's third place in his own race, it meant that the entire 2023 prema f3 lineup got to stand on the podium this weekend. your friend even climbed up to fourth in the f3 championship, so when you two accidentally ran into each other back in the paddock, you threw yourself into his arms instantly.

getting dino to leave the post-race chaos was no easy task. between his habit of stopping to chat with everyone and his claim that he needed to "soak up the podium vibes", you were forced to practically pull him with you to the shared f2 and f3 hospitality.

"things looked quite tense between paul and ollie on the podium yesterday," dino says with a chuckle just as you're reaching into a refrigerator for a soda, making you stop in your tracks. not only are you surprised that he brought it up; the fact that there was a joking tone in his voice is what made your eyebrows furrow.

"that's funny?"

dino blinks at you. "no, i guess not," he mumbles, brain working overtime to figure out what's gotten you acting so strange in just a second.

"i thought it was extremely childish, actually," you say with a shrug, shutting the refrigerator again. "the way that they ignored him, only paid attention to each other…" you watch as dino leans his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "you're still paul's best friend, so you get what i mean, right?"

"i mean, sure. but i also get why ollie and pepe would do that." he puts his hands up in the air as if surrendering when he sees the glare you throw him, yet he keeps speaking. "come on, they're just protective of you, and-"

"oh, so you're on their side now?"

"i'm not on any side!" he exclaims, dragging a hand down his face. "i just think-"

your shoulders feel a little lighter when a voice interrupts dino – and you feel yourself even smiling when you realize who the voice belongs to. "oh, look! it's the podium duo!"

dino laughs and hugs the blonde man who just stepped into the room. paul is already dressed out of his white hitech suit and into regular clothes, curls messy and still a little sweaty. "podium trio, now that you're here," dino says, patting him on the back before pulling away. "good race yesterday."

"thank you, mate," paul smiles brightly. "you deserved that second place, shame it didn't happen." he then turns to you, the brightness of his smile not faltering. "congrats to you, too. things are really turning around, aren't they?"

in more ways than one. "yeah, two feature podiums..." you let out a chuckle, reciprocating the hug he gives you with an equal amount of warmth. "i wouldn't have guessed that after imola."

paul chuckles, too, parting from you to step over to the coffee machine nearby, continuing your small talk for a little while. dino has already stepped away to talk to some prema staff at a nearby table, but you don't mind. being alone with paul doesn't feel strange at all anymore. even if you can't come up with anything interesting to say, it's not like the air is so thick with tension that you can't breathe. your skin doesn't crawl, and you feel at ease – the awkwardness is replaced by something warmer. "so..." he starts, pressing a few buttons on the machine before shooting you a glance. "i'm glad i ran into you. i was actually going to go look for you."

"oh, really?" you ask, unscrewing the cap of your soda and taking a sip. "and why's that?"

"I wanted to apologize." you bite back a comment about that being the first time those words have left his mouth. "about the situation there, when i... fought you a little too hard. it was unnecessary."

the corners of your lips twitch with a smile. "crashing into me would've been unnecessary. this was just racing," you assure him. "you got a penalty for it anyways, right?"

he nods and shrugs, picking up his paper cup when all of the coffee has been poured into it. "just figured i should say it anyways."

"it's alright. besides," you begin walking towards the exit again, and paul instantly follows. "i don't want you to race me any less just because we're friends again."

"oh, so we're friends now?" he asks with a grin, pulling the door open and letting you step outside first. "did you think to let me be a part of that decision? or did you just decide on that all by yourself-"

paul cackles when you shove his shoulder, and you roll your eyes in response. "yes, we are. but i still want you to give your all out there; i wouldn't want to win over you just because you're holding back."

he gives you a nod, opening his mouth to speak again – but when his eyes focus on something behind you, he closes it again. you raise an eyebrow, a lump gathering in your throat when you turn around to find ollie walking over to you.

his dark sunglasses sit perched atop his nose, hiding most of his facial expression, but you assume there's a frown hiding beneath it. "am i interrupting anything?" he asks when he approaches, and your hand instinctively reaches up to the side of his arm when he stops.

"nah," paul is the first to respond. "i was just about to leave, anyway." he looks down at you again, offering a quick smile. "congrats again."

you return the smile and then watch him leave, before tilting your head up to ollie once more. when ollie's gaze still follows his back many seconds later, not even throwing you a glance, your hand drops back to your side. when you begin walking in the opposite direction, ollie finally snaps out of his trance and arrives by your side in a few long steps. "hey," he says, neck craning down in hopes of getting your attention. "i wanted to congratulate you, too."

"sweet."

your chest tightens when you say it, and you know you'd feel even more guilty if you'd look back up at ollie and catch his reaction. so instead, you keep your eyes straight ahead as you try to navigate your way back to the campos truck. "you did really well, you know," he tries, hoping for a better reaction.

however, he doesn't get one. "i do know."

just as you reach your destination, ollie reaches out to grab your wrist, not letting you run away from him. when you finally face him, he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head instead, revealing those deep brown eyes you've come to love. he doesn't look as irritated as you'd assume; they're more pained and confused. "can we talk?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

you take a deep breath through your nose, turning your head to the side again. you couldn't even keep eye contact with him for ten seconds. "can we do it later?" you mumble, fingers subconsciously reaching up to fiddle with the heart charm hanging from your neck. "i really need to get changed and pack my bag... my flight leaves in just a few hours..."

he sighs, just loud enough for you to catch it over the rest of the commotion in the paddock. "you can't even spare me five minutes?"

"do you really think here and now is the right time?" you counter, looking back up at him just in time for him to turn his own gaze away. he shrugs.

"i guess not." he takes a few steps back. "see you in england, i guess."

and with that, he's gone.

you don't usually pull up your journal in public places; you wouldn't want to have to explain to some nosy staff member if they caught you with it. but right now, the truck is completely empty and silent besides the soft hum of a self-cleaning coffee machine, so you curl up in the corner of the couch with the book in your lap.

is this the end?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a new podium! so grateful for everything. even dino spamming my phone with selfies. ❤️

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[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, mention of death, Amber freeman x Fem reader, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +3k

A/n: the story will follow the events of Scream 5 and 6. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

The drive to the hospital was filled with a heavy silence. Each person in the car was lost in their own thoughts, unsure of what to say or how to express their feelings. The air was thick with anxiety as they all braced themselves for the sight of their friend in whatever condition they might find her.

As they arrived to the hospital and made their way towards Tara's room, Iris's nerves began to intensify. Her footsteps slowed involuntarily, each step feeling heavier as they approached. She watched with a mix of apprehension and dread as her friends moved ahead and entered the room.

Meanwhile, Amber lingered beside her, casting a puzzled glance at Iris's hesitation.

"Are you okay babe?" She got closer to her girlfriend, squeezing her hand in a comforting manner.

"Yeah, it's just... I don't know how to feel about all of this". She sighed. "Should i go in there? I don't think Tara would want to see me".

Amber silently eyed the girl as she thought of what to say." We should get in there, she needs it after everything that happened". Iris has always admired Amber's empathy and she knew she was right. Tara might not be her best friend anymore but she was still Amber's.

Sometimes she would find herself lost in thought, pondering how her friendship with Tara might have unfolded if they did things differently.

After all, they had been friends with each other ever since they were six years old. They had shared countless memories, dreams and secrets that felt unbreakable. Yet, the reality was stark; things had changed. She struggled with the uncertainty of how to navigate their friendship now, especially after the events of two years ago that had created a rift between them. It was painful to realize that the deep connection they once shared, seemed almost unreachable now.

Despite the distance that had grown, her concern for Tara lingered, especially after the traumatic attack. She just wanted her to be safe.

As they entered the room, they heard Wes say, "You're up." Tara smiled at him, but her gaze quickly shifted to the door. She appeared taken aback when she saw Iris standing there.

"Hey guys, thank you for coming" she smiled softly at them.

"Of course, Tara," Iris said with a small smile. Tara's heart raced until she noticed Amber take Iris's hand and intertwine their fingers, causing her to look away.

The room had a calming, almost serene atmosphere. Privacy curtains, currently drawn back, framed the window, letting in just a sliver of sunlight that danced gently on the floor. A television mounted on the wall caught her attention, softly playing a nature documentary. Across from her was a side chair, now occupied by Amber who clutched into Tara's hand, worried for her best friend as she asked how she felt.

It hurt Iris to see Tara in a hospital bed looking so wounded up. She had a cast around her leg and a tube helping her with the oxygen. Iris's heart sank at the thought of how alone she must have felt and how she probably thought she was going to die at the hands of some psycho.

Tara must have sensed someone observing her closely, as she suddenly turned her gaze directly toward Iris. The two locked eyes, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the emotional gap between them growing heavier. Observing the interaction, Amber placed her hand gently on her girlfriend's thigh, her thumb softly tracing circles.

They all keep each other company for a little bit longer when suddenly the door swung open. Iris's eyes widened as she saw Sam walk through the door alongside a brunette guy.

Sam immediately crouched beside her sister, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "How are you feeling?" She asked with genuine concern, her voice filled with worry.

"You came" Tara was just as surprised as everyone else.

"Of course I came" Sam replied, with a gentle smile in her face. She felt guilty that her own sister thought she wouldn't show up after getting stabbed but she didn't show it. "This is my boyfriend Richie".

"It's so nice to meet you. I'm so sorry if I'm intruding." Richie took a step closer to Tara and waved at her.

"Nice to meet you too" Tara smiled unsure, raising a hand.

"Thank you for calling". Sam told softly to Wes once she hugged him. "Look at your hair, I like it" they both shared a laugh, she then went around and hug all of her sister's friends.

"Hi Ris" she whispered softly into her hair after she pulled her into a tight hug. "I can't believe how tall you are right now"

Sam and Iris had always been close because of her friendship with Tara. The three of them would spend many hours together, watching movies and playing games, with Sam always making sure both of them were well taken care of. Sam was also the first person Iris confided in when she realized she was bisexual, stepping into the role of the big sister she never had. This relationship had been so important in Iris's life until everything shifted out of nowhere when Sam decided to leave without a word to anyone.

Seeing Sam now, Iris felt a surge of emotion and instinctively pulled her into a tight hug. "It's so good to see you, Sam," she said, her voice trembling with longing. The embrace was more than just a gesture; it was a deep need for comfort and connection that Iris had been missing.

Sam walked back to her boyfriend and introduced him to everyone. "These are Chad and Mindy, the twins, Wes and Iris. I used to babysit them all". They all sent a wave towards him.

"Which is always how I like to be introduced". Wes joked lightly.

"And Amber, hey". Sam akwardly greeted her, they never had much of a bond. Amber always seemed to dislike her for some reason.

"Hi nice to see you" Amber told her but everyone knew she didn't mean it. Sam glanced at her, then her eyes fell to the sight of her hand clasped with Iris's. She was taken aback by the sight and quickly took a glance at her sister. When she thought about what would happen when she saw this people again, she never thought Amber would be the one to date Iris.

"H-hi, I'm Richie" he smiled nervously. That alone made Iris raise her eyebrows, she put a hand around Amber's shoulder and pulled her close to her, bringing a smile to the girl.

"Where's mom?" Sam asked her sister, finally noticing the absence of their parent.

"She's stuck at a conference in London. She called me earlier". Tara explained and Amber scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah for all 10 minutes". No one knew what to say, Tara's and Sam's mom was certainly not winning mother of the year award.

"Look guys, Tara's really tired. Maybe we should just give her some space".

"Not you Sam, I want you to stay". Tara called out to her sister when she noticed her trying to leave the room too.

Chad, Mindy and Wes all said their goodbyes and turned to leave the room. Richie stood by the door waiting for Amber and Iris to leave too.

"If it's okay with you, I could sleep here tonight" Sam suggested unsure of her sister reaction, she knew they had a lot of things to talk about.

"I'd really like that". Tara smiled weakly at her and Sam reciprocated it. Iris felt herself smiling too watching both girls having a moment of peace.

Amber asked Tara if she had her extra inhaler and once she said yes, Amber tugged Iris along as she tried to walk through the door, but Iris held back and crouched down beside Tara to squeeze her hand hesitantly. She could feel Tara sharp intake of breath as she squeezed harder. She didn't know what came into her but she couldn't leave the room without showing some kind of support to Tara.

"I'm glad you're okay, I got really scared for you". Iris couldn't meet her eye but as she felt Tara's intense gaze on her, she found herself wanting to take a glimpse.

"Don't worry, I'm basically inmmortal at this point". They both laughed weakly at Tara's attempt of joking. "I didn't know if you were going to come and visit".

"You think I wouldn't have?" She was a little hurt Tara would think that, though she couldn't really blame her, the last time they a have had a real conversation that lasted more than 10 minutes was 2 years ago when they were still friends.

Tara ignored the question and gave her hand a tiny squeeze. "I'm glad you did, thank you". They stared at each other for a few more seconds before they felt Amber clearing her throat. "Baby let's leave so they can talk"

Iris gave Tara a final smile and then left the room with her girlfriend. "You okay love?"

"Are you?" Amber asked her in a serious tone, it threw Iris off guard.

"I think so?"

"Okay, let's go, the other just texted, they are heading to the bar". They walked through the hallway together and left the hospital, leaving Iris feeling confused. She couldn't quite grasp why Amber appeared so upset, but she chose to brush it off. Amber had always reacted this way whenever she saw them talking, so Iris decided not to dwell on it, assuming it was probably nothing important.

—————————————

"So, what's she like, the sister?" Liv asked as she leaned against the pool table, her eyes fixed on the game between Chad and Iris. The latter subtly moved the position of a ball that would make her have an advantage over Chad when he wasn't looking and shot Liv a wink, gesturing for her to keep quiet.

Liv gave her a playful smile and turned to pay attention to her boyfriend.

"Sam? She's so cool". Chad happily answered.

"You only say that beacuse she let you and Iris wear Pokemon onesies to bed for a year" Mindy replied making everyone laugh.

Iris exaggeratedly placed a hand over her chest in mock offense, playing up the moment as if she were deeply hurt. Now Chad's turn to play, he glanced at the table with a puzzled expression, his gaze darting around as he tried to locate the red ball. He was slightly bewildered, as he could have sworn that the ball had been in plain view just moments ago.

"Pokemon onesies? Me? I would never" Mindy gave her a knowing look, while Amber shook her head with laughter.

"Ambs, baby, don't listen to them alright? They are trying to ruin my reputation"

"What reputation bro? That disappeared the moment you fell off the school benches because you were watching Amber do acrobatics in a skirt". Mindy couldn't pass up the opportunity to make fun of her best friend, sue her.

"Omg baby that's so embarrassing, I thought you said you got dizzy" Amber playfully told her with a cute glint in her eyes.

"I got dizzy by your hotness cutie" she jokily winked at her, making everyone at the table groan with disgust.

"Don't call me cutie" Amber pretended to be mad as Iris planted a kiss in her head.

"You're right babe, you're a bad bitch". Iris put a hand around her waist and turned to look at her friends. "Me and the baddie I pulled by being a virgin, look at me Wes it's still possible for you".

They all laughed except for Wes who flipped a finger at her, calling her a bitch.

"Going back to Sam, trust me she is not cool" Amber brought back the conversation to Sam, explaining why she was a terrible sister. "Her dad left her mom, right? Walks right out when Tara's eight and Sam's thirteen. So Sam started acting out, getting in trouble with cops and then, on Sam's eighteenth birthday, she leaves".

Iris flickered her eyes towards her girlfriend, they both knew this but for some reason, Amber sounded more hateful. She knew what Sam did was wrong but she couldn't hate on the woman without actually knowing the reason she disappeared. She knew Sam, and if she left, it was because she thought it was better for Tara. She had a lot of things to say but she didn't want Sam to be the reason she fought with her girlfriend, so she shut up and continued focusing on the stripped blue ball she had been trying to put in the hole for the past 5 minutes.

"Ghosts them all". Amber shares a little bit of Vodka with her friends. No one was supposed to drink alcohol as they were just 18 but they always managed to hide some in a flask.

"Maybe Sam has changed but I just don't want to see Tara hurt again."

"So what, you're protecting Tara from her own sister?" Wes questioned her.

"She's not saying that Wes, but what if Sam leaves again? I don't think she will but if it happens then Tara is going to be hurt and we don't want that". Iris interjected trying to calm the waters between those two, with everything that had been going she didn't need her friends to fight each other.

"You don't want that? That's rich coming from you". Wes muttered in response.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it, so no guys are good enough for her, and now her family's off limits too?" Wes turned his attention back to Amber, scoffing at the girl.

"Mmm, motive!" Mindy spoke up, causing everyone to look at her. She leaned on her pool stick as she glanced at the boy. "If I can't have her, no one can"

"What?"

"We all know you have a crush on Tara," Mindy announced, and as everyone around them nodded in agreement, Iris was taken aback. She had been completely unaware of this detail. It seemed that in her attempts to avoid any direct interaction with Tara, she had missed out on some crucial information. What else did she not know?

"Alright, come on, Mindy," the boy retorted with irritation. "So what, am I suspect now because you think I have a crush on her? Does that make Iris a suspect too?" The mention of Iris's name, along with the words "crush" and "Tara," made her stiffen. Amber's gaze turned fiercely toward Wes, her expression so intense it was as if she were plotting something drastic. Her grip on her flask tightened, causing her knuckles to turn white with the force.

"Don't bring me into the conversation Hicks, I have nothing to do with that". she said, her irritation evident. She was frustrated with the boy, upset with her friends for not speaking up, and angry at herself for letting the comment get under her skin.

"Well you had a crush on her before"

"Shut up dude that was a million years ago".

"Know your place Wes, that's my girlfriend you're talking about". Amber angrily scoffed at the boy, enough to make him shut up.

"But we're all suspects," Mindy pointed out, prompting everyone to exchange glances as if they were only now considering this possibility. Chad lift his glass in a casual salute towards his sister. The air was thick with contemplation as everyone weighed the implications of Mindy's observation.

"Except maybe Liv".

"Thank you" Liv smiled as she thought it was a compliment.

"You're way too boring to be a psycho" Mindy finished her thoughts and Iris snorted on her drink. Liv looked at them both and flipped her finger at them.

"Hey don't look at me, she's the bitch" Iris said, pointing her stick at Mindy, who playfully nudged her in the side. In moments like these, when they were joking around and laughing with her friends, it was hard for Iris to believe that one of them could be involved in the attacks, targeting people. Her thoughts drifted back to her sister. She couldn't recall much about her, except for those times when she would have a nightmare and Olivia would come to her room, curling up beside her and singing soothing songs until Iris fell asleep peacefully in her sister's arms. Olivia never knew her two friends were behind all the attacks, she also never knew she was murdered in her own room by one of them. Iris likes to think it's better that way, to just not know, she couldn't imagine what she would do if one of her friends was behind it all. She would go insane.

Suddenly someone called out to them. "Yo Liv, want a real drink?" Vince shouted from a few meters away. "Or are you happy sitting at this kid's table?" The creep chuckled as he kept getting closer to them.

"Listen up, Uglier Michael Myers, it was a summer fling. It meant nothing". Chad went to him trying to defend his girlfriend.

"Was I talking to you?" Vince asked clenching his hand. "I don't fucking care who you're talking to" Chad shouted in his face.

Vince tried talking to Liv one more time before Chad got in his face. "Don't you fucking talk to her".

"Shut the fuck up" Vince pulled out a pocket knife out of nowhere and moved menacingly towards Chad. Iris quickly shoved Vince away from her friend causing his grip on the knife to falter.

"Get the fuck out of here dude" Vince attempted to advance toward her as well, but when he took a closer look at her, his demeanor changed. "Well, sweetheart, you can join me if you want," he said, trying to sound flirty. "There's no need for us to fight."

"Call me sweetheart one more time and I'll kill you" she muttered defiantly as she moved closer to Vince, undeterred by the knife he held. Just as Vince was about to respond, Chad quickly stepped in, grabbing her firmly and positioning himself between her and Vince. He shielded her from any potential threat, making sure that Vince couldn't reach her or cause any harm.

"Hey!" A bartender yells. "Get out of here before I call the cops"

Iris felt a firm grip on her arm and turned to see Amber's face contorted with anger. They quickly followed their friends as they exited the bar, coming to a halt once they were outside, letting the rest of the group walk without them.

"What the fuck were you thinking huh?" Amber demanded, her voice rising in frustration. "That fucker could have seriously hurt you, and for what?"

"He was threatening Chad," Iris tried to explain, but before she could say more, Amber moved closer, grasping both of Iris's arms tightly. Her eyes were fierce with rage. "I don't give a shit about Chad right now," Amber said urgently. "I don't want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger, do you understand? He could have really hurt you, and that's all I care about".

Amber was right. Iris hadn't intended to upset her, but her anger had clouded her judgment. "You're right, I'm sorry," she admitted, her voice tinged with remorse. Amber gradually loosened her grip and pulled Iris into a tight embrace.

"I just don't want to see you hurt," Amber said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're all that matters to me." She gently tucked a strand of hair behind Iris's ear and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Then, leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on Iris's lips. Iris sighed softly into the kiss, her hands cradling Amber's face while Amber's arms wrapped around her waist. The kiss lingered until they both needed to break away for air. They parted, their foreheads resting against each other, sharing a quiet, intimate moment.

"Don't worry, he wasn't going to hurt me."

"But if he did I would've destroyed him"

"Hot but it won't be necessary". Iris gently intertwined their hands and they started to walk together to the car.

"Amber baby, aren't you forgetting something?" She playfully asked her as she got into the passenger seat, they loved to play that game.

"I love you"

"I love you too" she happily sighed into her girlfriend's space. "Now kiss me again".

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

[fluentmoviequoter]

Blue and Red

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!firefighter!reader

Summary: You are a firefighter who has a unique rivalry with Sergeant Deacon Kay. When you're injured while working together, Deacon learns why the rivalry started.

Warnings: fluff, angst, reader gets shot, Luca is smarter than Hondo, lots of teasing and playful arguments, parts of this are inspired by S.W.A.T. episode 4x7 "Under Fire"

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Well, if it isn’t the fireflies,” Hondo taunts, drawing attention to the firefighters walking in.

“Still upset we beat your team of Girl Scouts?” your captain replies.

Feeling eyes on you, you turn to the side and smile when you see him.

“Sergeant Kay,” you greet.

He says your name, taking a step toward you before asking, “Come to see what a real job looks like?”

“Actually, we were just hoping to steal some of your donuts before going over to the elementary school and inspiring the next generation.”

“Yeah, go tell a bunch of kids how much fun fire is. You must be bored.”

You press your lips together, raising your brows before turning back toward your crew.

“We’re covering for your on-call crew,” you tell Hondo.

“The city should be terrified,” Street deadpans.

“With that haircut out in public, you’re absolutely right,” someone quips.

“Still single?” Deacon asks, suddenly closer to you.

“No, I’m actually engaged to an attorney now,” you answer. “Rich guy.”

You watch Deacon, surprised to see him silent for once.

“Yes, I’m still single,” you admit, saving him from whatever thoughts were rushing through his head. “And I know you are.”

“You can’t know that.”

Turning toward him as your crew prepares to leave, you lay a hand on his chest and pout.

“You’re a cop, Deac. You never sleep at home, and you have no money; I know you’re single.”

Winking at him, you step backward before waving and following your crew back to the truck.

“Call us when you need us!” you yell, saluting Deacon.

He rolls his eyes, freezing as he sees Luca staring at him.

“What?” Deacon asks.

“Nothing, just wondering if you’re on the same page of the rivalry handbook as us.”

“They’re firefighters,” Deacon answers.

“And you’ve been tainted,” Luca says, looking at Deacon’s chest where your hand was.

“You treat her differently, too.”

“Yeah, because she’s a girl, not because I want to know if she’s single.”

“20-David, let’s roll!” Hicks yells, interrupting Deacon and Luca’s conversation.

Deacon crosses his fingers that you have a quiet day, not because he doesn’t want to see you, but because he doesn’t want you in harm’s way.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re a terrible person.”

Deacon turns around quickly, surprised to hear someone else.

“Really?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Yep,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Cops are good for one thing and one thing only, but there isn’t a single donut in here.”

“You think these abs happen with donuts?”

You lower your gaze to Deacon’s stomach, smiling when he fights a squirm at your attention.

“Looks like a six-pack of donuts to me,” you answer, falling back against the couch in the S.W.A.T. common area.

“There’s donuts in the break room outside of S.W.A.T. if you really want one.”

“My captain will kill me if I eat a donut. They only keep me around for funding. Apparently, women in uniform get more donations.”

Deacon hums, and you sit up quickly, glaring at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just an interesting take.”

“You know what else is interesting? That you can’t beat the firefighters in the annual competition. Despite the fact that we have a higher number of female competitors.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Deacon says.

You hide your smile to storm past him and say, “Interesting take.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“No, it isn’t,” Deacon argues.

“No what isn’t?” you ask, interrupting his conversation with Hondo. “I’m bored,” you answer, replying to their unasked question of why you’re here.

Deacon shrugs before filling you in. “Hondo thinks the firefighter outreach to schools is just to give the teachers a break and encourage the kids.”

You look between Deacon and Hondo, surprised that Deacon is on your side.

“Deacon’s right,” you respond. “It’s not for the teachers in any way, it’s for the kids.”

“Most of those kids don’t become firefighters, they just like to look at the big red truck for an afternoon.”

“This morning, we went to an elementary school and there was a blind kid in one of the classes we talked to. His favorite toy is a fire truck, but he’s never seen one. So, we took him to the side, let him feel every inch of our uniforms, and then took him into the truck. His teacher said he’d never been that excited before, and when we were getting ready to leave, he hugged me and told me that he’d be a firefighter someday. And you’re right, he may not, but the smile on his face when he got to sit in a real version of his favorite toy and find out what a uniform feels like? It’s worth it, no matter the reason.”

Hondo tilts his head as he concedes.

“You’re right. I mean you’re wrong about everything because you’re a firebug but yeah, the kids are important,” he says.

Your radio turns on just as Hicks enters to call Deacon and Hondo.

“We’ve got an armored barricade at a bank,” he says.

“Meet you there. Loser buys dinner and donuts don’t count!” you yell over your shoulder as you run out.

“Firefighters,” Hondo groans under his breath while Deacon smiles at you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You are at the sight and in your turnout gear several minutes before Black Betty rolls up, stopping in front of the fire truck.

“Oh good, the boys in blue are here,” you say, your lack of enthusiasm causing your crew to laugh.

“You need to stay behind Black Betty until you’re cleared to go in,” Hondo reminds.

“Which, based on your track record, is about thirty minutes after the block is burned to a crisp,” your captain replies. “Stop telling us what we know and do your job.”

“Be careful,” you add quietly, looking at Deacon.

He nods, and you move to the back of the truck, readying your gear for entry.

When you hear a steady stream of gunfire, your breath catches. Deacon breached with Hondo and Street while the rest of his team went around the sides.

“26-David, shots fired,” Street’s voice comes through the radio.

Another shot echoes, but it sounds much closer than the first.

“That wasn’t in the bank,” you tell your captain.

“20-David this is Engine 35, there’s another shooter,” he radios.

“22-David, copy Engine 35. Shooter to the West of the bank; stay in place,” Luca responds.

Glancing toward the back of the truck, you see something move and reflect the sun on a rooftop. One of your crew members is past Black Betty's protection, and you don’t hesitate to run toward him, tackling him to the ground just as another shot rips through the air.

✯✯✯✯✯

“20-David, suspect down, code 4 and clear for entry,” Hondo says, standing behind a desk.

“Deac!” Luca yells as he enters the front door.

“25-David, second suspect down,” Tan reports.

“Where was the second shooter?” Hondo demands.

“Roof next door,” Luca answers, trying to say something to Deacon before Hondo cuts him off again.

 “Where’d he shoot?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Luca snaps. “He got two firefighters.”

The world seems to slow around Deacon as he runs out.

✯✯✯✯✯

The gunfire in the bank continues, and you stare at the door, hoping that Deacon walks out completely unscathed. Holding a spare shirt to your side, you lean against the side of the fire truck as your crew moves everything and everyone behind Black Betty.

“We need to get her out of here,” someone says.

“Ambulance can’t get down here until we’re clear and we don’t have the supplies to safely remove a bullet,” a second voice answers.

“I’m fine,” you interject, wincing against the pain as you twist toward them. “You need to be ready to put that fire out as soon as they radio a code 4.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You blame the adrenaline for how conscious and coherent you are five minutes after getting a bullet to the abdomen. When you see Deacon running out, you sigh and slump against the truck, wanting to kiss him and slap him simultaneously: concern and anger mixing in your mind.

“Back up,” Deacon demands, shooing your crew members away and toward the small fire in the bank vault as he pulls a bag from Black Betty.

“You scared me,” you admit when he turns toward you.

His eyes are soft and scared as he looks into yours. 

“You’re scaring me too, so we’re even.”

Someone screams down the street, and Hondo and Luca detour before seeing you. Street approaches behind Deacon, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“I need to move this,” Deacon tells you gently, pulling the shirt from your tight grasp and exposing the wound.

“Ambulance is here, Deac,” Street says, patting his shoulder gently.

Deacon nods, pressing a fresh gauze against you with more pressure than you had. You groan, and he slams his eyes shut as his jaw clenches.

“Gonna pass out,” you mutter, raising a bloody hand to lay over Deacon’s.

“Hey, no, stay with me,” Deacon demands, raising his voice when your hand slackens. “Open your eyes right now!”

You shake your head, barely visible, before the paramedics take you away from Deacon. Or try to.

“Sergeant, we got her.”

“Deacon,” Street says quietly, “Let them take her.”

Deacon stumbles back, standing as he watches them load you onto a stretcher. He nods when they tell him which hospital you’re going to, but as soon as you’re out of sight, his eyes drop to your blood all over his hands and up his sleeves.

“The other firefighter is fine, just a flesh wound,” Luca fills in. “That scream was just some kids, so we’re good.”

“Who was the other injury?” Hondo asks.

Street whispers your name, and Hondo looks at Deacon before leading him toward a nearby patrol car. 

✯✯✯✯✯

While he waits in the hospital, Deacon scrubs his hands until they hurt. The rest of his team was called away, but Hicks knew better than to ask Deacon to leave someone alone in the hospital.

“Sergeant?” a nurse asks, holding a door open. “Follow me.”

You look peaceful, asleep in the hospital bed. Deacon hates it. He doesn’t like you peaceful, he decides immediately. Teasing him, testing his patience, being mean to him, that’s how he wants you, needs you.

“The doctor will be by in a few minutes to fill you in,” the nurse says gently. “She’s a fighter.”

Deacon nods, pulling a chair beside your bed and taking your hand in his. Your fingers squeeze his just before you turn your head and open your eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hi.”

“Why are you here? Wasn’t there another call?”

Deacon’s brows furrow, wondering how you knew that.

“The doctor said something about it before I went into surgery. Why didn’t you go?”

“I couldn’t leave you here alone.”

You smile, and though your lips are chapped, Deacon thinks you look beautiful. It hit him quickly at the bank, the realization that he needs you. Not knowing if you were okay made him feel like a piece of him was missing.

Blinking quickly, you try to focus on Deacon, but something is wrong. He notices, too, worriedly saying your name. You watch his mouth move but don’t hear anything before your eyes close, and the heart rate machine starts beeping rapidly.

Two nurses and a doctor run in, pushing Deacon back wordlessly and gathering around you so he can’t see you. He does hear the flatline, though, as he realizes he missed his chance to tell you.

“Ow,” you groan just before the nurses laugh.

Deacon’s heart seems to stop as he watches one step back.

“What was that?” he asks her.

“A pretty common reaction to one of the medicines, but when she rolled over, the IV and heart monitors were disrupted. She’s completely fine, Sergeant, just going to be a little sore,” she answers kindly.

“She owes you her life,” the doctor adds on his way out.

When you see Deacon again, you can’t tell if he’s angry or terrified. Either way, you offer a small “Sorry.”

Deacon takes a deep breath before walking to the side of the bed, his thighs hitting it as he looks directly into your eyes. He raises his hands and gently cups your cheeks, bending down toward you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he begs, his voice rough.

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaning toward him. “But you scared me too. I heard all those shots and didn’t know.”

Deacon sighs, resting his forehead against yours. He nods before stepping back, taking his previous seat, and placing his hand over yours.

“Do you need anything?” Deacon asks.

You shake your head, asking him if everyone else is okay.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is he holding her hand?” Hondo asks.

Your captain hums, and Hondo shakes his head.

“This changes things.”

“What are you talking about?” Luca asks with a laugh. “This changes nothing.”

“They hate each other, they’re at each other’s throats daily,” Hondo points out.

“Because they like each other. Cop/firefighter relationships bring out the schoolboy approach: bullying.”

“He’s right, Hondo,” your captain affirms. “Not surprised you didn’t catch on though, playboy.”

“Easy,” Hondo replies.

“Are we going to check on them?” Luca asks.

“Not today. She’s perfectly fine with him,” your captain promises, turning toward them. “And I’ve had a bit too much of your kind today. Enjoy having your regular team back tomorrow; God help them.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“It hurts.”

“Well, you did get shot,” Deacon says. “You want me to find a nurse?”

You shake your head, then stop moving when your eyes land on Deacon’s sleeves.

“You haven’t been home yet?”

“No. Why would I?”

“I was in surgery, you had time. You could have gone right after, too.”

Deacon looks at his sleeves, where your blood stains are a harsh reminder of the emotions Deacon experienced just a few hours earlier. As if he’s back in that moment, Deacon looks to you.

“Help me up?” you ask, interrupting him.

“You’re not supposed to,” Deacon argues.

“I need to. Please?”

Deacon hesitates but helps you sit up before pulling you to your feet, hovering right in front of you, and letting you hold his forearms.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “For scaring you. But thank you for staying with me. I need you.”

Unwilling to miss another opportunity, Deacon whispers, “I love you.”

You smile, but Deacon is more concerned with keeping you upright than your facial expressions.

“I keep going back to that moment when I ran out of the bank and you were just sitting there, covered in blood but watching me; you were alert and up. And as soon as you saw me, you said something, and then that light just went out.”

Deacon takes a breath to continue, but you don’t let him, tugging his forearms to bring him down to your level. He bends without thought, and you kiss him, sliding your hands up his arms to hold his shoulders. Deacon responds easily, moving against you as he moves his hands to your hips. He pushes you back against the bed so you sit. Kneeling, Deacon follows you and stays at your level. As you kiss, your worry and pain seem to disappear.

“You’re pushy,” you tease as you take a breath.

Deacon chuckles, looping an arm around the uninjured side of your waist as he leans toward you.

“But I love you,” you add quietly.

His smile grows, and Deacon kisses you quickly, his smile pressed against yours.

“Even though I never sleep at home and don’t have any money?” he repeats your earlier comment.

“I don’t either.”

“Then we’re a perfect match.”

You laugh, hiding your face in Deacon’s neck.

“The cop and the firefighter… who knew?”

Your smile falls when you sit up and look at Deacon.

“I did,” you confess. “Why do you think I teased you so much? So differently than the rest of S.W.A.T.?”

Deacon suddenly remembers every example of how you spoke to him versus Hondo or Luca; it was always a little nicer, delivered with a smile.

“You’ve known?”

“You didn’t?” you ask with a bright smile. “I guess I’ve got a lot to teach you, Blue.”

“That’s going to stick isn’t it?” Deacon grumbles, moving his hand to cup your cheek again.

“It sure is,” you answer happily. “Because I love you, Blue.”

“I love you.” Deacon’s smile grows before he adds, “Red.”

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 16 | "all i want for christmas is you"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 5,473

Summary: Years later, you run into Dave on Christmas Eve.

(Spoilers are in the Warnings under the cut so please peek responsibly)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, Time Skip, TW for physical altercation (pushing, choking, pinning down), alcohol consumption, talk of weapons, hinting at reader being killed, mention of chemical paralytics (NMBA's), surprise pregnancy (happened after Chapter 15) and revelation of paternity, mention of wetwork, reader has C-section scar, wears a dress and nail polish, masturbation, pussy pronouns, p in v sex, quickest enemies to lovers ever, and one Christmas Eve marriage proposal (if I've forgotten anything please do let me know)

Author's note: I defrosted Mariah Carey earlier than anyone would like her to be, and yes I was listening to this song as I wrote. I don't care. It's one of my favorite Christmas songs ever and nobody can convince me otherwise 😜

Series Masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

Six Years Later

You step out of your car into the cold St. Louis night. It's Christmas Eve, and the streets are lined with snow. Brightly lit storefronts boast presents of all kinds, the electric glow of the holiday season luring in last minute customers. You keep your hands in your coat pocket as you walk, eyes scanning the perimeter.

Pour Decisions, the bar you've owned for the past couple years, is filled with its usual patrons, the atmosphere friendly and charged with holiday cheer. Checking to see that the staff is doing well and everything is in order, you ask for an old-fashioned, enjoying the warmth that spreads through you as you sip the whiskey cocktail, sitting at an inconspicuous table in the back and looking around at the one thing you can really call your own, the only place that doesn't hold bad memories.

That's when you see him enter your establishment. The man who claimed to have loved you with all his heart. The man whose life you destroyed. The man without whom you wouldn't be where you are right now.

Walking to the bar and sitting by himself, drinking to take away the pain, is Dave York.

It feels like all your breath leaves your body yet you give an audible gasp. He doesn't see you, doesn't even appear to be looking for you.

In your darkest nightmares he returns for you and kills you. You carry that fear with you. You've been preparing for it since the day your plane left for London years ago.

Emergency exit to my right you think to yourself, a habit you've formed in the six years since ruining his life. Glock, switchblade, syringe, you do a mental checklist of what you have on you.

You don't know whether to stay or leave. You're rooted to the spot, keeping an eye on him, poised to take whatever action necessary.

The jukebox finishes "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and moves onto "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey. You cringe at the sudden mood dissonance. This song would've expressed your feelings for him, once upon a very long time ago, but now it's almost comical. You want each other in a different way now: gone, even if it means dead.

Dave sighs and takes another sip of his drink, clearly lost in his own thoughts. He looks at the other people around him, some smiling and drinking to make the pain of Christmas a little more bearable, others in town for friends or family, eagerness evident on their faces.

He'd give anything just to be in their place right now. To be happy. To be able to smile like he used to smile. And it was all taken away from him by you.

Suddenly he hears someone calling out your name over the music.

In fact, he's been waiting for it. His head jerks up to see where you are, but he can't find you. His eyes scan the bar from face to face.. until finally he sees you. You're sunk low in your chair but he knows you immediately. He knows those eyes that have haunted him for years.

You're nodding and talking to your friend, and the moment you nervously glance around you meet Dave's gaze. It feels like pinpricks all over your body.

For one moment the world stops. All of the moments of his time with you come rushing back as he looks at you. All of the joy he felt with you, all of the pain you caused him. For a moment he allows himself the memory of your pliant body beneath his, your soft, slender throat beneath his grip, thumbs pressing just hard enough on your windpipe to make you cum.

What a waste, he thinks, keeping his cold gaze on you.

You talk to your friend a little longer then finish your drink, order another, and down it.

Now you have liquid courage to face him.

You approach him but it feels like you're moving underwater, your limbs fighting the current.

And there he is. There you are. After six years apart. He hasn't changed much in all this time. He's still handsome. A few gray hairs here and there, and a slight scruff of facial hair when he'd always stayed clean shaven. Still wearing a suit like he's just left the office, the subtle scent of his cologne wafts to you. It suits him. But you force the thought away. You take stock of your own looks: burgundy sweater dress, black boots, hair styled differently from how you used to, perhaps in the hopes that disguising yourself would throw him off your scent, confuse him and leaving him chasing his tail.

"Fifty thousand dollars," you tell him. "I'll give you fifty thousand dollars to leave."

He says nothing, just staring at you as he hears the offer.

Fifty thousand. That's all it would cost for him to let you go. Fifty thousand dollars to spare your life.

But..

..is that what he wants, really?

"No," he says firmly. "You can't make it up to me with fifty thousand dollars."

Your heart sinks to your stomach. "Then name your price. Whatever it is I'll pay it."

Dave takes a long sip of his drink as he considers your offer. For a moment he's tempted to accept it, to end this nightmare once and for all. But..

..no. It's not a question of money.

"The price is a hell of a lot higher than that," he says with cold finality. "You destroyed my family and you left me without my soul."

In your time on your own you've learned to be assertive. You're no longer the shy, simpering girl he used to know. "You did that to yourself, Dave. I only held up a mirror to show what you really are. Besides," you give him a devious smile, your words dripping with venom, "we both know you have no soul."

"Maybe I don't," he meets your gaze with unwavering ire. "But neither do you.. you destroyed everything good and beautiful that we had."

He takes another long sip, savoring the taste and savoring this moment where he's dissecting you. "You can try to blame me. You can try to make yourself the victim of this story. But you're not the victim. You're the monster. You're the one who brought darkness into my life when I didn't deserve it. When I gave you nothing but my love and my faith.. you used them to destroy everything I held dear."

"I disagree." You hop onto the barstool next to him, unafraid of him. "The real victims are my father, who you killed, and your wife and kids, who you betrayed. We both lost our families, Dave. I evened the score."

His eyes bore a hole into your soul as you speak. "That's the thing you can't seem to understand, sweetpea. Life isn't a zero-sum game. One person's loss is not another person's gain. You didn't 'even the score' by getting your revenge."

His voice turns cold and harsh as he speaks the truth. "You made a choice to try to destroy me. That's something I can never understand. And you'll never be forgiven for."

"I'm not interested in your forgiveness, David," you correct him. "You're the one in my city, in my bar, looking for me. With you, there's always an ulterior motive. Out with it."

And then he smiles at you. It's a cold, hard smile. "I came here to see you. So we can end this."

You stare into his eyes and wear a sardonic smile. "You mean, so you can end me."

"Yes," he answers simply.

You consider getting another drink, but two old-fashioneds on an empty stomach has you feeling good already. Maybe that's why you're not afraid.

"My late husband owned this bar, and now it's mine," you say, looking around with pride and wistfulness. "I met him here, years ago."

"Husband," he repeats in a dull tone. "Did you ruin his life too?" he asks.

"Well, he is dead," is your deadpan reply and you hate that your heart misses a beat when Dave smirks in reply. "It would be bad for business if you were to kill me in my own establishment, at peak holiday season," you remind him, proud of your practical tone of voice.

"You may be right about that," Dave admits. "The customers would scramble out of their seats, trample each other to get to the exits. In this day and age you know I'll be caught on camera. And that's not good for my.. 'business'.. either. But," he adds with a grin, "that doesn't mean you're safe."

"I've been looking over my shoulder ever since I came back to the states. I was surprised you didn't follow me to London. In the meantime I've just been waiting for the day when you would come and exact your revenge."

"That's exactly what I've come to do," he says coldly. "I made a promise a long time ago that I would never forgive you."

He takes a long drink and looks at you as if he's seeing you for the first time. "And now, the time has come."

You can see it in his eyes. You can see the darkness that now resides there, different from the one that used to excite you. It's Dave, but it's not the Dave you used to know.

A chill goes through you. You nod, knowing this day is long overdue. If your father faced death at the hands of Dave York, so can you.

You put down your glass, the whiskey still on your lips. "I'm glad it's you. Poetic that way." You stand up from your seat, surprised that your knees don't buckle automatically. "Outside," you tell him.

In the darkness of the alley behind the bar, your coat offers no protection from the cold you feel in your heart. The back street is empty. You look up at the stars in the night sky, feeling small in their midst.

This is it.. the end of it all.

He looks at you and sees the same calmness that he saw in your father. He sees that you've accepted your fate without fear, and he can't help but admire that.

"You know.. I thought about it a lot as I came here," he says. "What I wanted to do to you when I found you.. and what I wanted you to feel in your last moments."

You languidly turn to him, as if in a dream. "So tell me."

"I wanted to make you suffer. I wanted to see you beg for mercy, to see you plead for your life." His smile is cold and cruel. "But you're not scared, are you, sweetpea? Either you're as tough as I believe, or your self-preservation instincts are for shit," he sneers. "Even now, you're calm.."

Your placid countenance belies your shivering heart as you stand against the wall, deep breath in, deep breath out. "How are you going to do it?"

"You really want to know? You trust me that much?"

"You're the best, right? I'm glad it's you." You smile a little, shaking your head. "I loved you from the first time I saw you, Dave. I've loved you all this time. I love you right now."

He almost laughs. It's comical to hear you talk about love at a moment like this. "And I've hated you for all these years. I hate you for what you did to my family. I hate you with every fiber of my being.."

His voice turns to a whisper. "And I hate you because I still love you."

A brief smile flickers in your eyes. "As you once told me.. 'If this is love, we're both fucked.'"

Dave seems reluctant now, as if he's had a change of heart. You love each other, despite everything, and even now you're willing to let him just take your life, snuff it out with a single blow.

"Don't disappoint me, York," your voice pierces his thoughts like an icy blast. "Don't tell me you've come all this way for nothing. Not when I've been getting ready for you."

In an instant he pins you to the wall, his weight pressing you into the bricks as his hands wrap around your throat. Your breath comes in labored gasps as you fight to free your arms and legs. Despite your efforts, Dave is physically stronger. He's methodical, using his strength to subdue you rather than overpowering you with brute force. You can feel the desperation rising, your struggle becoming more frantic as you wrack your brain for any possible means of escape.

In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, you find a small sharp object in your purse - the syringe. With a burst of adrenaline you jab it into the soft area right below his ribs, keeping your thumb off the plunger.

He lets out a sharp grunt and loosens his grip, staring dumbfounded at the needle sticking out of him, your finger hovering over the end, ready to press the danger into his bloodstream. "Let me guess," he says, his breath warm against your face. "Propofol? Rocuronium bromide?"

"Air," you answer with a winning smile, your voice hoarse from his choking you.

He swallows thickly, face pale even in the wintry moonlight.

You've never felt a surge of power like the one shooting through your veins right now. "I'd say my instinct for self-preservation is pretty fucking good."

Right as you see that angry spark in his eye you take advantage of the temporary adrenaline rush and push him away from you. Dave stumbles back, pulling the syringe from his torso and tossing it away right before you crash into him again. You both topple onto the cold wet pavement, grappling with one another, and it doesn't escape your realization that it's all an inverted display of the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other years ago.

You're unaware that the contents of your purse have fallen out in the scuffle, until Dave pins you down and notices the knife, the gun, neither of which you bothered to use on him just moments before. Then the bright light of your phone screen illuminates its presence in the shadowy alleyway.

Your wallpaper is a picture of you, holding a small boy who's smiling as you're kissing his cheek.

Still beneath him, your stomach lurches and you scramble for phone. "Give that back!" But Dave doesn't listen.

"You have a child?" he asks, completely bewildered that he hadn't thought of you having a life apart from the history you have with him. You'd mentioned a husband, but not a child.

The photo is lovely, taken recently as he guesses from the similar hairstyle as you have now. He's a beautiful child, with his mother's eyes. The love between mother and son is palpable, something pure and sweet that he has only experienced with his own children. It takes the wind out of him. He looks at you and all of the anger, all of the hate and rage he felt towards you seems to dissolve like salt in water.

Your heart is near palpitating as you take the phone from him, gently wiping the falling snow from the screen, taking a tiny moment to admire the photo for yourself. "The last night we spent together in that little motel room.. before everything happened.. a couple months later I found out I was pregnant."

It takes every ounce of courage you have to confess this to him: "This is Benjamin.. your son.."

Dave is paralyzed by your revelation, utterly unable to move or even breathe as he stares at the photo, puts the pieces together. He sees his features in his son, the perfect combination of you and him in another being, a little boy who is the culmination of your love.

He sees you as he never saw you before. You're not the woman who betrayed him and destroyed his family. You're the woman who gave him a son, a part of himself that he never knew would exist.

"He's beautiful," he murmurs, drinking in this moment, helping you to your feet as you struggle to stand, asking if you're all right but you don't answer him.

You've never envisioned how this would go. Not even your late husband knew Ben's real paternity, just that you needed stability to raise him. A part of you is on edge. You've just revealed the person who means the most to you in this world, and in one moment Dave could take it away.

"He just turned five in September," you tell him, "That night.. that terrible and wonderful night before I left you.. something good came from all of it," you tell him.

He nods. "I guess it did." He looks at the picture once more. "Where is he?"

You take a moment before answering. "He's at home. A friend of mine is watching him."

"I want to see him."

"You already have kids, Dave. Or have you forgotten them?"

"Don't go," he pleads as you start to walk away. Around the corner you can hear the holiday music blaring from the bar. "Last Christmas" by Wham!

"I want to see him," he says, catching up with you. "Please."

Being a mom has made you soft. And the truth is you spent the majority of your energy in your short scuffle with him moments ago. "Follow me home."

"Leave whatever weapons you have in the mailbox."

You wait on him, arms crossed, ensuring your safety before you let him beyond your threshold. Dave puts his semi-automatic pistol and a knife. He had these on him all the time but didn't use them..

"Now you," he says, watching as you put your own gun and knife into the mailbox. One corner of your mouth lifts up into a half-smile as your eyes meet, realizing you've both thought alike.

Inside your home it's cozy. A brightly lit Christmas tree glows with warm golden light in front of the main window in the living room. Dave looks around, taking it all in: the decorations placed with love and care, the presents piled under the tree for Ben - his son - to open the next morning.

A woman, clad in a soft gray sweater and jeans, comes out from the hallway, carrying little Ben in her arms. "He couldn't sleep without you here," she tells you, her glance jumping quickly between you and Dave.

You take him from her, letting her know you're home for the night and giving a quick introduction to Dave. "This is Paige, she helps me with Ben from time to time."

They exchange hellos, a little awkward under the circumstances. You take Ben in your arms, and he immediately wraps his arms around you. You wish Paige a happy Christmas and she leaves.

Now it's just the three of you. "Can I hold him?" Dave asks.

You hesitate before nodding, asking Ben if he's okay to go with him. Watching him with his father you can see the resemblance, plain as day. "Is he what you looked like as a kid?" You ask curiously.

"I think so," he smiles, still amazed that he's holding his child, a piece of him that he left behind with you for so long, your love made real.

Ben is bathed and put to bed. Dave knows everything about him by now: his birthday, favorite foods, his friends in his kindergarten class, the names of his stuffed animals and favorite superheroes. All this Dave takes in with the same interest he had when his daughters were younger.

He even reads him a bedtime story while you watch from the doorway, watching a scene you never imagined would come to life. Ben has Dave's smile, his hair. It's uncanny. You remember when you first started working for the Yorks, the first night you walked in on him reading to the girls before bed. That was the moment you fell in love with him.

It might be happening all over again.

After he's asleep you sit in the living room, sipping coffee spiked with brandy.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asks.

You sip your drink, letting it warm the chill that's going through you, hoping it'll dull the overpowering emotions coursing in your veins. "I was afraid you'd come after me, kill me, and take him away."

"Is that what you think of me? That I'd kill you for our son?" For a moment he actually looks hurt.

"I don't know what to think of you."

"I deserve to be in his life," he says stubbornly, and you get a peek of the old Dave from before. "We can put the past behind us. We can get reacquainted. We can be what we should have been all along. He belongs to both of us. And I want to be here for him." He pauses, seeing the photos on the table and walls: you and Ben throughout his young life: on a beach somewhere with pure white sand, at a zoo posing in front of the zebras, and in every picture it's obvious he's loved.

"You did a good job with him, sweetpea. Our son is happy."

"He was my reason for going on," you tell him. "I was still in London when I found out I was pregnant. At first I thought it was the worst possible thing that could happen, but when I really sat down to make a decision I realized there was no other option but to keep him and love him. I knew a miracle could be reaped from the awfulness we sowed."

You raised him alone, mostly, with some help from your mother, who of course asked who Ben's father was. There was absolutely no way you could tell her, so you simply said it was a boyfriend who'd wanted nothing to do with the baby. After getting your Master's you found yourself here in St. Louis, met Liam who cared for you and your child, and lost him to sudden illness only a year after you married him. And every day you did not stop thinking about Dave.

"I assume you're still involved in your.. activities?" you ask him.

He takes a deep breath, mentally going over the jobs he'd done in the past six years, of which he'd taken more than before you'd left. Not only had he needed the money, but he needed something else to keep from thinking about you.

"Yes, I am," he replies. "I know you were hoping for a different answer than that."

"I was hoping for a different answer, but I wasn't expecting one," you tell him. "And the situation with Carol and the girls.. did she leave you? Did you work things out?" You hate that this is the answer you dread the most.

"We're divorced now," he says curtly. "And the girls.." an actual smile melts away his bitterness. "The girls are great. They're teenagers now. We've worked out a custody arrangement and we're keeping things civil for their sake. They adapted better than I thought they would."

"Do they all hate me for what I did? For my part in the affair?"

He pauses. "It's complicated.. the girls know why you left. I haven't given them any details and I doubt Carol has told them anything they shouldn't know. But you shouldn't blame yourself. It takes two to tango. I'm just as guilty."

You've finished your coffee, and just as you start to rise from your chair you pause, giving him a smirk. "Dave.. calling yourself 'guilty' after everything you've done is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

He takes your hand as you try to walk past him. "What would you say if I said we should be together for Benjamin's sake?"

You should have seen this coming, should have known he'd attempt to ingratiate himself into your good graces to keep some control over your life. "I've already done that. I married my late husband so that Benjamin could have a father.. I'm not going to go into any more relationships under false pretenses."

There's something more he wants to say, something that he wants to get across to you. "A lot of my life is gone. Lost. Because of what you did."

"I know. And I can say the same about you. We took each other's lives away."

"But you," Dave continues, "you gave me this. All of the happiness you took away, you gave it back to me in a way I never would have dreamed." He takes your hand in his. "And what if this isn't false pretenses? What if I'm asking because I know.. because we know, you and I are meant for each other?"

He knows he's getting ahead of himself. He's letting his emotions and his desire take over.

But you shake your head. "You only want me because I'm the one left standing in the ashes."

"You're partly right," he agrees. "I want you because you're right in front of me now. That's just natural, I'd say. But I always wanted you, sweetpea," he says with total honesty. "You were always the woman I loved."

"Fucked up people always love other fucked up people," you remind him. "And you and I are the most fucked up people I know,. Weren't we just about to kill each other in an alley?"

"Maybe you would have killed me.. but you didn't. And I could have killed you.."

"I get it, I get it," you playfully roll your eyes. "Am I your first failed mission?"

"Yeah, but.. definitely worth it."

He manages to get a smile out of you, and as he pulls you close he rejoices that you don't pull away. When he brings his lips to yours for a kiss, you don't stop him. You come together as fluidly as if you'd never been apart all this time, and you kiss him back hungrily, having missed his taste.

In the bedroom your appetite only grows stronger as you unbutton Dave's shirt, running your hands over the warmth of his chest. He lifts your dress over your head and you continue to unwrap each other. Your eyes take in every inch of his frame, seeing that he hasn't changed much in six years. His side job keeps him fit and he's kept his little belly that you've always found so attractive.

He reaches for you, takes your curves under his touch and gently kneading your soft flesh. "I missed you so much.." he whispers as you gasp with pleasure. "Missed what's mine." As his hands trace your skin he discovers the small scar on your lower abdomen, nearly hidden by the softness of your own little belly.

"What's this?" he asks, noticing that his touch doesn't seem to register there.

"It was Ben," you explain. "I had to have an emergency C-section."

His fingers trace over the scar, imagining the pain you must have gone through, the fear you must have felt. "I should have been there with you."

"I'm not made of glass, Dave." Breaking from him you lay back on the bed, legs parted as you begin to touch yourself, lifting your eyes to meet his dark gaze as your fingers continue their pleasured work across your delicate folds.

"Open wider," he says in a low command, crawling over you on the bed, watching intently. "Make yourself come."

He follows each dip and swirl of your fingers, the tips painted in red glitter lacquer, as they brush across your clit, disappearing into your already drenched cunt.

"How does that feel, sweetpea?" he asks, his voice husky with lust.

"Good," you moan. "But not nearly as good as you." You reach for him, and though he wants desperately to dive into your sopping wet hole, he practices control.

"Not yet," he says gently, chiding you. "I said, make yourself come."

He watches as you add pressure to your clit, your pussy swallowing up your middle and ring fingers while your other hand palms your breast, twists and pulls your nipple. He's never seen you more gorgeous, chasing your pleasure. The scent of your sex is in the air, beckoning him, and it takes every shred of his self-discipline to keep where he is, cock in his hand, lazily stroking as his dark eyes dance with the vision of you spread out before him, coming at last.

He takes his time about getting inside you, and though you're slippery enough to handle him it's still a tight fit after years apart. He's careful until you ask him not to be, and then he fucks you with smooth, steady thrusts, bottoming out as you arch your back, crying out his name, the sound of your flesh slapping together a perfect symphony with your moaning and his praise in your ear my good girl, missed this pussy so much, needed her all this time, and she needed me, gonna tame her, make her mine all over again.

He moves with you, as if he's connected to every beat of your heart. This is the only thing in the world that feels right, no matter how wrong it is. You can't not love him, You've never felt more like yourself, realizing that he brings it out of you. The air between you becomes electric, frantic, your movements desperate and wild.

"Come for me, sweetpea," he whispers, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. "Let me feel this tight little hole get her fill of me."

It's a fucking relief when you finally come, the moment prolonged as he continues to move, stimulating your clit beyond your point, only letting up when you forcefully shove his hand away. Watching you come is a miracle made true, something he never thought he'd get to experience again, and he comes with the final clench around him, keeping him there, keeping him home.

You're both vulnerable, perhaps for the first time, with each other. There are no more secrets to be had, no more devastation to wreak. Just you and him, and an ocean of possibilities before you.

"Can you forgive me?" he asks, meeting your eyes. "For what I did?"

It's weighed heavy on your mind since the day you learned the truth, and you've come to realize that all the tragedy did was allow you to move on, even if it brought you to have to face your past more clearly.

"Yes," you answer. "I do forgive you. And now you have to forgive me."

It's easier to do that now, now that the walls you both built up have been knocked down. "I forgive you," he echoes. "We'll never bring it up again."

There's a clarity you never imagined you'd receive, a gift that's long overdue after the years of being in limbo. You snuggle to him, pressing a kiss his throat.

"I thought about you every day, sweetpea," he whispers. "And maybe I'm crazy, but.. marry me."

You're at a loss for words. You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. "What.. what did you say?" you ask slowly, usure if you even heard him right. "Did you ask me to marry you?"

"I did," he says assertively. "So? Will you marry me?" A little smirk crosses his lips and there's a light in his eyes that you've never seen before.

"I'm just so.. stunned," you sit up against the headboard and he does the same. "Why would you even want to marry me? Don't you remember everything that happened?"

"I remember everything. I remember it every day. But like you said, 'fucked up people always love other fucked up people' and look at us: still crazy about each other even after we've ruined each other's lives. There's nothing for us except to be together."

"You sound so certain," you look at him with a conflicted smile. "Are you really sure this is what you want? To wake up every day and remember what happened and who we are?"

His smile lights up his whole face. "I'm counting on us to remember who and what we are. If we forget everything that happened between us then we've learned nothing. But now we're standing in the ashes of our old lives and look at us: we won. If anything, that just proves we're supposed to be together. We know all the bad parts of each other and we still choose to be here."

Watching him, and listening, you become convinced. You can't ignore the truth of what he's saying. "I'm gonna marry you, Dave," you tell him, your voice full of love and joy.

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[redroomreflections]

Gentle Hands Chapter Six

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha suspects Reader is in an abusive relationship and tries to convince her to leave

6/10

W/c: 3.5k

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Warning: Domestic violence

"Y/N,” Dr. Lisa gives you a look of concern as she passes you the stack of multicolored pamphlets.”You have several options to consider at this stage of your pregnancy, which is around eight weeks LMP. Firstly, you can continue with the pregnancy and explore prenatal care options. This involves regular check-ups and taking care of your health for the well-being of you and the developing fetus.”

She notices the look on your face, only pausing for a millisecond before she continues her spiel. It’s all the same. You’ve heard it before.

“Alternatively, if you're unsure about continuing the pregnancy, there is the option of discussing and considering abortion. Abortion procedures are available, and we can provide you with information on the different methods, their implications, and any potential risks.

It's important to take the time to think about what feels right for you. If you have any questions or concerns about either option, please feel free to ask. Your well-being is our priority, and we're here to support you through this process. Have you thought about any of this?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest, drowning out everything she’s said thus far. Clutching the pamphlets, you feel tears welling up. You just want to go home, lie down, and forget about everything. Making decisions is exhausting, especially when there are too many options and paths to choose from.

In moments like this, when you're supposed to be the responsible adult, you feel alone. The tiny life inside you, almost eight weeks old, is the size of a raspberry. Trying not to think too much about the pamphlet's pictures, you worry about making the wrong choice and question if you're even fit to decide. It feels like someone left you in charge, and you need to figure out if you're up to the task.

“Y/n,” Dr. Lisa’s voice is more pressing now.

“Y-yeah,” You shake your head. You furrow your brows, trying to clear your mind of the fogginess as you think for a second. Your mouth suddenly feels cotton-filled. Your tongue feels thick. This is all too much. “I’ve thought about it but-”

“It doesn’t have to be a decision made today,” Dr. Lisa informs you. She gives you another once over, noting the fading bruises on your face. She must be judging you. She must think you are some basket case. Another young girl with no clue what to do. Another young girl who is only good at opening her legs. “Y/n, if you are in danger…”

“No, I’m not,” You say with such conviction her mouth closes with a snap. “I’m not in danger. I’m fine. Things are fine.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince at this point. “I’m not really in the position to take care of another baby. My baby. My daughter. She’s not even two years old yet. I know what you must think. That I’m stupid or something but this isn’t how life is supposed to be for me.”

Dr. Lisa listens attentively as you express your conviction. With a calm and understanding demeanor, she responds, "I hear you, and your feelings are completely valid. It's important for you to express your concerns and fears. Pregnancy and parenting bring about significant changes, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed. It's crucial for us to work together to find the best solution for you and your situation."

She maintains a supportive tone, "There's no judgment here, and it's not about thinking you're stupid. Life can be unpredictable, and everyone faces challenges. What matters most is your well-being and making decisions that align with your circumstances. Let's discuss your options further and explore how we can navigate this together. Your feelings and thoughts are important, and we'll work towards a solution that feels right for you."

“I left my boyfriend,” You almost whisper. “He wasn’t the best. It took me too many years to figure that out. He was controlling and abusive. We weren’t careful. That’s how we got Kaia. I don’t regret her. I don’t regret having her. She’s the best thing in my life. Another baby? Right now when I don’t know up from down? It feels irresponsible. It feels overwhelming. It wouldn’t be fair to Kaia for her to finally receive all of me and eventually give it to another child too. You know? My head is so messed up I don’t know what to think but the other option…”

Dr. Lisa listens compassionately as you open up about leaving Keith and the challenges you've faced. In a supportive and understanding tone, she responds, "I appreciate you sharing that with me. It takes a lot of strength to recognize and leave a situation that isn't healthy. Your concerns about another baby are completely valid, especially considering everything you've been through."

She continues, "It's important to prioritize your well-being and the well-being of Kaia. Your feelings of responsibility and the overwhelming nature of the situation are completely understandable. Let's explore your options together. Whether you choose to continue with the pregnancy or consider other alternatives, we'll work through it step by step. Your emotional and mental health is our priority, and I'm here to support you in making decisions that align with your needs and circumstances."

She’s supposed to say that. You don’t think she truly cares. It’s kind of mean of you to think when she’s showing you that she’s genuine. You go over the options again, her voice fills you with a bit more clarity as you go over your options. Why isn’t this any easier?

******************** Kaia toddles across the waiting area floor, with Natasha closely trailing behind. As soon as the little one spots you, drool and all, she dashes toward you on wobbly legs. You bend down, lifting her into your arms for a warm hug, finding comfort in that familiar baby scent.

"Everything okay?" Natasha inquires. Her hands are tucked in her pockets, and her non-threatening expression exudes a calming presence. It's needed, and despite the past few weeks, you can't help but wonder why she came, why she chose to rescue you. What does it all mean?

"It's fine," You nod. Natasha studies your face, observing as you bury your nose in Kaia's soft baby skin. The little one giggles, clutching your jacket for stability as you start walking.

Natasha follows without pressing for answers, patiently waiting for you to share. "I'm not ready to go back to the tower yet," you admit as you buckle Kaia into her stroller seat, met with minimal protests.

"We can walk," Natasha suggests, pulling her cap a bit lower over her head. And so you do. Side by side, you walk the streets of Manhattan.

You struggle with your words, opening and closing your mouth in the hope that the right ones will surface. The potential scenarios play out in your mind – a single mom of two, financially strained, grappling with decisions that were, until recently, out of your reach, like what to have for dinner (it was always Keith’s choices) or how to manage your finances. Even what to wear. Today, it's a simple NYC t-shirt and soft black leggings – you might look disheveled, but that's exactly how you feel.

"I have pictures," you mention, tapping the breast of your jacket to indicate the inside pocket. "Ultrasound. They had to do it for records and stuff," you explain, sensing Natasha's patient waiting for you to share more. "I haven't looked at them," you admit. "I'm scared. I know what the right decision is, the logical thing to do. If I put my feelings aside, I know that keeping this baby is the last thing I should do."

"And yet," Natasha encourages.

"And yet, I couldn't bring myself to schedule the procedure," You sigh, shifting your gaze down to Kaia, who's holding onto the handle, watching the passersby. “What would you do?” You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, much to the annoyance of the people walking behind you. “If you were me. If you were here in this situation what would you do?”

“I don’t think that would be helpful,” Natasha shakes her head. She shifts her eyes away. “I cannot have children—courtesy of the Red Room. My perspective and my life choices are different. I don’t think I’m the best at these things.”

“Right,” You nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Natasha says. “Don’t let any of that affect your decision.”

“Okay,” You speak so softly. You tap your fingers against the stroller. Thinking. “I understand Natasha,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You take a moment, staring down at Kaia, who smiles at you back, your thoughts swirling. Finally, you look back up at Natasha."I appreciate your honesty, and I don't expect you to have all the answers. I just... I need to figure out what's best for my daughter and this new life growing inside me," you confess.

Natasha places a comforting hand on your back, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern. "Whatever you decide, know that you're not alone. You have people who care about you, and we'll support you through this. Take your time, and when you're ready, we can work through the next steps together."

You take a deep breath, feeling the need for comfort and a familiar place. "Natasha, I think I need to head home," you admit, a slight vulnerability in your voice. "Well back to the tower. I just want to be with Kaia right now, maybe have a little cuddle session, and perhaps watch a movie together." You suggest.

Natasha nods understandingly. "That sounds like a good plan," she replies. "Take all the time you need.”

******************* An hour later, you reach the Avengers Tower, skillfully dodging paparazzi and the press. In the elevator, heading up to the 54th floor where the Avengers' lounge awaits. Kaia, tired and on the verge of naptime, babbles in her seat, tugging at her hair soothingly as she tries to stay awake.

You stand incredibly close to Natasha, relishing in the warmth of her body heat as you watch the light ding as you pass each level. You step out before Natasha, pushing the stroller deeper onto the floor.

Natasha breaks the silence, "So, do you want to watch TV here? Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," You decline, unconsciously resting a hand on your belly. "We can sit here."

Unstrapping Kaia, you lift her into your arms. She settles for a moment, her attention caught by Wanda on the couch. However, your steps come to a sudden halt as you realize Wanda isn't alone. Your parents are there, in the flesh, and you pause in surprise.

"Mom?" Your breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on your parents for the first time in years. Your mother stands first, cautiously approaching you. "W-what are you guys doing here?"

"Hi, baby," she greets you softly. Concern etches her features as she gives you a once-over, her gaze lingering on your face and then on the toddler in your arms.

"Hi!" Kaia grins widely at the new visitor. It's then you remember Kaia's never met your parents; they only know her through infrequent photos you've sent. The last one was sent longer ago than you can remember.

"Mama," you swallow thickly. "This is Kaia. This is my daughter." Tears spring to your eyes as your voice breaks, overcome with emotion. You have so many questions. How are they here? Why are they here?

Kaia, not shy in the least, warmly reaches for your mother, her eyes lighting up.

"Well, hello there, sweetheart," She coos, making silly faces that prompt giggles from Kaia. In that moment, you feel a sudden emptiness, the vulnerability of the past months replaced by the embrace of family.

Your dad joins in, closing the gap between you to hug and kiss you. The world feels a bit woozy as you grapple with the unexpected reunion. There's a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, and you can't help but wonder why they are here.

Wanda, sensing the need for family time, excuses herself with a kind smile, leaving you alone with your parents. You almost ask her to stay but hesitate. Instead, you decide to address the pressing questions with your family.

As Natasha starts to leave, you catch her attention. "Nat, could you stay a bit?" you ask.

Natasha nods understandingly and settles into the seat beside you.

“This is-” You begin.

“The Black Widow,” Your dad introduces himself. “I’m Mac. This is my wife Regina.” He waves between the two of you.

“Nice to meet you both,” Natasha shakes their hands.

“I know you’re wondering why we’re here,” Mac begins. He glances at your mom before looking back at you. “Keith called us very concerned about you running away from home. Says you took Kaia in the middle of the night and refused to come back.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a mix of shock and confusion written across your face. "Wait, what? Keith called you?" You glance at Kaia, who's blissfully unaware, still playing in her grandmother's arms.

Taking a moment to process, you continue "I didn't run away. I left because... things were just unbearable. I couldn't stay there any longer. It wasn't safe for Kaia or me. I needed to protect her."

Your voice quivers with frustration and desperation, seeking understanding from your parents who have suddenly reappeared in your life. "I didn't know he'd call you. I didn't want you involved in all this mess." Your gaze shifts between your mom and dad, hoping they can see the weight of your situation and the reasons behind it.

Regina emits a thoughtful hum, her expression betraying disapproval. "I've never liked Keith," she admits with a furrowed brow, her protective instincts kicking in. "Did he do that to your face?" she asks, eyeing the marks with a growing sense of anger.

Feeling a pang of shame, you nod quietly, lowering your head. The weight of the acknowledgment hangs in the air as you brace yourself for your mom's reaction.

“Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you come home sooner?"

You look up, meeting your mom's gaze. "To be quite honest I didn't think it was that bad.”

Regina’s eyes widen in disbelief, disbelief etched on her face. "Not that bad? Sweetheart, these marks on your face... it's not okay. You shouldn't have to endure this."

Natasha, who has been quietly observing, steps in. "Sometimes, people in such situations underestimate the severity of the abuse they're facing. It's not uncommon for victims to downplay the harm they're enduring, especially when it's someone they trusted."

Still grappling with the shock, Regina turns her attention to Natasha. "And who are you in all of this?" she inquires, a touch of skepticism in her tone.

Natasha introduces herself, "I’m a friend of y/n. I've been supporting her through this difficult time."

You nod, adding, "Natasha's right. It's hard to see the full extent when you're in it. But now that I'm out, I realize how bad it was. I couldn't let Kaia grow up in that environment."

Regina’s expression softens. "Oh, sweetheart. I wish you had reached out sooner. We're here for you now.”

“Thanks,” You nod. “How long are you in town for?”

“Not long,” Mac responds. “We came to check on you and see if you’re ready to come home. Your room is still there for you. Of course with the little one it might be a tight fit but we’ll work something out.”

Your confusion lingers as you process your dad’s words. "Come home?" you repeat, a hint of uncertainty in your voice. The idea of returning to the familiar comfort of your childhood home stirs conflicting emotions within you.

You glance at Kaia, who is happily sitting with her grandmother, adding a layer of complexity to the decision. The thought of your parents falling back into their roles, and taking charge of decisions, is both tempting and nerve-wracking. It would undoubtedly be easier, but you aren’t sure if it aligns with the newfound independence and resilience you’ve discovered.

"I appreciate the offer, Mom. It's just... I hadn't planned on coming back home," you admit, your gaze shifting between your parents. "It's not that I don't value your support, but I need to figure things out on my own, for Kaia and myself. I hope you understand." your nervousness seeps into your words, unsure of how they will react.

“I can’t say that we do but,” Your mother sighs. “We will be here at the Hilton.” She nods. “For now I want to catch up with my baby and my grandbaby. You have time to make a decision.”

“Right,” You nod. “Excuse me for a second.” You stand from the room, knowing Kaia is safe with your parents, as you rush to the kitchen. The air feels thicker than before, and the need for some clarity becomes almost overwhelming.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha quietly follows behind her presence a comforting anchor. You feel a hand on your back, a gentle touch offering both support and understanding. The unexpected contact prompts you to voice the swirling thoughts in your mind.

"Why do I have to make everything so hard?" You sigh, the words escaping in a mixture of frustration and self-reflection. The kitchen becomes a temporary sanctuary, and as you take a deep breath, Natasha's voice offers a reassuring response.

"It's not about making things hard, you’re entitled to your feelings," Natasha says calmly. "You're navigating a difficult situation, and it's okay to feel torn.”

“My parents are here,” You rest your head atop your arms on the counter. “Keith called them because he thought they would be on his side.”

Natasha's expression tightens in thought. Probably not good ones.

"I see," she responds. "It's unfortunate that Keith took that route. But remember, you have the right to make decisions for yourself and Kaia, regardless of how others may perceive it. Your well-being is the priority here."

“You’re always so understanding,” You raise your head to look at her. “I don’t know if I can say thank you enough.”

“It’s no problem,” Natasha takes a breath. “We all need someone right.” She shrugs.

“Right,” You nod. You have more decisions to make. Lucky you.

---> next part