#anyone who hates on any of the kids need to BACK THE HAIL OFF

[bonskidin64]

Lucas is DEF in my top 4, such an amazing character .🙇🏻

Lucas Sinclair appreciation post because Pookie is CRIMINALLY. Underrated. I hate the way black characters are ignored and disregarded is some fandoms and he is genuinely such a cool character.

It actually makes me so angry how much Lucas/Caleb is ignored in the fandom. He is so much more than just Max’s goofy boyfriend he is his own character and we need to talk about him more often. I love him sm.

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 24 & 25

"SEPARATION" & "THE NIGHTMARE"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

To read Chapter 23 - "RETREAT"

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/763930279133970432/vagabonds-chapter-23?source=share

Word Count: 3.9K (Sorry so long. Wasn't sure WHERE to end this chapter, so I posted TWO CHAPTERS! I am hoping to wrap this series up by the end of this year!!!)

Background: What plans do The Empire have with LOVE? We meet several more NEW supporting characters. And Hunter has a helluva nightmare!

For anyone new to this series: "LOVE" is the nonbinary/genderfluid neurodivergent/nonverbal Force sensitive kid of the main OC of this series named Mad. Mad is an older single mother, close to almost 50 years of age (not many older female protaganists in stories, so I decided to make one.)

Warning: SW Canon violence, some blood, swearing, angst.

(Credit: Cool dividers by @4ngelic-Wh1spers, @plum98 @strangergraphics-archive Pinterest: Bad l3atch, f/StarWarsJediSurvivor)

He stunned the little shit, but REALLY wanted to kill her outright.  He HATED this dog with every fiber of his being. 

CX swore as he carefully pulled off his ruined faceplate.  Blood poured from the toothmarks and sharp edges of the destroyed plastoid.  Then dropped it to the floor. 

An animal of that size SHOULD’NT be able to bite through his armor.  And she SOMEHOW managed to hide or cloak herself within the confines of his ship easily.  Her mastery of stealth, ferocity of attack, along with her bite strength might be beneficial to breed into a new class of working dogs for the Empire.  Dr Hemlock might be pleased to have such a specimen to experiment with. 

And, if the doctor didn’t feel the need to use her, he could destroy her himself. 

CX applied pressure to the facial wounds with his bacta bandaged left hand that had been mauled.  He hailed his contact with his still intact right hand. 

Governor Tarkin’s likeness popped up on holocomm. 

“Did you capture the Force sensitive?” Tarkin sniffed. 

“Yes.  Aboard my ship and restrained successfully.  We are enroute.”  

“Good.  With this asset our timetable for PROJECT STARDUST is AHEAD of schedule.” Tarkin seemed pleased.  “We will expect your arrival within one standard rotation.” 

The Governer's image immediately disappeared. 

CX would contact Dr Hemlock about the dog later.   

LOVE awoke both hands tethered together and a collar around their neck.  They cautiously glanced up where they lay on the floor. 

Tiggy lay prone and unconscious nearby.  One of her back legs dangled at an odd angle.  Clearly, she was injured.  LOVE reached out to her with the Force. 

Nothing. 

LOVE was unable to feel...anything.  They couldn’t levitate, either.  And, unable to Force Manipulate physical objects. 

The fisticuffs binding their hands, looked different from anything LOVE had seen before.   

The CX Trooper in the pilot’s seat faced away from love, busily dabbing bacta on his facial wounds. 

“You can TRY.  The restraints were specifically designed for a Force Sensitive such as yourself.” 

He didn’t glance up from his wound care. 

LOVE reached out again. 

NOTHING.  No Force powers at all. 

However, LOVE could still physically move their body. 

CX swung around in his chair.  He raised his left hand and motioned to his face. 

“Your...pet is responsible for this!” 

LOVE’s eyes widened with the realization Tiggy was the culprit...smiling deviously at the Trooper.��

He snarled back at LOVE and swung his chair back around to face the pilot’s console. 

“You think this is a JOKE?  If you resist in ANY way or refuse to do what I say, I will shoot your pet dead and blow her body out the airlock.” 

He calmly fitted a new glove carefully over his bandaged hand. 

LOVE laid their head down on the metal floor and whimpered pathetically. 

It was quite the vision: Taavi’s Bar’ge Fix ‘N Go was an immense, rough looking, refurbished old barge freighter, including a multitude of modifications lit with neon.  Blocking out the stars as it slowly sailed past.  According to Sil, it served as a docking station, mechanical repair, hotel, cafeteria, bar... 

...and an illegal and VERY secretive “treat and street it” clinic. 

Uncle Taavi always came up with several streams of income.  His major one being a repair service for ships, droids, devices, and prosthetics.  He also rescued feral Tooka cats, spayed, neutered, providing them medical treatment and care.  

Taavi NEVER stopped fixing things.  Fixing things was HIS LIFE. 

The Marauder was able to pull the still barely operational Beldame from the hyperspace lane, then detach from its top.  Echo and Wrecker piloted the Havoc Marauder while Hunter and Sil slowly followed behind piloting the Dread Beldame.  Tech and Omega sat with Mad on the ‘Dame making sure she stayed medically stable.  Omega also kept her eyes glued on Hunter.  He INSISTED on helping pilot the Beldame...knife STILL buried in his thigh.  She twirled her fingers in Mad’s long mohawk tail with one hand and held Mad’s hand with the other. 

Omega ALSO worried about LOVE and Tiggy while listening to Mad’s ragged breaths. 

Mad didn’t know LOVE and Tig wasn’t with them.  She anticipated the fear and heartbreak a mother would experience when she found out... 

Tech did his best to TRY and distract her by infodumping...to no avail. 

With help of the Bar’ge ‘N Go’s tractor beam, it pulled in the hulking mass of the Dread Beldame into the landing bay of the barge.  The Batch marveled at the repair bay.  Taavi seemed to have EVERYTHING to fix ANY kind of ship, arranged neatly and cleanly.  True the equipment was much older but well-made and maintained expertly.  Odd looking, refurbished droids zoomed and whizzed back and forth inside it’s mechanical bay. 

After both ships landed.  Their respective crews emerged...to greet the man who owned this establishment: Mad’s Uncle Taavi. 

He was as tall as Echo with shaggy black hair, dark skinned, his face heavily tattooed with symbols and designs.  His eyes, pitch-black silver speckled irises, indicative of the OLD Nomaadi.  A subset of their people older than time...before the Long Purge of their numbers....and one of the reasons the Nomaadi were referred to as “The Star People.”  His patchworked but well-fitting clothing indicative of a Nomaadi with deep family ties...the pieces of snipped fabric from family and friends sewn as embellishment on his clothing.  A tapestry of memories and strength of family ties to accompany him on his Long Road: The Journey of Life.  Heavy and well-worn work boots completed the outfit. 

A small statured...child?  Walked next to Taavi with the confidence of an adult.  Her unmelanted hair braided into many long, tiny braids that trailed past her shoulders.  Her eyes: Either blue or ultraviolet, depending on the light.  Blue veins occasionally showing through her pale albino skin.   

Finally, a standard Astromech adorned in rose gold detailing, a yellow light on her dome.  She was a spiffy droid to behold.  Of course...she knew it...  Behind the astromech followed several tiny droids, and two Tooka kittens chasing after them. 

Taavi stopped.  His eyes wide in surprise. 

“Sil?  As I breathe the stale recirculated shitty air of this ship...never thought I’d see ya AGAIN!!!” 

He grabbed Sil up and hugged the teen.  Sil hugged Taavi back. 

When Taavi let go, he wiped a tear from his eye.  

Sil leaned out, grabbing Thoomie and pulling her into the hug as well.  She embraced Sil.  

Then Taavi caught sight of Mad being carried in Hunter’s arms.  She was covered in dirt and crusted blood from multiple wounds.  Her breathing loud, harsh, and labored.  She was barely conscious. 

“Ohhh FORCE NOOO!  We gotta get her into the bacta tank!  COME WITH ME!!!”  Taavi didn’t ask for introductions.  He ushered them through the ship and into a secret wing that contained a large medical lab. 

Taavi motioned to Hunter “Put ‘er in there.  We’ll clean her in that tub first, then put ‘er in the tank.” 

Hunter carefully placed Mad into the stainless steel tub.  Then stood over her and stared silently.  He seemed mentally far away... 

“Uncle...” Thoomie tapped Taavi on the arm.  “I think he’s in a state of shock.” 

Taavi did a double take at Hunter, pointing “Son...ya got a knife stickin’ out of ya there...” 

Hunter calmly glanced down at the knife and back at Taavi “Yes...” 

“Thoo, take...whatshisname...” Taavi nodded to Hunter. 

“Hunter” Hunter answered. 

“Hunter and that smart lookin’ fella...” Taavi nodded at Tech. 

“I’m Tech.” Tech added smugly. 

“With Tech and that droid guy” Taavi referred to Echo. 

Echo didn’t answer, just shook his head grimacing. 

Tech answered for Echo “Uh, that is Echo.” 

“Sure.” Taavi waved them on. “Have ‘em help you prep Hunter for surgery.  Can’t be walkin’ around MY ship with a knife stickin’ outta ya like nothin’s happenin.” Taavi shook his head.  “Mad sure can pick ‘em...” 

“Come with me” Thoomie took Hunter’s hand and led him, Tech, and Echo away. 

“Sil, stay with me.  You can catch me up while we work on your Auntie.” Then Taavi addressed Wrecker.   “Eh, big guy...Help me clean up Mad so we can plop ‘er in that bacta tank.” 

“Uh...ok.” Wrecker seemed confused about what was happening. 

Taavi recognized Wrecker’s confusion.  “You wanna get free care, ya gotta pitch in and help.  Droids will finish after we start, ok?  Besides, Mad will pitch a fit if we let them droids touch her.” 

Wrecker hesitated.   

Sil nodded to him and patted his back.  “You got this Wrecker.  Uncle Taavi will walk ya through it.” 

Wrecker nodded and did as he was told. 

CHAPTER 25 - "THE NIGHTMARE"

Thoomie handed Echo a surgical gown and bag for Hunter’s clothes.  She then handed a tub of Bacta wipes to Tech.  She instructed Hunter to sit down. 

She pulled a syringe out of a drawer, then a drug bottle from a wall unit, and began drawing up a dose.  Thoomie approached Hunter. 

Echo and Tech glanced alarmingly at each other.  Tech stepped in her way “Is it standard protocol on this ship to have CHILDREN give injectable medication?” 

Thoomie laughed.  “Forgot you’re new here.  I’m NOT a child.” 

Echo and Tech glanced at each other again...now in confusion. 

“I have a rare genetic disorder that inhibits my normal growth and development.  Will FOREVER look like a preteen or teenager...for the rest of my life.” 

Both clones stared at Thoomie stunned. 

“You’re defective???” Tech blurted out. 

Thoomie winced “Er...you COULD say that.  I prefer the term different...or unique.  PLEASE step aside and let me treat your batchmates' pain.  His condition is worsening, and I need to remove that knife as soon as possible.” 

Tech stepped back. 

“How did you know we’re clones?” Echo asked as Thoomie swabbed Hunter’s arm with a bacta wipe and injected into his vein.  Hunter winced slightly and came out of his glazed state to attempt to rub the area.  Thoomie handed him a square of sterile gauze and gently placed his hand over the area like a parent would a child.  Hunter kept quiet and held pressure on the injection site. 

“The timbre of your voices.  Subtle similarities in your facial features.  Other...tells in your mannerisms.  Hard to explain.”  She tossed the syringe in a sharp's container. 

“What would you require of us to assist you in helping Hunter.” Tech spoke up. 

“I’ll let you both undress him completely, throw the clothes in the bag, then wipe him down all over.  Don’t worry about his hair.  Put the gown on with the opening in the front.  Please drape several FRESH bacta wipe over his private parts for cleanliness and discretion.  Knock on the partition when you’re done.  I can then prep him for surgical removal of that vibroknife.”   

Then she handed a pair of medical scissors to Tech.  “Imagine you will need these to get his blacks off without further injury.  We have extra clothing on board if this is his only pair of pants.  Please be quick.  Thank you.”  She promptly left the room. 

Tech pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose “The Nomaadi NEVER cease to amaze me.” 

Echo put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder to get his attention.  He could tell the pain meds were starting to to work.  “Let’s get you ready, ok?” 

Hunter nodded sleepily...as he closed his eyes...drifting into the dark... 

They had come for him and his brothers AGAIN. 

Hunter wedged himself under the small gap beneath his lower bunk, pressing his back against the wall of their barracks.  He managed to pull Crosshair halfway under.  Only little Hunter and his skinny younger brother could manage to fit. 

Crosshairs fear was palpable as he scrambled to squeeze in with Hunter.  Tech rigged the mechanics of their bunk room door so it could only open from the INSIDE.  He hid behind the already large Wrecker who stood tall and RAGEFULLY angry, fists clenched and ready for a good fight. 

They were ONLY children. 

The Kaminoan’s and their clinical assistants routinely carried out medical experiments on them.  They rebelled against the pain, shame, and inappropriately probing hands that explored their bodies. 

This was NOT the first time the Bad Batchers had resisted. 

The Kamino medical staff learned the hard way several times to bar access to ANY sharp objects or ANYTHING at all that could be used as a weapon.  This left the Batchers room barren of any toys or enrichment.  Only to be let out for training and mess hall meals.  When it was found the defective clones had smuggled in an occasional training weapon or a table utensil from the mess hall, they were routinely patted down, scanned, and accompanied by the staff themselves. 

As the Batchers anger and resentment peaked, along with their accelerated growth, strength, and strategy, fully trained teenage Reg clones were called in to perform this duty. 

Some of these Regs sustained severe injuries, thus creating MORE resentment already present among the “Defective” Clones and the Regs.  This rivalry came to a head when Hunter’s nose was broken during a particularly violent scuffle and Tech was knocked unconscious, almost compromising his advanced mental capacity.  Wrecker and Crosshair’s retaliation was immediate and SEVERE.  One of the Regs barely survived HIS injuries. 

From that time on the Kaminoan’s ONLY sent in the most hardened adult clone troopers in armor to retrieve them.  Lama Su considered “discontinuing” their squad due to the inconvenience.  But Nala Se convinced him this sharpened their skills and made them more “elite.” 

Clearly, the child Batchers were no match for these new adversaries. 

Wrecker didn’t give a damn.  As the door was finally breached and the clone troopers spilled in he rushed them.  His screams of rage sounded familiar to Hunter... 

...like an angry dog. 

Tech begged for leniency as he was dragged away, promising to be compliant from now on... 

Hunter held tight to Crosshair... 

...who was yanked from his grasp and pulled out from under the bunk. 

Hunter attempted to call out to his brother but could make NO sound. 

“OW!  LITTLE FUCKER BIT ME!!!” As Crosshair was dropped face down on the hard white glossy floor.  Blood splattered across the polished tiles from Cross’ split lip. 

Crosshair pulled his face from the floor, yelling Hunter’s name... 

...it wasn't Crosshair’s face, but Jebith Freed. 

A green armored CX trooper grabbed the boy’s leg, dragging him away while he trailed bloody purple rose petals in his wake...SCREAMING Hunter’s name over and over...as the bunk room melted into an alien forest... 

Lightning struck the ground.  Torrential rain fell in thick sheets. 

Hunter, terrified watched from under his bunk as the ground gave way swallowing both the boy and trooper up. 

The wall behind Hunter groaned, buckled...muddy water spilled through cracks.  He attempted to scrabble away, but the remaining wall of the bunk room collapsed around him.  A wave of muddy water and debris enveloped Hunter.... 

...dragging him down into the darkness... 

Hunter awoke with a START. 

"You’re safe, Hunter.  I’m here.” Omega’s voice. 

Her face came into view. 

He felt fuzzy around the edges of his consciousness.  Hunter had gotten enough injuries in the past to recognize recovery from sedated anesthesia.   

“You’re not on Kamino anymore.  We’re on a Nomaadi sanctuary barge.” 

Omega held Hunter’s hand tightly as the realization set in.   

“How...did you know?”  

“I remember EVERYTHING you ALL went through on Kamino.”  Omega’s voice trembled “Until Shaak Ti found out and intervened...instead of the Reg troopers, they began sending ME to help gain your trust.”  Her face conveyed deep sadness.  “When you all finally complied, I was not allowed around your squad...again.” 

“How come I don’t remember?” Hunter rubbed his forehead. 

“It was traumatic.  You shut it out.  The memories are still in there...they come out in your dreams.” 

“...nightmare...definitely NOT a dream.”  Hunter swallowed.  He was overcome with emotion from the effects of the anesthesia.  His eyes welled up. 

“SO glad to have you ‘Mega.  I LOVE YOU.”  He choked.  Hunter felt this MANY times but never vocalized it. 

Omega threw herself onto Hunter, hugging his neck tightly.  “I LOVE YOU TOO HUNTER!  I was so scared of losing you!!!” 

“Take the whole galaxy to hold me back from you, ‘Mega.  Sorry I had to leave you on this mission...” He hitched as he inhaled.  A tear ran down his cheek. And Hunter squeezed his eyes shut tightly.  “If I hadn’t left you behind this time, probably never see you again...” 

He opened his eyes to see Wrecker and Echo approaching his bedside.  He could see the relief in their eyes. 

But Hunter’s post anesthetic daze wasn’t done... 

“I failed...” He mumbled to them.  “Lost LOVE, and somehow Tiggy...Jebith...this kid on that planet we ran into...” 

“Hunter...” Echo squeezed Hunters shoulder reassuringly.  “You couldn’t...” 

“NO...should have had you and Wrecker along with us...” 

Wrecker looked concerned over his brother’s uncharacteristically strong emotional outburst. 

“It was HORRIBLE!  Like losing Caleb Dume all over again!!!” Hunter worked himself up.  “I FAILED CROSSHAIR TOO!  HE WAS RIGHT...I’M NOT FIT TO LEAD...”  More tears.  “...NOT FIT TO BE A BROTHER...OR A FATHER...” 

“Now, now” Echo patted Hunter’s shoulder.  His normally gruff voice softer.  “That’s SOME kind of anesthesia he comin’ out of!” 

“Perfectly normal range of surgical recovery behavior” The old Med Droid, who had been washing Hunter’s muddy hair prior to him awakening, handed a tissue to Hunter. “Deeply held thoughts and feelings do tend to surface when the patient awakens.  Wipe your eyes, friend.  We must get some sustenance into you soon.  It will help you heal” 

“Thank you, Rusty” Omega took the tissue from the droid and dabbed at Hunter’s face.  “PLEASE don’t cry Hunter.  You did what you could.” 

Hunter sniffed and steadied his breathing. 

Wrecker leaned over and carefully hugged Hunter, then kissed him on the temple.  “Hey...let the Droid finish ‘yer hair.” 

“Yeah, you look like a wet mess.” Echo joked. 

Hunter took the tissue from Omega and blew his nose. “Yeah...a total mess...”  He started to come out of the anesthesia a bit more.  “Apologies” 

“None needed.” Echo smiled. 

Omega held Hunters hand, patting it. 

Rusty conditioned and rinsed his hair again, then dried it fully.  Hunter reached up to run his fingers through his hair.  SO SOFT!   

He mildly panicked at the absence of his bandana. 

“No worries, friend.  All of your clothing has been taken to the laundry.  We will return it to you soon, clean and pressed!” 

The droid wizzed around to Hunter’s bedside.  “Don’t YOU look HANDSOME!  Now your family will take you to see your lady.” 

Hunter attempted to pull back the blankets and get off the hover stretcher.   

“NO Hunter!” Echo pushed Hunter back down on the stretcher.  “Gotta lie still, or you’ll pull out your sutures.” 

Wrecker chuckled “And you’re only wearing that blanket.  Nothin’ else.” 

“Oh!” Hunter blushed and chuckled, now in better spirits but still feeling the effects of the drugs. 

“Relax and your family will take care of the rest.” Rusty waved goodbye as Echo wheeled Hunter down the corridor.  Omega and Wrecker waved back following behind. 

They wheeled Hunter into an adjacent room containing several bacta tanks.  Sil leaned against the tank, waiting for Mad to awaken.  Omega ran to him, and they embraced each other.  Tech infodumped animatedly with a 2-1B med droid named “Bucket.”  But paused when he spotted Hunter. 

“You appear to be recovering quite well.” He smiled brightly.  “I am extremely pleased, Hunter.” 

“That’s...SO affectionate of you, Tech.” Hunter chuckled, then turned to Taavi and Thoomie. “How is Mad?  Are the babies...” 

Thoomie answered “She’s just recovering from anesthesia.  The babies are EXTREMELY healthy...and STILL growing!  Never seen anything like it!!!  I am concerned about Mad, though.  She’s been through A LOT physically.” 

“She’ll REQUIRE quite a lot of rest and nutrition.  The accelerated growth could take a negative toll on her health as the multiple fetuses she is carrying will literally leach the nutrients from her body.”  Tech added. 

“Eh, sounds like she’s got parasites.” Wrecker shivered. 

“Technically...unborn babies ARE commensal parasites” Tech adjusted his goggles. 

Echo grimaced “Pregnancy sounds...creepy...compared to clone Growth Jars.” 

“It’s beautiful.” Hunter mused, staring at the bacta tank Mad was currently floating in.  “Imagine giving up your body for another life.  Not just during pregnancy but devoting all your energy to raising that delicate being once it’s born, grows, becomes its own person.  Loving that little life so much it almost hurts...willing to sacrifice or even die for it...heck...some people do it for others who can’t experience that themselves...”  Hunter smiled and tears welled up in his eyes. 

Thoomie was impressed “That’s...pretty deep.” 

“Yep.  That’s Hunter.” Echo grinned.  “Usually, it’s all in his head.  We’re lucky to hear it out loud right now because of the surgery drugs.” 

“He does wax poetically when inebriated as well” Tech added “When sober Hunter tends to hold a HUGE amount of emotional weight in.” 

“That’s Tech’s way of sayin’ Hunters a BIG softie.” Wrecker whispered to Taavi. 

Taavi chuckled.  “Good thing to be.  The galaxy needs more empathy, no?” 

“My apologies for the interruption” Bucket interjected “Our patient is waking up.  Vitals are within normal ranges currently.” 

“Whoa, there!”  Uncle Taavi tapped the bacta tank to get Mad’s attention. 

Mad stirred and slowly started to realize where she was.  Inside of the bacta tank she was hooked up to an IV line, a feeding tube, respirator, bacta nebulizer, and endotracheal vacuum.  The lines swayed around her as she bobbed in the bacta solution.  Mad was only clad in a medical chest binder and med panties which helped secure the lines that carried her urination and defecation waste away.  The rest of her exposed body covered in a multitude of small lacerations from the shrapnel Uncle Taavi had surgically removed. 

He could see her anxiety ramping up. 

“She gonna RIP them out.  Bet ya.”  Taavi remarked to Thoomie and Tech. 

“While I understand your concerns restraints seemed too severe an option.” Tech remarked. 

Thoomie nodded “I agree with Tech.” 

“Ah, you never seen Mad lose her SHIT!  She’s got a phobia about all of this” Taavi motioned to the whole tank, then addressed the B1.  “Sorry Bucket, best to leave outta here for now 'fore she notices you.  Or gonna be hell to pay!” 

The B1 turned to Thoomie.  She nodded “It would be best for the patient.  You can return when she is sleeping.” 

Hunter commiserated “My apologies, Bucket.”.  

The droid silently turned to leave. 

Mad eyed the med droid suspiciously, then flashed an obscene hand gesture as it left the room. 

Hunter giggled. 

Mad attempted to laugh too but erupted into a violent coughing fit. 

She choked and gagged SOMETHING up.  One of the tubes attached to her life support face mask suctioned it out of her trachea. 

Her breathing sounded slightly better and less raspy. 

Hunter put his hand up to the glass, pressing his palm flat against it.   

Mad did the same on the interior of the tank.  Eventually, she glanced further out in the room, shocked to recognize Uncle Taavi and Thoomie.  She waved excitedly to them...and scanned the room again... 

Someone was missing...Mad signed in Basic with her other hand... 

LOVE?  Tiggy... 

Hunter TRIED his very best to keep a neutral face through his post-surgical haze.  He was at a loss for words.  

Mad glanced up at the faces of all the Batchers, Sil, Taavi, Thoomie... 

Varying expressions of sadness and guilt is all she saw.  Nobody spoke. 

She hitched and cried out loudly, then choked and gagged violently again.  In her grief, she reached for the tubes attached to her in what looked like an attempt to pull them out. 

Thoomie immediately punched the sedative button on her IV line. 

Mad went still within the tank, floating quietly while the endotracheal vacuum cleared her lungs. 

“Hate to say it...I told ya so...” Taavi whispered sadly. 

Hunter covered his face with both hands and quietly sobbed. 

To read Chapter 26 - "LOVE AND HOPE"

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/765645976136564736/vagabonds-chapter-26?source=share

Please let me know if you wanted to be added to my taglist or removed! Thanks so much for your support!!!

[kateeorg]

What's Bugging Me About the Urinetown Marketing

(Other than that, lol)

So, for those of you who don't know, the 2001 musical Urinetown is currently being staged at New York City Center. It's the first New York professional production they've had since the original Broadway run.

I saw this musical as a local production when I was a kid. I found it hilarious. I love Little Sally and all the silly meta jokes about musicals.

But one thing I was concerned about with this production, and it seems to be coming to pass, is that they're centering the marketing on revolution and fighting for justice.

The marketing is framing it as relevant to today, sure, but some of the it also seems to frame the show as progressive. And, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the show, especially the ending, very much throws that framing off the top of the Urine Good Company tower.

The show is nihilistic. It mocks political theater that tries to pose a moral. It shows the revolutionaries other than Bobby and Little Sally as violent brutes. And the revolution itself only ends up making things worse. And it does it all on the back of a 19th-century economist whose theories have already been discredited in most circles ("Hail Malthus" indeed) with the argument that even crazy theories can become reality if we're not careful.

In the end, you could argue it's about how any political extreme can turn toxic, no matter how well-intentioned, that even our enemies may have a point, and that when enacting change you have to be smart, not just angry or hopeful.

(Though some will argue it's about how we're all doomed no matter what, but I'm not a nihilist and I don't find that helpful )

As much as I actually think that message is needed, trying to spin this show as some kind of noble fight for justice... I just don't know if it really fits. Which means newcomers who don't know the story might come in with expectations that are bound to be disappointed. It may get butts in seats, but... I don't know. Feels iffy.

Am I crazy? Or oversimplifying here? Anyone with me on this? (This rant was mostly inspired by this interview)

[pbaintthetb]

well I wrote the prologue for it lmao. The fic is not coming because I have like 5 mdzs projects including a secret santa to write.

~1k and Manga spoilers lmao

Hail Mary

"Well this sucks," is Satoru's thought as he lays there on the ground literally ripped in fucking two. Even goddamn Toji hadn’t managed to do that to him- before he’d mastered purple. And-

And it’s not fucking fair, Satoru feels, almost childishly. Sukuna hadn’t even consumed all twenty of his fingers, only nineteen. And sure, Megumi’s Ten Shadows technique was a hell of a lot of more difficult to fight against than Itadori’s insane strength- especially with Mahoraga but-

But.

But if Satoru is being entirely honest with himself- as he lays here ripped in fucking two- he doesn’t necessarily think he lost because Sukuna had shifted to being in Megumi. And Satoru doesn’t have time to think about any of the rest of that right now. He can’t- He won’t. Anyway, the painful truth is that if Satoru is being entirely honest with himself- something that tends to make his insides shift away from his outsides- but that’s happening anyway right now so why bother about that-

Satoru feels- knows- believes- 

Megumi’s Ten Shadows technique is not the reason why Gojo Satoru, ‘The Strongest’ lost. And it’s not about- it’s-

It’s not about Suguru either this time. This time the failing has been all him.

Fushiguro Toji but warped to be worse through a funhouse mirror. Fushiguro Toji but with more peace and less desperation which-

Which is worrying. Maybe he really is really dying.

Satoru doesn’t-

He’s already seen Suguru, and Nanami, and Haibara. He’d wondered why Shoko wasn’t there, dimly amongst it all, before he’d remembered that she was still alive. So.

Satoru misses Nanami. It hasn’t been very long. From his perspective at least. He wants to see Nanami again. He wants to see Tsumiki- he wants to see Megumi.

And now that face but not those hands are going to haunt his dreams twice.

Assuming he has anymore dreams to haunt after this.

God, he really is dying. Being so honest and dismal. It’s-

He wants to tell Megumi how proud he is of him. And that unbearable sappiness is how Satoru knows-

But can Megumi even hear him from where he’s trapped in Sukuna?

If he ever wants to see- hell, who is Satoru kidding.

If Satoru ever wants any one else- say Itadori, to see Megumi again. Satoru needs a goddamn Hail Ma-

-There’s blood in his mouth. That’s- that’s disgusting. He hates- it’s slimy and it’s- it’s his goddamn blood.

Oh that is disgusting. Sure, Satoru’s dying, but-

He kind of wants to raise a limitless barrier on his tongue just to get it to stop. He could- Satoru can.

He’s been wandering around with this limitless barrier in his stomach for- well it’s hard to tell how long when factoring in the prison realm. But. Some time.

Itadori’s one of his cute students after all! Can’t let anyone but good ol’ sensei finish him off- and only when  ready.

Considering Sukuna was able to wake up and hop into Megumi this potentially may have been a mistake. Binding vows are tricky like that.

Anyway, Satoru could have kept it anywhere, but after Toji, sometimes a Hail Mary is what you need. Before he’d learnt the reversed curse technique. And now-

Well it’s back to Satoru’s embarrassment that he’d lost against the King of Curses at only 95% of its strength.

And is now dying.

Without his legs.

He’s surprised he’s held on this long really. But again. Satoru really doesn’t want to die.

But a Hail Mary?

He’s got his limitless up in his stomach– and at the bottom of his stomach too to stop some of the blood getting out.

It’s- it’s kinda hard. There’s no one around, so he can admit that. They’ve all been watching this fight. So that’s kind of embarrassing. His students seeing their sensei lose! So much for showing off, eh?

He doesn’t think about anyone else in that room or-

Instead he’s thinking of how they still have to fight Sukuna, not just Kenjaku. Maybe together they can all do it. Maybe Satoru drove Sukuna down enough.

Maybe Satoru isn’t going to die here.

Maybe Satoru doesn’t have Sukuna’s twentieth finger floating around in his stomach like-

(see, it’s funny because Satoru does. The higher ups were hardly going to find it in here. And Itadori had done it so it couldn’t be too hard.)

Satoru isn’t sure the answer to the Sukuna problem is more Sukuna. But Satoru really doesn’t want to die.

He’s only been in this position once before, and he’d found some Hail Mary to pull through then.

Last time the Hail Mary hadn’t really been so much of a Hail Mary as a last wind though, a breakthrough.

Now though…if Satoru drops the limitless barrier containing Sukuna’s finger before he dies…

He might just live.

Or he might just die.

But not now.

And everyone else might not destroy themselves going up against Sukuna.

(Until they had to go up against Gojo Satoru too.)

Hmm, a problem.

(But one where Satoru doesn’t die right here, right now. One where he can get his own back and prove that he, Gojo Satoru the Strongest, can best Ryomen Sukuna the King of Curses.)

The slimy fucking blood is still in his mouth. His legs are kicking around somewhere just out of his sight. (So much for tearing up the system of sorcerors, Satoru’s been torn. He giggles a little. Sombers)

He’s not meant to die this young. He bested it once- he bested the goddamn sorcerer killer and-

Doing this would be for Megumi. Megumi wouldn’t want that. Megumi had been horrified enough at Itadori eating the finger, and now Satoru is about to jump down that rabbit hole.

No. Satoru can’t do this. What would it even solve? (He wouldn’t be dying right now.)

He’d just be adding another Sukuna to the stage. Sure, he could help in the fight against Sukuna (and save Megumi) and kill off Kenjaku (and lay Suguru to rest) and stop another series of sorcerers from having to die- and prove that he really is the strongest-

And make himself into a curse. But Satoru has yet to find a problem he can’t solve eventually. Even reversed curse technique. Even teleportation. Even-

This is probably a really bad idea. He should probably just focus on trying to get the finger out of his stomach so-

Ah. What the hell. When has Satoru even been known for avoiding bad ideas?

Satoru lets limitless go.

if I wrote jjk fic (we dont' talk about my 500w rage fic) I'd write one where Sukuna was indeed correct about Gojo having the last finger and he eats it, (creating two sukuna's which is interesting in its own right) but more importantly allows a gojo with altered everything to crop back up and probably still ultimately die cos now he has sukuna in him but means it could be more narratively satisfying (for me)

[seijorhi]

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with. 

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session. 

You do. 

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive. 

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train. 

Day in, day out. 

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up. 

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?” 

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot. 

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet. 

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which. 

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets. 

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it. 

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you… 

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind. 

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been. 

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better. 

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes. 

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not– 

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch. 

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it? 

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. 

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench. 

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck. 

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile. 

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in. 

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl. 

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers. 

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely. 

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details. 

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!” 

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right. 

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything. 

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline. 

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face. 

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices. 

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it. 

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?” 

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching. 

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high. 

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself. 

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

[ererokii]

Line without a Hook || E. Jaeger & J. Kirstein

➳ Jean Kirsten x Fem Reader x Eren Jaeger

Word count: 4,517 Warnings: angst, fluff, unrequited love, cursing ➳ note: this is based off the song Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery! I’ve been thinking this for a long time and I’m super excited by how it came out! Also big thanks to @reddriot​ for betaing!

➳ Synopsis: is love really worth it? Let me say, it’s not always worth it.

You can hold my hand if no one’s home.

Do you like it when I’m away?

☽�� ✦ ✧☾

It starts out simple really. A boy and a girl. Childhood friends, to be precise. Those two are inseparable. Nothing can tear the friends apart, besides their parents, of course. Like two peas in a pod. 

Jean says he knows you like the back of his hand. He truly means that. He knows your favorite boy bands from when you were younger, how many terrible phases you’ve gone through, favorite foods, and places. If he wrote a novel about the things you told him, he would be a renowned author. 

Since kindergarten to now, in the middle of your junior year, you and Jean have been side by side. You told him everything. From random vents and gossiping about the rude girls in your class to how horrible your period cramps were— even though Jean hated hearing about the last, he stuck through it for you.

Only you. 

The pavement that followed the street your house was on is memorable. Jean can recall the amount of times you’ve had races, chalk scribbles covering the grey that would be washed away by the angry neighbors. 

He listens to you as you talk about a kid getting in trouble in your Calculus class, watches how lively your motions are as you speak. Jean can’t help but smile when a laugh slips past your lips and you glance at him. There’s an unknown sparkle in his eyes, one filled with love. 

You haven’t changed one bit, he thinks as he faces back forward, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His mind begins to wander as you both continue down the pavement, part of your routine when school ends. 

Your houses are right next to each other. You’ve been with him since you were in diapers. He was there when your first tooth came out, congratulating you, and you were there for him when he finally learned to ride his bike with two wheels instead of three. 

The bubbly lovable five-year-old back then is the same as you are now. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Oh all my emotions

Feel like explosions when you are around

A sigh of disappointment leaves Jean’s lips when he listens to Connie talk about something he has learned over the weekend (something completely stupid— he just doesn’t care). Currently, the students are at lunch, the cafeteria full with loud shouts and random noises. 

“Connie, shut up,” Sasha groans, placing her water bottle on the table, wiping her crumbs off. “No one cares that you finally figured out how to stick a spoon to your nose.”

“What do you mean?! You were the one who showed me!”

The brunette gasps and looks over his way, cream cheeks tinted with an adorable shade of pink, pointing a finger at him. The bickering between the two commence as Jean listens, slightly amused. 

As much as he indulges in their argument, he can't help but wonder where you are. 

It’s not like you to skip lunch, especially without at least letting him know. Did you stay behind to talk to a friend? A teacher? Maybe you went to the bathroom.

But it’s at least 15 minutes in. 

“Sasha,” he speaks up, slicking back his hair. The sound of her name catches her attention, making her look at him. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Y/N?” she asks in a whisper before her lips curl in a grin, already knowing why he asked. “Do you miss her?”

“Just answer my goddamn question!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Connie asks, looking between his friends before stopping his gaze on Jean. “Why do you need Y/N?”

“Oh, you know! He lik-”

“Shut up!” Jean shouts, catching the attention of nearby students, his face heating up as his cheeks turn a darker pigment. “Just answer me!”

“If you must know,” she taunts him, twirling a strand of hair from her loose ponytail. “I saw her talking to someone in the hallway. Must be important, she’s been there for quite some time. Might want to be her knight in shining armor and saving her, huh?” she cocks her head to the side, staring at one of the windows in the room, watching as the branches of trees sway from the harsh winds. 

The atmosphere outside was cold, breezes rushing down on anyone who was not inside. The sun was hidden by the thick grey blankets filled with rainwater, waiting to shower the world. The temperature recently has been dropping, mid 50’s at least. The weather was a shock, to say the least. 

“I didn’t know Jean likes her!”

“What do you mean?!” Sasha gasps, turning her body to face her small-minded friend. “It’s only obvious! You must be really stupid then!”

“Well, how could you tell?!”

Before Jean has a chance to interrupt Sasha, she begins to rant. He prefers to stay silent, clasping his hands together in his lap as he lowers his head, finding interest in the marbled tiles of the floor his feet rest on. 

The words that slip past Sasha’s lips reach his ear and out the other. 

It’s easy to tell, Connie. Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything? Here you guys are, two close friends, I thought you would have known about his crush. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on every time he ditched plans with us to go hang out with her. He’s whipped, and you’re too stupid to know it. 

His cheeks turn a shade of pink as his eyes squeeze shut, her words replaying in his head like a broken record player. Each sentence is like a knife stabbing away at his brain, causing the slightest ache to form in his frontal region. 

She’s right. Anything she just said five minutes ago, is completely and utterly correct. 

He can still hear her talking about it to Connie, but he can only focus on three sentences that stick to him like glue. 

Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything?

Memories of him helping you in any possible way come to mind. He can’t recall how many times he has entered class two minutes late because you had so much to carry. 

He stares at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. It reminds him of those cliche animated movies with hearts in the character's eyes. He’s blinded by his love for you, that he never noticed any signs that you don’t feel the same way about him. His heart races miles per hour when you’re around. Sometimes he worries for himself that maybe, his heart might explode within him. 

“Anyway, lunch has about 20 minutes left...where is she?” Connie mutters, scratching the top of his head.

“I don’t know, but,” Sasha grows quiet, listening to the ongoing thunder from the outside. The lights flicker for a second, a couple of yelps emitting from other students, slightly afraid that the power might go off while school is in session. “The storm is almost here.”

“Y/N!” Connie suddenly yells, pointing in the direction of the door, your body jogging closer to the table. “Where have you been?!”

“Sorry!” you laugh, out of breath as you drop your things on the bench, taking a seat beside Jean. “I got caught up in a conversation with someone! I guess I lost track of time for a bit.”

“I messaged you like four times,” Jean mutters, glancing over at you before looking at the table, playing with the plastic straw that he used to drink out of.

“You did?” you ask, pulling your phone out from your pocket, lips puckering when indeed he did so. “I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t even feel my phone vibrate.”

“Oh, whatever, who cares! Eat! Or I’ll eat your food!” Sasha yells, pointing a finger at you, a smile gracing her features. 

You laugh along with her as you converse with your peers, the conversation you had replaying in the back of your mind. Jean chooses not to intervene, instead would rather listen. 

The roaring thunder plays in the background, everyone paying no mind to it. What he doesn’t know is that the storm is much closer than Jean could have thought. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Listen close, it’s a no

The wind is a pounding on my back

And I found hope in a heart attack

Oh at last, it is past

Now I’ve got it, and you can’t have it

Another evening, another study session, another day of bottling up his feelings until he can no longer hold them inside.

The storm made its way to shore, raining pouring down and even some hail; not what anyone was expecting. 

Jean mindlessly flips through the pages of his English book, not even paying attention to the words as he checks how many pages are in chapter five. 

“This seems pointless,” he adds with a sigh, tossing the book on your bed along with his highlighter he uses to annotate with. “I should just find a summary online or something, I don’t want to read this.”

“And why is that?” you ask, looking up from your book, placing the hardcover against your thighs. “Is it boring to you?”

“No,” he mutters, rolling onto his back. “It’s stupid. This love crap.”

“Well...it is a romance story, the teacher told us when we got the book. But why do you think it’s dumb?”

“He writes letters for her, and in the end, she ends up rejecting him. I don’t think that’s romantic.”

“And? It’s beautiful on his part,” you close your eyes as you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a grunt. “It’s the fact that he wrote to her every day. It’s like he poured his soul into every word. The words he uses are..literally everything. It makes me swoon over him, and he’s not real. Makes me wonder if someone would do that for me.”

Jean’s head perks up at your words, one of his eyebrows raised in curiosity when he notices the bashful look on your face, eyes averted to the comforter on your bed. “Why do you have that dopey look on your face?”

“Huh?!” your eyes are blown open as you look over at him. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about that, idiot,” he points at your face, watching your eyes cross faintly to stare at his finger. “You’re acting about that guy in the book.”

The patter of the rain is the only noise that fills the void called silence in your room. His warm eyes don’t leave your face at all, waiting for your answer. You’ve been acting weird ever since you were late to lunch this past week. 

He watches your mouth open as if you’ll say something but close it right away, like you were concealing anything you had to hide.

“...well? Y/N? Are you there?”

“Yeah!” you cough into your elbow, running a hand down your face. “I-- you can’t tell anyone.”

“You know I never tell anyone what we talk about.”

You’re silent, a bit too quiet than usual. You fiddle with your fingers before blurting the words that have been eating away at you. 

Jean’s heart stops for a moment, eyes wide in shock when he processes it. His blood runs cold as he’s unable to move, frozen like a statue. The signals in his brain begged him to respond, but he couldn’t. He could hear the faintest sound of bells ringing in his ears; all noise surrounding him was now drowned out by his thoughts. 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds. 

“You like someone?” he asks in a whisper, barely audible to your ears, but you heard as you nod shyly, biting down on your lip. “Well... who is it?”

“That’s...I can’t say it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m afraid to say it out loud because I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

Friendship? That could be anyone at this point.

I have to figure out who, he thinks as he draws random patterns into the sheets. “Well, tell me about him then. Is he in our grade?” he asks.

“Yeah, he is. He’s in four of my classes.”

Jean was in four of your classes. Math, English, Foreign Language, and Science. 

“That’s it?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Can I finish before you interrupt? Thank you.”

You pause momentarily before speaking again.

“He’s stubborn. I’ve noticed that his demeanor changes when it depends on who he is with. He seems like a hardass and looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered, but he seems like a total softie when he’s with people he loves. Not to mention he’s hot...and tall. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.”

Jean takes every word you say into consideration. He’s stubborn, it seems that he doesn’t like to be around people he doesn’t know but loves those he does know. He knows he’s hot. Practically every day he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks about how good he looks.

He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he really seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.

Jean can feel his doubt and worry turn into happiness and confidence as you keep on ranting, to which he’s not fully paying attention anymore. He knows it's him. It has always been him.

No one else.

Jean likes you.

And you like Jean, that’s all there is to it. 

“Do you want to tell him?”

“Yeah...” you trail off, scratching the nape of your neck. “I want to tell him on Friday after school. Do you think he’ll like me back?”

“I think he would. How could he not? He would be a total idiot to reject you.”

You hum at his reassurance, placing your hand on his, squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Jean.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Darling when I’m fast asleep

I've seen this person watching me

Saying, “Is it worth it? Is it worth it?”

Tell me, is it worth it?

Friday comes, and Jean can hardly wait for school to end. He’s not paying attention, his eyes constantly staring from the whiteboard in the front to the clock that tauntingly ticks slower than usual. 

He bites down on the pink end of his pencil in anticipation, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor, the noise resonating through the classroom. 

Maybe I should just keep my eyes off the clock, he thinks, lowering his head back to the worksheet their teacher gave the class.

Econ class was a drag. He could care less about the differences in macro and microeconomics, the same with Communism and Capitalism. It’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense to his brain. 

This was one of the classes he didn’t have with you, the last class. 

Instead of doing his worksheet (luckily, the teacher said it would be for homework if it wasn’t finished), Jean proceeded to think about ways he could tell you his feelings.

He could be old fashioned, tell you how much he adores you and how happy you make him feel when you’re around. How his heart can be heard from the outside of his body, how his hands got warm and clammy, maybe sweaty when he became too nervous.

Or

He could ask you out on a date. Take you somewhere, one of the places you’ve told him in the past that would make a great date for you. He smiles when he thinks about taking you downtown at night, looking at the soft lights that would brighten the streets; loving the sparkle in your orbs as you look around in awe. 

He hums, pleased with himself when he figures out what he’ll do, scratching the back of his ear. 

He wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

-

You glance at your table partner, looking at his piece of paper before looking down at yours, displeased how his is able to look better than yours. You pick up your eraser, gently wiping the shadings away from your drawing, careful not to crease your paper.

“It’s not that hard you know, you just don’t know how to shade.”

“I know how to shade, Eren,” you reply with a huff, placing your eraser back down. “It’s just...this is a bit harder than usual.”

“All you have to do is follow the markings,” he presses the edge of his drawing pencil against the reference photo both of you are using, tracing the shape of it. “You could honestly just copy the photo, I doubt this woman would even notice.”

You chuckle at his choice of words, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. “I don’t think she would anyway. She just stares at it and calls it an A. I bet for our expressive project, she wouldn’t notice if we copied each other.”

He shakes his head with a smile, the loose strands of his hair swaying with his head movement. “No, she wouldn’t,” he rolls the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, grabbing his pencil again. “Then again, we are working on it with each other.”

“Speaking of that, what should we do?”

“Up to you, Y/N. I don’t mind. I’m just trying to pass this stupid class anyway.”

You relish in the silence between you as you gaze at him from your peripheral. You take notice how his hair frames his face effortlessly to the dip in his nose. It’s perfect how it forms to his cupid’s bow to his lips; not too big nor too small either. Just right. 

You clear your throat, scratching at the nape of your neck. “Why not do...stages of love?”

That catches his interest.

“Stages of love?” he asks, moving in his chair to face you, a hand propping his head up. “Elaborate?”

“Like you know...how we gain a crush on someone. We like how they make us feel, and soon we think about them some more. Maybe make little scenarios in our head. Then we gain the crush and want to be around them. You know what I mean, right?”

He’s silent, hues that represent the blue of rivers, boring into your own. At first, you think he hates your idea, but then the corner of his lips curls into his infamous grin. “Yeah, I like that. Did you have anything else in mind?”

“Maybe...rejection?”

“Rejection?” he repeats, a bit shocked at how romantic your words were, to something filled with sadness. “And why would you want to do rejection?”

“W-Well,” you stutter, unsure how you should put it. “Everyone always talks about the good in love but never the bad. And I think it could be done good, you know?”

He hums, scratching away at his chin before nodding. “Yeah, alright. That sounds oddly specific, but I like it. We can honestly get started soon, that way, we can finish faster and not worry about it.”

His smile throws you for a loop, your face heating up as you pick up your pencil, trying to distract yourself. 

“Say, Y/N?”

“Yes, Eren?” you reply a bit too quickly, cursing yourself out internally for sounding too desperate. 

“Can we talk?” his cheeks are a shade of pink, his eyes averted as he plays with one of the strings of his hood, reminding you how a child would distract themselves. The tips of his shoe nudge against yours, barely kicking gently.

“Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No, I mean after school.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

And in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer

Watching over me, he’s singing, 

Jean storms out of his Econ class with a grin, hands gripping onto the straps of his backpack as he looks down one end of the hallway before going down the other direction. The art room was three classes down his. Usually, Jean will wait right there by the door for you since you take ages to finally leave the classroom. 

When Jean finally reaches the room, he sees that the doors are locked, and the lights inside are off.

Huh, that’s weird, you’re always one of the last to leave, nor are you ever this early. 

He stands there for a few more seconds, peering in through the small glass, and sees nothing before taking a step back and quickly continues to walk down the hall. His legs are quicker, going down the two flights of stairs. 

His eyes frantically search for the yellow shirt you wore, unable to find you anywhere. 

“Sasha!” he calls out once he reaches the end of the stairs, running towards the girl and their friend, who was at the lockers, pulling things she needed to take home for the weekend. 

The brunette looks over her shoulder, stopping her conversation with Connie as she shuts her locker. “Yeah, Jean?”

He pants, leaning on his knees before letting out a deep breath and standing straight up. “Have you seen Y/N?”

She ponders for a while before shaking her head, looking over at Connie, who shakes his head, shrugging. “We haven’t seen her since Art class.”

“You didn’t see where she went at all?”

The events before class ending play in her mind before she gasps, snapping her fingers, pointing up at Jean. “Yeah, I know where she went!”

“...are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?!”

She mocks him for a second before pulling her phone out. “I could have seen her leave with Eren. I think they went to the bench in the back. You know the one I’m talking about?”

He’s taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, retaining the information. “Alright, thanks.”

Why would you even be with Eren right now? You never meet with him after-

“Are we still on for this weekend?!” Connie yells when Jean is making his way down the corridor.

“Yeah, we are!” Jean's voice travels through the air, reaching both of his friends, hands clammy as they’re shoved in the front pocket of his pants. 

The walk to the back courtyard was tiresome. His feet seemed to drag behind him, an aching feeling forming in his gut. Thoughts pounded against his skull repeatedly, trying to force him to stop. He wants to stop, but he has to go.

He has to tell you he loves you. 

He can’t help but smile when you describe the boy you like this week. In his mind and most certainly his heart, he was the king of the world sitting on his high horse as he screamed in victory, letting the whole world know that the person he likes, feels the same way about him. 

The fresh air from the outside meets his nostrils as he deeply inhales, allowing it to enter his body before exiting. The sun is the first thing he meets with as he exits the building, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes away from the harsh light. He mutters something under his breath as he looks around for a second. 

“She’s a,

She’s a lady and I’m just a boy”

His honey orbs finally stop on a bench where you and Eren are seated, that’s not too far away, but his body is hidden from your view. He lets out a sigh of relief, leaves crunching underneath his feet as he walks, not taking long strides, rather walking slow to rethink what he’ll say.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long...no,” he mutters, stopping in his tracks as he looks down at the green grass and leaves, kicking away at them. “I’ve loved- no, that sounds a bit aggressive, goddammit,” he groans, tugging at the roots of his hairs. “Why is this so fucking hard?!” he growls underneath his breath, leaning against the brick wall. 

He never was anything else but honest with you. How could he say it?

What if this ruins your relationship?

...what if you liked Eren?

His breath hitches in his throat when realization dawns on him. His lips part, a soft exhale releasing from within him. His fingers curl around nothing, as if he was holding the air’s hand. The tips of his fingers shake, his whole body stiffening as he stares hard at nothing. 

How could he be so stupid?

It all made sense now. How you stayed behind during lunch that one time without saying anything; in the back of his mind that day, he knew that someone had to be a boy, maybe a girl. Even then, you would always let him know. 

Jean should have known from the beginning that you only saw him as a brother. 

His chest aches as his vision goes blurry, biting down on the inside of his lip to the point where he can taste the bitter metallic on his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut before opening, wishing he hadn’t at that moment. 

He’s singing

“She’s a, she’s a lady and I am just a line without a hook.”

His heart breaks, stomach-dropping when he sees Eren’s hand brings you closer to his body, lips pressed up against yours; your hand placed on his cheek, cradling his face. Even from where he stands, he can sense the urgency in the kiss, how your bodies move together as one, how your fingers grip onto him like he’ll leave any moment. 

His lower lip quivers for a second, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing his throat. Jean cranes his neck upward, looking at the sky, muttering the words, “Why him?” over and over like a mantra, no other words coming to mind. 

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. Not Eren, just you. Those moments where you laugh, cry, or stay silent, those are the moments that flash in his head.

Did he do something to you? Was it something he said?

Did you ever like him at all?

“It’s pointless,” he whispers, pushing himself off the brick wall, immediately making a beeline for the doors. He swallows harshly, legs moving faster than ever, wanting to get out of this hell hole called reality. 

Like every day, you’ll walk down the same pavement you’ve been walking on for years.

Only this time, he’s walking alone. 

Oh, and if I could take it all back

I swear that I would pull you from the tide. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

taglist: @sleepysnk @jaegerbomb20​ @reddriot​ @kkiimmberly​ @kingtamakimurder​ @tamasoft​ @byougen​ @spike-this-ass​ @crimsonbows-and-arrows​ @squidonmywall​ @thicmitten​ (message me to be apart of it!)

[rrasado]

AY welcome back! Hope your having a great day and staying healthy! May i request a headcannon for demon! mc but they aren't your normal demon they are 👑royalty👑 like diavolo

(This is twst request so how do the twst boys react?)

Hell’s Monarch Who?

We gonna hella free style this djdndn, I’m gonna go with the Vices so Le go!-

I’m writing this before I go to bed so please excuse any typos djdjdjdh, I never expected anyone to even want my writing so this request honestly caught me off guard

When you’re of demon royalty:

Say that again but slowly

Oh you said it again- yoU ARE WHAT²?

Mans probably saw a lot already especially as a third year student of Heartslabyul. From flying table wear to gloating heads to a ritual party door mouse- but to think you are of Royal descent- no scratch that of deMONIC DESCENT-

Congrats this is the second time you’ve broke down his walls after Riddle’s Overblot.

He’s definitely gonna be a bit more precise with whatever food he makes for you from now on, probably discreetly console what type of extreme food you can even consume

Who knows? This might be a good learning experience for him in case a demon drops by the family bakery- yeah right he just got even more infatuated with you without even knowing.

...so you rich rich- no no fr you have demonic dough on you huh-

OK OK- but in all seriousness he’s gonna be a bit- scratch that expect him to be around you more a lot, whether to chat or to find an opportunity to leach off of u- he’s gonna take that time and go.

You aren’t the first inhuman Royal he’s had to deal with. But you’re definitely the first demonus species he’s ever even encountered. Hey gotta roll with life am I right-

No it’s not life that’s rolling it Ruggie rolling over to you from across the courtyard on your way to lunch.

All in all he’s gonna be curious on the shiny aspect of your lineage. He’s already seen what Leona has but how are demon royalty different in such aspect-

Hey if you feel it he can jokes about getting a position in your court or something-/j...unless-

And we all thought he couldn’t get anymore inquisitive.

You turn the hallway- oh hi Leech-senpai! You fall in line for an event- oh jade didn’t expect to see you here!

This man loves observing anything unusual to him. He hates anything predictable but seeing as he was from the depths of the sea a....you being of another realm and lineage is far from predictable in his book.

If Ruggie was always around then this man is always observing from afar. Unlike the hyena he takes a significantly more subtle approach when it comes to nitpicking someone as enigmatic as yourself.

Once the routine lengthens and he’s taken note of everything he can from afar, then and only then does he take a closer look.

He might invite you over to the lounge if the opportunity strikes him. Knowing jade he’ll make a way for said opportunity to come as naturally as you enticing him.

His mind says no but his body says yes.

Before you cackle let me elaborate- the initial response in his mental flow is to stay as frckin far away from you as possible. But his physical instincts tell him to stay by you.

Maybe it was due to how many times Kalim was put in danger. But if he knew anything...it’s too observe whats out of the norm as much as you can and think of a counter.

Oh dear Jamil you complete and utter fool, he mistakes being enthralled by your unique biology for wanting to observe you out of obligation as a protector to his ‘master’

He wants to see the world right? What the world can offer him from beyond the walls of the mansions and elegant vicinities he’s had to serve in. You give him a taste of that ngl.

In short the man might be a tad bit more open the more you two share what you knew about the high way of life. From both perspectives of course... with you from the top and him from the side.

And here we thought Ruggie and Jade were diligent.

This man redefined the word INTRIGUED- unlike jade he...never allows himself to be seen.

But also unlike jade he’s more lenient in approaching you, observing every single mannerism of your up close to nitpick whether your unique blood differentiates your etiquette to pure humans or whether your mannerisms are the result of only a royal’s poise.

The self proclaimed love hunter has always held Vil in high regard like the very Beautiful queen herself- but observing you gives him more of an idea of the difference between true royals and the acclaimed.

Everything you do everything you interact with- he finds an otherworldly sense in it, even just the way you converse with someone he senses that subdued aura of authority.

Beaut 100 all the way

Hyper bb does analyzations on the spot-

Is that why you come off on his sensors? Like you look like the others minus this ethereal charm you’ve always had but other than that. Wow you slipped from under his view, literally.

The dear is more curious than intrigued, he wants to know more but in a more kid sense (?). Imagine talking to a kid who’s never explored the world before- ye that.

Like I mean it’s not wrong since the world is your world and not only that but just like his big brother you are tied to Nobel duties, except...amplified-

OMG ARE YOU GONNA MARRY FOR DIPLOMATIC REASONS TO-

He remembers the many legends that hailed from the internet His brother. Which won’t take much to figure that they’re likely myths from the isle. Overall...pls be patient with him his reactors aren’t meant for royals from another realm.

Not...surprised? No wait scratch that- he isn’t as caught off guard as the others.

Man is probably as old as the campus/j. He’s seen his fair share of mystical things that go beyond the average wizard’s scope of specialty- but to think he’d be in the presence of demonic royalty?

Are you an heir? In line for the throne? Do you have any royal duties in need of attending despite being here in NRC? No the better question is how old are you-

On a more serious note. Lilia would most likely be intrigued by whatever difference there is with the monarchy of hell to the monarchy of the valley of thorns.

He’s no stranger to insults and racial discrimination, even his own race have been called demons at one point in history, whether he detested it or not was a secret. So you being an actual demon...perhaps you can enlighten this old soul?

Overall...You’d feel a lot more at ease with him. You’d feel like you’re talking to the ol palace advisers rather than a curious human. Ah...that’s to be expected.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Who Would've Thought? A Government Teacher and an English Teacher (A Halstead Brothers + Upstead + Halstead Daughter! Imagine; Part of AU-gust)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Link to buy me a coffee.

Anyway, enjoy!

"Hey, I know you aren't a morning person," your dad said as he walked up to you sitting at the bar in the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.

"You're right, I'm not," you said.

"All I need is for you to look over the seating chart I made for the juniors."

"Make sure you didn't put people who have beef next to each other?" you asked.

"Exactly. And I figured, since it's your class, you'd be the perfect person to do it."

"And because I'm your daughter."

"That, too."

He set the paper in front of you. "Since I'm doing this for you, care to make me my coffee?" you asked

"The pumpkin spice one?" You nodded. "Kid, it's the first week of September. It's like 75 out (23.9 celsius). Fall's not even close. And, technically, it's still summer."

"Listen, Dunkin' came out with their pumpkin spice stuff in mid-August. And, you know the minute it hits September, I get in the fall mood."

"But you still won't go to a Bears game with me and your Uncle Will," he said.

"Dad, I don't understand football."

He pulled the K-Cup out and put it in the Keurig. "I told you that me and Uncle Will could teach you. And, you seem to understand it when you're at school football games."

"I just cheer when everyone else does. It's not that hard."

"Fair enough."

He pointed to the counter of the bar, so you looked down at the seating chart. You waved him back over to you as you heard the sputtering of the Keurig, telling you that all your coffee was almost in your tumbler.

You pointed to two seats. "These two girls have had beef since middle school, so throw them across the room from each other." Your dad grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and drew a line to put one of the girls on the opposite side of the room. "These two are dating, so unless you want them talking all the time, I suggest you at least move the guy to a different group." He drew another line on the seating chart. "And this guy dated these two girls, so you need to make sure that they're as far away from each other as possible."

"Which one is he dating now?" your dad asked as he drew more lines.

"Neither. He was dating both of them at the same time. Get why none of them can be by each other now?"

"Gotcha."

He took the seating chart from you and handed you your tumbler of coffee. "I don't drink it black," you said as you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, believe me, I know, but I'll leave you to do that because I don't want to mess up your coffee to creamer ratio and have you get mad at me for it."

"Fair enough."

You sighed as you poured your creamer into your coffee because you thought about all the homework that was going to be piled on to your plate this year.

"What's wrong?" your dad asked.

"I'm gonna be drowning at the end of today."

"Can't argue with you there. But tell me if you think your homework load for APUSH (AP US History) and AP Gov (AP Government) is getting too much for one class. I'll talk to the teachers. And, you have me to help you with your government homework." He said the last part with a huge smile on his face.

"Dad," you groaned. "You've been waiting for me to be a junior forever now just so you could be my teacher."

"Yup, and you chose AP over me. How rude."

"Sorry, but college is expensive. It was only like 50 bucks a class when you went to college back in the olden days."

"Young lady, I am not old."

"Fine, you're vintage. Better?" He just glared at you while you finished stirring your coffee and then started making your breakfast. "But, at least Hail- Miss Upton doesn't give us a ton of homework because she knows we're drowning in homework already and have the SATs to worry about, so that's nice."

You were super thankful for your Honors English 11 teacher, who also taught AP Stats. She gave you at least half an hour each class period to do your homework since she knew that most of you had sports or after-school clubs or a part job to get to and didn't have all night to do homework. She was the one who also said to send her an email if you couldn't get the assignment done and she'd give you an extension. She said that your physical health and mental health were way more important than you finishing your homework.

Your dad was like that, too. Granted, he didn't give the students in his class a ton of homework to begin with, and he made the class fun...at least, that's what you heard from the kids who were juniors last year. The only time your dad really gave homework was when he gave out study guides to fill out. He'd give them out a week before the test and then after two days, he'd check that everyone got them done and go over them in class so that everyone had the right answers to study from. Mr. Jay Halstead also didn't give tests on a Monday because that was just cruel...and he knew that when he was in high school, he absolutely hated homework, so he didn't give a lot of it. And, he hated coming to school on a Monday when he forgot to study over the weekend, so he didn't give tests on Mondays.

"You're not going running this morning?" you asked as you cut up a banana to go into your oatmeal.

"No, I think I'll run with you guys after school today at practice."

Your dad was also the high school cross country coach. You weren't a fast runner by any means, but your best friend, Emma, had made it to regionals and was a great runner. And, your dad said that you either play a sport in high school or you get a job, so you joined the cross country team. In all honesty, you liked running for the endorphin rush it gave you after the run and just talking to some of your teammates while running or listening to music or podcasts while running. But, you weren't competitive, so that's probably why you weren't as fast as Emma, and your dad knew this. But, he was just glad you were being active in some way after school and that you enjoyed exercising even if you weren't the best or the fastest runner. He just wanted you to live a long and healthy life, and he knew starting to exercise in high school would help you build those healthy habits.

But, usually what your dad did in the morning was go to school at like six in the morning, so he'd be up at five, and then he'd utilize the weight room or the indoor track to workout. Then, he'd take a quick shower and get ready there, and be teaching by 7:30. Yeah, he was crazy for running that early.

"You know," you started, "Miss Upton likes to run. Maybe you should see if she'll co-coach with you? Or maybe she'll run with you in the morning?"

Jay shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that Hailey and I are just friends. Nothing more."

"Says the man who lesson planned with her last week," you said, wiggling your eyebrows.

"Y/N, she's a coworker. I would've done that with anyone. It was just coffee. You read too much into things."

"Dad," you sighed. "You haven't dated in years."

"Yeah, since Abby dropped you off on my doorstep." He used to refer to Abby as your mom, but she wasn't around, so when you were around 14 years old, you just started referring to her as Abby. After all, you had never even met the woman, and she didn't want you, not even leaving an address on the note attached to your pajamas, so she didn't deserve the title of Mom.

"So, 17 years. You haven't dated in 17 years, Dad. You gotta get back out there. Even Uncle Will said you need to."

"You talked to your uncle about this?" he asked. "Oh, and put some egg whites in that oatmeal for some extra protein."

"What? You gonna make us lift weights today at cross country practice?"

He shrugged. "You never know. Now, no more talking to Uncle Will about my love life."

"There's not even anything to talk about. But, he does think you and Miss Upton would look cute together."

You added some egg whites to your oatmeal and put it back in the microwave for an extra minute.

"This has been going on for way too long now, Y/N. We're not gonna date. We're just friends and coworkers. Just drop it."

You put your hands up in mock surrender.

Ever since freshman year when you had Miss Upton for creative writing (yes, she taught one section of AP stats, one section of creative writing, and she also taught Honors English 11 and regular English 11 for the rest of her sections), you knew that her and your dad would be a great match. So, you confided in Emma and she agreed. Ever since then, you hadn't really let the topic go.

"Fine," you groaned...even though you and your dad both knew that the topic would not be dropped in the slightest.

"Now, do you want me to drive you, or do you want to drive yourself?"

Usually, since he left before you, you'd just drive yourself to school since you were 17 and had been driving for a year now. But, during the first week of school, your dad didn't do his morning workouts, so he always gave you the option if you wanted to ride to school with him.

You pursed your lips. "Fine. I'll ride with you, just cause it'll save me gas."

Jay laughed. "You're not even the one who pays for your gas."

He was right. He was the one who paid for your gas because you had always studied hard...and you played a sport, so you didn't have time for a part-time job. Because of this, Jay decided he'd pay for your gas. But, you did have to work a part-time job in the summer.

"Fine. It prolongs the time before I have to go to the gas station. How's that?" you asked.

"Miss Upton would be proud of how you worded that."

"Maybe you should tell her that, Dad. It'd be a great conversation starter."

***

"So," Emma began as you were warming up for your run after the school day ended, "how'd the chat with your dad go?"

You sighed while jogging. "I don't think it's ever gonna happen. He's too damn stubborn to ask her out and he claims that they're just friends and coworkers. I hate it. They'd be so damn cute together."

"I know," Emma agreed. "You know, I overheard her in the hallway between classes saying that she was going to chaperone the homecoming dance. Maybe your dad could get in on that and that's how they could talk more?" she suggested.

"Emma, that's a great idea, but I really don't want my dad at homecoming. That is awkward as hell."

Emma laughed. "Sorry, didn't think about that."

"Hustle up!" your dad yelled. "Time to stretch!"

You started your normal stretching routine before your dad started to give his normal beginning of the school year speech. "Alright, I need all of you to listen up. I don't want anybody talking over me, you hear me?" You all nodded. "Okay, good. So, I know that some of you have heard horror stories about the old cross country coach who said that if you miss a practice, then you miss a meet...unless it was for being sick." Most of you nodded.

Before your dad started coaching and the other cross country coach retired, a lot of the students hated the previous coach's coaching style. His coaching style was run more to get better at running...which sounded good in theory. But, this didn't actually work. You see, what would end up happening was that he'd make the runs longer and longer. He'd even make the athletes do a long run on Saturday and then a short run (which to him was three miles) on Sunday. If an athlete didn't send him the screenshots from apps like map my run, then they wouldn't be able to race in the next meet. This obviously was a recipe for overtraining and injuries. You heard that one girl even hurt her IT band from running so much! So, it was no surprise that most people hated the coach and so many parents complained, so he stepped down, and then your dad came in to coach.

"That's not how I coach," your dad continued. "School and your grades are really important. So is sleep. I don't want you guys not getting sleep or not getting to spend time with friends or not have other social interactions because you have to practice for two hours and then go home and do homework and get to bed late. I don't want you guys to be sleep-deprived zombies." Most of you laughed at that. "With that being said, if you're overwhelmed and feel like there's not enough time in a day, just come talk to me and we'll figure it out. Whether that's only coming to practice for an hour or taking a few days off to study for an upcoming test or taking time off for a family emergency, we'll figure out what to do." Everyone nodded. "Alright everybody, let's go run the big loop. Keep track of your split times."

***

You were walking inside with Emma to go grab your stuff from your locker after you had finished practice. Perks of having your dad be a teacher? You and your friend could leave your stuff inside instead of bringing it outside with you.

"Just meet me in my room when you're done, Y/N," your dad told you. "Have a good night, Emma."

"You too, Mr. Halstead," she replied.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jay when it's not school or practice hours?" Jay smiled and then walked down the hall to his classroom to retrieve the stuff he had brought with him for the day...with his shirt sticky from sweat since he had run with you guys today.

He walked out of his classroom with his backpack and gym bag, to come face to face with Miss Hailey Upton walking out of her classroom as well.

"Run with the team today, Jay?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, first week of school, kind of hard to get my early morning runs in when there's so much to do on the classroom side," he answered.

"Understandable. I've been doing mine after I lesson plan and before dinner. Hopefully, I'll be back to nightly runs soon before it starts getting dark earlier and earlier."

"But, when it gets too dark, then you'll be running in the mornings soon...and then it'll be cold," Jay pointed out.

"There's this thing called a treadmill, Jay. I utilize that in the winter."

"That shows that you're an English teacher: you use big words."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "I see you reading books during your lunch period. I know you know big words, you just prefer not to use them."

"Yeah, because I want the kids to think I'm a cool teacher...not a snob."

"I am not a snob!" Hailey jokingly argued.

"I'm kidding, Hailey! I'm kidding! And, I know you lesson plan and grade on your lunch break, too instead of going to the teacher's lounge."

"Spying on me now, huh?"

"Our rooms are right across from each other and we have the same lunch period, what else am I supposed to do?" he laughed.

Hailey sighed dramatically. "Oh, I guess. Tell you what: come to my room during our lunch period and I can give you some good book recommendations."

"I get enough book recommendations from my daughter, thank you very much. But, I guess I can always use more."

"So, see you during tomorrow's lunch period?"

"See you then. Have a good night, Hailey."

"You, too. Tell Y/N I say hi and not to work too hard on all her homework."

Then, they walked down the hallway and Jay walked back towards where you were still chatting with Emma. All the while, he was thanking God that you weren't there during that conversation between him and Hailey because he wouldn't hear the end of it. But, he was also wondering what the hell he'd just gotten into.

***

"You will not believe what I just saw!" Emma whispered to you the next day in your AP gov class.

"What?" you whispered back.

She had forgotten her laptop in her locker and had to go get it. Which, the route to her locker from the classroom you were currently in went right past your dad and Hailey's classrooms.

"Your dad and Miss Upton are in her classroom eating lunch together."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. "No way!"

You received a glare from the teacher and were quiet. But, you'd be sure to ask your dad about this when you went home tonight.

***

"Uncle Will's coming over for dinner in an hour," your dad told you when you got inside your house after practice. You had decided to drive yourself to school today instead of riding with him. "How much homework do you have?"

"Uh..." you blanched and set down your backpack and unzipped it. Then, you grabbed your planner and flipped it open, laying it out on the kitchen table. "I have an AP stats worksheet that's due tomorrow, I have to read half a chapter in my AP bio textbook by Monday, I have to read a full chapter of my AP gov textbook by Tuesday, and I have an APUSH assignment due tomorrow. Oh, and I should probably read a chapter of the book I chose to read for my English class plus I have to annotate a few paragraphs of crappy 16th-century literature by tomorrow, too."

"Christ," your dad said. "So, what do you have to do tonight?"

"AP stats worksheet, APUSH assignment, and I have to annotate for English. I could always not read the chapter in the book I chose to read if I don't want to."

"Do you want me to just tell Uncle Will to come over this weekend?" he asked.

Jay know knew you absolutely loved his brother and that you were always excited to tell him about your day and how school was going. It had always been this way because, when Jay found you on his doorstep, he was 22, and had just started undergrad and was working on his teaching degree. Because of this, when Will wasn't studying in his last two years of med school and later working in a hospital as a new resident, he was your go-to babysitter. And you absolutely loved when he came over...despite not being able to remember much because you were so young. Apparently, you had been particularly fascinated by Will's red hair and would pull on it every chance you got. But, he'd let you play with it until it really started to hurt him because you were his favorite (and only) niece and he knew he'd do anything for you. This came in handy as you got older because you realized you had him wrapped around your finger and would always ask him for homework help. Or, if your dad wouldn't give you spending money, you'd go straight to your Uncle Will, and usually, he'd give you some.

"No," you answered. "A doctor needs to know stats, right?"

"I think so," your dad answered. "Why? Are you struggling already? Do you need to go into the regular stats class instead of the advanced one?"

You laughed at your dad's concern. "No, I'm fine. Just figured he'd be able to check it for me to make sure I did everything right."

"Oh, good. And, I'm pretty sure he can do that. Now, go take a shower so you can get started on your homework before he gets here and so I can start on dinner."

***

"Guess what?" you asked as all three of you twirled your spaghetti onto your forks at the dinner table an hour later.

"Chicken butt," Will said.

Jay rolled his eyes. "I swear, I wonder if Mom and Dad were lying when they said that you were older. Maybe I'm the older one and they just lied to us because you sure do act like the younger brother."

"Relax, Jay. Just because I'm more fun than you and Y/N likes me better, does not mean that I'm immature."

"Anyway," you said, wanting to tell Will what you had found out earlier today, "do you want to know what I have to say or not?"

"Go ahead," Will said.

"Okay, so today during AP gov, Emma had to back to her locker to grab her laptop. And she went right by Dad and Miss Upton's classrooms." You paused as you looked over at your dad and saw his eyes slightly widen and then go back to normal. "And they were eating lunch together in her classroom!"

"Awe," Will cooed. "My little brother's back on the market. Good for you, man." Then, he turned to you. "Upton's the short, blonde English teacher you've been trying to set him up with for years now, right?"

"He's not supposed to know about the set-up part!" you hissed.

"Oh, sorry. Jay, forget I said that."

"Y/N, I already you've been trying to set us up," your dad laughed. "It's been kind of obvious."

"Now that that's settled," Will started, "how'd it go? What did you two talk about? And are you having lunch together tomorrow?"

"You two are terrible, you know that?"

"Oh, we know," Will said. "But, you can't ground me, so I can be as terrible as I want."

Jay laughed. "She won't get grounded for that, Will. She might get grounded if she keeps procrastinating her stats homework, though."

"Need help, kiddo?" Will asked. "I have to read stats for things like new drugs and stuff, so I'm good at that. Don't know if I can help you with actually solving the problem because it's been ages since I've done that, but I can try."

"No, thanks, though. I just took a long shower so I have to get it done after dinner. I understand it all, though."

"Good, you can always come to me if you need help with it, though," Will offered. "Or, since it's Miss Upton--" He looked directly at Jay when he said Miss Upton and then turned his attention back to you. "--who's your stats teacher, you can always ask her. But, be sure to drag your dad along with you."

"Will!"

***

Two weeks later

"Might want to tell them to drink a ton of water after this, Jay, because it's so hot," Hailey Upton said as she walked up to Jay Halstead--and Coach Halstead for the next few hours--at an away cross country meet on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-September. "Or better yet, get them some Gatorade."

"Hailey?" Jay asked as he turned around, getting his stopwatch ready. "What are you doing here? And, I'd get them Gatorade if I could. I kinda forgot to pick it up last night."

"I'm here because some kids asked me to come to their meet. And, I always try to come to those things if kids ask me."

Jay cocked an eyebrow. "Would two of those kids be my daughter and her best friend?"

"Among others."

He looked down at the rolling cooler she had brought. "What's with the cooler?"

"Well, you may not have had time to pick up Gatorade, but I did. So, there's one in there for each kid plus the coach...and me of course."

"How'd you know Gatorade would help?" Jay asked. "Other than logic of course."

Hailey laughed. "I've run a few marathons in my life, Jay. I know all about proper hydration and how important it is to refuel after a hot run."

At this, Jay raised his eyebrows. He knew that she ran, but she didn't know that she ran marathons. "Oh, wow. Which ones?"

"You know, the Chicago marathon obviously. Always wanted to do like Boston or someplace, but you have to qualify for those, you can't just go and sign up like here in Chicago. Oh, and I've always wanted to do a Disney marathon. I think it'd be cool, you know? Run through Disney World, maybe hop on some rides during the race."

Jay smiled. "That actually does sound really fun."

The announcer said that it was ten minutes until it was time to race.

"I gotta get to the first mile marker," Jay said.

"Okay, where's our tent? I'll go put this cooler under it."

Jay told Hailey where the tent was and was about to leave when she stopped him.

"Where do I get the maps? I can go to the second mile marker to help out with times in case you can't get there fast enough," she suggested.

"That'd, uh, that'd actually be great, Hailey. Thank you. And, you just get the maps from the table right over there," Jay answered and pointed to a table about 200 meters away.

"Awesome, thanks. See you after the race, Coach," Hailey joked.

Jay nodded and started to jog off toward the first mile marker. But, all the while he wondered what the hell this woman was doing to him. Because he felt his cheeks heating up in a blush as he jogged off.

And, as for Hailey, well she was watching as Jay jogged away and loved the way he ran with perfect form and how his biceps flexed just enough that she could see the muscles slightly bulge.

She laughed to herself. If they ever went running together, she'd have to tell him to loosen up because you weren't supposed to run with your arms as taut as his were; he was wasting energy.

But, for now, she just made her way over to the tent and left the cooler and then went to get a map and start off toward the second mile marker to help out a fellow teacher...well, maybe he was starting to be more than just a fellow teacher. Neither of them really knew at this point. But, Hailey liked the thrill of it all. She felt like she was in high school again...a high school student, not a high school teacher.

***

You panted and winced as you crossed the finish line. Shit, your shin splints were really acting up this time, and God, it was so hot out and you felt nauseous and even had to walk during some points of the race. We'll see what your dad had to say about that.

Wait, was that Miss Upton coming up to you?

It is! She actually came!

"Y/N, are you okay? I saw you walking," she said worriedly while your dad jogged over since you were the last one on your team to finish.

"You good, kid?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. My shin splints just hurt really bad and I think the heat's making me feel sick."

"Okay, well, I have to go watch the boys and make sure they're ready. Hailey, can you, uh, help Y/N? The medical tent's across from here. Maybe make sure she gets under our team tent without puking and get her something to drink?"

"I can do that, Jay, don't worry."

Emma walked up to you. "Good job!" she exclaimed.

"Girl, I didn't even run as fast as you! You flew through there. But, it's hot as hell!" you said.

"It is really hot. You gonna watch the guys' race?"

"No, Dad told me to sit under our tent in the shade. Gotta get some ice for my shins first, though."

"Shin splints acting up?"

"Yeah."

Then, you, Miss Upton, and Emma walked over to the medical tent where you got bags of ice wrapped around your shins.

***

"I'll run to Mcdonald's and get you ice, too," your dad said before you got in your separate cars back at school after the meet. "What do you want?"

"Uh, a ten-piece nugget--don't forget the honey mustard--a medium fry, and a medium lemonade," you said as your dad typed it into the notes app of his phone. "Thanks."

"I'll see you at home. Drive careful."

"See you in like half an hour."

Then you drove home and decided to start on some homework while still in your sweaty cross country uniform.

When your dad got home, you gobbled down your food because damn, you were hungry after that mentally taxing race. Then, you and your dad filled the bathtub up with ice and cold water.

Time for hell...aka an ice bath. At this point, you'd do anything to prevent your shin splints from getting bad. At least the old coach wasn't coaching because, from all the horror stories you heard, it'd be worse for your shins if he was coaching and not your dad.

After you changed into a pair of spandex shorts and a long-sleeved running shirt and a hoodie, you lowered yourself into the freezing and icy water. You set your phone timer for eight minutes and braved the cold for that long.

Then, after that, you drained the bathtub and took a very hot shower. But, as you were in there, you started feeling nauseous again. You crouched down and actually ended up throwing up a bit in the shower. It was nothing major, you just figured it was from eating too fast. But, you were still really tired.

And this is what you told your dad when you got out of the shower.

"But, I still have homework," you said defeatedly. "I kinda wanna just go to sleep now. It's already 7:00 and I have at least two to four hours of homework to do."

Jay sighed. He never wanted to play this game, but he wasn't going to let you run on not enough sleep tomorrow when you weren't even feeling your best.

"What classes?" he asked.

"Uh, I have to get APUSH done which will take me like at least two hours, and then I have English and stats homework," you answered.

Jay sighed. "I'll give Hailey a call and explain the situation and see if she'll give you an extension on the English and stats homework."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes, now go grab some water and get started on your APUSH homework. And.. it will only be a one day extension."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best Dad ever!"

Then, you grabbed your water and went back upstairs to your room.

But, all you could think about was that your dad and Miss Upton were talking over the phone outside of school. Maybe they were becoming more than just co-workers.

Jay dialed Hailey's phone number and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Jay?" she asked when she answered.

"Hi, Hailey. Yeah, it's Jay. Listen I have a huge favor to ask you," he said.

"What is it?"

"So Y/N puked a bit in the shower, probably because of the amount of sodium in those damn chicken nuggets she wanted, and then she took an ice bath and then a hot shower, so the quick and significant temperature change probably played a role. Anyway, how it happened isn't the point. It's just that she's really tired and she has AP US history homework that she has to finish. So, would it be okay if you gave her a one day extension on her English homework and her stats homework? If not, I completely understand because you can't just make exceptions because she's a teacher's kid and--"

"Jay, relax," Hailey laughed. "Yes, I'll give her the extensions. What is it that you always tell your team? Their physical and mental health comes first?"

Jay chuckled and then took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, that's about right. And, thank you. Y/N will greatly appreciate that."

"No problem. But, I also have a favor to ask you."

Jay cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"So, we're short on chaperones for the homecoming dance and I was wondering if maybe you could chaperone? And, I figured that since you have a kid and would probably want to be there for her pictures before the dance, you don't have to help us set up. Maybe just chaperone and then help us tear down? If not just chap--"

"Hailey, of course, I'll help out. Now, Y/N, she might not be happy that I'll be chaperoning her school dance, but I'll be there. Count me in."

***

2 weeks later, 3 days before homecoming dance

"Okay, I know I'm just your English teacher," Miss Upton started at the beginning of class that day, "but I still care about your guys' safety. So, please, please, please do not drive drunk or buzzed. Call your parents to pick you up. I can absolutely promise you that they'd be happier that you called them to pick you up than you trying to drive home and getting into a car accident."

"What if my parents will be mad at me for drinking anyway?" one kid asked.

"So, if that's the case, you can always call me and I will come pick you up from wherever you're at. I can lose a few hours of sleep to make sure that you guys are home safe." She started writing numbers on the whiteboard. "Right here is my cell phone number, if you think you'll need it, write it down or make it a contact in your phone. Again, I'd rather not come to school on Monday and learn that one of you is in the hospital because of something that could have been prevented."

You pulled out your phone, you didn't think that you'd need Miss Upton's number, but you figured you'd put it in just in case since two girls from your AP gov class asked you to be the DD for a party. You were kind of friends with them, like you studied for tests together, but that was it. But, you had debated it because it was a party after homecoming and you had never been to a party before...let alone one after a dance.

"Oh, Miss Upton," you said as you put your phone face down on your desk.

"Yes, Y/N?" she asked.

"What color dress are you wearing when you're chaperoning the dance?"

"I haven't really thought it much." She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered why you were asking this question. "But, probably red. Why?"

"Just wondering."

And now, you just needed to make sure that your dad had a red tie and that he actually wore it when he was chaperoning the dance.

***

3 days later, homecoming

"What about this?" your dad asked as he walked out of his room in dress pants, a white shirt, a navy blue tie, and a sport coat.

You were already in your dress and had gotten your hair and nails done earlier in the day, so now you were just waiting to take some pictures with Emma and then actually go to the dance.

"Hmm, I don't know. The shirt and tie are kind of what you wear to work everyday, so I think you need something different. Maybe a brighter tie or something," you said and then walked into his room and opened his closet.

You sifted through the closet until you found what you were looking for: a black shirt and a red tie.

"I think you should wear these," you said and laid the two pieces of clothing on his bed.

"What? Why? You know I never wear red. That tie has been hung up in my closet since you were probably ten," he argued.

"That's the point, Dad! You need to get out of your comfort zone and wear something besides what you wear to school...or in your case, work. It's a dance, so you have to wear something fancy."

Jay groaned. He knew he wasn't going to be able to win this argument.

"Fine. I'll change."

"Good."

Then, you walked out of his room.

Your plan had worked.

***

"Mr. Halstead," Hailey said as she saw Jay walk onto the dance floor a few hours later when all the lights were off and the cleared-out cafeteria became full of students dancing.

"Miss Upton," he greeted. She laughed. "What?"

"It's nothing," Hailey said quickly. "It's just that, well your tie..." she trailed off while his eyes raked down her body in the slightly tight (but not too tight because they were at a school function) spaghetti strap bright red dress that she was wearing. "Let's just say I now know why Y/N asked me what color dress I was wearing."

Jay groaned and shook his head. "My daughter. Always...you know, I don't know what her game is at this point, but I should've suspected something when she told me to go change."

But damn, Jay thought, she does look good in red.

God, Hailey thought, I wish he'd wear those kind of black shirts to work more often.

***

It was now after the dance and you and your dad had arrived back at home at around the same time.

"You're a little devil, you know that?" he asked when you were both inside.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I plead the fifth," you replied.

"Very funny. You can't do that."

"Yes, I can. You should know this, Dad, you teach government."

"You can plead the fifth in court, but you cannot do it with your dad. So, I know that you asked Hailey what color dress she was wearing just so my tie could match it."

"Oooh, so we're calling her Hailey and not Miss Upton now. I'd say that's a step up. What did you two talk about at the dance? Because I know for a fact that you didn't ask her to slow dance."

"And you didn't slow dance with anyone either, so we're even, kid," Jay retorted.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get this hair out."

"Okay." Your dad yawned. "I'm gonna get to bed. Now I know why you sleep until noon the day after dances: they're exhausting."

"Tell me about it. Goodnight. Send Miss Upton-- well, Hailey now-- a text to make sure she got home safe!"

You didn't even wait for your dad's witty reply before you bounded up the stairs and into your bathroom.

But, you didn't actually end up taking a shower. You ran the shower while you washed off your makeup and re-did it into something more party-appropriate and then took down your hair and put it up into a ponytail.

After half an hour, you turned off the shower and wrapped your still dry body in a towel after you had stripped off your dress. You peeked out of the bathroom to see that your dad's bedroom door was closed, which meant that he was asleep.

Then, you tiptoed into your room and changed your clothes.

You pulled out your phone to tell the girls to park a few houses down so your dad didn't hear the car pull in the driveway or see the headlights.

Your plan of going to your very first high school party was a go.

***

It had been two hours since you had snuck out and it was nearing two in the morning. And, you weren't feeling too hot. You had decided not to drink because you were the DD out of you and the two girls from class. And, you had kept the car keys away from them so that they couldn't do anything stupid...and so you could keep them safe. You hadn't drank anything, but you had eaten the fruit off of the top of the spiked punch bowl and, for whatever reason, you were starting to feel lighter and happier.

Shit.

Your dad had warned that fruit soaks up alcohol. How could you have been so stupid to forget that? He was going to kill you! There's no way you could call him to pick you up, absolutely no way!

Somehow, you found your friends, they were by the makeshift bar, no shock there because you knew the only reason they were there was to get drunk. Note to self: if people you only know because of one class ask you to come to a party for the sole purpose of being the DD, do not go.

Luckily for you, one of the girls' boyfriends played on the football team and wasn't going to risk his season just for one party. So, you told him that you needed to leave and that you were the DD and asked if he could get the two girls home safely. He agreed and you passed off the car keys to him.

Then you walked outside, the chilly mid-October night air helping to slow the nervousness coursing through your veins about facing your dad.

You pulled out your phone and hit the contact you had made in class a few days ago.

"Hello? This is Hailey," you heard Hailey's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Miss Upton, it's Y/N Halstead," you said.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You heard shuffling on the end of the line and assumed that Miss Upton was standing up from somewhere.

"I mean, I'm kinda woozy I guess. But, I snuck out and my dad doesn't know where I am." You hung your head. You couldn't believe you had been so stupid.

"And you had a drink so you can't drive home?" she finished.

"Yeah." She didn't need to know the details. All she needed to know was that you needed help getting home.

"Okay, send me your location and I'll be there soon, okay? Is it safe for you? Do you need me to stay on the phone or call the cops?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine. Just need someone to drive me home."

"Okay good. Send me that location and I'll be there soon."

Then, she told you the model of her car and the color so you could spot her easily. Once you were off the phone, you sent her your location and she replied with a thumbs up, telling you that she got it.

Your phone rang. You thought it was Miss Upton, but then you looked down and saw it was your dad.

Double shit.

***

"Please don't tell my dad," you said when you pulled up to your driveway half an hour later.

"Y/N, I have--"

But, she was saved from telling you that she needed to tell your dad when the front door flung open.

Your dad must've seen the headlights.

"Go," Miss Upton said. "You're only prolonging the inevitable if you stay in here."

You sighed. "Will you walk me up?"

"Sure."

So, both you and Miss Upton exited the car.

The minute your dad saw you, he ran down the steps to you.

"Young lady!" he yelled. "Where were you? Do you know how worried I was? You could've gotten seriously hurt!" He paused. "Get over here!"

You knew to listen to him when he pulled out the dad voice.

He put two fingers underneath your chin and tipped your head up. "Breathe. Now."

It was faint, but it was there, your dad smelt stale vodka on your breath...mixed with a citrusy scent and teeth that hadn't been brushed since the previous morning.

He sighed and clenched his teeth. Then, he put his hands down and he finally spotted Hailey. "Hailey, what are you doing here?" he asked, unclenching his jaw.

"I always tell my students that they can call me if they need to get picked up from parties and can't drive. So far, Y/N's the only one who has utilized that."

"Well, thank you. I'm sorry she had to make you come out at this time of night." He turned back to you. "As for you, go inside. Not only did you drink, but you went to a party, too. We'll talk in a few minutes."

You hung your head and made your way inside and sat down on the couch in the living room.

Jay walked up to Hailey. "I'm really sorry about her. But, thank you for getting her home safe. How far did you have to drive? I can give you gas money for all of this on Monday."

"Jay, it's fine. I make this offer for homecoming and prom every year. You don't have to pay me. I just wanna make sure all the kids get home safe, that's all."

"At least let me buy you coffee or something. You brought my little girl home safe when I didn't even know where she was. I think that warrants some type of reward."

"If you want to repay me that bad," Hailey began, "I'm lesson planning and grading at Starbucks tomorrow. I guess you can buy me a coffee."

"Done. Text me the time and I'll be there."

"Will do."

"Now, excuse me, but I have to go deal with my daughter."

"Goodnight, Jay."

"Night, Hailey."

Then, she drove off and back to her house while Jay walked up his front steps and wondered what he was going to say to you.

"Look at me," your dad demanded when he made his way into the living room.

You looked up. "I'm so--"

"No," your dad said quickly, cutting you off. "You don't talk. You only listen. Do you understand me?" You nodded. "Good. Do you know how worried sick I was when I couldn't find you inside? I was beside myself, Y/N. I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were hurt. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. What you did was stupid and reckless and please do not ever, ever do that again. Never do that again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," you answered.

"Good."

You took a deep breath before you asked your next question. "Am I in trouble?"

Your dad sighed and sat down next to you. "As much as I want to ground you, no you are not in trouble. I'm just so relieved that you're home safe. And, you made the right decision by not driving and calling someone to pick you up...even if it wasn't me."

"Do you want an explanation as to why I went?" you asked.

"No, God no. I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm still pissed."

"Can I ask how you knew I snuck out?"

"You forgot to leave your fan on and I knew it was way too quiet in your room."

The doorbell rang.

"Shoot, I forgot to tell your uncle that you're home safe. But, you better go up to bed before me and him talk and think of a punishment for you."

"So you're still mad?" you asked.

"A little mad, but mostly I'm just relieved and disappointed. I thought you knew better." You hung your head. "Now, go to bed."

"Okay." You stood up. "Goodnight, I love you." You gave him a hug.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, kid. Now, get to bed."

You went upstairs, but instead of going all the way to your room, you sat down on the landing, intent on listening to your dad's and your uncle's conversation about you.

"Hey, she's home. It's all good," Jay said as he answered the door and then motioned for his brother to come inside.

"Oh, thank God. Where was she?" Will asked as they made their way to the living room and sat down on different couches, facing each other.

"Apparently she went to a party. I know she drank because I smelled alcohol on her breath. It was just a bit, but it was there."

"If you want, we can bring her to Med and I can do a tox screen to see the level of alcohol in her system," Will suggested.

"You know, that's not a bad idea actually."

Jay quickly stood up, but Will stopped him. "I'm kidding, man! Don't do that! She was still lucid when she came home, right?"

"Yeah, she was walking and talking normally."

"Okay, then sit your ass back down and don't drag your daughter to Med. Did you ground her?"

"No, I actually didn't."

"There's a shock. You always said you'd ground your kid if they snuck out. Oh, how things changed."

"I was just so relieved," Jay said and sat back down. "When Hailey pulled in the driveway and Y/N got out of her car--"

"Wait," Will started, cutting Jay off, "Hailey picked her up? Hailey Upton?"

"Yeah," Jay answered. "Apparently she'll give out her phone number to the kids in case they need to get home safe from somewhere after prom and homecoming. And, Y/N called her and not me."

"I wouldn't call you either," Will joked. "You'd probably scream at her in front of everyone at the party."

"I would not!" Will cocked his head to the side. "Okay, maybe, but that's beside the point. All that matters is that Y/N had the wherewithal to know that she couldn't drive and she solved that problem. God, Will, the amount of adrenaline that left my body when I saw her get out of that car was astronomical."

"I bet. So, do you know where she went?"

"I just know it was some party. She got lectured when she got home, don't worry about that." Jay put his head in his hands.

"What? What's wrong, Jay?"

"Anything could've happened to her, Will, and I wouldn't have been there to protect her. I wouldn't have been able to protect my own kid."

"Jay, you can't blame yourself. Hell, most teenagers do this stuff."

"I know, I know. It's just that her grades have been slipping slightly and I'm wondering if I should have her transfer schools." Your eyes widened as you listened to that part of the conversation. "Maybe, having her dad teach at the same school isn't helping her. She went to a party, Will. Maybe it's the kids she's meeting in class, maybe being at another school would be better for her."

"Jay, you can't make a decision like that based on one stupid decision the kid did." He knew his brother was torn up about this, so he changed the subject. "What'd Hailey say?"

"I offered to pay for her gas, but she shut me down."

"Anything else?"

Jay sighed. He knew his brother wouldn't let up. "We're going out for coffee tomorrow to grade. She said I can repay her by buying her coffee there."

"Aw, you're going on a date."

"It is not a date! It's just two coworkers working in a coffee shop together...in their off time."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

A few minutes later, the conversation was over and Jay walked Will out, so you made your way to your room.

One thing was for sure: you were not giving your dad another opportunity to even think about you switching schools.

It was time to grind...starting tomorrow because you desperately needed to sleep right now.

***

You woke up around 11:00 the next day, which was Sunday. Then you got up and went downstairs to eat some breakfast.

"Morning," your dad said. "I made breakfast sandwiches. There's two in the fridge if you want one...or both."

"Thanks," you said. You wanted to ask if he was still mad, but you didn't really want to have an argument right when you woke up.

But, being around teenagers all day must've given your dad a sixth sense.

"Listen, kid, I'm not mad at you if that's what you're worried about. You just... you scared me last night. If something happened to you because I couldn't protect you-- because, as a parent, it is my first responsibility to keep you safe. Anyway, if I couldn't keep you safe because I didn't know where you were, I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Can I tell you why--"

"No. As a teacher at the school, the less I know the better. I really don't want to have to tell the administration and then get kids suspended from their sports for drinking. So, all I know is that you snuck out, went to a party, and drank. I don't wanna know who else was there or whose house it was at."

"But, I--"

"Y/N, end of discussion. Now, I have to go and meet Hail-- Miss Upton, for coffee since she so graciously picked you up when you made a bad decision last night. Don't do anything stupid when I'm gone or else you will be in trouble, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I'm just gonna study for the SATs."

"Good idea. Be back later. I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad."

***

"...And whatever she's having," Jay said and slid over so that the barista could input Hailey's order.

"Just a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew, please," Hailey ordered.

Jay paid and then he and Hailey waited by the other side of the counter for their drinks to be ready.

Jay laughed. "You and my daughter have the same taste. You both like vanilla sweet cream cold brews."

"I'm shocked you let her get that with the amount of caffeine in cold brew," she said.

"Eh, it's just like once a week. On my rest day when I don't have to be at school before dawn to run, I'll grab her and I something from Starbucks, and then she'll just stop by my room to get it before school starts."

"That's nice of you," Hailey mused.

"Yeah, but nothing compared to Miss I have coffee in my room for the kids and you can drink as much as you want Upton."

"If you've ever heard kids talk about how little sleep they get like I do since I teach AP classes, then you'd get why I do that, Halstead. I hear kids saying that they normally only get four hours of sleep a night because they're up so late doing homework. While I don't think they should become dependent on caffeine at such a young age and need to be getting a lot more sleep than that, they need to stay awake during school. That's also probably the reason why you and I don't give a lot of homework."

"And it's ridiculous how early school starts anyway," Jay said and grabbed their drinks off the counter.

"I'll drink to that," Hailey laughed and then poked her straw in her cold brew and took a sip.

Once they took their seats, they talked a little before starting to grade and lesson plan.

"Not to pry or anything," Hailey began, "but did you ground Y/N? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to, I'm not her parent, so I know I'm not the least bit entitled to that information."

"Well, you did pick her up when she needed help, so I'd say you are entitled to that information," Jay chuckled. "But, to answer your question, no I didn't ground her just because I was so relieved that she was home. The amount of adrenaline and cortisol that dropped in my body when I saw her get out of your car was amazing, Hailey. Thank you so much." He paused and took a sip of his cappuccino. "But, we did have a talk about how she shouldn't be doing that because it's dangerous and if something happened to her, that I wouldn't be able to help her and since I'm her parent, my first job is to keep her safe. She does know that if she sneaks out or goes to a party again, I will be grounding her, though."

"Well, you had a much different and a way better reaction than my dad did when he learned that I snuck out," Hailey muttered.

But, Jay had great hearing and heard her. He put down his coffee and furrowed his eyebrows. "What happened? You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Why did you become a teacher?" Hailey asked instead.

"Why did I become a teacher?" Jay repeated and Hailey nodded. "Well, as you know I was in the Rangers in Afghanistan and, while I was there I saw so many kids walking super far to schools or us accompanying children to school. They had to go through so much just to get to school, and I wanted to make a difference in kids' lives here Stateside. So, when I came home, I enrolled in college and got my degrees in education and a minor in history." Hailey had known that he was a veteran, which explained why he took every September 11 off, but she didn't know he became a teacher because of what he saw over there. "What about you?" he asked. "You went into social work before you became a teacher, right?"

For the past almost month and a half, the two teachers had been eating lunch together in either Hailey or Jay's classroom, and during those, they obviously talked about their experience with education and what made them want to go into the teaching field. Hailey mentioned one time that she was originally a social work major but then switched it to education. But, Jay didn't know why.

"Yeah, yeah, I was originally a social work major. But, it uh, it brought up some really bad memories and I didn't think I could handle being around that all day," Hailey answered, staring directly at her coffee.

Jay cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? Again, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"Um, it's okay. It's a part of my past. So, why I said that you were a lot nicer to Y/N when she snuck out was because, well, when my dad found out that I did, he uh, he..." she trailed off.

Jay's gaze was soft and sad as he finished for her. "Physical?" he asked, referring to the type of abuse she had endured as a child and teenager.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Hailey, I am so, so sorry that happened to you. I'm honored that you'd tell me this."

"It's uh, it's why I give those kids my phone number in case they need help. And, at the beginning of the year, it's on my syllabus, too," she said.

"In case they need a way out, they can call you," Jay said, piecing it together.

Hailey nodded.

Jay reached across the table and gently grabbed Hailey's hand in his. "You're a good woman, Hailey Upton."

She smiled sadly and nodded, grounding herself by focusing on the feeling of Jay's hand in hers.

"Do you want to get started on grading now?" she asked after a minute had passed.

"That might be a good idea," Jay laughed. Then, he let go of Hailey's hand. But, neither of them wanted that little handhold to end.

***

One month later

God, you were in pain. You didn't wanna get out of bed; you just wanted to sleep. Hell, you needed sleep.

Over the past month, you had thrown yourself into studying. You wanted to stay at this school. You loved all your teachers and you didn't want to leave your friends, especially your best friend Emma. And, you were also scared that if you had to transfer schools, that you might not do well on your AP exams or that you'd have a bunch of other requirements that the new school had that you'd have to do the last half of your junior year and during the entirety of your senior year.

You didn't want any of that.

So, you had come up with a plan.

The day after homecoming and that next week, you studied an hour or two hours later than normal. But, you still felt that you had work to do if you didn't want your dad to transfer you at the end of the semester. So, during your study hall hour, you'd go to the teachers and ask how you could get your B+ up to an A- or your A- up to an A. You'd even review questions you got wrong on quizzes so that you could get them right when those types of questions showed up on the tests.

Yes, the teachers probably thought you were crazy because you had good grades already and were trying to be Little Miss Perfect (or they thought that you were trying to get into another scholarship bracket for college or trying to become valedictorian), but you didn't care if you looked crazy. You wanted to finish your high school career at the school you were at now.

Also during this time, you had been "going to sleep" around 10:00-11:00, which was your normal time, just so that your dad didn't get suspicious. But, what you'd actually do was sleep for an hour-ish and then get up and study more.

It started with you studying until midnight and at the latest 1:30 in the morning...and then you'd wake up five hours later at 6:30. It wasn't ideal, but you could manage. Because, since your dad went to school earlier than you, you just brought extra coffee to school and he didn't notice a thing.

But, since all the teachers wanted to get their tests in before Thanksgiving break, for the past two weeks, you had been doing your power nap thing so your dad assumed that you were asleep, and then would wake up and do homework and study until 3:00-3:30 in the morning. This meant, that during the week, you were running on just three to three and a half hours of sleep a night. And, it wasn't like you could catch up a ton on the weekend, or else your dad would get suspicious. So, you just got like seven or maybe eight hours of sleep on the weekends. So, you were constantly in a state of sleep debt and in desperate need of caffeine.

You had done the extra cup of coffee for the first two weeks, but for the past two weeks, you had been drinking two cups of coffee at your house before school and finishing the second cup at school right before classes start, but then going into Miss Upton's classroom and getting another cup of coffee. Then, you'd also get another one from her room a little after lunch. (You made sure to never go in there during her lunch period because your dad and her still ate lunch together and you didn't want him to get suspicious.) Also, sometimes you and Emma would go to Starbucks to study after school. So, lately, you had been averaging four to five cups of coffee during the week and just two on the weekends. Because, again, you couldn't have your dad getting suspicious.

And, your dad and Miss Upton ran together in the morning before school now, so you really had to be careful about what you told Miss Upton. You couldn't have her telling your dad that you were drinking a couple additional cups of coffee. You just told her that your coffee never stayed warm long enough when you brought it from home, which is why you opted for hers. And, she bought it.

To cover the bags under your eyes, you had been wearing a bit of extra foundation and cover-up. And, to make sure that your dad didn't notice at home, you'd wash off all your makeup after school, but then quickly redo the area under your eyes.

So far, he was oblivious.

But, for a week and a half, your stomach had been super achy and you couldn't stand to eat anything in the morning before you had at least one cup of coffee. So, what would typically happen was that you'd end up eating a bowl of overnight oats in your car in the school parking lot before walking inside so that your coffee had time to digest. You figured out that you were fine after that. Well, it was still achy, but not as bad as in the morning.

God, you wish you were at that point right now.

For the past five days, you've been feeling nauseous and your stomach has been achy, but in the morning, there'd be a stabbing pain before you had any coffee. You'd roll out of bed when your alarm went off and go straight downstairs to get coffee because that seemed to be the only thing--besides ibuprofen--that would alleviate the pain.

But right now, right now was the worst you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt like someone was stabbing your stomach and it wouldn't let up. You felt nauseous like you'd puke any second. And, trying to get into another position didn't help. Nothing helped.

Fuck, you had to swallow your pride and your secrecy and go tell your dad.

You needed help and you needed it now.

So, you got up. But, that just made it worse. You swallowed, trying to keep the lump in your throat and not have it go on the floor.

You whimpered and then walked a few steps and opened your bedroom door.

Then, you threw yourself on the floor and crawled across the hallway.

You held your breath as you stood up, anticipating a ton of pain--which came--when you stood up and opened the door to your dad's room.

Then, you went back on the floor and crawled in there with tears streaming down your face.

It took all your energy to whisper, "Daddy."

***

Jay blinked sleepily. He thought he heard his daughter mumble "Daddy", which she hadn't called him in years. But, then he heard it again.

He looked down and saw a figure curled up in a ball on the floor.

"Daddy, make it stop, please," you whimpered.

He quickly flicked on the light so that he could get a better look at you.

"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asked quickly when he saw your tears, your face contorted in pain, and how jagged your breathing was.

"Hurts," you whimpered as more tears fell and you clutched your stomach.

He jumped out of bed and knelt down next to you. "Your stomach?" he asked urgently. You nodded. "Can you sit up?"

You nodded and leaned against his bed. But, that was a bad idea because the minute you were upright, you puked right down yourself. You groaned and pressed down more on your stomach, which just caused you to vomit more and more.

The minute you started to vomit, Jay looked at the clock. He started to soothe you by rubbing your back, but then quickly stopped and ran into the adjoining bathroom to grab the trashcan and put it underneath your mouth instead.

"There you go, there you go," he soothed as he held the trashcan with one hand and rubbed your back with the other. "Get it out. It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here, Y/N."

But, when you puked for almost four minutes straight and were still in pain after, Jay knew something was seriously wrong.

"Don't get up, you'll make it worse," he said. You nodded weakly. "I'm gonna go grab you some water and Gatorade and put those and a bowl in the car. Then, we're gonna go to Med to get you checked out." You nodded again. "I'll be right back. I love you."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and then sprinted off into the kitchen to grab the stuff he previously mentioned. Then, he ran outside and unlocked his car, turned it on to start heating up, put that stuff in the backseat, and sprinted back inside.

"Y/N, you still awake?" he asked when he walked back into his room.

"Mhm," you hummed with your eyes still closed and your hands still clutching your stomach.

"Okay, I'm gonna throw on a hoodie and my shoes, and then I'm gonna run into your room and grab you some shoes and a hoodie because it's pretty cold out. Are you okay here?" you nodded slowly. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't get up."

Five minutes later, you had your shoes and hoodie on. You weren't much help getting those on; your dad basically had to dress you as if you were a baby again.

"I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to the car and we're gonna go to Med to see Uncle Will."

"Uh huh," you said, letting your dad know that you had heard him. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and soon felt the chill of the late November air and then the leather seats of your dad's truck on your back and the warmth of the truck.

"There's water and Gatorade. I want you to take a few sips," your dad said. "There's a bowl, too in case you have to puke again."

You drank a few sips of Gatorade and then laid back down and closed your eyes.

As your dad backed out of the driveway, he called Will to explain the situation and tell him that the two of you were on your way to Chicago Med.

After the call, he threw his phone into the passenger seat and reached his left hand into the backseat, and grabbed one of your hands. You gripped your dad's hand weakly as he drove as fast he could to Chicago Med.

He had to make sure that his little girl was okay.

***

"We've got a treatment room right here," Maggie said when she saw Jay sprinting into the ED with you in his arms.

She quickly led him to it and he laid you down in the bed.

Will rushed in with Natalie and April a few seconds later.

"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Natalie asked.

"Hurts," you mumbled.

"Jay," Will started, "did she puke on the way here at all?"

"No, no, she didn't. She just puked for almost four minutes straight at home and it's worse when she sits or stands up. She's been clutching her stomach since she woke up."

"Gonna- gonna--" you started to heave and a pink basin was thrust under your mouth and then you emptied the few sips of Gatorade into the basin. You started to cry even harder once you finished. "Make it stop, make it stop! Please make it stop!"

Natalie turned to your dad. "Do we have permission to administer medications?"

"Please," he answered, his voice cracking. He was terrified. He was terrified something was seriously wrong. He had never seen you in so much pain. "You have permission. Just please help her."

April pushed antinausea and pain medications as well as a light sleeping medication because it was apparent that, along with puking and being in a world of pain, you were also utterly exhausted.

"Y/N," April started, "you're going to get sleepy soon. But, can you give us your pain level on a scale of one to ten?"

"Ten. My stomach hurts at a ten," you answered while tears still ran down your face.

"Did you eat anything you weren't used to? Drink anything?"

"No, no," you panted. "Just- just lots of coffee. Not a lot of sleep. Studying."

Will and Natalie shared a look. They knew what this could be. And, at least they got it out of you now, because it was clear that the meds were starting to work and you were fading fast.

"Hun," Natalie began, "we're gonna leave April in here with you in case you get sick again. Is it okay if me, your Uncle Will, and your dad have a chat outside real quick?"

"Want my dad. Please."

Natalie smiled sadly. "Okay, he'll stay. We can talk to him later."

Your dad reached for your hand and held it and rubbed his thumb over the top while you drifted into a medication-induced sleep.

Five minutes later, you were out.

Jay looked at his brother. "What's going on? What's wrong with my kid?"

"From what she told us, it sounds like the acid in the coffee she's been drinking has been irritating her stomach lining. Has she been drinking a lot of coffee lately?" Will asked.

"Not that I've noticed. But, sometimes there's a little less in the coffee pot than I think there should be. But, even if she is drinking two cups, that can't cause this, can it?" Jay asked worriedly.

"No, two cups shouldn't. But, if she isn't sleeping a lot, sometimes lack of sleep can make people feel pretty crappy. So, if she's drinking more than her normal amount of caffeine and not sleeping, then that could be what's causing it."

"But, she goes to bed at her normal time," Jay argued.

"That doesn't mean that she's sleeping. She could be lying awake in bed. Has she seemed more tired to you?"

"No, not that I've noticed. Uh, what do I do, Will? Can't you run some tests?"

"I mean, I can run one to see if she's sleep-deprived, it's a plasma cortisol test. If her levels are elevated, that means she's not getting enough sleep. But, it wouldn't give us the reason why her stomach's hurting so bad and why she's nauseous and vomiting," Will answered.

"Then don't run the test," Jay said. "If it's not going to figure out the problem, then I don't want to put her through that. But, what do we do?"

"If it's what I think, an irritated stomach lining, then we keep her for observation for a few days, ween her off of caffeine to a healthy amount, give her antinausea and pain medications, and just wait for her to go home until she feels better," Will answered.

"Okay. I guess we wait. You mind grabbing me some coffee?"

Will laughed because they had just been talking about how you had been possibly drinking too much coffee and now Jay was asking for it. "Yeah, I can do that. My shift ends in an hour, so I'll be down here to wait with you then."

Jay smiled. "Thanks, man."

***

It was 7:30 in the morning the next day, which was Thanksgiving Day, when Jay's phone rang, waking him up. He answered it without checking the caller ID because he didn't want to disturb your peaceful sleep.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Jay? Where are you and Y/N?" he heard Hailey's voice through the phone.

Shit, the Turkey Trot, he thought.

He and you always ran the Turkey Trot every Thanksgiving, sometimes dragging Will along if he didn't have to work. Then, you'd have your Thanksgiving feast later in the day. Granted, your dad had to keep pace with you for the entire time, so it really wasn't a race. But, it was a nice bonding experience, so the two (sometimes three of you) kept it up.

Jay had mentioned it to Hailey one morning when they were running the indoor track before school started, and she said she'd sometimes run it, too. So, Jay had invited her to run it with him and you, and she agreed.

You were convinced that Miss Upton and your dad were secretly dating.

But, Miss Upton had been waiting for you and your dad at the designated meeting spot for half an hour now. And, Jay Halstead was not one to be late.

"Listen, me and Y/N aren't going to be able to make it. She had some stomach issues last night and now she's in the hospital and the doctors are trying to figure out what's wrong," Jay said.

"Oh my God," she said as she started to walk away from their planned meeting spot and towards the parking garage where she parked her car. "What hospital are you at?"

"Chicago Med," Jay answered. "Why?"

"I'm gonna find someplace that's open and grab breakfast and then I'll be there."

"Hailey, you don't have to."

"Jay, I want to do this. I'll be there within the next hour."

Then, without waiting for him to protest once more, she ended the call.

***

When you woke up a few hours later, you rubbed your eyes, despite the IV in your hand, and rolled over.

"Well good morning, or almost afternoon," your uncle Will said and stood up. "How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Uh, maybe a six, seven?" you said.

But then, you looked around the room.

Why was Miss Upton here?

"I'll go get a nurse and let you three talk," Will said and then left the treatment room.

You looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows. At the same time, the achiness in your stomach started up again and you clutched it.

"Gonna be sick?" your dad asked.

"I don't know," you answered.

He handed you the pink basin anyway (a clean one because last night's was gross and went off to get cleaned) and you set it on your lap.

"Feel like you can eat anything?" your dad asked. "Hailey brought food...and coffee, but we'll have to check with the nurses about how much coffee you can drink."

"You brought it?" you asked as you looked at Miss Upton.

She smiled. "I did. I called your dad to see why you two weren't at the Turkey Trot yet, and he said you two were here, so I figured I'd find somewhere that's open and get you breakfast." She rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a container. "He mentioned you were having stomach issues so I opted for something light, so the fruit and nut oatmeal from Mcdonald's. I also grabbed a packet of syrup in case you wanted it sweeter."

She passed the food to you along with a spoon and a napkin. "Thank you," you said as you took them from her. "Sorry I messed up your run."

Hailey laughed. "It's okay. My run's the least of my problems. Me and your dad just want you to get better."

You tried to hide your smile. She said she and your dad. She cared about you more than she did other students...and you were just waiting for them to slip up and call each other babe at this point.

"Hey, I'm back," Will announced as he walked into the room. This time, he had Dr. Choi and Monique in tow. "Natalie and April have Thanksgiving off, so you have Dr. Choi as your doctor and Monique as your nurse."

You nodded.

"Hi, Y/N, I'm Dr. Choi, as your brother just mentioned. Monique here is just going to check your vitals." You nodded again. "I understand you've been having some stomach issues. Can you tell me when they started? Any changes to your diet or routine that I should know about?"

Here goes nothing.

You looked at your dad as tears formed in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Your dad moved his chair closer to you and gently grabbed your hand. "Tell me what, baby?"

"I- I went to that party because--"

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to know why because I'm a teacher? Me and Miss Upton are both teachers."

"But I didn't go to drink at all! I hadn't even planned on drinking! I didn't even drink a drink!" you yelled, causing Monique to take a step back. You took a deep breath and turned to her. "Sorry, sorry. I'll be calm so you can do your job." After a few breaths, Monique went back to checking your vitals and you continued your story. "These two girls I know from my AP gov class asked me to come to the party to be their DD. So, I went. But, when I was there, I ate the fruit from the punch bowl and I forgot that the fruit absorbs the alcohol. I'm sorry."

"And when you realized what happened, you called Miss Upton?" your dad asked.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "And, I even made sure to give the car keys to one of the girl's boyfriends who wasn't drinking because he plays sports so that they'd get home safely."

Jay smiled slightly; he had taught you well.

"Did you keep drinking consistently after?" Dr. Choi asked. He couldn't see one drink causing all these problems.

"No, God no!" you said. But, then you clutched your stomach and took in a deep breath.

"Pain?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Yeah, it's not as bad as last night, though."

He looked to your dad. "If she wants more pain meds, will you allow it?"

"Yes," your dad answered.

"Do you want more pain meds?" Dr. Choi asked.

"Please," you answered.

So, Monique started to get the pain medication ready to go into your IV and then pushed the meds.

A few minutes later, once the medication had started to work, you continued your story.

"I heard you and Uncle Will talking," you said.

"When?" your dad asked. "Me and Uncle Will talk a lot."

"The night I snuck out. You and Uncle Will were talking and you said that you might make me transfer schools if my grades don't get better. I don't want to transfer schools, Dad."

Your dad sighed. "Kid, I was mad, but in reality, I wouldn't do that. That was just me being angry and trying to find a solution when I wasn't in the right headspace. Were you so nervous that your stomach hurt all the time?" he asked.

"No," you answered. "but, I started staying up later and doing homework."

"Really? You always seemed asleep to me."

"I'd sleep for an hour and then wake up and study more." Your dad sighed. "I'm sorry. And then I was just sleeping for like three hours, so I'd drink four or five cups of coffee a day and my stomach hurt so bad in the morning if I didn't drink any coffee, so I'd eat breakfast in my car before school."

"For how long?" your dad asked. "For how long have you been bottling this up? For how long have you been waiting to eat breakfast?"

"The stomach aches started a week and a half ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." You started to cry harder.

"Hey, hey it's okay. We know what happened now, so hopefully, Dr. Choi and everyone else here can fix it." He looked up at Dr. Choi who had been intently listening as well. "Right, Doc?"

Dr. Choi smiled. "That's right, Y/N. And, what it seems to me is that you've just been drinking too much coffee, and coupled with the lack of sleep, have had abdominal cramping and nausea due to all the caffeine irritating your stomach lining. So, what we'll do is ween your caffeine intake back down to one to two cups of coffee per day, not go cold turkey because you'll probably feel pretty crappy if we did that, and then continue giving you pain meds and antinausea meds. We'll probably keep you here a few days upstairs in a recovery room just for observation to make sure nothing else is going on."

"So, I have to spend my whole Thanksgiving break in the hospital?" you asked.

"I'm afraid so," he answered.

"Well, this sucks." You looked at the table next to Miss Upton. "Is that coffee for me?"

"It is. I don't know if you can have it, though," she answered.

"She can have it," Dr. Choi answered. "Just, no more after this one seeing as that's a large."

You nodded.

"I got you a vanilla iced coffee. Since apparently, we have the same taste because your dad said you also like vanilla sweet cream cold brews as much as me," Miss Upton said and then handed you the coffee.

"Seeing as everything looks good, me and Monique will check on you later." He turned to the three adults in the room. "If she pukes up that food or her stomach pain gets worse, come get us."

"Will do, Doc," your dad answered.

"Jay," Hailey started, "can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?"

Jay furrowed his eyebrows slightly but nodded. "Of course. Be right back, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad," you said.

Then, your dad and Miss Upton left the room.

Outside the treatment room, Hailey took a deep breath, grounding herself as she prepared to talk to Jay.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out.

"For what?" Jay asked, utterly confused.

"I knew she was drinking extra coffee but didn't tell you! Well, she told me when she brought it from home, that it would get cold too fast, so she always came to my room and had two cups during the day. If I knew she was drinking some at home, too, I would've never let her have any. I'm so, so sorry, Jay!"

"Hailey," Jay began and placed his hands on her shoulders, "it's not your fault. Hell, I didn't even notice it and she's my daughter."

"I know, but I just feel slightly responsible for her being in that hospital bed--"

"It's not your fault, Hailey. I promise. I don't blame you one bit and I know Y/N doesn't either."

Meanwhile, back in the treatment room, you really needed to use the bathroom.

"Uncle Will?" you asked, causing him to look up from his phone where he was trying to figure out what restaurants were open for dinner on Thanksgiving. He really didn't want him and his family eating hospital cafeteria food for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Hmm?" he hummed and gave you his full attention.

"I really need to go to the bathroom," you told him.

He pocketed his phone and stood up and moved over to you. "Okay, I'm gonna help you up and with one arm, I'll hold on to you and with the other, I'll hold onto the IV pole for you. Is that okay?" You nodded. "Do you think you'll need help in the bathroom? I can grab a nurse if you need me to," he offered.

"No, just help me to the bathroom, please. I should be good when I get in there."

"Okay." Then, he helped you up and the two of you made your way over to the bathroom where he stood and waited while you went inside.

Back with Hailey and Jay, Jay reassured Hailey once again that none of this was on her.

"If anything," Jay began, "I should be thanking you. You got Y/N home safe after that party."

"Jay, we've been over this. I would've done it for any one of my students," she said.

"But, would you take their dad up on their offer of buying you coffee if it wasn't my kid you picked up?" Jay asked and tilted his head to the side.

"Probably not," Hailey said, a blush rising to her cheeks.

"Can I ask why?" She stayed silent. "Listen, Hailey, it's been a long time since I've seen you as just a fellow teacher," Jay admitted.

She looked up at him. "Since we're all sharing secrets today, it's been a long time since I've seen you as a fellow teacher, too, Jay."

Jay smiled and moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. He leaned in. "Can I?" he asked.

He didn't get a response because she quickly pressed her lips against his. It was the kiss she had been waiting for since she asked him to eat lunch with her that first week of school.

You and your uncle Will had chosen that exact time to make your way back to your treatment room. You two had seen everything: your dad putting a strand of Hailey's hair behind her ear and them leaning in and kissing.

You were glad that one of your hands was free because you whacked Will across the chest in excitement.

It was finally happening!

Jay and Hailey pulled away and looked at each other and smiled.

"I uh, I hope that was okay," Hailey said quietly.

"Oh, it was more than okay. I'd happily do that again, but we should probably get back into Y/N's room. She's probably wondering what's taking us so long," Jay said.

Hailey laughed. "Probably."

The two turned around and saw you and Will standing thirty feet away. Jay's eyes widened. "Uh..." he trailed off as Hailey blushed hard.

"Finally!" you exclaimed.

"Yeah, I agree with Y/N on this one," Will laughed. "But, who would've thought? A government teacher and an English teacher?" He started to help you walk back to your treatment room but turned his head back to Jay and Hailey. "Oh, don't stop on our account."

"Will!"

A/N: hank you guys so, so, so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you liked/reblogged because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.

As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’d be happy to add you!

Taglist: @theambracer88@virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 7

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4; Part 5 ; Part 6

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~

Part 7 –

53 of summer camp left

“So what you’re trying to tell me,” croaked Pricilla, lighting a cigarette and taking a long dramatic drag, “Is that you snuck your campers on the boats and went to the stilt house, which is strictly forbidden by the way, and did what again?”

“We found Madison’s dress, Miss P,” explained Caroline, her hair still damp.

Her and Sarah had hurried to get dressed and ran to Pricilla’s office as quickly as their feet could take them. The smell of the dress was lingering around them, the tacky perfume so in their face that the girls were sure that it had been sprayed on it that same day.

Pricilla rolled her eyes at them, not impressed at all, “You see, all I see is a couple of rule-breaking bimbos putting their noses in places that are prohibited and dragging my campers along,” she took yet another drag of her cigarette, “I hate to do this girls, but I’m going to have to deduct points from both of your teams for this,”

Caroline’s eyes grew so big, they could’ve popped out of her head, “Are you being serious? We literally found solid evidence that Madison could be somewhere around here and all you can think about is… deducting points?!”

Pricilla tutted, “Oh, Carrie, when will you ever learn the importance of the Will-all-hail banquet? It’s been a decade and you’re still questioning the graveness of my scoring system,”

“Screw the scoring system!” Caroline raised her voice in the heat of the moment, “What about Madison?”

Pricilla rolled her eyes, “How’d you even know it’s hers anyway? Could be anyone’s, hell, it could even be mine for all I know,”

Sarah spoke up this time, “It’s the perfume, Miss P,” she explained, “I’d recognize that smell anywhere. It’s the old money smell, Madison used to wear it all the time, even when we were kids, it’s part of the reason I despise her so much, I couldn’t stand that smell,”

Pricilla looked at Sarah as if she’d fallen from the ceiling, “So you’re telling me that I have to believe that you,” she pointed at Caroline, “willingly snuck your group onto that barely standing stilt house to do God knows what and found this drape, and you,” she pointed at Sarah this time, making her slightly jump, “can guarantee that this belonged to a girl who disappeared 10 days ago because you recognize the smell?”

“We know it sounds crazy, Miss P, but if you’ll -” Caroline began talking, but Pricilla cut her off.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear about you and Maybank’s escapade to the lake house and you’ll pretend you didn’t find this dress, okay?”

“But -”

“No buts, missy, do you know what this can cost me?”

As Pricilla and Caroline began arguing, Sarah took a seat in one of the futon chairs in the camp director’s office and had a look around. If she’d ever questioned why everyone believed Pricilla to be a hotheaded pothead or mild alcoholic, now she knew – the office looked like a hippie hoarder’s wonderland. There was plants, incents, accessories and dust everywhere, she was pretty sure half the vases of the plants were actually bongs, which she thought John B and JJ would greatly enjoy - if she’d learned anything about John B and JJ in their past 10 days of working together, it would have to be their love for all things marijuana. Behind Pricilla’s desk, under the light of the sole window in the entire wooden room, stood a large bookcase, except there was hardly any books on it. The shelves were littered with odd little porcelain figures of smiling animals, dusty half-empty bottles of alcohol and picture frames of people Sarah didn’t recognize at all. One person was a recurring character in most of the photos, it was a girl who looked to be not much older than Sarah herself. She had long mousy brown hair and wore funky accessories in most of the pictures. Sarah guessed her to be Pricilla’s infamous estranged daughter. She sort of resembled her mother, thought Sarah, what with the quirky accessories and beady eyes. Sarah squinted to examine the jewelry the girl in the photos was wearing, a recurring theme being what looked like a firefly brooch. Sarah scoffed at the horrid choice of accessory and turned back around to look at Caroline who was still arguing with Pricilla.

“You can’t just let this happen,” she pleaded, “What if she’s out there and she needs our help? What if this is her leaving us a clue!”

“Zip it, Windsor!” snapped Pricilla, “I’ve just about had it with your shenanigans!”

Sarah decided that this whole argument was pointless and stood up, interjecting, “You know what, Miss P? You’re totally right! We shouldn’t have been lurking and we will totally learn from our mistakes,” she grabbed Caroline and pulled her towards the door, giving her a stern look, as if to tell her to not protest, “Thank you for not deducting points from our groups, we’ll be sure to not mention this to anyone! You have a good day now, Miss P!” with that, she led Caroline outside and slammed the door.

“What’d you do that for?” Caroline snapped.

“Even a blind person could see that that was a dead end, Carrie,” Sarah explained, leading Caroline back to their cabin, “I can’t believe that I’m going to say this, but I think your boyfriend was right,” before Caroline could correct her about how JJ was not her boyfriend, she spoke again, “Madison’s somewhere out there and if we don’t take matters into our own hands, one of us could also get in trouble,”

~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @k-k0129 ; @marvellover04 ; @hayleyy-l

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Home

A great big special thank you to @peachy-mags for the full version of the fantastic companion artwork for this piece! (https://peachy-mags.tumblr.com/post/654049235542622208/)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Warnings:  Smut, Swearing, Canon-typical violence

Summary: After years of service to Angelo Bronte, who would have thought that the arrival of little Jack Marston could change your life forever?

Notes: My submission for @rdrbigbang! Be sure to check out the AMAZING companion art for this fic from @peachy-mags!

-----

Another beautiful morning in Saint Denis. You breathed in deeply, reveling in the calm peace that so rarely enveloped the town. There was a slight nip in the air that you knew would fade away as the morning drew on, the sun rising and casting everything in a pale-yellow light, before the city itself awakened. It was your favorite time of day.

A cup of coffee steamed in your hands as you slowly made your way through the gardens at Angelo Bronte’s mansion. One of the perks of being a live-in servant, you supposed, was unfettered access to the (admittedly slightly ostentatious) statue garden out back - given that Signor Bronte himself wasn’t occupying the space. After a few minutes of slow, calm pacing, you found yourself standing in front of a marble statue of some Roman goddess, Aphrodite?, and taking a sip of your coffee. 

It was hot and bitter, the perfect juxtaposition to the cool morning that you would allow yourself to enjoy for a few moments longer. Soon, you would need to make your way inside and ready the table for breakfast, but for now you could enjoy this moment. This peace.

Unfortunately, that peace was almost immediately broken by the sound of terrified cries coming from inside the house. It was not all that uncommon to hear screams and sobs from inside the building, due to the scrupulous nature of your employer, but these sounded different. Almost childlike.

Curious, you made your way back indoors, trying your best to steady your pace so as not to draw unwanted attention. Setting the coffee cup in the kitchen next to the large washbasin, you nodded to the cook, Giovanni, before opening the door to the servant’s stairwell. 

The crying was louder here. Anguished and frightened sobs broken only occasionally by cries for “Mama”. 

So it was a child?

Quietly, you crept up the creaky stairs to the hallway, where several of Bronte’s more scrupulous henchmen, Gene, Alfonso and Irvin, were gathered around a door. The crying was even louder now, and most certainly coming from the room where the henchmen were standing guard. Above the desperate sobs, you could just make out the sounds of your employer trying to shush the child, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Now, now, my boy,” he soothed, his accent unmistakable. “There’s no need to be upset, I’m sure your family will come after you soon enough.” The boy continued to cry for his mother in between sobs. Signor Bronte’s tactic wasn’t exactly working.

The men standing guard had spotted you, and closed their ranks tighter. You knew how this went - you were never allowed to see Bronte’s victims. In fact, as far as you were supposed to know, Bronte participated in no underhanded dealings whatsoever. Which was, of course, completely wrong, and you had figured that out long ago. But for the most part, you tried your best to ignore the dealings - for the sake of keeping yourself alive.

But this was a child.

You had to do something. 

Carefully, you moved closer to the line of henchmen standing in front of the door. They were larger than you, Signor Bronte had a habit of finding and employing practical giants to act as his henchmen, but they were also silent.

“Signor Bronte?” you called, standing nearly face-to-chest with one of the large men. “Is everything alright? Can I be of service?”

The men in front of you reddened, irritated at your immunity to their intimidation tactics. They stayed silent, however, and maintained their position as a wall of flesh between you and the crying child in the room. 

After just a few moments, you heard your name being called with a familiar Italian lilt . “Come in, come in. We could use your help,” he hailed for you over the steady sobs from the room. 

The three men at the door reluctantly parted to let you enter the brightly lit room. A fire was burning low in the hearth, likely more of a symbol of comfort than to actually provide any heat, and your boss sat on the side of a large, gaudy bed. 

The boss of the largest crime syndicate in San Denis was a feared man, but if you met him in the street, you would never know. He was small, with a prominent nose and dark eyes that never overlooked anything. At home, his dark was hair slicked back under a floral headband, and his red housecoat opened in the front to reveal an unbuttoned white collared shirt. To anyone who didn’t know him, he could have passed as any rich, european immigrant.

But you knew better. In the middle of the luxurious home, beneath the extravagance of his clothing, sat a cunning, intelligent man who had clawed his way up from hell itself. He was cutthroat, manipulative, and would not hesitate to sell out his closest comrade for a step up the ladder. Knowing this, it didn’t surprise you to see a small boy curled up on the large, gaudy bed, his clothes muddied and his light brown hair in tangles. He couldn’t have been older than four or five, and was screaming adamantly for his mother. 

Instinctually, you rushed to the bed and sat next to him, taking the spot that had been occupied by your boss. “Now, my dear,” he said as he stood, clearing his throat and adjusting his housecoat, “this young man is Jack, and he will be staying with us for a while.” You looked sympathetically at the boy, still sobbing and curled up in front of you, before giving your boss a solemn nod. 

You hated this; seeing the boy in such a familiar state. A state that you, yourself, had been in for years upon your arrival in San Denis. Hopefully his parents, unlike yours, could pay off whatever debt they had soon. “If you could stop his screams, I would appreciate it. He’s giving me a headache,” Signor Bronte continued, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose with one hand as he headed toward the door. “Get him some breakfast. I’m sure he hasn’t been fed since those hillbillies in Rhodes took him.”

Without another word, he walked from the room and the three henchmen followed closely behind him. As he entered the hallway, you could hear him speaking to them in Italian, “Let’s hope these bastards come for him soon. I want to have the little shit out of here as soon as possible.”

The door closed behind them, and you were left in the room with the poor, frightened child. You sighed and slowly moved closer to the curled up figure on the bed. Making sure you were as gentle as possible, you reached out to place a hand on his tiny shoulder. “Jack?...” you said his name, low and calm, as if you were trying to tame a spooked horse. He curled even further into himself, but you noticed his sobs had started to die down to exhausted whimpers. “Jack?” you tried again, pulling your hand back to yourself and placing it in your lap. Calmly, you gave him your name before continuing, “I’m very sorry about all of this, Jack. I know it’s very scary…. I-”

What could you tell him? That you had been in the same situation when you were just a few years older? That your parents had never been able to come back for you? That you had spent the majority of your life in service to Angelo Bronte, notorious mafioso, in order to pay a massive debt that had been racked up by your father when you were eight?

No. He didn’t need to know those things. He didn’t need to know the likely reality of his situation.

It was rare that Signor Bronte dealt in child kidnappings, but when he did? The poor kids were lucky if their parents were able to retrieve them.

“I’m sure your ma and pa will show up for you soon,” you soothed, hoping it was the truth.

The poor boy, whose sobs had now turned into quiet sniffles, stayed curled up with his back to you, unmoving. You reached out a hand gently, brushing his dirty hair away from his forehead, only for him to flinch from your touch. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Alright, Jack,” you said quietly, standing from the bed. A nearby armchair held a throw blanket that you spread gently over him. “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll bring you some water and some soup in a bit, I’m sure you’re starving.” The floor creaked beneath your feet as you made your way to the door. He didn’t move. He didn’t look up at you. He just stayed on the bed, a shaking, sniffling bundle. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sighing, you stepped out of the room and into the hallway, making sure to lock the door behind you. You didn’t think he would run away, he seemed far too exhausted and overwhelmed for that, but you have seen desperate people do crazier things. The least you could do was make sure he wasn’t accidentally hurt trying to make his way past Gene, Alfonso and Irvin trying to escape.

You made your way quickly back to the servants stairwell and down to the kitchen, where Giovanni was waiting for you with bated breath. A joyous, loving man, an immigrant from Italy alongside Angelo Bronte several decades ago, Giovanni was one of your closest friends - possibly the next thing to family that you had had since coming here. Over the years, he had taught you as much as he could about Italian cuisine, all the while boasting about the restaurant that he would surely open one day. 

At first, you had scoffed. Hardly anyone in Angelo Bronte’s service managed to leave and start their own life. And, with as much as Signor Bronte boasted about Giovanni’s food, it wasn’t likely that he would be let out of his repayment contract that easily. 

Hardly anyone actively sought out Angelo Bronte as an employer. In fact, you suspected that the only actual well-paid employees were the contract killers he sometimes took out to keep his hands clean - but again, you weren’t supposed to know that. The rest of you were given room and board and a pittance of a salary, in exchange for paying off whatever debt was owed to Signor Bronte. For you, it was your father’s sizable gambling debts. For Giovanni, it was the cost of keeping his nieces and nephews alive after their father, his brother, had suddenly passed. Bail, loans, gambling - every one of his employees had a past, and every single one of them owed their future to Angelo Bronte.

“And, my dear, what is the news?” he asked, turning from the freshly baked bread that he had just taken out of the oven to face you. 

You gave him a somber smile and picked up a slice of tomato from the cutting board in the center of the kitchen island. “A boy,” you explained, leaning against the island and taking a bite of the vegetable. You glanced over at the washbasin and saw your coffee cup had been cleaned. Giovanni was a saint. “Maybe four or five? Small, either way. I…” you trailed off, but the both of you knew what was going through your mind. You felt bad for him, you didn’t think he deserved this.

Giovanni nodded, and turned to the stove. “Well, my dear, let’s give the boy a warm welcome, shall we?” he responded before pulling a large pot from the back of the stove and looking inside. “We have some leftover minestrone from yesterday, why don’t you warm some up for him while I finish Signor Bronte’s breakfast? There’s some stale bread in the pantry you can add to it. I’ll call in Anne to set the table,” he handed you a wooden spoon and was out the kitchen door, where you heard him calling for the older woman.

Your smile was significantly less downtrodden after speaking to the man, but you still could feel anxious, worried butterflies in your stomach as you collected a bowl, spoon and glass. After a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was watching, you also slipped a small chocolate bar into your apron pocket, hoping it would help cheer the boy up, even a little. Within just a few minutes, you were headed back up the creaky stairs to the room where Jack was housed, hot soup and cool water in hand, and armed with a secret chocolate bar.

Quietly, you opened the door, balancing the soup and a glass of water with your left arm as you entered. The room was silent now, except for the low breathing of the boy on the bed. If it weren’t for his red-puffy eyes and the chapped rings around his nostrils, he would have seemed peaceful. Like nothing was wrong at all.

You stood for a moment, looking at the poor boy. Should you wake him? He was bound to be starving, but you were sure he was exhausted as well. You hesitated, but decided against it. You could leave the soup and water on the bedside table and check on him throughout the day - he deserved his rest.

Slowly, quietly, you crept across the room to the side of the bed and set the soup and water down, followed by the chocolate bar. You glanced quickly at him, relieved he didn’t wake, before making your way back to the door.

Just as you were about to leave and go about your duties for the morning, you heard a small cough and a hoarse, timid voice from the bed. “Wait…” he said. You turned to see the boy propped up on his arms, looking at you with puffy, shining eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

Looking at him made you want to cry. How could anyone hurt someone so small, so fragile, so helpless? How could someone be so cruel as to take him away from his family and thrust him into this god awful world?

He was already so exhausted, so frightened, so sad, you couldn’t leave him to sort his feelings out on his own.  You could convince Anna and Giovanni to take your duties for the day. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded at him and moved back toward the bed to sit with him. “I won’t.”

---

Slowly, Jack began to settle in. Although he was still obviously upset, the boy proved to be far more flexible and resilient than you had expected from someone so young. Whether from his natural resilience or from your constant reassurance that his parents must be doing everything in their power to get him back, you weren’t entirely certain. You spent plenty of time with him, making sure he was doing alright, and eventually he chose to sleep on a small cot in the servants quarters, next to your bed. 

He was prone to constant chatter during the day, and you soon learned quite a lot about him and his family. He apparently had plenty of aunts and uncles, who all moved together around the country. They had been down near Blackwater for a long time, where Jack had apparently left his favorite storybook, but then something brought them north to a small ghost town “with lots of snow, it was real cold!”. Luckily, they hadn’t been there long before heading south again to “a place by a river with lots and lots of trees” where, notably, his Uncle Arthur had taken him fishing. Most recently, they had moved down to Lemoyne, once again near a river, but this time Jack described it as “really hot and nothing ever dries and it always smells like fish.”

An accurate description if you had ever heard one.

In the meantime, although he wouldn’t talk much to the others, most of them couldn’t help but dote on him. Giovanni had a habit of slipping him sweets throughout the day. Anna and the other maids would occasionally bring him books or toys that they had found around town - he was amassing quite a collection. And from Signor Bronte himself, Jack received a brand new outfit made from the finest cotton. You suspected it was most likely to keep the worn rags out of the man’s sight than to actually please Jack.

But, despite the gifts and the treats from the others, Jack clung to you. On laundry days, he would help sort and fold. When cooking, he would clean the vegetables without a second thought. During cleaning, he happily carried supplies around after you, handing you what you needed whenever asked. Although you had told him multiple times that he was more than welcome to sit and read his new book, he preferred staying by your side. 

Almost as if he was afraid that, if left alone, he would be taken again.

And at night, it always came to a head. In the dark and left with no distractions, you could hear his whimpers from the cot next to yours. You could hear his murmurs and quiet cries for “Mama” as he dreamt. And it hurt. You couldn’t bear to see him so miserable.

After the third or fourth night, you reached down and brushed the hair from his head. “Jack?” you whispered, looking at the small boy with all the affection of a loving mother. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

He didn’t wake. Instead, he sleepily lifted his hand to yours, and held it in his until the sun rose.

--

The first few weeks went by similarly. Working during the day, with Jack at your side, helping you out as much as a child could, and comforting the poor child during the night with reassuring words. Soon, the reassurance and affirmations turned into stories -  tales about dragons and castles, about magic and the sea. 

About two weeks into his stay, you spent the day preparing for a large feast alongside Giovanni, Anna and with plenty of help from Jack. 

“You didn’t finish your story last night,” he said, pounding away at a ball of bread dough with his tiny fists. 

“Oh yes I did,” you teased, looking the boy dead in the eye with a grin. “You were just too sleepy and fell asleep before the end.” As you joked, you set down the knife and pushed aside the tomato you had been chopping to poke him lightly in the side.

His joyous laughter lit up his face. “Hey!” he whined in between bouts of giggles. “That tickles!”

“I know, silly,” you returned not relenting your tickle torture. “That’s the point!” You did acquiesce after just a few moments though, not wanting to actually cause him any pain.

“Alright you two, calm down, now,” came Anna’s voice from across the room. She was a lovely, portly older woman, with graying hair and a smile to light up a room. If Giovanni had been your father figure since coming here, she certainly took the place of your mother. “We’ve got plenty to prepare for tonight. Signor Bronte is having the Mayor over to talk about his party.”

You let your giggles die down, and nudged the red-faced child next to you. “Now look what you’ve done, Jackie,” you teased softly, ruffling his hair before going back to chopping vegetables.

“Nuh uh,” he responded, giving the bread dough a thorough punch before looking up at you again with a childish grin. He had lost a tooth recently, which only made it all the more adorable. “Can you tell me the end of the story?” he asked after another moment, turning back to the mound of dough on the table. “It was so good, I wanna hear the end. Pretty please?”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Alright, alright,” you chided, picking up yet another tomato. It wasn’t a particularly good story, just a thinly veiled version of… well, you didn’t want to dwell on that, but if he wanted to hear it, you would oblige. “Where were we?”

“Hmmm…” he mused, stopping kneading the dough for just a second to recall. “Well, the king and queen had just sent the princess to talk to the mean dragon, and then he caught her in a trap, remember?”

“That’s the beginning of the story, Jack.”

“Well, that’s as far as I remember,” his giggles echoed through the room and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, fine,” you feigned irritation that he definitely could see right through. “Well, the princess had been caught in a trap by the mean dragon, but he didn’t hurt her. He… he just wouldn’t let her go home. He wouldn’t let her see the king and queen again so she could be happy.

“‘Your king and queen need to send a knight to come get you,’ the dragon told the princess. ‘Little girls cannot roam the forest on their own.’

“And so, the princess waited, and waited and waited and waited. She learned to read, and write, and she even learned to speak Dragon, which were talents unheard of for princesses in those days. 

“She had lots of friends who came and went, and even though she couldn’t go back to the king and queen, she... she wasn’t so lonely… and she learned to find happiness in the small things, like the smell of coffee in the morning, or turning the page of a brand new book, or even the glow of the sunrise on spring dew. 

“After a while, she finally realised that she didn’t need the king and queen to be happy. She could make her own happiness… And she did…” you trailed off at the end, returning your focus once again to the vegetables. The other two adults in the room remained silent. You couldn’t have been more blatantly obvious. “The end.”

Jack was quiet for a moment as well, hands stilled on the dough as he looked at the ceiling in thought. “That wasn’t a very good ending,” he said quietly, looking up at you.

You had been caught.

“The princess should have run away, or she should have asked one of her friends to take her when they were leaving,” he continued, determined.

You chuckled solemnly. “You’re probably right, Jack,” you murmured. “I think she was just… scared. The world was dark and scary for her, and she weren’t a very brave princess, and she was worried about what would happen to the king and queen if she left.”

“But that’s not true,” he interjected, throwing one final punch at the bread dough before Anna came to collect it from him. “She was real brave! She lived with a dragon! And dragons are real scary!” He was handed another mound of dough which he immediately proceeded to punch with all his might. “And maybe some of her friends come back to save her! Maybe she helped lots of people while they were living with the dragon, and then they come back to help her! That would be an even better ending!”

Another chuckle. He was far too adorable and far too naive for this house. “Maybe, Jack,” you responded, plastering a knowing smile to your lips. “That would be a good ending.” Clearing your throat, you wiped your hands on your apron and turned to face the small boy. “Alright now, you. Finish up with that bread and then we can get cleaned up for lunch. I think Giovanni is making us spaghetti.”

---

The hot water splashed out of the bucket, spraying suds across the floor. Jack giggled and picked up a handful, blowing it in your direction.

You couldn’t help but laugh. The kid sure did know how to make even the most boring of chores into a game. Looking around first to make sure no one caught you messing around, you picked up a handful of bubbles and plopped them onto his head. This brought out a shrieking laugh from the boy. He really was settling in. For better or worse, at least he seemed to be happier. 

Finally, you told him gently that you needed to finish the laundry, and then the two of you could go outside for a walk. This, somehow, convinced him to calm down, left playing with the bubbles and giggling to himself until he was interrupted by a voice calling your name from the hall.

Signor Bronte.

“Get these men drinks,” you heard, his spoken Italian echoing across the hall.

Immediately, you put the wash down and wiped your hands on your dirtied apron before hustling to the liquor cabinet. “Wait here, Jack. I’ll just bring the whisky out and be right back,” you instructed, quickly gathering six whisky glasses and a serving tray.

This had been your job for years, you could practically do it blindfolded. As one of the youngest servants in the house, Signor Bronte tended to like to have you wait on his more esteemed guests. It was degrading, but it kept you in his good graces. You had seen enough servants come and go to know that complaining about your role would get you nowhere. Or worse.

Quickly, you pulled a decanter from the cabinet, and left the room with the tray full of glasses in your hands. Already in the hallway, you could hear the conversation between the men in the room. “Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, John Marston,” introduced one of the strangers, his voice confident.

You brushed past Irvin, who was standing guard at the entrance, into extravagant parlour. Upon entering the room, you could immediately see that these were not the typical guests that Signor Bronte would waste his good whisky on, but you hardly had time to look at them individually. They seemed dirty, rough, and completely out of place in the richly-decorated parlour. 

“The pleasure is mine, all mine, please,” he said, summoning you forward. You warily step between the chairs to place the tray on the table and pour the glasses, handing them to each man in turn. First, to a tall, thin man with dark hair and a frustrated scowl etched into his face. Next, a muscular man with light brown hair and bright teal eyes, and finally, another dark-haired man, his hair slick with pomade and dressed in clothing that looked like it used to be expensive. 

“So, can my friend have his son?” says one of the men - the one who had introduced them all earlier. You nearly froze. Can my friend have his son?

Jack. 

It took you just a moment to gather your wits before you turned to your boss, handing him the last glass. He took it with a nod to you and a chuckle, before looking back at the men in front of him. “Of course, of course!” he grinned, taking a sip of the whisky. You immediately got yourself out of the way, standing behind the couch in case you were needed for anything else, as you had been taught. “But… should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? Of course I know you would not want that…”

“No,” answered the man, slightly reluctantly. You noted that none of the other men had yet spoken, this must be their leader.

Bronte seemed satisfied with their response, choosing to ignore the reluctance with a jovial laugh. “No, no no. So, how about this? You perform a simple job for me and you get your son back,” he explained, rubbing his hands together like the villain he was.

Finally, one of the other men spoke.“What is it?” the larger of the two groaned, beginning to stand up, as if he knew he would be assigned to this task.

Bronte, of course, made light of the situation, waving his hands through the air as he spoke, “A couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery.”

“That is a fine place for it, the best,” joked the leader. You cringed, but Signor Bronte seemed to enjoy it.

Your boss burst out laughing, from the gut this time. “I love this guy, don’t you love him?” he laughed, looking at you. You nodded, plastering a smile to your face until he turned back to the other man. “I love you!” He paused for a moment to pour himself another glass of whisky before continuing his explanation. “See they’ve taken not only to desecrating the dead, but they've done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, of course, they run a mile. So maybe you two head off, huh?” he said, indicating to the men on the couch before pouring yet another glass of whisky and handing it to the group’s leader. “And you, Mr. Van der Linde? Why don’t you tell me more about my manners?” he finished speaking and held up the glass to the other man, Mr. van der Linde, for a toast as the other two men stood to leave the room. “Salute.”

“Salute,” parroted Mr. van der Linde, clinking his glass with your boss’s. The other two men exited the room, as your boss and Mr. van der Linde continued conversing. Their laughter was real, but something in the room was tense, fake. Two men cut from the same cloth, both trying to one-up the other without making it completely obvious.

You had seen this enough times to know that this would only end badly for at least one of them - if not both.

The hour dragged on, as you stood in the corner, ready to jump into service if need be. Your mind drifted to Jack - now sitting alone in the washroom - and that you would soon be saying goodbye.

It was bittersweet, this feeling that came over you. You wanted him to be happy, to be home with his family, of course, but over the course of the last few weeks, he had wormed his way into your heart. He was the family, the son, that you would never have. And it broke your heart to have to let him go.

But you knew better. You couldn’t keep him here. Not for you. It was better if he were able to go home, to see his mother and his family, to see his dog that he missed so much. That was the life he needed, the life he deserved.

You felt the tears well in your eyes as you stood, waiting for your orders. A little over three hours had passed, and the men were still away. Signor Bronte and Mr. van der Linde were well into their cups, and you were not surprised in the least when your boss stood and unceremoniously sent his guest on his way.

“And the boy?” asked Mr. van der Linde, standing from his position on the couch and reaching out a hand to shake.

Signor Bronte took it, gave it a quick shake and began to stagger out of the room. “Yes, yes,” he slurred, turning to you on his way. “Bring him down, would you?”

“Yes, Signore,” you nodded, looking from your boss to the other man. It was really happening. It was really time to say goodbye.

--

To say Jack was excited at the news was putting it lightly. He had nearly bounced with joy when you had told him that his Pa was here to pick him up. You had led him down the stairs and out the front door to where Mr. van der Linde was waiting patiently. Jack nearly tackled him to the ground in his excitement.

“Uncle Dutch!” he called, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. 

A loud, barking laugh left the man as he patted Jack’s head. “Well hello there, son,” he said, a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again. We’ve missed you around camp.”

You smiled, looking at the two of them. This was the right thing to do. But then, Jack did something wholly unexpected. He led Dutch to you, and introduced you.

“She’s been real nice since I got here,” he explained to the older man. “She told me stories and brought me candy, and today she even put bubbles on my head!” his excited giggles echoed across the yard.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dutch said, looking you up and down before reaching out for your hand, which he then pulled to his lips in a theatrical show of chivalry. “And thank you so much for taking such good care of our boy.”

You plastered another smile to your face and gently pulled your hand away, wary of potentially offending the well-armed man. “Of course,” you responded. “I was happy to-” you were cut off by the well-timed sound of horse hooves on the cobblestones, and a loud, rough voice ringing in your ears.

“Like I said, we’ll see where we’re at once we got Jack,” said one of the men from earlier as their horses came to a halt in front of the gate. They dismounted and were immediately let in by one of the front guards. 

Upon their arrival, Dutch seemed to immediately forget your existence, instead striding towards the two men with an exasperated, “Well, you took your time.”

And then there was Jack, nearly bursting with excitement at the sight of the men, he couldn’t wait until they were through the gate before he ran to them with a cry of, “Pa!”

The sight warmed your heart. Jack was quickly picked up and clutched to the chest of the taller, dark-haired man as the other moved past you to hand something to the guards. “I’m so glad to see you!” he said, rubbing the back of Jack’s head and holding him close. 

However, Jack, completely oblivious to the nature of the situation, wiggled free of his father’s arms and, instead, grabbed his hand and pulled the man in your direction. “Pa, come here, come here, you have to meet my friend!” he said, voice loud and excited, as he introduced you to his father. “She’s been helping me since I got here. She tells the best stories!”

The man looked down at Jack with a loving smile and then up to you. “That so?” he asked the boy, reaching out to shake your hand. “John Marston.” 

You took his and introduced yourself as Jack rambled on, “Yeah! And she taught me how to make bread real good, want to see?”

“Sure, you can show us when we get back to camp,” John acquiesced, still holding tight to the boy’s hand, who then proceeded to drag the two of you over to the one man you did not yet have a name for.

“Uncle Arthur!” he called. The man, having dropped off whatever he had needed to give Signor Bronte, was leaning against a column and smoking. “You have to meet my friend too.”

“Is that right?” he said, smiling at Jack. He pushed himself off the column and snubbed his cigarette on his boot, moving toward the three of you. “Nice to meet you, miss,” for the third time that night, a hand was held out.

You shook it and introduced yourself, “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

John, looking both relieved and exhausted, heaved Jack back into his arms. “Thank you for taking care of him, I-”

Immediately, you stopped him. “It weren’t no problem, really. He’s a lovely boy,” you explained, once again trying to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. Taking care of Jack had easily been one of the highlights of your life. Having someone need you, someone that loved talking to you, someone who was simply excited to be around you - it was such a drastic change from how you had lived for so long. And, even if you would never experience it again, you wouldn’t trade the last few weeks for the world.

John nodded, you didn’t have to explain any further. “Comeon, Jack, your ma’s been worried sick.” Jack nodded to his father enthusiastically, a grin on his face, before turning and surprising you with a big hug.

You bent over to hug him back, patting him on his head when you heard your name. “You’re coming with us, right?” he asked, his tiny face buried in your dress. You looked around at the others, Arthur had paused in his tracks, John was frozen in place, Dutch was stopped near the gate. No one said anything for a moment.

You don’t know how to break it to him.

So, you pull his face from your skirt and kiss him gently on the forehead, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “I’m real sorry, Jack,” you say, looking him in the eye, “but not this time.” You felt tempted to say something like I promise I’ll write or You can come see me any time but you knew both of these things weren’t true. He would get home to his family, and in a few days you would just be a stranger from his childhood. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood again, ruffling his hair and turning him to face his father. “Now, you go on back to your family, alright? Teach them how to make some good bread, like I showed you.”

His head was shaking as he looked back up at you, tears welling in his big brown eyes. “But…”

This hurt. More than saying goodbye to a child you had only known for a few weeks should. “I know, but…” you started, still not entirely sure how to explain yourself. “I have to stay here. This… this is my home.” You pull him to you once again in a tight hug and place a kiss on the top of his head. “You be good for your parents, alright?”

You can feel him nod under your chin, but he does not respond. It’s easy to tell that this is a new feeling for him - being so happy and so sad all at once. You wished you could tell him that its only temporary, and he will never have these conflicting feelings again. You wished you could have gone with him, broken free of Angelo Bronte and this life. There were so many things you wished you could do at that moment, but you couldn’t. Or you wouldn’t.

With a light sob, Jack wraps his arms around you one final time until he is gently pulled away by his father. “Comeon, son. We should get going.”

They walked to the gate together, John’s hand on his son’s back, leading the way. Jack was hoisted high onto a horse, and you could vaguely hear them talking to him, trying to cheer him up. “We have a new camp set up, Jack, you’re going to love it,” says Dutch before they ride off down the street.

Finally, you allow your tears to fall.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

---

The days pass slowly after Jack’s goodbye. There is little entertainment to pass the time. No dumb jokes, no begging for stories. It was exactly as it was before. Still, it felt like something was missing.

Early in the morning, a few days later, you walked around the house as usual, coffee in hand. You mused over the tasks for the days ahead: the Governor's garden party was in about a week, so it was time to start preparing. Clothes needed to be pressed, shoes to be shined, and, most importantly, mounds of food needed to be cooked.

Giovanni’s cooking was, although rarely shared outside of Signor Bronte’s home, lauded as some of the best in town. So, of course, Angelo Bronte’s personal chef would be graciously catering the meal.

It was supposed to be a sign of generosity, you theorised, but in reality it was all a show to keep Signor Bronte in the San Denis elite’s good graces - and to worm his way into another favor from the mayor.

You chuckled lightly to yourself as you paced slowly around the perfectly manicured gardens. Marble statues, imported from Italy, gazed down at you, unmoving. Quietly, you began to hum a short tune, not noticing the figure at the fence across from you. 

“Mornin’,” he called, his voice low and gruff, just as it had been when you had first met him.

You look up from the grass to the man, in surprise. He was leaning aginst the fence, patiently smoking a cigarette, and waiting. For you? “Ah, good morning, Mr. Morgan,” you call, making your way to him. He stubs out his cigarette on his boot and turns to fully face you. Only now, in the morning sunlight and away from the stress of Angelo Bronte, do you notice how attractive he is. Light brown hair framed an unshaven face, a strong jawline, light smattering of chest hair showing through the top of his unbuttoned collar. “It’s lovely to see you again. How is Jack doing?”

Arthur smiles at you, and the sun suddenly seems slightly brighter. “Boah’s doin’ good,” he says, leaning forward on the fence, one arm above his head to balance himself. “He’s happy to be home.”

You shoot him a small, bittersweet smile before turning your gaze to your coffee. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Misses you, though,” he continues, once he realises you aren’t going to say anything more. You look up at him, and notice he is fishing something out of his satchel. A small, folded piece of paper is passed through the bars of the fence, and you gently pluck it from his hand. “Sent this. Special delivery.”

You gently unfold the paper, and see a row of several stick figures, several people and what looks to be a dog, standing in front of some trees under a sunny sky. Under each of the figures, you can see several names scribbled in an adult’s hand.

Pa, Ma, Jack, Cain, Uncle Arthur… and you.

“Been told to tell you,” he continues, reaching through the fence with the hand that had been keeping him balanced and pointed at the figures on the paper. “That’s you… with us…”

You laugh lightly, glancing from the paper to the eyes of the man in front of you. A handsome teal, complimented by his, admittedly dirty, blue shirt. How had you not noticed him before? “This is real sweet of him, thank you,” you breathe, slightly softer than you had intended. You turn again to look at the drawing, hoping he didn’t notice the blush that had suddenly stained your cheeks.

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the sun rise above the horizon. “You could come with us, you know,” he said after a minute, pulling another cigarette from his satchel and lighting it. “The boah would shoa be happy to have you ‘round.”

You smile at the thought. Waking up in the fresh air, telling Jack stories, getting to know his family. It would be lovely. But at the end of the day, it was easier said than done. “That… that’s a nice dream,” you told him, smiling. 

He huffed, and took a long drag from his cigarette. “It’s true,” he tells you, leaning against the fence once more. “The life… well it ain’t pretty. Sure as hell not as pretty as livin’ in a mansion. But it’s free. You ain’t gotta answer to no one you don’t want.”

You scoffed and found yourself kicking at the grass beneath your feet. It would surely be better than what you had here. Hell, it would be easy enough to walk through the gates with the intention to never come back. And, what was even keeping you here? Your family? You hadn’t seen them in years. Giovanni? Anna? They would both leave if they could. 

But, you knew it wasn’t possible. You’ve seen this kind of thing before. One of your fellow servants found a means of escape, only to be back within a week. If they weren’t found and killed onsight. Angelo Bronte had eyes in every corner. Flies on every wall. He would find you.

“I… I wish I could.”

--

You went to bed late that evening, your conversation with Arthur resounding in your head. You could come with us, you know. The boy would sure be happy to have you around. The thought had even permeated your dreams, enveloping you in a fantasy world. A beautiful campsite by a river, a group of people, happy, laughing, free. Jack and Arthur and John and Dutch, and even Giovanni and Anna. They were all there, and they were all happy.

But, of course, the threat lingered. What had started as a beautiful dream quickly turned sour as Angelo Bronte entered the scene, scaring away your friends, capturing you and dragging you back to San Denis, into a mansion that looked more like a prison with every step. You would never escape him. You could never be free.

You had woken early in the morning, covered in sweat and sheets kicked from the bed. Breathing heavily, you glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. It was early, but not early enough to warrant going back to sleep. Groaning, you stepped quietly from your bed and pulled on your dressing gown. Your morning ritual would begin earlier today.

The air was crisp, but your coffee was hot - the perfect combination for waking a person up in the morning. The birds sang in their early morning chorus as the slowly rising sun cast everything in a calm, light blue. It was earlier than you had been up in ages, and you were fully prepared to sit in the garden, alone, and bask in the peacefulness. 

To your surprise, however, the increasingly-familiar smell of cigarette smoke and campfire reached you. You turned to the fence, the same place as the day prior, to be greeted by the rugged cowboy, leaning casually against the railing. Tired as you were, you couldn’t keep the smile from lighting up your face. 

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan,” you say, making your way over to him, coffee cradled in both hands. You took a sip, thinking that you may need to start making two cups if this becomes a habit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon. How’s Jack?”

Arthur’s grin immediately made your stomach flip. “Mornin’, miss,” he responded, tipping his hat to you. He lazilly flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground before leaning against the fence again, his arm above his head, like he had done the day before. “Boah’s doin’ good. Still talkin’ ‘bout you.” His grin never left his face as he looked at you. 

You cleared your throat and maintained eye contact even though you were sure you could feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Well, ain’t he a sweetheart?” you tease, only partially talking about Jack.

He chuckled and reached into his bag, mirroring his actions from the day prior. “I been asked to deliver this,” he said, pulling out a string of slightly crumpled red flowers from his bag. They were strung together, tied at the stems, into a long, vibrant necklace. 

You gingerly took the necklace from him with a smile, examining it. Wild yarrow.  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” you respond, pulling it over your head before striking a cheesy pose for the man in front of you. “How do I look?”

God, you could look at his smile all day. “Gorgeous,” he responds, only slightly teasing, and you are suddenly struck with a feeling of giddy embarrassment. It was rare that you got on with someone this well, this quickly. But with Arthur Morgan, despite his rough exterior, you felt strangely comfortable. 

The two of you stood together, talking through the morning sunrise until you were very nearly late for work. When the sun was almost fully above the horizon, you found yourself giggling and dashing into the house, with one last glance to the cowboy at the fence, eyes shining.

And so it went.

For the next week, like clockwork, you would wake, go for your walk, and meet Arthur Morgan at the fence. Gifts, supposedly all from Jack, were exchanged - a nice rock, a beautiful notebook, a seashell, a fountain pen - and you sent your fair share of notes back, including candy for the boy, and a (stolen) flask of good whisky for your postman.

Soon enough, you found yourself gladly waking earlier in the morning - butterflies in your stomach as you made your way outside to greet him. Your mood was better, despite Jack’s farewell only a week ago, and even your colleagues had taken notice.

“What’s got you walking around here all smiles lately?” Anna had asked on the morning before the Mayor’s garden party, as you sat together, adding finishing touches to several large pies that were to go into the oven. 

You scoffed, still unable to wipe the smile from your face, and looked at her over the stack of pans in front of you. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded. “Now don’t distract yourself with me, we need to get this all ready to take this afternoon.” Your chiding didn’t deter her, as she continued pestering you the rest of the day.

Her teasing had very little effect on your mood, however, despite the large amount of work ahead of you. And, so, the day passed quickly, in anticipation of the coming evening. It was well known throughout San Denis that Angelo Bronte had one of the best chef’s in town under his employ, so the household staff was asked to provide a portion of the catering. It was a massive, and time consuming project, but it was well worth the work. 

You finally had the opportunity to get out of the house, even if it were for just an evening, which would be an incredible change of pace. Almost before you could even gather your bearings, you were slipping into your best uniform, and were on your way to the even larger home.

You had been to the Mayor’s home a handful of times, but it still left you in awe. If you had thought that Angelo Bronte lived in the lap of luxury, but this home was somehow even more opulent. Marble pillars, statues lining the hallways, mahogany floors, golden chandeliers, art on every wall. You had to make a conscious effort to not allow your jaw to drop as you walked through the hallways to the kitchen. There was no time to dawdle, guests would be arriving shortly.

With an unintentional grunt, you hoisted the box of chopped vegetables you were carrying onto a table, and got to work helping Giovanni finish up a large pot of étouffée. It took some time, but after some significant effort from yourself, Giovanni, and Anna, as well as plenty of help from the Mayor’s own servants, the food was served and guests were mingling in the garden.

You leaned carefully against a counter and wiped sweat from your brow. Cooking for upwards of 100 people was exhausting, not to mention that the kitchen was absolutely scalding. You could use a large glass of water and a breath of fresh air.

Nodding at your colleagues, you told them as much before stepping into the hallway and taking a deep breath of the cooler air. If you were lucky, no one would be on the upstairs balcony, and you could head out and watch the fireworks for a few minutes. As you made your way to the back staircase, hoping that the balcony would be empty, you spotted a flash of a black tuxedo and familiar light brown hair in front of you.

Arthur Morgan. Now what was he doing here?

With a smirk, you carefully followed him up the stairs, catching a further glimpse of him as he entered the first door on the second floor. You hadn’t been up here before, but with the way he was walking, you could be sure that he wasn’t sneaking off to the toilet.

Glancing around, you saw no one else in the hallway. 

Good. 

Slowly, carefully, you pushed open the door to what appeared to be an office. And there, in all his glory, was Arthur Morgan, rummaging through the Mayor’s desk. As you snuck in and quietly closed the door behind you, he slipped a small stack of papers into his tuxedo jacket. 

You took a moment to look over him. Damn, he cleaned up well. A recent haircut, clean shaven, and a brand new tuxedo made him look like an entirely new man. Not that you had any problem with the bearded, dirt-covered version of him that had been meeting you all week.

“You ain’t supposed to be here,” you said quietly, startling him. He turned to you, wide-eyed, his hand instinctively flying to where his pistol was usually holstered. He was red in the face, adrenaline pumping, and you had to admit that it was a very good decision to not allow weapons at this party.

Upon seeing you, however, he noticeably relaxed. Face still red, he glanced quickly around the room before moving toward you, a predator stalking its prey. “Could say the same to you,” he whispered, voice low, as he backed you slowly toward the door.

That familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach rose again as he neared, but you held your chin high in defiance - and then you did something even you didn’t quite expect. You kissed him.

Lunged would be a more accurate description. You closed the distance between the two of you in a second, lips crashing with his. You had only known him for a week, but somehow it felt like you had been wanting to do this your entire life. 

After a moment of shock, he returned the kiss, lips frantically moving with yours as he wrapped his hands around your body. He was warm and strong, and smelled of campfire and cologne and you wanted to get lost in him. You wanted to lose yourself with him. Reaching up, you ran your fingers through his hair until you reached the base of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

He moved with you, slowly, steps matching yours, until your back was flush against the door. For only a moment, he pulled away. You heard the light click of a key and he was on you again, hands fluttering over your hips as he began to work his lips down your jawline. You had to swallow the moan threatening to spill from your lips as you pulled him impossibly closer, fingers toying with the ends of his hair. Then you pulled.

He leaned back with a guttural groan, following your hands as you gently pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck. His cheeks were flushed, hair mussed, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. You couldn’t help yourself as you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his.

The taste of him, the feel of him, it was overwhelming and you wished you could be surrounded by him like this for the rest of your life. Silently, lips still on yours, he turned the two of you so that your back was against the nearby bookshelf. You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his, grinding into him without breaking your kiss. 

Before you knew what was happening, his hands moved from your hips to pull up the skirt of your dress and finger the waistband of your bloomers. A nip at the bottom of your lip brought out a groan from you as he slowly made his way into your underclothes, exploring until he found your core. 

Gently, he toyed with your lower lips, ghosting his fingers along the outside teasingly. If you were in any other state of mind, you would have been embarrassed about the way your hips began moving - wantonly, desperately, trying to maneuver his exploratory fingers exactly where you wanted them.

But Arthur Morgan was apparently not feeling cooperative. He pulled away from your kiss and brought his hand out of your bloomers at the same time, leading you to throw your head back against the bookshelf with a desperate groan.

The twinkle in his eyes matched the mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you, your breathing heavy, cheeks flushed. The cocky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying this. This torment.

 With a sudden burst of courage that you didn’t know you had in you, you found yourself pushing him backward. Hands on his chest, you led him roughly to the mayor’s desk, and lunged. Lips crashed once again with his, the taste of whisky and tobacco overwhelming you once again. Your fingers toyed with his tuxedo jacket before slipping underneath and sliding it from his shoulders.

As good as he looked in this outfit, he was far too clothed for your taste.

Next came his vest, unbuttoned with help from him as you both lost your patience. You peeled his suspenders off until they hung loosely at his sides, and finally all that stood between you and his bare chest was his shirt. He yanked it roughly from his pants, the two of you unbuttoning it as quickly as your shaking fingers allowed, and flung it across the room before leaning in for another desperate kiss. 

As his lips met yours once again, you felt him push you back toward the bookshelf as he untied your apron to pull it over your head. Next, his fingers unbuttoned the high collar of your dress, quickly followed quickly by his lips as he placed kisses and nips on your flushed skin. He trailed ever downward - to your collarbone, to your cleavage - drawing moans from your parted lips.

Desperately, you reached for his face and pulled him back up to you, caressing the smooth shaven skin as you kissed. Once satisfied, your hands wandered downward, toying with the hair splayed across the hot, hard panes of his chest. Slowly, teasingly, you followed the path of his hair with your fingers until you reached the top of his pants, and his breath hitched in your mouth. 

Your kiss slowed and turned into a peck as you undid the button and pushed his pants down, revealing muscular thighs framing a growing bulge hidden under his underclothes.  Pushing down the thin cotton finally revealed his swollen member, which you took gently into your hand as you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

He groaned into your mouth, growing impossibly harder with each stroke, until he pulled away to look you into the eye. His face was flushed, his hair in shambles, and you swore you had never seen anything so beautiful in your entire life. You nodded, and allowed him to hoist up your skirt and slide into you through the slit in your bloomers.

In unison, groans left both of your mouths. You were balanced precariously on a bookshelf, your leg wrapped around his waist as he sank into you, head thrown back in pleasure. Once he gathered his bearings, he slowly, torturously slowly, began to move. 

He thrust in and out, in and out, his face buried into your shoulder. Each thrust was paired with a small grunt and a gasp from you. You reveled in the feeling, the warmth, the intensity. 

His hands gripped your hips through the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer to him with each thrust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him up to you. Your lips met, tongues entangled as tiny gasps swelled up from your throat. It was all you could do to keep in the loud moan that was threatening to spill from your lips.

With each thrust, the bookshelves shook, sending a few trinkets to the carpeted floor with a light thump. You should be more careful. The thought echoed in your mind for only a second before it was whisked away by another thrust that shook you to the core. 

As he grew closer and closer to completion, his thrusts became faster, more frantic, and you found yourself clutching the edges of the shelf for balance. 

Finally, he pulled one of his hands from your hip and wormed it between your bodies to find the place where he had teased you so well before. And then he pressed. And rubbed. And stroked. And finally, in a glaring flash of white before your eyes, you found yourself biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming his name. Your body shook, your breathing came in harsh gasps, until you could finally open your eyes.

Not a second later, Arthur took a few final thrusts and pulled out of you, stroking his member once, twice, and then spilling himself on the floor with a series of loud gasps. A shaky breath followed as he fell onto you, his head balancing on your chest to catch his breath.

Finally, there was silence, only broken occasionally by a heaving breath. The two of you huddled together against the bookshelves, clinging to each other until you could regain your balance.

You found yourself leaning hard against the shelf behind you, running your fingers through Arthur’s mussed hair. “Those last few gifts… the journal, the pen… those weren’t from Jack, were they?” you asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

A low chuckle came from Arthur, still bent forward with his head balanced on your chest. “I s’pose I’ve been caught again…”

--

The party ended with a spectacular fireworks show, which you and Arthur watched together, now fully clothed and hidden from sight on the empty balcony. Shortly after the last firework had lit up the night sky, he left you with a lingering kiss that you swore you felt on your lips for the rest of the evening.

To say your head was in the clouds would have been putting it lightly. You would have never expected such a rough, dirty man to be your knight in shining armor, but here you were. 

Your good mood carried over through the party cleanup, into the night, and even on into the morning during your daily walk. Glancing at the gate where he usually stood, you were slightly disheartened to see his spot empty. Your smile faltered for just a moment, before you reasoned with yourself. He was probably just tired, or hungover, and just because he had showed up every day for the last week and a half did not mean he could keep up that habit forever. 

So, you sat and waited for nearly a half an hour at your normal meeting spot, before heading back inside only slightly disheartened. He had a life outside of meeting you, you reminded yourself, it was unfair to assume he would be there every day when he had never promised this.

Despite your disappointment, your good mood persisted through the day. Through stained laundry, through dusting and mopping, through cleaning a massive pile of cooking dishes from the night before - you couldn’t have wiped the smile off of your face.

And then he didn’t show up again. And again. And again.

For over a week, you missed Arthur’s presence on your morning walks. You found yourself waiting at the fence each day, coffee and the morning paper in hand to pass the time, only to end up disappointed once again. At the very least, there seemed to be a lot of dramatic news to report that week - a trolley station robbery ending with a crashed trolly on main street, a wealthy man on a steamboat robbed for all he was worth - but that information only helped pass the time you spent waiting for him.

Outside of your morning walks, your mood slowly soured. Maybe Arthur had gotten what he wanted. Maybe the dirty, lecherous outlaw’s only goal was to bed you and be on his way. Maybe Jack had forgotten you completely, and with nothing new to deliver, so had Arthur.

You took to writing angrily in the journal he had gotten you, having no other reasonable outlet for your emotions. Originally, you had wanted to toss the damn thing into the fire, but - without someone to vent to, without someone who could understand the depths of your frustration - it seemed like such a waste. Instead, you chose to use the gift for its intended purpose, and wrote down all of your frustrations toward the man who had gifted it to you, before stuffing it underneath your pillow and falling asleep for the night.

There it lay, throughout the day and night until you finally did see Arthur Morgan again. A loud crash, followed by gunshots and yelling in Italian and English from the back gardens, met your ears as you cleaned up after dinner with Anna and Giovanni.

“We’re comin’ for you, Bronte! Send out every man you got!”

The three of you had no guns, and even if you had it sounded less like a gunfight and more like a massacre. Quickly, you locked the doors, hoping that it would be enough to deter the intruders. And then, huddled together out of sight with your friends, you waited.

The back door was kicked open with a gunshot and a loud bang. More gunshots, screams, and crashes echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen. You heard the yells get closer, before the kitchen door was shot and forcefully kicked open. 

This was it, this would be your end.

Only, it wasn’t.

Standing in the doorframe was none other than Arthur Morgan, shotgun in hand, eyes frantic… until he caught sight of you. 

“Comeon,” he said, rushing over to where the three of you were huddled together and pulling you up by the arm. “You three gotta get outta here,” he ordered, gruffly, hurriedly, as he opened one of the larger windows. “We only came from the back, so head to the front and go somewhere safe.”

Giovanni and Anna looked from each other to you, and then to the open window, hesitant. Another volley of gunfire reached your ears from inside the house. There was no time for debate. “Go ahead,” you told them. “We can trust him.” 

That (plus another few rounds of gunfire in quick succession) was all it took. Giovanni nodded to you, grabbed Anna by the forearm, and they were out the window and running across the lawn to safety. You breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Arthur. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to ask, but there was no time. 

As if sensing your hesitation, he took you by the shoulders and pulled you in for a hug. “Go,” he said, face buried into your hair. “Get to the Fontana, I’ll meet you there when this is over.” You could have sworn you felt a light kiss atop your head before he pressed a crumpled ten dollar bill into your palm and lightly pushed you in the direction of the open window. “Get outta here.”

You nodded, mouthing a quick “thank you” before climbing through the window. In the distance, you could see Anna and Giovanni, silhouetted against the night sky. They were running as fast as they could, to safety, and you felt a pang in your chest. They had been the closest thing you had had to a family for so long. The three of you had been forced together by fate, and had come out a team. But… where would you end up if you followed them? 

Likely back in the service of another rich man. But, maybe it would be better. Maybe the freedom you found yourself longing for was to be found in the familiar, the known. Could you really abandon your friends, your way of life, for the promise of a man you had known for little more than a few weeks?

Quickly, you glanced in the opposite direction, toward the city. Toward the Fontana. Toward the promise of freedom. The clock was ticking, you needed to decide. Now.

Torn between what was and what could be, you took a deep breath and took the advice of a child who was far too wise for his age. You ran toward the Fontana. You ran as fast as you could to a new life.

The sound of gunfire and screams followed you to the gates, where it then became overwhelmed by the shouts and sirens of incoming police. Luckily, you were able to slip outside of the gate and get partially down the street before they stopped in front of the house.

Bowing your head, you quickly made your way down the cobblestone street and into the city, away from the violence. By the time you reached the Fontana Theater, the gunshots had all but faded into the hustle and bustle of the city center, and you became acutely aware of how much you didn’t belong. It had been years since you had been anywhere outside of Signore Bronte’s mansion other than the grocery and occasional trip to the tailors. It had been even longer since the last time you had been to a Magic Lantern Theater. And you knew, with your hair mussed and maid’s uniform, you must stick out like a sore thumb.

Luckily, if your memory served, the theater should be dark enough that no one would notice. You slowed your pace, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, and proceeded to the ticket counter, purchasing one ticket to the three upcoming shows. That should be more than enough time, you hoped. 

You entered the dimly lit room and practically collapsed into one of the seats. Now that you had managed to escape, now that you were in relative safety, the adrenaline you had felt earlier had completely vanished. You were exhausted. You were confused. You were scared. 

Now, you could only wait, and hope that Arthur would be back for you as promised.

In front of you, the film started with a flicker. The recorded voice of a man telling the story of several forest animals as a series of images were projected onto the screen. The room was silent, except for the recording, and you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open.

What must have been a few hours later, you were shaken awake by an unfamiliar man. You were startled for only a minute before you realised that he was the same man who had sold you the tickets earlier. “That’s the last showing for the day, miss,” he was saying, quietly, pulling his hand away from your shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be on your way, now.” 

You blinked and looked around the room, now flooded with light. It was empty except for the two of you. “What… what time is it?” you stammered, voice cracking lightly.

“‘Bout 11:30,” he responded, looking quickly to his pocket watch to confirm. You had been asleep for a solid 4 hours, and Arthur hadn’t yet arrived. “You should get on home.”

Home. Where was that? 

You stood, nodding abashedly at the man. “Thank you,” you murmured before making your way out of the theater and into the dark streets. 

It was quiet, the same kind of quiet you had grown so used to on your morning walks. However, instead of finding it calm and refreshing, you found yourself longing for the noisy streets. The hustle and bustle of San Denis that would overpower your thoughts, that would drown out your anxieties. 

Instead, you were alone, left to mull over your current situation on the steps of the theater. The long, dark tendrils of doubt crept into your mind as you waited. Did you make the right choice? Did Arthur abandon you? Was all of this some horrible trick? Tears spilled silently from your eyes as you waited. Exhausted. Frustrated. Sad. The only thing to break you out of your thought spiral was the occasional drunk would wander by, heading home for the evening.

Eventually, the ground where you sat grew cold, and you found yourself falling asleep against the wall of the theater, huddled up like an abandoned animal. You could sleep here tonight, in case he did show up, and head … somewhere … in the morning. A hotel, maybe? A workhouse? You didn’t know where, but that was a thought for the morning.

It was only when the steady clip-clop clip-clop of horse hooves made their way down the dark street that you willed yourself to look up. Coming slowly into view through the darkness was a lone rider on a horse. He looked exhausted, frustrated, as he stopped his horse in front of the theater and dismounted, glancing around the area until he spotted you.

You stood on legs that were strangely both stiff and shaky and made your way over to him, where he pulled you into a tight hug. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, once again burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to leave you so long.” You nodded against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as tears of relief threatened to spill. “Let’s get you home.”

--

The ride went by in a blur. Not that you were moving fast, but rather because you were so exhausted that everything was a bit of a haze. You must have arrived at the large, dilapidated mansion early into the morning, before anyone was up to disturb you, because you could not remember the journey into Arthur’s bed for the life of you.

There was no crunch of the grass as you slid off the saddle, no creek of the stairs, no groan of the bed as the two of you lay down together. Nothing. All you could remember was that you were here. You were safe. You were home. 

You awoke around midday, sunlight streaming through the broken windows of a small-rundown room overlooking the swamps of Lemoyne. It was sweltering hot, but you found yourself cuddling closer into the strong arms that were wrapped around you. The scent of the swamps mixed with whisky and tobacco, campfire and gunsmoke, as you nuzzled into his chest.

He was breathing deeply, soundly, as you lifted your head from his chest to look around. The room itself was old and dilapidated, it would barely serve as a shelter during any storms that may strike. In the far corner stood an old shelf, filled with photos and trinkets. Next to it, a small table with a map, and across from that, a larger table, stacked to the brim with weapons and ammunition. 

Arthur’s room. 

You stood, intending to make your way over to examine the trinkets across the room, but were instead gently pulled back to bed by the man behind you. “Mornin’,” he grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes as he held you close.

You acquiesced, leaning back into him and basking in his presence. “Mornin’, Mr. Morgan,” you whispered back to him, gazing over his face. His eyes were still closed, but he couldn’t keep a small smile from forming as you spoke. Gently, you brushed hair away from his forehead and planted a light kiss to the revealed skin. “Thank you.”

He chuckled, finally opening his eyes to look at you. You could have melted in the soft, loving look that came your way. “Nothin’ to thank me for,” he said, reaching up to run his thumb along your cheek in admiration. “Just needed to get you out alive, is all.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I feel like that deserves thanks.”

A scoff came from the man beside you. “Nah, it was all selfish, really,” he explained, his gaze travelling over every inch of your face as if he were committing it to memory. “I just wanted to keep you ‘round.” With that, he planted a quick kiss on your lips and sat up, turning to his satchel that had been tossed to the floor by the bed. “It weren’t pretty last night… ‘n’ I’m glad I got to you before it got worse.”

“What happened?” you asked, watching as he pulled the satchel to him and began to rifle through it.

“Bronte… well he done his best to screw us over,” he explained. “Set some traps for us… ‘n’ Dutch made sure he paid for it.” You figured you knew what he meant, but let him continue anyway. “Bastard’s dead - some poor alligator’s breakfast.” 

To your surprise, you felt incredibly conflicted. The man had essentially kept you hostage for the last few years, but he had at least taken care of you. He had by no means been a good person, but… you had grown some sort of strange affinity for him over the years. And yet, you didn’t find yourself shedding a tear for him. If anything, it was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, like you could finally breathe freely after so long. 

You didn’t know what to say.

“I did manage to get hold of these, though,” he said, pulling several items from his satchel. You gasped when you saw them, and felt the tears that wouldn’t fall for Bronte begin to well up. In Arthur’s hands were a child’s drawing, a flower crown, a very special rock, a beautiful journal, and a fountain pen. 

Now, the tears did fall as you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you, Arthur,” you said, burying your face into his neck. “Thank you so incredibly much.”

With a small chuckle, he set the momentos down on his lap, and wrapped his arms around you as well. “‘Course.”

The two of you stayed like that, reveling in each other’s embrace, for a few perfect, blissful minutes. So this is what it felt like to be wanted. This is what it felt like to have someone really, truly care about you. This is the feeling you had been waiting for for so long.

It wasn’t a minute later before there was a tentative knock on your door, and Arthur pulled himself away from the hug. “I think someone might be excited to see you,” he said, nodding toward the door.

You looked over, calling for the visitor to come in. As the door swung open, you were greeted with the sound of your name excitedly being called, and the sight of a child, red with excitement, standing in the doorway. Jack. “You’re here! You’re really here!” he exclaimed, darting over to you and jumping into your arms. He was followed by a smiling, dark-haired woman, and a man who you recognised as John. “I knew it! I knew you would come live with us!” 

“Of course, Jack,” you childed, squeezing him tight. “I could never leave you.”

He squeezed you back, before pulling away and grabbing your forearm to lead you out of the room. “Come on!” he said, leading you forward. “You have to meet the rest of our family!”

[feelin-lo]

I headcannon that human Sun and Cloudy had an emo phase. And you can t change my mind.

🌘. What was your most embarrassing moment from any point in your life?

⛅. Easy. My teenage years from around 16 to 20. I was an avid smoker and I dressed like I worked at hot topic.

🌩️. That's not even a joke, when he and I lived together, he was the exact opposite of what he is now.

☀️. I don't believe it! There's no way!

⛅. I think Stormy has a picture-

*Stormy hastily pulls out his phone and scrolls for a moment. He then smirks and turns the phone to show his co-workers*

🌩️. BAM!

🌘. NO WAY HAHAHAHA-

⛅. I had my name changed and as you can see, I dyed the blue in my hair darker.

🌩️. Cloudy isn't even your real name.

☀️. It's not?!

⛅. It's Nepho. It's Greek and essentially means cloud. Dumb right? Anyways since I was about 7 people called me Nepho, but after that they called me Cloudy. I preferred the name and so, kept it.

☀️. I think it's cool!

🌩️. My real name's Nimbus. I changed it to Stormy a while back. Because Nimbus Skies didn't sound right.

🌘. I thought your last name was Nights?

🌩️. I changed that too.

☀️. Anyways. What did you change your and to?

⛅. You're gonna laugh! I called myself "Hail storm" I thought it was cool. Bit after looking back on it after so long? I hate myself for doing that.

🌘. HAHAHAHA- HAIL STORM? THATS THE BEST YOH COULD COME UP WITH? HAHA-

☀️. You're not the only one who went though a phase or two.

⛅. No way. Sun don't tell me-

☀️. I also had an Emo phase of sorts.

🌘. LOOKLOOKLOOKLOOK!

*Moon caught his breath after laughing so very hard and pulled his phone out too, pulling up a picture of Sun during his emo phase*

☀️. I couldn't figure out the eye makeup thing so I just brushed my fringe forward so it covered my eyes, my hair's thin so I could see through it fine.

🌩️+⛅. No way that's you!!

🌘. No dark colour suited him so we made him a hoodie to go with his red turtle neck and gave him a headband to stop his fringe climbing up.

⛅. Nothing is real and my life is a lie.

🌩️. I know right?

🌘. Anywho. What time is it?

⛅. Almost opening, why?

🌘. I just need time to take in the fact you used to look like that.

⛅. Moon, that was 8 and a half years ago. I wouldn't dare do that again-

🌩️. But what if I clothed you in your sleep

🌘. When he's unaware~

🌩️. Exactly! And also, I do my best work when you're unaware.

☀️. No one is touching anyone in their sleep! Only hugs are allowed!

⛅. Well this has been a very chaotic conversation, I'm gonna go drown in the ballpit now.

☀️. And cloudy, you are no longer allowed to be leaving during playtime as I now think it's your smoking time.

⛅. Don't worry, I quit smoking 7 years ago, I'm doing well. I sneak off because I need a minute or two, sometimes... Kids bring back some awkward and sad memories.

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 7

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: sexual tension, slow burn word count: 7.2k 

A.N:

- Finally!! I'm so glad to finally release this. October was so hectic and I'm a very slow writer. - I'm so sorry for the mistakes on the previous chapters. No one beta reads for me. So I went back and edited Chapters 3-6. - So sorry for the word vomit on this chapter. I was out of control. - Thank you for all the nice comments!! I swear. They keep me fired up and inspired.  - As always, lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my works,

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

“No! It’s not what you think!”

Kuroo almost laughs at how cliche you sounded, a typical response of someone who’s been caught red-handed. You’re about to chase Kenma, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Maybe you should wear your shirt before you go after ‘im.” He tries to hide the mirth in his expression and tone. Your face is so red, you look like you’re about to burst. He also doesn’t want to add up more to the awkwardness you might feel later, so he’s gonna let this one slide. He’ll just pretend that the massage thing was as harmless as it should be. 

You put your shirt in a jumble and walk briskly to Kenma. He follows at his normal pace, settling behind you when he catches up to you and Kenma.

“Sorry about that,” you laugh nervously. “He was just giving me a back massage.”

It was kinda the truth, but Kenma looks dubious. 

“It sounded more than a massage.”

He covers his lips with his back hand so he wouldn’t laugh. Although his rascal self wants to tease you more, he can’t let you feel any more embarrassed than this. He looks at Kenma and shakes his head minutely with a knowing look, hinting not to push the subject any further. 

“Naah. Y/n here is just really stressed so she moans like she’s being fucked.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t completely let it slide after all. 

You irritatedly look at him and punch his arm with more force than usual. “Piss off,” you hiss. 

He dramatically rubs the arm you just hit. “Ow! So violent.”

Kenma ignores the antics and just passes by you two. He’s about to plop himself on the couch, but pauses. He instead gets a chair and seats himself there.

You couldn’t overlook that. Obviously, in Kenma’s mind, you and Kuroo were doing something indecent there so he doesn’t want to be in it. You want to clear it up to Kenma that you really weren’t doing anything of that sort. Well, you were about to pounce on Kuroo, but still, it didn’t actually happen. 

In a way, you’re relieved that Kenma interrupted at the right time. You might have done something you will harrowingly regret afterwards.

“Don’t sweat it, y.n. He just misinterpreted it.” Kuroo’s unusually magnanimous today. It’s strange. He wouldn’t have lived this down on a regular day. Maybe it's because of your no sex relationship? Still, this is aberrant of him. He shouldn’t fail to notice how that last  moan of yours was not of comfort. 

“Right?” He adds, his eyes gauging your own.

So that’s how it is. He is aware. But he’s giving you the option to disregard what just almost happened. You’re relieved, but also confused at the tiny shards of disappointment prickling in your chest. This is what you wanted, for you to avoid sex and Kuroo in the same room. It shouldn’t be confusing.

You look down and break away from the eye contact. You put a hand on your hip and the other on your temple, which then moves to brush your hair back.

With a long, audible puff, you speak.

“Of course, it was nothing,” you return to his gaze with a dry expression to camouflage the lie behind your words. But at the same time, you also wait for him to say something or for his eyes to show something other than indifference. You don’t know what it is you want or expect, but you wait for it. You’ll know it when you see it. 

It doesn’t come though as he shrugs it off like it was nothing. 

Disappointed, that’s what you are. You don’t like the feeling, but you are.

—

You ring your driver again, hoping that this time he’ll finally answer. If he doesn’t get to you any soon, you’ll be late for your shoot. You can’t be late for this shoot in particular. Mitsuki’s the creative director. She’s a very pleasant one, but she absolutely hates tardiness. No exceptions. She gets all sour and crank when someone’s late. 

The other end of the line picks up. “Ms l/n. I’m so sorry. One of the tires got flat. I need to change it, but I’m still stuck in traffic.”

Of all the days to get a flat tire on a heavy traffic, it had to be this day. You exhale heavily to clear the irritation getting under your skin. 

“How long before you’re here?”

“I think about an hour, Ms.”

You aren’t the type to get mad at hired help, but you’re really in a pinch. In an hour, you should be in hair and make up already, not arriving only then. Mitsuki gets enraged when someone’s 15 minutes late. To be late an hour, you can’t imagine how she’d be. There’s no way you’re going to wait here for an hour.

“Don’t come anymore. Just get it fixed.” You say coldly before you end the call. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. You wouldn’t bother getting a driver if your car hadn’t been acting up recently. Being dumb this morning, you forgot about your busted car and was late in this morning’s meeting with a client. You found yourself brisk walking in heels at the hotel’s lobby earlier just to save yourself from any more delayed minutes. And now, even your driver’s car is jacked up. 

“Y.n?”

You turn around at the recognizable calm voice you heard. It’s Kenma, except he wasn’t alone. Kuroo is right there beside him. It was kind of weird to see them together at this place and both in business wear. 

“What’re you two doing here?” 

“I’m working with Kenma here to sponsor our next promotional video.”

You just stared at the two of them. You’re used to the three of you just fooling around when you’re together. Meeting like this when you’re all in the middle of doing your jobs is something new to you. 

“And who might you be giving a hard time on the phone, hmm y.n.?”

They heard that? They must both be near while you were getting bummed out from being late this morning and potentially late this afternoon. 

“Ah! I need to go. My driver can’t make it. I’m going to be late,” you spiral back to your hectic schedule. “Bye.” You give them a quick wave, and despite your heels, you walk as fast as you could towards the entrance of the hotel. 

You try to hail cabs that were passing by, but almost every cab was occupied. And for some reason, someone always managed to get the empty cabs before you can even spot them. To worsen your luck, it began to rain. You frantically tap your left foot on the concrete as the panic sets in you.

Mitsuki’s gonna kill me.

You bite your lip and contemplate how you’re going to arrive in the venue on time. The answer you found made you turn back on your heels to go back inside the hotel, only to find them already there behind you. 

“You’re here,” you exhale, relieved that they haven’t gone anywhere out of your sight. “I’m in a bind. Can anyone give me a ride?” 

The two men exchanged pithy looks, but you don’t bother figuring out what that could’ve meant. You just need the help you typically won’t ask for since you’re always doing things on your own.

“I can’t. I have a stream coming up. Sorry, y.n.” Kenma first spoke. You shift to Kuroo, hoping that he can give you the time of day. “Yea, sure. Am free for the rest of the day actually.” He says with a brief smile. 

“Oh, thank God!” The panic and nerves were clearing out of your system. Despite the awkwardness of your previous massage fiasco, right now, you’re glad that he can help. 

“Bye, then.” Kenma quickly took his leave as the hotel valet stepped out from his car and handed him his keys. 

“Should we go now?” Kuroo asked. “Aren’t we waiting for your car?” “No. I don’t want strangers handling my car.” “Then why did you go here?”

Amusement shows on his face at your question. “I saw your cute attempt to hail a cab. Is that how rich kids do it? Let someone else steal their ride for them?” You smile sweetly, disgustingly sweet, then roll your eyes before saying, “Let’s just go.”

You told him the location of the shoot. The drive was comfortable as you both share work conversations with your usual banters on the side. Being friends with Kuroo is confusing and reassuring at the same time. With the history you two shared, you need to tread the waters of your friendship carefully every once in a while. If it wasn’t the sexual tension, it was the affection you felt towards him that would sometimes seem like resurfacing. Even with all that, you can’t bear to walk away from what you presently have. You feel like you really found genuine company with him and Kenma.

“We’re here. Let me just get an umbrella.” He looks back to the back seat and stretches his right arm to reach for it. The current angle of his face emphasized his sharp jaw and the length of his neck. You were just thinking how you need to tread carefully, but easier said than done when you know exactly how your fingers have grazed that jaw, how your tongue has tasted that neck, and much more. 

“What’s taking you so long? I might as well get drenched from the rain,” you snap because you can’t stand your own indecent thoughts. 

“Found it.” He says and returns to his normal sitting position. “Why the hell are you suddenly cranky? Geez.” You feel bad for being suddenly grouchy. He was just being nice and you were being nasty for reasons you can’t tell him. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late,” you apologized.

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “Hey. Where’s my umbrella?” You ask when you see him reaching for the door with only one umbrella in his hand. 

“We’re sharing this. I only have one.”

You purse your lips to the side and sharply avert your eyes elsewhere, your irritation resurfacing again. You feel uncomfortable with the idea of being that physically close to him. You’ve pushed the massage incident behind, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about it. 

“What is up with you? What are you so pissed about?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

He stares at you for a good 3 seconds before getting out and opening his umbrella. He moves to your side of the vehicle and opens the door. You get out and try to avoid any raindrops. He closes the door and presses his car keys to lock the vehicle. 

You both start to walk towards the entrance of the place. You’ve never felt more awkward in your life. You’re avoiding getting past the edge of the umbrella while also avoiding Kuroo’s body. 

“Why is your umbrella so small?” 

“The heck are you talkin about? This is the standard size.”

You don’t answer him. The umbrella isn’t small. He’s just huge and his whole body occupied almost all the space under the shade. You flinch when he suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close, so close that you can feel the firmness of his body pressed onto yours. 

You raise your gaze to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’re gonna get wet if we don’t huddle closer.” You could accept his reason, if only you didn’t catch the miniscule curl of his lips and the skittish glint in his eyes. It was so typical of him really. Maybe you should stop being so worked up all the time. 

“Fine.” Even though he was messing you, you can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable. You’re safe from the rain and his body provided heat from the coldness of the downpour.

He doesn’t do or say anything more as you both get to the doorway of the bar where the shoot will be held. He puts down the umbrella when you reach the shade of the building. Before you’re able to get away from Kuroo’s hold, the door opens. Mitsuki was holding her phone to her ear when she met your eyes. 

“I was calling you and you weren’t — oh.” Her eyes flew to the hand on your shoulder and traveled to its owner. “Well, well, y/n. You leave for a good while, then come back loaded.” You can always count on Mitsku to not hold her tongue. You gently release yourself from Kuroo’s hold to avoid looking defensive. “It’s not like that,” was your thrift reply. 

“Kuroo, this is Mitsuki, my creative director for today, sometimes my friend too. Mitsuki, this is Kuroo.” 

Both of them exchange casual greetings for meeting the first time. 

“How come you mention our relationship, but not yours?” referring to you and Kuroo. You sigh. “He’s also a friend.” You turn to Kuroo and thank him for the ride and his time. 

“Is your driver picking you up?” he asked.

You seal your eyes shut at your own stupidity. Because you were panicking and irritated, you sent your driver home. You open them again and purse your lips in a straight line. “No. I’ll just take a cab.”

“With your cab-hailing skills in this rain? Good luck with that.” he snorts. “Haha. Real funny.” From the corner of your eyes, you see Mitsuki with an entertained grin on her face, obviously enjoying the exchange between you and Kuroo. 

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up then.” You want to protest but it will just drag on. You don’t want Mitsuki seeing more of the dynamics of your relationship, so you thriftly say “Okay.”

“Kuroo-san, right?” Both of you shift your attention to Mitsuki. “Actually, we need a male model because the scheduled one today is a total wimp and cancelled last minute.” She shamelessly eyed Kuroo from head to toe. So that’s why she was about to call you. The shoot was cancelled. 

When she looks at you, you mouth the word “no” to let her know that she shouldn’t do what you think she’s about to do. The reaction you got was her smiling widening before speaking to Kuroo. “Do you have an agent? Can we talk over the phone right now to discuss?”

That’s when you step forward. “Uhhh. He’s not a model. He used to be a volleyball player, hence the height and build.” You say defensively. You nudge Kuroo with your elbow so that he’ll back you up, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just there waiting for Mitsuki’s next words. 

“An athlete, I see.” She nods approvingly. “That’s perfect! I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s completely up to you then.”

“Errr. I don’t really know anything about modeling. Sorry.”

Your relief was short-lived when she tugs you to her direction and grips both of your shoulders. “Then your friend here can guide you. She’ll be your co-model anyways.” 

He probably figured out by now why you were so apprehensive during the conversation just now. You don’t want him as your co-model. 

His grin just confirmed your thoughts. “I’ll go for it then.” His eyes sparkling with mischief made you surrender. You already admit defeat in your head even though the shoot is just about to start. 

You both get in hair and makeup. Being a woman, you take longer to finish. The clothes the stylists are arranging on you are taking while as well.  They let you wear a very long, elegant gold dress that fits your upper body like your second skin, but the material is flowy from your waist down. When you arrive at the set, he’s already there talking with Mitsuki while waiting for you. Mitsuki notices you first. “Alright! We’re good to go.”

When Kuroo faces you, you almost don’t recognize him. His usual emo bangs were gone. They brushed his hair up cleanly. The suit he was wearing earlier was replaced by gray slacks and white long sleeve polo that has two top buttons open. You have conflicted feelings towards the hair and make up staff that did the work. They did a remarkable job with his overall style. He does look like a model like this. But also, why the hell did they make him look this damn good? The regular Kuroo was bad enough for you.

“This feels weird. I feel like I have too many things on me.” You scowl at his remark. “Too many? Wanna try being a girl?” He’s about to retort but Mitsuki claps twice which calls both of your attention.

“So our client is a liquor brand and the theme is something like wild love at the bar. What I want is you two giving the impression of having a passionate first encounter while you’re out drinking. Give me something and we’ll work it out as we go on, mkay?” 

You knew you’d be working with a male model for this brand, but you didn’t expect that they’d go with something like this. You thought it was just going to be glamour shots to showcase the drink.

But what Mitsuki said, ‘Wild love at the bar’?? That is not something you’d want to be doing with him. It reminded you of the first night you met. 

“I’m all ears on what to do, y/n” His haughty smile doesn’t help the situation one bit. You take a deep breath. This is not the time to muck around. You’re the experienced one, so you’ll be taking the lead. “Swear to me that you’ll take this seriously.” You glare at him, no trails of humor apparent. The change in his demeanor surprised you. You forgot how intimidating he can get when he’s serious. You’re so used to him being an idiot all the time that it catches you off guard. But for today, you’re glad to have it.

You explain to him how the whole shoot will go. For the first shot, you ask a staff member for a chair and tell Kuroo to sit on it. “Get the glass with the liquor and look at the camera while holding it.” He did as you told, except he has this perplexed look on his face with a noticeable discomfort from the way his lips curled in a corner. 

“On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea,” he said after trying the first time. You want to agree with him, but the shoot is already happening. You just want to get over it already since you’re already there. “Nooo. Uh-uh.” Mitsuki’s tone took a sharp turn. She wasn’t happy with what Kuroo said. “Just imagine you’re in a bar, chilling with your favorite drink and you just snagged the hottest girl in the place.” 

“Hottest girl aka me,” you comment on her instruction. That seemed to work because he changed back to his normal self and looked at you with amusement. “Just like the night we met, huh?” He said it low enough for only you to hear, but you still glanced nervously to Mitsuki if she caught any of it.  

“That’s a nice expression, Kuroo! Keep looking at her like that.” You ease up since it looks like she didn’t hear it. You put your elbow on his shoulder and tilt your hips to give your waist an S curve while angling your body towards him at the same time. You lift your chin up a bit and look at the camera with parted lips.

“Yep. Looking good dear.” Mitsuki signals the photographer to start taking the shots. You both slightly alter your angles so the pose will have variations. Sometimes you look at Kuroo, smile flirtatiously at him, or look at the camera in a sultry way. Every time you two would look at each other, you’d ‘cheat’ and look at the bridge of his nose to give the illusion that you’re actually looking at his eye. 

While looking at the shots from a separate screen, she suddenly asks the photographer to stop. You both straighten your bodies while awaiting instructions.  “It looks nice,” she said before looking at your direction. “But it’s boring. There’s nothing wild about it.”  You space out for a bit because for the first time, you don’t know how to proceed. You’re used to fashion shoots and runway. You’ve never had an ad with this theme. “Y.n, dear, can you be a bit aggressive towards him?”

You raise your eyebrow from disbelief. “A-aggressive?”

Mitsuki nods. “Throw yourself at him, dominate him, take control. mkay?” You feel a bit pressured when she’s just looking at you two and waiting for you to start posing for the camera. You don’t have a solid idea in your head, but you just go for it. You try to prop yourself up on the bar counter, but your dress won’t allow you.

Kuroo notices your dilemma and gets up from his seat. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.” He positions himself in front of you and grabs your waist. His hands were strong yet gentle. With your palms still on the surface of the counter, he lifts you up while you put weight on your arms so you can usher yourself properly. You’ve been deliberately avoiding his gaze, but right now, your eyes are glued to his face. 

“Yes. Like that.” You both flick your gaze towards Mitsuki. “Do that.” She instructs the photographer to move the side so the angle of the shot captures you both without him blocking you completely. You realize the position you two have. “I agreed to this to make you uncomfortable, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m the one extremely uncomfortable right now.” Kuroo whispers with a hint of regret on his face. The camera flashes start going off but something clicked between the two of you that you two end up laughing. It’s probably the awkwardness and the nerves that’s been hanging on the air that something so shallow as Kuroo admitting his uneasiness, cracked you both up.

It was just a brief exchange of laughter but you feel relaxed. Even though Mistuki is pretty cool for a creative director, she’s still as serious as any professional. So when you see her smiling as you apologized for the delay, you’re a bit shocked.

“No worries dear. Let’s continue then.”

You feel more confident now. You’re you. The reason you became successful on an international level is because of your professionalism and ability to produce quality results.

From being seated on the counter, you’re a few centimeters taller than Kuroo. That completed the idea in your head. You took the glass drink and placed it on your right hand. “Put your hands on my hips,” you tell him then lightly lift his chin with your index finger, “and look at me like you worship me.” The command earned a raised eyebrow from him but you pay no heed to it.

You extend an arm over his right shoulder, the glass dangling on your fingertips. With your index finger on his chin, you look to the camera with provocative eyes. If anything looks wrong with Kuroo, you’ll just let Mitsuki handle it. After all, she’s the one who asked him to be a part of this. 

“Oh yea! That’s really good.” Compared to before, she looks pleased with the shots now. The pose was captured a few times before she speaks again. “Instead of using your finger, grab his hair to tilt his head back.” You comply immediately and tugs his locks downwards. You might’ve done it a bit rougher than you wanted because you heard a raspy grunt from his throat. You got distracted, so instead of looking at the camera, you look at him. 

You regret it. When you said he should look at you with worship, you didn’t think he’d do it this well. Because his hair is pushed completely all the way back, you see every aspect of his face. Nothing was blocking his eyes that were full of yearning and desire. He’s looking at you like you’re not just the hottest girl in the bar, but the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes one. 

“Pull him closer and look here y.n.” You do as you’re told, thankful that you needed to look somewhere else. “Damn. You two look so good right now.” She gently claps her hands while looking at the monitor.

“I’m already satisfied, but let’s just do one more for another option. Umm, Kuroo. You be the aggressor this time. Y/n, …. you know what to do.” She winks after.

Well, not really you don’t. She just wants you to do the thinking on what to do. You put the glass down and put both your hands on his shoulders. “Help me down?” You ask with an easygoing smile. You don’t want to ruin the momentum of the shoot, so you decide to be nice to him for now. 

 “You got it,” then his hand travels up your waist and guides you down back to the floor. You tell him to lean on the counter. He follows with no complaints. You get his arm and ushers him to wrap it on your waist. When he goes along with your silent instruction, you raise your leg to his side.   

“Tug my skirt up to my thighs.”

He doesn’t react and just squints at you.. “Huh?” Since he did not grasp what you meant, you take it to yourself to do it and slowly gather the material at the ends. Then, you yank it up to your thigh. “Get it?” He whistles as he gets the cloth from your hands. “Hey. Don’t do that. If you’re a real model, you’d be in trouble if I report that behavior.”

“But I’m not a real model, am I?” You glare at his provocation. You won’t be having any of his crap at your workplace. “Kuroo,” you say with a menacing glare and he immediately gets the threat behind it. “My bad, my bad. I’ll behave again, kay? Stop scowling now.” You relax your face and take a deep breath. “Moving on then.” You enclose your left arm on his neck while you plant your right on his chest. You don’t want to direct him any further than this. If this is unsatisfactory, Mitsuki will say something. 

Aaaand she does. “Kuroo-san. Aggressive please. Own her. You don’t want her to get away from you.” Upon hearing Mitsuki’s additional instructions, everything about him intensifies three folds. He pulls you even closer, causing your breath to hitch when his face is dangerously near yours all of a sudden. His sleeves don’t do anything to mask the firmness of his arms. And even with the velvet fabric, you can still the strength of his thighs as they’re pinned on yours. The heat of his hand ignited the skin of your thigh as he clutched the fabric and your flesh forcefully. And his eyes, they no longer worship you. They spoke of something similar, but not quite. 

He wants to devour you whole. 

It was too overwhelming for you, so you look away and close your eyes dramatically to make it seem like you’re being swept away in the moment. After one camera flash, “Okay dear, but I need you to look at him this time.”

The few seconds of breaking away from his fiery stare did you some good. You were able to collect yourself again, but not enough to truly look at him. You just focus your gaze right between his eyes as you did earlier.  

“Nooo. When I said look at him, I meant really look at him. Respond with your own passion. You’re looking a bit of a scared vegetable right now, honey.” You’ve never had feedback like that in forever. Maybe when you tried modeling the first few months, you received something similar to that. But never when you started doing it full time. 

You don’t want to, but you have to. You finally meet his gaze and tap into something inside yourself that you’ve been holding back. You let your desire for him deluge you, let it surge through your veins until you’re aching for him. You push yourself even closer to him, not allowing even air to pass between your bodies. 

“Yes! YES! You want him so much, but you shouldn’t.” 

It was just as she said. You want him so much, so much that it almost hurts. You part your lips slightly as you get lost in the moment.

“Oh my God.” Her words sounded distant. It was there. You can hear it, but what clouded your senses was your heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the way his eyes are now devoted to your lips. Not long after, he angles his face so that your lips are almost touching. Just a tiptoe and a kiss will already take place. You clench your fingers on his shirt, holding yourself back from that one tiny push that will allow you to feel his lips on yours again. 

“Holy Shit! HOLY SHIT! That was it. That was the money shot.” Mitsuki’s shrill voice which was followed by her squeal broke the trance you were in. You know what she meant. The shoot is done. Yet, you still feel hot. The heated atmosphere around you two still hasn’t caved in. He let go of your thigh as you put some space away from him. You settle your hands on his shoulders while you rest your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t move either. His hand remains on your waist, but without the force this time. With his other hand, he caringly skims the curve of your shoulder. 

“You okay, kitten?”

His voice is so gentle, you nearly convince yourself that it sounded loving. You nod weakly before heading back to the dressing room without saying anything. 

Kuroo’s gaze followed your back as you disappeared. He was amazed but also bothered at what just happened. You looked really into it, like you really wanted him. If the shoot didn’t finish any sooner, he might have closed that tiny gap that separated your lips from his. He’s been aching for you for so long that his control is slipping inch by inch every time there’s an opportunity to cross that line of friendship you set. When he saw you let go and completely relent within his hold, it was maddening at how he couldn’t have you at the moment. What’s worse is that even without the glamorous set, he knows you’re still not his to have. 

He walks towards the room where his clothes were hung and changes back to his usual suit. He asked the make up staff to remove everything on his face. He doesn’t like the feeling of having a layer of cosmetics on his skin. The hair they couldn’t do anything about because they used a lot of product to fix it up. 

When he gets out of the room, Mitsuki approaches him with a satisfied look on her face

“You did so well for someone with no experience at all. Do you have a card? I can hook you up for other gigs. You’ll do great.”

He smiles graciously at her generous offer, but he doesn’t want it. “Sorry, but I’m not really interested. I only did it cause it was her.” He said truthfully. Mitsuki’s mouth curled in amusement. “You know, y.n’s really good to work with. She always had this cool facade that never went down, and it works for her. We love her for it. But today,” she pauses as she gives him a meaningful look. “I’ve never seen her show such vulnerability and rawness. It was,” she sighs with admiration for you.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” He knows exactly what she’s saying. After all, he has seen several times how captivating your authenticity can be. 

“Soo, are you two dating or what?” Her eyebrows twitch up and down from anticipation at what he’s about to answer. He badly wants to say yes, but he doesn’t have that luxury. “Naaah. Like she said, I’m just a friend.”

She’s obviously dissatisfied with his response. He is too, but that’s the lousy truth. Out of the blue, she takes her phone out. “Too bad though. You two looked really good here.” She showed him the photo and it was you and him earlier. You were seated in the counter with your arms on his shoulders and his hands on your waist. It was when you were both laughing at his stupid statement.

“Can you send me that photo?”

“Why should I?”

He’s well aware of what she’s trying to do. It’s a business transaction, except for the lack of formality. She wants to get something in return, and he knows exactly what it is. 

“You’re good.” He admits with an impressed glint in his eyes.

“I am. So what’ll it be?” He knows that she knows she has the upperhand of the negotiation. She could probably tell that there’s something going on with the two of you. It’s just a matter of deciding which information to give her. But he didn’t have the fortune of having too many options. He didn’t want to reveal the nature of your relationship before. He wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He can only speak for himself. 

“Fine. I sorta like her.” 

Her eyes brighten up. “Aha! I knew it. You should totally ask her out, kay? You’re gonna have tall and beautiful babies.” She put one hand on her cheek and closed her eyes while screeching at her own daydream of you and him getting together. When she calms down, she sends you the image file. “For real though. I’ve never seen her like that,” she points to your dazzling face in laughter in the photo. 

“Hey. What’re you two talking about?” You’re back to your normal clothes, but your hair and makeup was still there. 

“Nothing. Let’s go now?” He spoke immediately before your nosy director could say something. He walks to your direction before heading out together. “Bye! Update me, Kuroo-san!” Mitsuki said as she waved goodbye. You couldn’t help but be curious on what he should update her about. 

The rain stopped so no more umbrella horseplay. When you both get inside his car, you immediately ask him, “What was that about?”

“Uhh. She asked if I wanted to do other modeling projects.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering, “No. That sort of stuff is not for me. I only did it to piss you off.” He starts the engine, then pivots his body to face you. “I must say though. I enjoyed seeing you eyefuck me.” Just when you are getting used to the peaceful, non-smug Kuroo, his true personality kicks right back in. Good thing you took your time getting changed and basically just calmed yourself down. 

“Glad you did. That’s the most you can get from me after all.”

His smile turned upside down at your remark. “Tch.” Your lips tug upwards at the side from his lack of retaliation. 

“I haven’t told you yet, but it wasn’t my first modeling experience.” 

You’re a bit surprised. Even though he has the appearance of a model, you didn’t think he’d do it. You agree with what he said just a while ago. It wasn’t for him. He’s best at his job right now. 

He gets his phone and scrolls up. He must be looking for a photo to show you as proof. When you see his screen, your heart swells. It was you and him a year ago. The neckline of your shirt was pulled to your shoulder for a makeshift off-shoulder while he knotted his t-shirt to form a crop top. You two wore large smiles while posing silly in front of the cam. It was right after when you told him that you’re a model.

“I- you... umm. You kept these?” You swipe the screen and see every single photo you took that day. Not one was deleted. You remember the laughter and absurd joy behind each frame. 

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I?”

One more swipe and there’s no other photo after yours. That’s when you notice that the photos are in the Favorites album. You felt like you were about to tear up. You’ve never felt so cherished in your whole life. Even though you left without saying a proper goodbye and no indication of going back, he still kept them. You tried so hard to forget about him, yet there he was, keeping these small tokens of what you had - proof that you really had been a part of his life.You felt something inside you crumble piece by piece. You should be scared, but at the moment, you don’t feel any fear. Instead, you were enraptured. 

You can feel your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin is. You don’t bother hiding it from him. 

“Can you send these to me?” You turn to him with the smile still plastered on your face, but he frowns at your question. 

“Those photos came from you.” 

You look back at his phone, your big smile reduced into a faint one that’s traced with melancholy. “I deleted them when I went to the US.” If he asks why, you wouldn’t know how to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t. He gets his phone back from your hand and fiddles with it a bit. A few seconds later, you hear a notification from your own phone. When you open it, all the photos are sent to you. 

He looks at you warmly, his face devoid of anything but heartfelt fondness. “There. Like you never got rid of them.”

---

You lie on your bed with bottomless thoughts that night. Kuroo’s words weighed more than they should in your head as you stare at the photos. 

You deleted them to completely erase any trace of his existence in your life. Now they’re back in your phone with not a single photo missing from the stack. Ironically, it’s also you who asked for them back. Yet, you don’t mind. You came to accept that those memories existed. They happened. There’s no use trying to forget they did when he’s already back in your life anyways.

Looking at you and Kuroo in the images, you can’t avoid thinking how simple those times were. You were just two cool people who had sex for fun. You had no clue things would happen as they did - falling for him, leaving, and for some reason - destiny or whatever, meeting him again. The past you tried to leave behind crept up to you and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

You thought you’ve moved on. You’ve thoroughly convinced yourself that you’ve disposed of all unnecessary emotions that involved Kuroo. You thought that whatever it is that you felt when you met him again was just remnants of yesterday. You were so wrong. That‘s just what you tried to tell yourself, repeating the idea over and over in your head until you believed it. 

But it never really happened. You haven’t forgotten about him. When you went on dates in the U.S., you’d remember him. So you stopped trying to see anyone and attributed that to being scared of getting hurt again. Hence, you shut yourself out to anyone until you no longer found dating to be interesting. You told yourself getting in a relationship would just get in the way of your career. 

That wasn’t true. 

The truth is just as he said. Your feelings for him are still there, you never did get rid of them. The question now is how to proceed from here.

You jerk when your phone rings right at your hand. 

‘Kuroo’

You don’t want to answer it. You basically just admitted to yourself that you’re still in love with him. Hearing his voice right now would be dangerous for your fragile heart.

But it might be something important. He doesn’t usually call.

You press the answer button. You were about to say hello, but your heart was beating so fast that you were unable to get any word out.

“Hello?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat so you could speak. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You sound a bit off?” How he could tell even through a phone call is unbelievable. “Everything’s fine. Why’d you call anyways?” You do your best to sound normal. “Block your Thursday next week. I’m throwing a party.”

“What for?”

“Mmm. Just felt like having one.”

You minimize the call to check your calendar if you had any plans that day. “Alright. I have an event in the morning, but that night’s free.”

“Nice!!” He sounded a bit too glad. 

“Is that why you called?” It’s a bit suspicious that he rang you just for that. It’s just a party. He could’ve texted you instead. 

“Why? Am I not allowed to call when I want to?” Your heart skips a beat from the playful tone in his voice. You picture him smirking on his phone while he’s lying in bed. You bite your lip at the image in your head. 

Screw you and your stupid imagination. 

“Good night, Kuroo.” You said dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else important anyways. He chuckles from the other line before speaking so ever softly with tenderness that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Good night, kitten.” 

It was just a simple good night but you were reeling. You fight the smile that was forcing itself to form on your lips. You look at your photos one more time and sigh. 

You are so in love with him. 

On the other end, Kuroo is all smiles to himself. Nothing beats hearing your voice after a long day. Once again, he stares at the photo Mitsuki gave him that afternoon. He wishes it was real. He wishes you were smiling for him, laughing with him, and happy with him. If only you gave any indication that you like him more than a friend, he would’ve made his move. 

Even though he knows you still desire him, he wouldn’t settle for just sex. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past. He wants something further than that and more importantly, you deserve better than that. But so far, he could tell you were enjoying the friendship and companionship only. Even if he wanted to take things forward, he’s not sure that that’s what you want. You haven’t given anything away for him to make his move. He doesn’t want to risk it and have you running for the hills. 

Will he ever make you fall for him? Should he just leave things as is or do something bolder for you to realize that to him, you’re not just a friend?

He sighs. 

He’s so in love with you.

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

taglist: @lia-faerie-queen​ @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @babythotshq​ @arendizzle​

[seanfalco]

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part III}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Catholicism, Religious imagery, Angst, Infidelity  (I’m also not Catholic, so hopefully I haven’t made any glaring errors.)

masterlist

Kay stood by the sanctuary doors under the pretense of greeting his parishioners, but really he was searching for one in particular.

He’d barely been able to eat or sleep since their mid-week lesson, [y/n]’s confession of feelings leaving him conflicted and distracted, barely getting this week’s sermon prepared on time.  Unsure what he would even say to her when he saw her— he knew nothing he could say would make things alright, not after he’d rejected her, but that didn’t stop him from just wanting to see her.

But when her fiance and his parents walked in, [y/n] nowhere to be seen, his heart dropped to his stomach, sharp disappointment filling him til he nearly couldn’t breathe.

“No [y/n] today?” he asked as he shook the others’ hands, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

“No, she’s not feeling well today,” Matthew answered.  “She’s been feeling off for several days now actually.”

“Poor dear, hopefully it’ll pass soon,” his mother murmured and Kay nodded, watching them as they took their seats, a frown twisting his lips.

What were the odds that [y/n] was actually sick and not just feigning illness to avoid him?  His stomach churned at the thought, but he made his way dutifully to the altar to start Mass.

If he thought it was hard to concentrate when [y/n] was out in the congregation watching him, this was even worse, his thoughts continuously straying to what she was doing, and if she was alright.

He ended up losing his place several times and by the end of the service he felt so anxious he thought he might be ill himself.  He idly thought about calling her from his office to check on her, but it wasn’t as if she’d be likely to answer, and there was no way he could just show up at her apartment — that’d be incredibly inappropriate, besides, what would he even say?

He already knew there was nothing he could say, though he wanted to.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he noticed someone enter the confessional and he sighed, heading that way.

This is your duty, get yourself under control, Kay, he told himself, opening the door to the priest’s compartment and took his seat.  Through the latticed partition he couldn’t tell exactly who was on the other side, and his thoughts returned to the other day.

“I’ve been having… impure thoughts.”

He shivered at the memory, his mind wanting to chase that line of thought to speculate what sort of sinful scenarios she’d been imagining him in.

No, Kay, what is wrong with you? He thought frantically.  Do not be swayed by sweet temptation.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.  It’s been, uh… well, a while since my last confession.”

Matthew’s voice on the other side of the partition jerked Kay back to the present, his gut twisting with guilt at what he’d nearly allowed himself to think about the other man’s betrothed.

“Go ahead, my child,” Kay prompted, hoping the other man wouldn’t notice how strained his voice was.

“Right, okay, uhh, where to start…?” Matthew mused.  He paused for a long moment as if thinking.  “Well, I’ve had a lot of sex… like, a lot,” he began, and Kay’s gut twisted farther at the thought of him and [y/n] before he forcefully pushed that image from his head.  “—And not just with my fiance.  There’s been others, sometimes even two at once—“

Kay frowned, interrupting the other man.

“Wait, are you saying you’re been unfaithful to [y/n]?” he asked, trying to keep the sharp bite of his anger from his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Matthew replied.  “I mean, as good as she in in bed, I don’t wanna be stuck having the same boring sex with one woman my whole life.  In fact, this whole marriage was my parents’ idea in the first place, and if I don’t go along with it they threatened to cut me off,” he explained, Kay’s anger mounting with each word.

“Does… does [y/n] know about this?” he asked, seething, his hands balling in his dark robes.

“No, I mean, she’d flip out if she did, and then she’d bail.”

Kay couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he couldn’t even warn [y/n]— confession was sacred.  What he heard in the confessional couldn’t be revealed to anyone.  But the worst part about it was the irony.  He’d pushed her away when she’d tried to tell him she wasn’t happy, thinking he might be breaking up a loving marriage, but it was already doomed to begin with.  Of course [y/n] was unhappy.

“So… what, Father, how many Hail Mary’s do I need to do to be good?” Matthew asked, pulling Kay’s attention back to him and he scowled. 

“That’s not how it works,” he countered.  “To be forgiven, you must truly repent and feel sorry for what you’ve done, and vow to the best of your abilities to not give into temptation and repeat your sin,” he explained sharply.  “If you have no intention of ceasing your adulterous ways then you cannot truly be forgiven.”

“Alright, alright,” Matthew relented, “I promise to the best of my abilities to avoid temptation,” he exclaimed, though it was clear by the tone of his voice that he had no intention of stopping.

In a hollow voice, Kay absolved the man of his sins and sent him on his way, unable to bring himself to leave the solitude of the confessional yet.  [y/n]’s words swam in his head, guilt and desire and temptation following them, gripping him.

“I never wanted this!  I still have feelings for you.  They never went away!”

Who was he kidding?  She was still all he’d ever wanted.  And if Matthew couldn’t see just how special she was, he didn’t deserve her.  [y/n] was right, he couldn’t give her what she wanted… but maybe Kay could.

“Ah shit,” he muttered under his breath.  

Without another thought, lest he talk himself out of it, Kay pushed open the door and hurried back to his office, shedding his robe and grabbing his keys.

——

It was the insistent pounding at the door that roused you from your fitful slumber, and you rolled over to check the time on your phone.  It looked like Mass would be over by now, but you couldn’t believe that that was Matthew at the door.

Maybe if you didn’t answer, whoever it was would give up and go away.  Besides, you weren’t exactly fit to be seen at the moment—!not having bothered to shower or change for the last few days, your eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying for hours on end. 

However, when the knocking persisted, growing, if possible more frantic, you reluctantly pushed yourself out of bed and threw your robe around yourself as you shambled to the door.

“I’m comin’, hold your fucking horses!” you called, peering through the peephole while your hand rested on the door knob.

When you saw who was standing outside, looking nervously around, you jerked back, your pulse instantly pounding loudly in your ears.

For a moment, you pressed your forehead to the door, trying to decide what to do.

“[y/n], please, I know you’re in there!  I just want to talk,” Kay called through the door and you took a steadying breath, unlocking the deadbolt, but leaving the chain in place, pulling the door open only a crack.

“What’re you doing here, Kay?” you demanded, though you didn’t give him a chance to speak.  “I think you already know why I didn’t come to church today, and if you’re here to ask me to come back to do my lessons, I’m not going.  I’ll call the Parish office tomorrow and request a new teacher—“

“That’s not why I’m here!” he exclaimed hastily, cutting you off and your eyes widened.  “Please, can I come in?  I don’t want to speak through the door and I want — I need to talk to you!”

The desperation in his voice and the wild light in his emerald eyes made you pause.  Biting your lip, you considered his plea.

“Okay, just… hold on a sec.”

Shutting the door to unlatch the chain, you wondered if you’d come to regret this, but something in his voice, in his eyes had swayed you.  You’d never seen him quite so frantic before.  Opening the door fully, you stepped aside so he could enter and you noticed he wasn’t wearing his white collar.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he passed and you quickly shut the door behind him, turning to face him while folding your arms defensively over your chest.

You were about to demand why he was there again when he spoke first, rendering you momentarily speechless.

“Oh, [y/n], you look awful” he exclaimed softly, worry lacing his voice as he took a step toward you, his hand reaching out.

Quickly looking away, you wiped at your already raw eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that were once more gathering.

“Kay… what do you want?” you asked instead, hating how your voice wavered.

He sighed heavily, his eyes going to the floor for a moment before lifting once more, his thick brows drawn down over a piercing gaze.

“Do you love him?” he demanded, his question taking you off guard and you faltered.

“I… I don’t know.  Why are you asking me that?”

At your answer Kay gaped at you in disbelief for a moment.  “Then why are you marrying him, [y/n]?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied automatically, your voice growing stronger as you continued.  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?  I need the stability Matthew can give me.  Besides, it’s not like I have much say in the matter, my parents—“

“That’s not a good enough reason!” Kay snapped and you recoiled as if slapped, knowing in your heart he was right.  “What about love?  Don’t you deserve that?” he exclaimed, a wild look in his eyes you’d never seen before.

The question stung and you bit your lip to keep from trembling.  “Yeah, well, maybe the man I love, I can’t have.  You made that clear enough the other day,” you muttered, drawing your arms around yourself and turning away so he couldn’t see the tears that filled your eyes.  “So, what does it matter anyway?”

Kay shook his head, opening his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come.  Instead, he closed the distance between you in one stride, his hands going to your face as his lips collided with yours, taking you by surprise.

As soon as his lips found yours, his hands reverently cupping your cheeks, you froze, your mind reeling and your breath catching, and before you knew what you were doing, you were kissing him back with a desperation that nearly tore you in two.

You were dreaming.  You must be.

But no, he was real, and solid, and right there, kissing you like you’d imagined so many times.  

Clutching at his shirt, you pulled yourself against him and his hands left your face, his arms wrapping around you, embracing you tightly and you responded in kind, slipping your arms around his neck as your lips moved against his hungrily.

Gasping a hasty breath, you didn’t pull back for long, your tongue darting out to taste him, and he moaned into your mouth as he gave in.

All too soon however, he was pulling back to look at you, his long dark curls falling into his face, and you lifted your chin, your eyes finding his.  “What made you change your mind?” you asked softly, barely daring to breathe, afraid all this would be taken from you again if you questioned it.

“I...I made a mistake,” he replied uncertainly, but as he continued, the fierceness from earlier returned to his voice.  “I was a fool, alright?  I lied, when you asked if I still felt anything for you.  I’ve been lying to myself for most of my life,” he exclaimed.

“All I’ve ever wanted was you.  I never stopped loving you, [y/n],” he confessed, the ache in your heart growing.  “You deserve so much more than… him,” he nearly whispered.  

At his words a myriad of questions sprang to mind, all clamouring for attention — what did this mean?  How was it supposed to work?  You were technically still engaged.  It would look rather suspicious if you and Kay were suddenly to run off together, but—

Before you could focus on any one thought for too long, Kay’s mouth was on yours once more and this kiss, if possible, was more passionate than before, your back making contact with the wall behind you with a soft thud and all those thoughts fled.

All you wanted to think about was what was happening now, in this moment, everything else could come later.

Afterall, how long had you imagined this?

“Kay,” you murmured, whining softly as he drew back, though he still held you tightly.

“[y/n],” he sighed, affection thick in his voice as he pressed his forehead to yours, his curls brushing your face.  “I need to get back,” he continued reluctantly, and you whined louder.

“Stay,” you begged, not loosening your grasp on him.  Part of you was afraid if you let him go, he’d disappear.

“I can’t,” he choked, as if it took all his willpower to refuse you.

“But… what happens now?” you asked, reluctantly, letting him step out of your embrace.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head as he caught his breath.  All he knew was that he wanted to stay and that was his sign to go… for now.  He was still a priest after all, even if his heart had given into this temptation.  “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, holding your face to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Watching him walk back out your door was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, but his promise echoed in your ears and you clutched to it. 

We’ll figure it out.

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

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @the-freckled-luba @xenteaart @gurlimtired @phoenixhits

[huntertales]

Part Four: All’s Well That Ends Well. (Bad Boys S09E07)

Episode Summary: When an old friend of Dean’s asks for help to solve a murder, Sam and the reader discover that the older Winchester as a secret past—one that will help solve the hunt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,476.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

There was never a better feeling than wrapping up a particular rough hunt. Before you and the boys could say your final goodbyes to everyone and hit the road back to Kansas, Dean wanted to stay a little longer and have a private chat with Robin after the eventful afternoon she endured. There was nothing stopping him from giving the woman a proper goodbye, the one she deserved to have all those years ago. She was starting to understand Dean's past more and why he moved around so often. The business he inherited from his father wasn't like her own, but there was a sort of satisfaction to it of helping people. 

"So, then, this is the family business?" Robin asked the man, still trying to wrap her head around everything she witnessed earlier today.

"Told you it was boring." Dean replied with a casual tone that made Robin laugh. She shook her head at his attitude that was too laid back for her personal comfort. She had a feeling he dealt with stranger things out there in the world. "Well, as you can see, I did not run off to become a rockstar." 

"Mm...I don't know about that." Robin said. She tilted her head and smiled at the man. Despite the years that passed between them, not many things changed about him from his youth. He was still the same. Except that he seemed more assured of himself, more confident. And perhaps a tad bit happier. "You look pretty rockin' to me, Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled at the woman's compliment. "And what about you?"

"I mean, I always thought that I would hate being in the same little town my whole life, and you know, taking over the diner like Dad always wanted, but...I don't. I just—I love it." Robin admitted. Dean was happy to hear about how the woman's life turned out. it was far from what she aspired to be when she was a teenager, but from the look on her face, she wouldn’t have it any other way. “How about you? The family business all that bad?”

“Well, it’s not all threatening to harm kids and spirits. It has its ups and downs, I’m not gonna lie. But it’s not all that bad.” Dean said. It was sort of funny to think back to the things the both of them discussed when they were teenagers. All their hopes and dreams for something different, wanting nothing more than to distance themselves from what their parents wanted, only to follow the exact same path they wanted to avoid. "I guess we didn't know everything we did at sixteen, huh?"

“Not everything.” Robin agreed. “Just some things.” 

She guessed everything happens for a reason. If he asked, she would admit to him that he felt like the one who got away. She wondered from time to time if things might have turned out differently if he stayed and they went on that date he promised her. Would their lives have ended up differently? For better or worse? She didn't know, and quite frankly, didn't really care. Robin was genuinely happy with the way her life turned out. It might not have been exciting and adventurous like Dean's, but she was okay with that. 

Robin found her mind wandering to a few different places with a couple of questions she wanted to try and pick Dean's brain before he left. She only had gotten a taste of what he went up against everyday. Part of her wanted to ask what kind of things were out there, but she had a feeling ignorance was bliss in this sort of situation. However there were other things she was curious about. She noticed Dean look over his shoulder to you and his brother, who had been talking to Sonny after he arrived back from the hospital. 

"Okay, I gotta know." Robin let out a quiet sigh from the intrusive thought that wouldn't leave her alone. She shoved her hands into her back pocket and casually glanced over your way. "Is Y/N your wife? I mean, I only ask because you don't seem the traditional type. And the both of you seem...pretty close.” 

“No. Not yet, at least.” Dean said. He found himself glancing back over in your direction again to see you talking to Sonny, seeming to have moved on from the update from the smile on your face. He prayed the older man who looked after him for those two months wasn’t telling you some kind of embarrassing story you’d most likely tease him about later when the both of you were alone. “I’m still waiting for the day she gets sick of me and runs off.” 

"Give yourself some credit. If she didn't snatch you up, maybe I would have." Robin teased the man. She took the man by surprise when she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Not in a romantic sort of way, but a thank you for everything he had given her. "Goodbye, Dean. If you ever happen to come back here, those banana pancakes will always be waiting for you." 

The older Winchester smiled at the woman's open invitation and quietly gave her a verbal goodbye. He watched as Robin mader her way up the porch steps and joined Timmy who had been lingering near the front door. The kid smiled and waved to Dean before joining Robin back inside his permanent home. Dean left this place with a better feeling than he had all these years ago. Sonny was a good man, if anyone could help a kid like Timmy, he was the perfect person to do so. 

Dean made his way over to you and Sam, overhearing the conversation about the things Timmy went through today and the person responsible for the deaths of Ruth and Jack, along with the harming of the other boy Sonny was looking over as well. Trauma and trouble were things Sonny was quite familiar with. And he'd do anything in his power to make sure the kid grew up in a loving home.

"Sounds like Timmy's gonna need some help adjusting." Sonny said. 

"Yeah, but he's got you." Dean told the man. 

"I always hate to see you go, dee-dawg. Can't thank you enough for this one, man." Sonny reached out and shook the older Winchester's hand before embracing him into a quick hug. 

"Sonny, we'll see you around." Dean gave his final goodbyes to the man, a little disappointed all of you had to leave so soon. He'd like to stick around for a little while longer and catch up with Sonny, but he was starting to miss his own bed after a stressful hunt like the one all of you endured. 

"You bet on that, kids." Sonny said. "Take it easy, man." 

All of you gave your final goodbyes to the man before you watched Sonny make his way back up to the house to join the boys. You let out a quiet sigh and walked to the Impala that was parked a few feet away. As you reached for the backseat door, Sam found himself caught up with how the hunt ended. The situation looked like it was going to end horribly, until it didn't. Talking out problems to the monster straight on almost never worked. But for some reason it did in this situation. 

"Hey, how did you know Timmy asking his mom to leave was gonna work?" Sam asked his brother, a little bit curious to hear the answer.

“I didn’t. Total Hail Mary.” Dean admitted. “Got lucky.”

"You just got lucky?" Sam repeated his brother's response, seeming to find it a bit funny like the man did. "Kind of like you did with this place. I mean, here I was thinking this was the worst part of your life, and it turns out it was the best. Why'd you ever leave?"

Dean would never admit the truth about this place to either one or Sam. There were some things about his life that he wanted to remain a secret. "Never felt right." Dean said. Sam didn't seem to fully believe the excuse his brother tried to use, you simply looked between both of the boys, understanding the things neither one of them wanted to say. "It was two months, Sam, okay, and I couldn't wait to get out of here. I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me." 

The boys were good liars when they wanted to be. If you keep telling yourself the same thing over and over again, eventually you'd start to believe it, too. You opened up the car door and slid yourself inside with the brothers following in suit. Dean could lie to your face all you wanted, but you knew there was a special place in his heart for this home and Sonny. A possibility in your life that didn't turn out to be. A chance for normality that never came. For Sam it was his college years, and Dean it was here. While it never lasted long, the chance of getting a taste was sweet enough. Because what you wanted in the moment might not be the thing you really wanted after all. Something made all of you choose hunting instead of a normal life. 

Sam had a hunch of what made Dean decide not to stay at Sonny's all those years ago and join him and John. Something Dean always chose. His older brother never once abandoned him over the years. He was always there for him, always wanting to look out for him. Dean made sacrifices the way a parent did. And never once over the years did he make Sam feel guilty over it. He did what he always did, protected him. 

"Dean...thank you." Sam muttered two words he felt he didn't say enough to his brother. Dean's face slowly morphed into confusion at the compassion being thrown his way. He asked what for. "For always being there, for having my back. Look, I know it hasn't always been easy."

The car fell into silence at the heartfelt words Sam needed to say after understanding the importance of this place to his brother, even if he didn't want to say it. Dean swallowed at the shift in atmosphere. The heaviness of the guilt his brother must be feeling at the moment. In true Dean fashion, the man denied anything to help avoid a deeper conversation. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

You rolled your eyes at the man's response, not sure why you were expecting anything else from him. Dean turned on the engine and put the car into drive, sending the Impala forward and down the dirt path out of Sonny's ranch. You looked out the window to get one more good look at the place before turning your attention back to the road. 

+ + +

There was never a better feeling than coming back to the bunker and unwinding after the rough hunt you had. Sam decided he wanted to tackle the book he wanted to read and headed off to the library, you decided not to delay the unpacking you needed to do and the laundry that was starting to pile up in your hamper. You threw your duffel bag to the bed and reached to unzip it. pulling out the dirty clothes and throwing them to the overflowing pile of others. You let out a quiet sigh of annoyance and debated with yourself if you really wanted to do this right now...

Lucky for you, a momentary distraction came to you when Dean stepped into your shared bedroom with his own overnight bag he threw over to the couch. You'd been meaning to talk to him about the hunt. You watched as he kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the bed, relaxation finally coming over him after the long drive. You joined him without needing to be asked, curling up to his side and taking the rightful place you loved to be. You didn't entertain small talk like how you normally did when you wanted to ask Dean persona questions like you normally did. 

“I’ve been thinking...” You began.

“That’s never good.” Dean was quick to try and humor you with jokes that made him laugh, you responded with an eye roll like always. 

"What do you think our lives would be like if we never met? If you never left Sonny’s?" You asked him the question that had been burning in the back of your mind for a while now. Dean could try and deny the truth all he wanted to you, but you knew him better than he knew himself. You sat up so you were staring at him in the eye to see his reaction from your question. "I know Sammy’s the reason why you really left.” 

You watched as Dean opened his mouth to try and deny such a claim. You raised your brow slightly and waited for him to try and stop the conversation before it could go any further. He shot down all of you every time you tried to dig deeper into this part of his past. But it seemed he didn't want to deny anything with you. He let out a quiet sigh. "I couldn't leave the kid alone." 

“That’s what makes you the best big brother, ever.” You mumbled, a smile spreading across your lips. “I could picture you turning out to be like Sonny. Having a home for little wayward boys, making them better people. Maybe settle down with Robin...be happy.” 

“You think I’d settle down with Robin?” Dean teased you from the way you trailed off before finishing your sentence. Speaking words that almost sounded like they left a bad taste in your mouth from the thought alone of not having a life with him. “Are you jealous?”

“What? No!” You jumped a little too quickly to deny such a claim from him. You rolled your eyes when the smirk that spread across his lips grew a little wider at your reaction to his question. You reached out to fix the flannel he was wearing so it laid flat, using the few moments between your words to help formulate your thoughts better. “Far from it, actually. It was nice meeting someone from your face that wasn’t a hookup. I...I’m happy your life wasn’t that bad all the time.” You were now fidgeting with his buttons from what you said. “You got to have somewhat a normal life. Experience the awkwardness of being a teenager. Date a nice girl. Even if it only lasted a few months. It just makes me wonder what your life could have been if you stayed.” 

“I never really thought about it.” Dean shrugged, giving you the honest truth. “Not recently, at least.” 

You looked up at him after focusing on his shirt for a little while longer, asking another question. “Was she the first girl you got serious with?” 

"Why'd you ask that?" Dean's expression changed into slight confusion at such an odd sounding question. You saw his brow scrunch together as he wondered to himself if you 

 were jealous. Not of what she was to him, but the fact that it wasn't you who gave him the teenage bliss of first dates and making out on porches. Stupid things every sixteen year old got to experience. Things you missed out on when you were his age.

“Because of the way you acted around her when you first saw her at the diner. You acted like you were more than old friends." You said. "You get this look in your eye when you're around girls who...gave you something you never really got to have." 

“She made me understand what it was like to be a teenager. What relationships were like.” He said. “But she doesn’t compare to you. Not even by a long-shot.” 

"I know our paths were supposed to cross and all that crap, but sometimes I wonder what things would be like if we were just...normalish.” You said. “What if we never met back up as teenagers? We might have gone our entire lives not knowing each other. You really might have become a famous rockstar. I could have been an adoring fan of yours!” 

"Would have you been one of those groupies who'd do anything to get backstage to meet the singer?" Dean asked, wiggling his brow to prove his point. You quietly laughed at the way his mind always seemed to wander. "Do you think you would have gone to college and live the life the way your mom wanted if we never met?"

“Mmm, perhaps. Maybe I’d settle down with some schmuck and live some boring life.” You quietly laughed at the thought of having the American dream most people craved to have. A boring job with a white picket fence and a spouse they’d most likely divorce in ten years. “I can picture myself having some lame career. Pop out a few kids. Definitely would have a dog…I mean, how can I not?”

“We’re not getting a dog. Or a cat. You know my allergies wouldn’t handle it.” He quickly shot down your idea of adding a furry pet into your family when you looked at him the way you were right now. You still were a bit  bummed since you wrapped up the case with the Colonel a few weeks back. You’d do anything to give him a proper home, but you knew that it was impossible with the life you lead. “Sammy’s kind of like a dog. He’s hairy enough. And Kevin’s like a cat. He never leaves and sometimes roams from room to room.” 

“You’re terrible.” You lightly whacked Dean in the chest at his horrible joke that made you smile. He chuckled to himself and titled his head to the side that you found adorable. For some reason you found yourself staring into his eyes, a rush of emotions came over you. Sometimes it happened when the light hit him just right or he was simply doing something mundane. It was the realization that Dean was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He was your soulmate, your better half. Even if he was a bit of an idiot sometimes. He was all yours. And fate had led you together. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He whispered back to you. He leaned down slightly to give you a sweet and simple peck on the lips. “And don’t you forget that.” 

“I won’t.” You promised him. “Not ever.” 

Maybe that’s why he kept this of his past a secret for all these years. John told Sam that his older brother got lost on a hunt because it was just easier for everyone. Sam wouldn’t understand why John couldn’t pick his brother back up from this place. You bet that even at twelve years old Sam butted heads with his father. 

And Dean never told the truth because...because this place was something that made him think for a second that the life he had wasn’t what he wanted. He could’ve changed it around and never looked back. He could’ve gone to that dance like a normal teenager and continued on with Robin. He could’ve finished up school and possibly went off to college. Learn guitar from and become a big rockstar. Or go to college and study engineering. Dean was smart, much as he doubted himself at times. There was an opportunity to change his life around and stay with someone who cared for him and gave the right kind of tough love he needed at times. And he would’ve done it, only if he was an only child. Maybe if Sam was a few years older and was able to take care of himself on his own. 

Dean’s life could have gone in a million different directions if he wanted All of your lives could have. The one he was given was tough and unbearable at times. He suffered too much grief and constantly had a crisis that needed solving. But the good outweighed the bad. If his life didn’t go the way it did, he wouldn’t have met you. Or Cas. And few people he called friends. Dean learned that his life, good or bad, was his own to control after all the crap he dealt with before in the past. It wasn’t perfect, God knows that, but it was his. He was able to do anything he wanted. And the realization made him think back to what he said about you to Robin when she asked if you and him were married. Not yet...but soon. He hoped very soon. 

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink  // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner  // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha //   @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink //  @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans //  @icantfindacreativeurl //  @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat // @romanovanoffsstuff // @underthestarrsss // @lady-elena-adeline

Message me if you would like to be added!

[iamtrebleclefstories]

it’s all because of you

So I FINALLY finished Coco’s bday fic. Sorry it’s so late, but I hope you enjoy this one-shot @cicinicole-14

Alex tells Jo about Eli & Alexis immediately after finding out about them

—————————

“Hey so, I wasn’t able to find the chips that you wanted but I did buy some of that ice cream we both really love,” Jo walked into the loft and paused when she saw the distraught look on Alex’s face. “Oh God. What happened? Is something wrong? Did something happen with Meredith’s trial? Alex?”

“Huh?” Alex looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor for the past thirty minutes after he made the phone call that rocked his entire world.

“Alex, what’s going on? Who died?”

“No one—no one died,” Alex shook his head.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Jo placed the bags of groceries on the counter and moved to sit next to him on the couch. “Alex. Baby, what’s going on? You’re worrying me. Please tell me. I want to help you.”

“I... I don’t even know how to say this,” Alex buried his head in his hands. He let out a nervous breath. “I have kids. Two of them. Twins.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes bulged. “Oh my God. Who did you—when... Alex did you cheat on me? Or was this when we were broken up? I won’t yell, just please tell me.”

“No, no, Jo!” Alex’s eyes shot up to her terrified expression. “I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t sleep with someone else. Not even when we were broken up a few years ago. Babe, I haven’t been with anyone other than you in the past eight years.”

“Oh,” Jo sighed in relief. “Okay. So, how...”

“You remember the embryos?” Alex stared up at Jo who looked like she might puke at any given moment. He hated that he was doing this to her. She had just gotten better after a tough depressive episode. Jo didn’t deserve the stress of this burden that was his to bear. But he also knew that she deserved the truth and he’d be damned if he wasn’t completely forthcoming with the one person who’d been there for him through it all. “I called Izzie. I told myself it was just for the trial. To get Mer a letter of support. And at first, that’s exactly what it was. But then we started talking and it felt nice, normal. I felt all the nostalgia while talking to her and I can’t lie to you Jo, but it made me kind of miss her.”

“Oh God,” Jo pressed a hand to her mouth and ran to the trash bin and threw up. She felt Alex come behind her, held her hair, and rubbed her back lightly as he waited for her stop vomiting. Jo took a deep breath and straightened her back. She leaned against the wall and slumped down onto the floor, eyes closed. “You’re going to leave me, right? You’re gonna leave me for Izzie and the babies she has with your face on them. It’s over isn’t it?” Jo lost her fight with her tears. “Well it was good while it lasted, wasn’t it? I should’ve known. You can’t hold on to anything you don’t want to lose.”

“Jo, baby, I’m not leaving you. I swear to God. This doesn’t change the fact that I love you more than life itself, or that I want to be your husband and grow old with you. This changes none of that,” Alex crouched down in front of her and squeezed her knee. “Let me finish what I was trying to say.” Jo nodded at Alex to continue. “Then she told me all about her job as surgical oncologist and all of the things she’d accomplished. I told her how proud I was and shared that I got into peds and that I’m Chief of Surgery at Pac North. I told her all about how I’m cleaning the place up. Then she asked me if I���d met anyone and that’s when I told her about you. About how we met and fell in love and got married, and she was happy for me, for us. Really happy. She was asking me to send her a few of our wedding pictures when I heard them.”

Alex clutched Jo’s hands tightly within his own, “I heard kids laughing in the background, so I asked her if she had kids. She said yes. She has five year old twins, Eli and Alexis Stevens. They’re mine. She used our embryos.”

“She used the embryos. They’re five years old,” Jo repeated, attempting to process the information she’d just been given while staying strong for Alex. “So, it turns out when I found that form all those years ago, you already had not one, but two Izzie babies crawling around with your face on them.”

“Yeah,” Alex had a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry Jo. I should’ve—I should’ve called her years ago. Before we—because then I would’ve—“

“Before we got married,” Jo looked at Alex intensely. “That’s what you were gonna say right? You wish you would’ve known before we got married, or better yet, before we got serious, so that you could be with them. So that you could be their dad and be with Izzie and have the family you always wanted.” Jo wiped a couple tears. “But you didn’t call. I told you to call her two years ago and you didn’t do it. And now you’re stuck with me.”

“Jo, you know that we were never not serious. From the minute I kissed you, I knew you were it for me. I’m not stuck with you. I chose you and I’ll always choose you,” Alex shook his head and stared at their joined hands. “I gave up my rights when we got divorced, so she had every right to use them. But I just keep thinking about how I have kids and I never knew. I just wish I would’ve known. I would’ve done things differently. I wish Izzie would’ve told me. But she didn’t, so now I’ve lost five years of my kids’ lives and I don’t know how to even feel about it. I don’t know if I’m allowed to feel upset about it. I’m basically just their sperm donor.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be upset, Alex,” Jo placed a hand on his cheek. As much as Jo was in pain and as scared as she was to lose him, Jo knew that she had to be there for her husband. “When you and Izzie made those embryos, it was always under the understanding that you’d do it together. You never thought she’d use them after the fact.” Jo took a deep breath. “So, are you going to do anything about this? Are you going to meet them?”

“I don’t know,” Alex shook his head. “Iz said I could go see meet them. They live on a farm in the middle of freaking no where Kansas. They don’t know about me, though. Izzie never told them and they never asked. It’s just her and the kids. Well, she’s got this detective boyfriend now, but he doesn’t try to pretend to be their father.” Alex ran a hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter right now, though. What matters is Meredith’s trial. I can’t—I can’t focus on that and focus on the trial. After the trial is over, maybe I’ll revisit this, but I can’t Jo. I can’t.”

——————

In retrospect, Jo thinks maybe she should’ve thought things through a little better before packing a bag and flying out to Kansas in the middle of the night. It was an impulse decision, and like most impulse decisions, probably not the most wise one. But as soon as she touched down in Kansas at 8am the next morning, Jo knows that she made the right choice.

Jo walked out of her terminal and hailed a cab to take her to the nearest coffee shop or diner. She got dropped off at a small local diner that looked like it had been frozen in the 1960s. Finally mustering up what little courage she had left, Jo took her phone out of her pocket and dialed the number she had been dreading to dial. It rang four times before someone answered.

“Hello?” It was a woman’s voice in the background. “Hello? Can I help you?”

Jo cleared her throat, “Hi. Is this Izzie Stevens?”

“Yes, this is she,” the woman on the other line responded. “Who’s this?”

“Hi. This is uh—Jo, Jo Karev.”

“Oh my goodness,” Izzie’s gasp of surprise was heard over the line. “Jo! Alex’s wife Jo?”

“Yeah. That’s me,” Jo let out a breath. “Look, I don’t want to cause any issues or problems. Alex doesn’t even know that I’m calling or anything, but I was hoping you and I could meet. I’m here in Kansas.”

“You’re—you’re here?” Izzie asked, some shuffling being heard in the background. “Yes, of course. Where are you? Where should I meet you?”

“I’m at a diner in Kansas City. I can send you my location, if you’d like,” Jo suggested.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. I can be there in an hour,” Izzie replied. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

—————

“Jo! What the hell? Where are you? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past ten hours. I woke up and you were gone,” Alex shouted angrily over the FaceTime call. “You didn’t leave a note or anything. No one knew where you were.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jo sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. There was just… something I had to do.”

“Where are you? Please tell me. Jo, I don’t want to lose you, ever and right now you’re scaring me,” Alex’s brows furrowed. “Just… tell me you’re okay. Tell me that you’re not gonna leave me or hurt yourself.”

“What? Alex, no,” Jo shook her head. “I would never leave you. And I wouldn’t hurt myself. I swear.” Jo bit her lip nervously. “I’m not in Seattle. I caught a flight in the middle of the night last night, to Kansas.”

“Kansas?” Alex’s eyes widened. “What—why—what are you doing in Kansas?”

“I’m in Baldwin City,” Jo answered simply, knowing that Alex would immediately know the exact reason.

Alex’s face grew serious, “Why are you there Jo?”

“I spoke with Izzie. I’m actually in a guest room at the farmhouse right now,” Jo confessed. “I just… I couldn’t stand around and watch you feel conflicted. The trial was a week ago and you still haven’t made a decision about what it is that you want to do. And I’m not trying to rush you, I swear. But, you’ve been there for me when I needed it. You spoke for me when I couldn’t speak for myself. You reacted when I couldn’t demonstrate things effectively for myself. So, I wanted to do this for you. I wanted to come out here and talk to Izzie and tell her all the feelings that you’re not quite sure how to express.”

“I never asked you to do that for me,” Alex had an unreadable expression on his face.

“You didn’t have to,” Jo looked at his face over the video call expectantly.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Alex asked after a couple moments in silence.

“You have really cute kids. Your son looks exactly like you and your daughter might as well be a miniature evil spawn from how Izzie described her,” Jo chuckled and averted her gaze from the screen. “I didn’t meet them. Just Izzie. I didn’t think it would be right for me to meet your kids before you do or before you even knew I was here.”

“Izzie wants me to meet them?” Alex questioned.

“Your kids want to meet you,” Jo stated quietly. “They know about you. They’ve seen pictures. Izzie asked me to send her a few pictures of us two when she and I met. She texted me about an hour ago. Eli and Alexis are very eager to meet Dad and JoJo.” Jo watched as Alex’s face contorted in a variety of emotions. “I bought you a ticket to Kansas City Airport. It leaves first thing tomorrow morning. I hope you’ll take it.”

—————

“JoJo!” Alexis shrieked as Jo opened the loft door, throwing her arms around her stepmother’s now protruding abdomen. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Jo placed a light kiss on the young girl’s forehead. She laughed at Alexis’ widening eyes as her tiny hands were met with strong, powerful kicks. “And it looks like someone else also missed you.”

Alexis pressed her face up to Jo’s belly, “Hi baby. I missed you too.”

“JoJo!” Eli jumped forward and squeezed Jo as best as he could with her round belly in the way. “I couldn’t wait to see you!”

“And I couldn’t wait to see you,” Jo ruffled his hair as he and Alexis went off to play in the living room.

“Hi, Jo,” Izzie smiled warmly.

“Iz!” Jo wrapped Izzie in a hug. “How was your flight?”

“It was pretty smooth, which is surprising considering these two are definitely all Karev,” Izzie and answered and pointed to the twins. “I was convinced they’d pull off some prank or joke that got us kicked off the airline forever.”

“Well, I’m glad the kids didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Jo laughed. “Sometimes I get really worried about this kid’s temperament because Alex and I weren’t exactly the most well-behaved children. At least the twins have you.”

“I wasn’t exactly the best example either,” Izzie shook her head. “I got pregnant at sixteen. As long as I can make it through their teenage years without Alexis getting pregnant or Eli getting someone pregnant, I’ll consider that a victory.”

“Setting the bar really high, I see,” Alex spoke from behind the two women as he walked inside the door with grocery bags in his hand. He leaned down to kiss Jo. “Hey, babe.” And gave Izzie a quick hug. “Hey, Iz.”

“Daddy!!” Alexis and Eli shot up from the couch as soon as they noticed their father had walked through the door and begun to place the groceries on the table.

“Hey kiddos,” Alex lifted the two of them up in his arms and peppered light kisses on their faces. “I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too, Daddy!” Alexis squeezed her dad’s head tightly. “Two months is too long.”

“I agree,” Alex grinned.

“You know, that was actually something I wanted to talk to you two about,” Izzie sat down on one of the stools at the table. “I broke up with Carter last month.”

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, Izzie,” Jo placed a hand on Izzie’s arm.

“No it’s okay. It was a mutual thing,” Izzie waved it off. “Anyway, I don’t really have anything left for me in Kansas and my mom is here in Chehalis. Also, you guys have a baby on the way and I’d really love it if Eli and Lex grew up next to their sibling. So, I was thinking that maybe the kids and I could move back to Seattle.”

Jo and Alex exchanged a look before simultaneously answering.

“Yes! That’s a great idea!” “We’d love it if you moved back.”

“Really?” Izzie beamed. “That’s amazing! Okay, I’ll start making arrangements for the move and look into buying a house here. I can’t wait to tell the kids!”

“We can’t wait for you guys to make Seattle your home,” Jo made a little noise of excitement.

————

“What?” Jo asked as she looked up from the book she was reading later that night to find Alex staring at her strangely.

“Nothing,” Alex shrugged and placed his hand on her stomach. “Just thinking about how much I love you and how grateful I am that you’re my wife.”

“Really now,” Jo hummed. “You do know that it doesn’t matter how many sweet words you say to me tonight, we are not having sex. The twins are asleep on the couch in front of us.”

Alex laughed, “I’m not trying to get in your pants.”

“Huh. What a miracle,” Jo raised an eyebrow. “You’re always trying to get into my pants.”

“That’s true,” Alex smiled smugly. “I normally get in them, too.”

Jo slapped his shoulder playfully, “Perv.”

“Seriously, though. I’m very grateful for you,” Alex brought Jo closer to him and looked deeply into her eyes. “If it weren’t for you, those kids wouldn’t be knocked out on our couch and snoring like truckers. If it weren’t for you, I probably never would’ve gotten the balls to go meet them or maybe I would’ve met them and done something stupid in the process. But you went to Kansas and talked to Izzie and assured me that this was a good thing. And it is. It’s the best thing. We have a family, Jo. A real family. And it’s all because of you.”

“I love you,” Jo replied, eyes shining. “And I love our kids.”

“I love you, too.”

[buckysmischief]

A Prophecy Fulfilled

Pairing: Hades!Loki x Aphrodite!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: The journey to finding your true love is said to be long and difficult- well then it’s a good thing you’re Aphrodite, the goddess of love. You might know their names, but their stories are very different. Will it end in love, or will it be just another Greek tragedy? Or that one time Hades thought he could pull one over on the Goddess of Love.

AN: This was originally apart of a series but due to creative differences (between my brain and my heart) I’ve decided to just make this a one shot. Hope you still like it :)

follow @delusionalteenagewhispers​ for more :)

Warnings: language, drinking, adult content 18+, angst, & this will not 100% follow any mythology, I had to tweak some things to follow the story. I linked the character list (cause certain characters call others by certain names) so no one gets confused. 

Character list | Song inspo

“‘Dite, darling, come back to bed will you?”

“I just have to let Cerberus out before he goes to bed, I’ll be right back.” You kiss Loki lightly on the mouth and lead the puppy outside. Pietro would be arriving to take you back to Mount Olympus in the morning. Loki was kind enough to set up the arrangement since it meant you’d be able to travel there more, living in the Underworld just wasn’t an option for you unfortunately.

Loki took trips to see you often, too, but he loves to be in his domain. He loves the privacy, the screams of souls echoing, being alone with you without a random God or Goddess barging in because honestly does anyone knock on this damn Mountain?

You open the door for Cerberus and watch as he chases the shadows, thinking about the week ahead. There were a few meetings you had to attend, punish a few mortals, catch up with Dani, and then Loki should arrive before Tony’s party.

“Come on Cerby, let’s go cuddle with daddy!” you scooped the hound off the floor and began your walk back to the master suite, finding Loki sound asleep you crawl underneath the black silk sheets and embrace yourself in your lovers warmth.

After you drift off to sleep, you find yourself having a curiously pleasant dream. You feel warm and tingly, which is odd because are you supposed to be able to feel this kind of sensation in a dream? Slowly the feeling of ecstasy begins building in your core, and you’re being pulled back to reality by the image of Loki in between your legs.

Once awake, he pretends not to notice and slips two of his fingers inside of you. As he began to suck on your clit, his fingers quickly found your g-spot and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

He takes a moment to look up at you, without slowing, to watch your body writhe around the sheets. “You can stop holding it in, little one. I know you’re awake, now come for me.” You pull his hair when he moans into your core, your moans loud enough to wake the dead.

A few minutes later, after you both have caught your breath, you curl up on his chest and begin to aimlessly trace your finger onto his skin. “Not that I’m complaining-”

“-I’d be offended if you were.”

“But what do you want? That was too good for you not to want anything in return.” Loki picked you up and carried you to the washroom, Pietro will be here any moment and you rather him not see you in this state. It’s all the Olympians would be talking about for at least a week.

“Is it so hard to believe I only wish to please you in as many ways I can, especially when I won’t be seeing you for a few days?” he sat you down on the counter and began cleaning the inside of your thighs. You were still sensitive, but Loki was always gentle with you. When he needed to be, of course.

“No,” you smirked,  “but according to everyone, since you’re Hades, you’re supposed to be this mean man who will inevitably hurt me, that you naturally have bad intentions, things like that.”

“And you believe them?” he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“No, never.” You raised a hand to his chin, tilting his head slightly so he would look you in the eyes, “I was just kidding, I know you’d never hurt me.” He leaned in to give you a kiss, but was interrupted by Cerberus barking at Pietro flying through the palace.

“We’ll pick this up in a few moons, darling. Now please, get your insufferable friend out of the Underworld.”

-

Once arriving, you and Pietro begin walking to meet Dani and his sister, Wanda, who had no idea you were coming home today. “So, I assume you’re going to Hephaestus’ party?” Pietro, Hermes, preferred to call all of the gods and goddesses by their godly names, but he answered to either. For everyone else, it simply depended on the occasion.

“Oh great, you’re back.” Ares. His friends called him Bucky, but you two were not friends. ”One of these days, I can only hope Hades keeps you down there. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to live the rest of my life in peace.”

No one, not even you, knows why he has such a problem with you. You had your theories though, but only one stuck; you were basically opposites. He brooded around Olympus, and only lightened up when Steve and Sam were around. You simply let love guide you, and always tired to wear a smile.

“You know,” you spun around to face him, “if you just let me add a little love to your life it would probably help with, well, whatever problem you have with me.”

He turned around and mumbled, “You’ve done enough, Aphrodite.”

“What did you say?!” you yell, turning to Pietro, “What did he say? He’s such an ass!”

“I’ve got 50 drachma that says he’s in love with you but doesn’t know how to handle it.” he chuckles. “What’s that mortal saying? All’s fair in love and war? It fits the situation, don’t you think?”

You quickly dismissed his comment, there’s no way Ares feels anything for you other than animosity. For as long as you could remember that’s just how it’s always been with him; smoldering eye contact, hateful words, ignoring you entirely, and now he wants you out of Olympus entirely.

But none of that mattered right now, you were walking up the path to Dani’s house and nothing - not even Ares - could ruin being reunited with your best friends.

Before you could even announce yourself, Wanda is running out of the doors and pulling you into a warm embrace. “YN, you’re back! And you,” she eyes Pietro, “you couldn’t have given me a heads up she was coming back today?”

“Hebe, please, you know Hades would have my head if I went behind ‘Dites back.”

Before she could respond, Dani is pulling you away from the twins. “Aphrodite.. you bitch. How dare you leave me with these two for a month?!”

“Well hello to you too. Should I have just gone home? Besides, I thought you’d have been busy with Steve.” You giggle.

“I brought Hercules up a few times for her. She was veeeery busy, if you know what I mean.” Pietro’s always one to diffuse tension, even if it’s friendly, and especially between the three of you. Sure, the conversations always start out at normal volume, but they never stay that way and if you asked him, he was certain someone was going to take it too far.

“Leave Steve out of this,” Dani pointed, giving him her best ‘you keep talking and I’ll end you’ look, “I’m trying to be an angry best friend.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll take that as my cue to leave, I have official business anyways.” He gave each of you a hug, and flew off to gods know where. You had a theory that he was always running off to hook up with random mortals again, and Dani agreed. He was single, attractive, and had a very persuasive smile. Wanda on the other hand refused to think about her brother in that way at all, not even to give an opinion.

The three of you go inside and Wanda immediately began brewing tea, knowing there would be a lot to catch up on. She began by telling you the latest gossip around Olympus, like how Scott and Bucky got into a heated argument - no one knows over what -  and Scott literally threw him into the sea.

“You’re joking,” almost spitting out your tea, ���I would have given all my drachma to see that.”

“It was all... ‘you need to cool down.’ ‘Don’t tell me to cool down.’ ‘Fine let me show you how to cool down.’ SPLASH! ...Gods you should’ve seen the look on Bucky’s face when he came back out of the water.” Dani does her best to look simultaneously angry and half-drowned.

“Probably just as gorgeous.” you roll your eyes, taking another sip of your tea. “Don’t you look at me like that! The guy’s a major pain in my ass, but I’m not blind!”

As the night continued, tea turned into wine and the light gossip turned into full on conspiracy theories. Apparently Clint had a prophecy about one of the big three, and wouldn’t tell anyone what it was, only that “things are finally going to get interesting around here again,” which meant everyone was naming off ways Loki would cause a riot.

“Which means it’s time for me to leave, it’s getting late.” you say your goodbyes and begin your walk home under the moonlight.

-

Waking up to the sun beaming on your face was something you’d never take for granted, it was what you missed most while staying with Loki.

But Scott, the idiot, had to go and ruin it. How? Oh, by riding a literal wave into your bedroom window and almost drowning you, of course.

“Scott, you fucking asshole, WHAT IS YOUR PROMBLEM!?” you scream, chasing him outside.

“You didn’t come see me yesterday, my feelings got hurt.”

Scott was the youngest of the big three, and he sure as hell acted like it. He was stupid and impulsive, the only reason you put up with his shenanegans is because he’s your oldest friend, you’d go to war for eachother.

“Please tell me you’re kidding, or so help me Zeus, I won’t stop Loki the next time you pick a fight with him!”

He stopped running and spun around, quickly grabbing you by the arms before you could run into him, “Am I not Poseidon, God of the Sea?” he mocks. “Does that mean anything anymore?”

“Ah, yes,” you push off his chest and bow, “All hail Poseidon, God to No One!”

Once again, you were being drenched in water. “You take that back, little goddess.”

“Don’t you little goddess me, now clean this up while I attempt to find something dry to wear.”

You knew it wouldn’t take Scott long to clean up all the water, but deciding on an outfit was proving to be difficult. After what felt like an hour, you chose a light pink gown and gold accessories. But before you could put anything on, you hear an impatient Scott behind you, “Loki has one rule, Scott.”

“Yeah, and it’s a stupid rule. I saw you naked before he even remembered your name.” He wasn’t wrong. When you were younger, he would take you swimming whenever he could. What would the mortals call it? Oh, right, skinny dipping.

As you both got older, seeing the other naked never got uncomfortable. But when Loki found out, he suggested to his younger brother that he should keep his eyes to himself. And you respected that, but Scott had to defy his brother at every opportunity.

Only after you were done changing did you turn around and respond to him, “I told you, I don’t want to be apart of y’alls sibling rivalry. Now really, why are you here?”

His usual smiling face turned serious, eyes no longer meeting yours, “Have you heard Apollo’s newest prophecy?”

Not this again. “Just that you or one of your brothers are going to do something that will shake this place up, but Clint is being tight lipped on who it’s about.”

“It’s about Hades.”

Something about the way Scott confirmed your suspicions made you feel uneasy. Your stomach was in knots, and your head felt light. Loki was always planning insane things, what could be so different about whatever he’s up to now? “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, that’s all I know.” He was lying, poorly, and you both knew it, “I was just wondering if you knew anything, you know, so I can be ready.”

You chose not to ask what he was hiding, you weren’t ready to accept there was a chance Loki was willing to do anything to risk your happiness.

“No, he’s not up to anything. He’d tell me.”

-

The days leading up to Tony’s party, and Loki’s arrival, went as expected. Meetings concluded without much of a fuss, except the occasional smart ass comment from Ares. But you got to spend almost all of your free time with Dani, Wanda, and Natasha, and that helped a lot. It was good to be home.

You had been spending the morning in Thor’s garden, away from all the chaos that was happening inside. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to catch up with Thor properly, but he didn’t just invite Clint and Sam, but Ares as well. You were in far too good of a mood to let him ruin it.

Surprisingly enough, it was Pietro who cut your good morning short by delivering that stupid letter. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, I don’t even know what it says!”

You ball up the piece of paper and throw it at his head, “He isn’t able to make it up here for a few days at least, he didn’t give a reason.”

“So he’s missing the party?” Clint asked, stepping outside.

“Don’t even bring up your stupid prophacy,” you could tell what he was thinking just by the look he had on his face, he was taunting you, “if he was up to something he’d tell me. He always tells me!”

Thor, Sam and Ares came outside as soon as they heard you yelling at Clint. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. But he didn’t have to enjoy these situations so much.

“Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the prophecy,” Ares was leaning against a column next to Sam, you didn’t understand how anyone could stand to be around him for longer than absolutely necessary. “Maybe he’s just bored with you, maybe you’re not worth breaking up with in person, or maybe whatever love spell you put him under has finally worn off.”

If you could throw the god into the depths of Tartarus, he’d already be down there. Who did he think he was talking to you like that, about Hades no less. You took a moment to collect yourself - the only things you could feel at the moment were anger and hate, neither of which did you any good.

Once you knew you wouldn't be calming down any time soon, you decided to leave. You gave Clint an angry glare while hugging Thor, Sam and Pietro goodbye. You planned on walking right past Ares like he wasn’t there, but you chose against it. You looked him in the eyes, “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but you need to show some respect. And get your facts right while you’re at it; it’s not possible for me to put a love spell on any godly being. Especially one as powerful as Loki.”

You stormed out, leaving the remaining gods in a state of shock. It wasn’t like you to react that way, even with Ares, when defending your relationship with Loki. He believed that what you both shared was strong enough, that your love didn’t need defending. But he wasn’t here, and wouldn’t be for awhile, so you did what you felt was necessary.

If you had stayed, you’d have seen the look of realization on Bucky’s face. You missed how quickly he composed himself before whispering to Sam, “Did you know she couldn’t do that?” “Yeah, man. Everyone knows that.” And if you would have looked back after that, even for a second, you would have seen the look of longing on his face as he watched you leave.

-

Walking into Tony’s party alone wasn’t something you were excited about, so when you saw Scott lingingering outside you grabbed him by his hand and led him to the doors.

When you both entered, the party was in full swing. Dani and Steve were dancing like no one was watching. Clint and Natasha were observing, probably waiting to see if Loki would show up and fulfil the prophecy. Wanda and Pietro, along with some of the satyrs and nymphs, were listening to Tony tell one of his stories. You didn’t see Thor, Sam, or even Ares yet, but they were likely on their way.

It was odd not having Loki by your side, he seemed so excited about tonight and it felt wrong even being here. But after a long talk with Dani, she convinced you that he’d want you to be happy and to enjoy a night with all of your friends. Neither of you expected her to be so wrong.

“You know, we could just leave,” Scott whispers in your ear, “I’m sure Tony would understand. We could go night swimming, you love that.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I can’t. What if he shows up and surprises me and I’m not here?” Scott mumbles something under his breath, but you elected to ignore it.

When you started dating Loki, Scott gave you the space you needed. The two of you didn’t spend as much time together as you did growing up, but he was still very protective of you. Which reminded you, “So I heard you threw Ares into the ocean while I was gone.”

He began laughing so hard he almost spilled the drink he was making for you, “Yeah, yeah I did. Guys a real hot head.”

“Care to tell me what caused it?”

“That’s a story for another night, little goddess.”

-

The party was in full swing when Thor arrived, thunder booming, with Sam and Ares behind him. You’d never admit it, but you were secretly hoping Loki would be with them.

“You and your brothers are very dramatic with your entrances, have you noticed?” you ask, putting your head on Scott’s shoulder.

“It comes with the ego, you should try it.” he jokes.

“Scotty, I need help.” without explaining further, he picks you up and helps you to the bathroom.

“You’d think after all these years you wouldn’t be such a lightweight.”

“Maybe I just enjoy when powerful gods spoil me.” He let you down so you could have some privacy and waited in the hallway.

After you shut the door, he started hearing moans coming from the opposite wall. “Wonder who snuck away?” he thought to himself, before quietly opening the door to sneak a peek.

“No fucking way..” he says to himself, eyes almost popping out of his head.

“What’s in there?” you ask. He slams the door without thinking.

“Nothing, that was quick. Let’s get back-” Scott had tried to hurry the both of you away before the occupants of the room got curious as to who slammed the door, but it was too late.

“Who dares interrupt-”

“Loki?” you ask, more confused than ever. He’s not fully out the door, but you can see enough of him to tell he’s naked. His hair is a mess and sweat is dripping down his chest.

“Aphrodite…” he began, but was interrupted by a pair of hands wrapping themselves around his waist, “Hades, punish them later. Come back to bed.”

“A nymph? Really?” It was Scott who spoke first, and he was livid.

“Mind your own business little brother.”

“No,” you cut in, “he’s right. Everyone was right.. How could you?”

He pushed the nymph off of him and wrapped himself in silk before stepping out into the hall, “Yn, please, let me explain.”

Before he can get any closer to you, Scott steps in front of you. “How about you finish what you were doing? We're leaving. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Without a response, he picks you back up, but stops when he sees all of your friends blocking the path. “Come on, guys. Move.” he commands, carrying you through the crowd. Everyone was too shocked by the underdressed god, and the nymph opening the door to comprehend his words.

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Bucky who speaks first. “We all knew you didn’t deserve her, but none of us expected you to do this.”

~~

Permanent tags: @sociallyeneptbarnes​ @rogvewitch​ @saturn-aka-six​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @superavengerpotterstar​ @estillion14​ @sleepingspacedragon​ @geeksareunique​ @infj-slytherclaw​ @imsoft-barnes​ @piper-koko-barnes-rogers​ @murdermornings​ @distractedgemini​ @screaming-fridge​ @readeity​ @aestheticrelated​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @valkyriesryde​ @sebbbystaaan​ @perpetually-tuned-out​ @disaffectedbarnes​ @buggy-blogs​ @hey-its-grey​ @pinknerdpanda​ @brokenthelovely​ @sandyclaws​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @rhymesmenagerie​ @actualdpshuri​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @mushyjellybeans​ @https-bucky​ @nea90sweetie​ @goalexis123​ @missmeganrachel​ @sunflowersandcherry​ @miraclesoflove​