#but also i always get questioning comments whenever i say the kids may have held some admiration for him

[blasphemousclaw]

I’ve said this many a time, but to be absolutely clear. I think it’s ridiculous to claim that rykard and radagon had a “good” relationship, like rykard has dedicated his life to tearing down everything radagon stands for, which speaks to something deeply rotten in their relationship. however I also don’t think it’s wrong to say that rykard and radahn might still in a way seek their father’s attention; their use of red on their soldiers’ plumes to indicate their “pedigree” could be them invoking radagon’s reputation as a respected warrior so that they might be seen as strong like their father. and you could also interpret rykard’s very deliberately public acts of blasphemy as a cry for any kind of acknowledgement, even if it’s negative… as if he’s so tormented by what his father thinks that he’s determined to become the thing he’d hate the most. and then radahn’s obsession with being a heroic warrior could be interpreted as a response to him not feeling worthy in his father’s eyes after being left behind and “replaced.” I think this is a relationship with a lot of nuance… we know radahn looked up to radagon as a “champion,” and if the children viewed their father as a role model then those feelings aren’t just going to disappear even after his betrayal, they’re going to become tragic and warped. I see their relationship with radagon as full of resentment and hurt and hatred, but deep down, they wish their father could be proud of them (a feeling that could go back even further if radagon always had an air of secrecy and distance around him while they were growing up). I think it’s very likely that after radagon left, rykard and radahn both had a kind of “why wasn’t I good enough for you?” response that they both ran with in completely opposite ways. basically I think their relationship with radagon is way more complicated than simply “they loved him” or “they hated him”

[marwritesgood]

Just Me | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Early Season One

Summary: Simon and Y/n had a long history together. So why did it take reading Lady Whistledown’s latest column for her to learn about his blooming relationship with Daphne Bridgerton?

masterlist

A/N: This fic is over 6K words. 

The mere thought of a BIPOC love story set in the 18th Century is enough to make me swoon. So I decided to give it a go and write one myself. There’ll be two more parts after this :)

I also wanted to keep the reader description applicable to any and all women of colour, so it’s a bit vague just to ensure all of us (women of colour) can feel included. Please let me know if there any parts of this fic that don’t do this and I’ll fix it asap! 

If you’re white, this fic is not for you to identify with x

Also, if at any point you find my attempt at mimicking the language used in Bridgerton laughable... you are not the only one lmao. This has been super fun to write and also very challenging, but I am well aware it is farrrr from perfect :)

Nonetheless, I hope it’s a nice read for my WOC readers <3

Simon and Y/n first met when they were children. Her mother was very closely acquainted with Lady Danbury, so naturally, a friendship grew between the two of them- and a strong one at that. 

For years, their interactions had remained within confinements of what was socially acceptable. They bickered. They laughed. They shared inside jokes about the people within their social circle. Their feelings for each other never extended beyond what was befitting of a friendship. 

That was until they grew older.

When marriage and love became more and more ingrained into casual conversations, Simon and Y/n explored their feelings for one another. Questioned the extent to which they cared for each other and whether there was something more beneath the surface.

However, just as Y/n came to realise her love for Simon, he left for London. After a few short weeks, he returned with a new title. A new vow that the Hastings bloodline would end with him. Subsequently, with it, any hope Y/n had of her relationship with him becoming anything more than all it had always been: a friendship.

A year had passed since the sorrowful conversation resulting in Simon and Y/n agreeing to not indulge in the affections they shared. Since then, Y/n struggled to focus on securing a marriage proposal from one of the suitors in her town.

“This is your second season,” Y/n’s mother cried as she paced across the sitting room. Y/n sat in silence, having been interrupted from playing the piano by another one of her panicked outbursts. “Your second season and yet you continue to reject every marriage proposal you receive.”

She couldn’t blame her mother for being frustrated with her. As her only daughter, she needed to find a good match and be married off as soon as possible. Her father was of old age, but even he remained restless that Y/n be married. He much preferred the prospect of dying knowing that the estate would be inherited by Y/n’s husband instead of his nephew.

“I did not reject Mr Graham’s proposal, mama,” Y/n responded, unnervingly calmly considering how distraught her mother was. Mr Graham’s proposal was the latest one she had received that season. “I... simply asked for more time to consider my answer.”

“What on earth is there to consider?” Mrs Y/l/n shrieked. Her frustration only grew when her daughter was unable to answer her question. Y/n turned away from her mother. “He is a good man. He comes from a good, honourable family and will give you a good future- something you will not have if you continue to turn away suitors.”

“Mama, please.” Y/n could not say anything more, for fear that her mother’s anger toward her would only grow if she were to find out the truth. The real reason she could not yet bring herself to accept a marriage proposal.

“Why do you need time to consider, Y/n?” Her daughter had stood up from behind the piano and had her back turned to her mother. That did not stop her from continuing to pry. After so many rejected proposals, she felt she had a right to know why her daughter refused to marry. “I beg of you, tell me- what is there to consider?... What could possibly be keeping you from marrying Mr Graham.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Y/n sighed exasperatedly and turned back to face her mother.

“I do not love him,” Y/n replied in a hushed cry, only just loud enough for Mrs Y/l/n to hear from across the room. “He may be a good man, mama, but I... I do not love him, and I do not believe I ever could.”

She knew from their first encounter that she could never love him. Perhaps it was how he mispronounced her grandmother’s name or the way he possessed the same arrogance as every other suitor Y/n encountered. 

“My dear,” Mrs Y/l/n said, her voice and expression softening entirely. She reached out for her daughter’s hand and took hold of it gently. She knew precisely how Y/n felt, which meant that, unfortunately, she knew there was nothing to be done. “We have talked about this. Women like you and I... we do not have the luxury to make decisions based on our own feelings.”

Y/n was surrounded by women who did not share the same experiences she did. Women who could not empathise with the challenges she faced and being a woman in the 18th Century. Not even if they tried.

Therefore, whenever Y/n found herself hoping for the same things as the white women around her, she had to bring herself back to reality. She had to remember that if life was unkind to white women, it would always be hell for women like her, no matter who married into the royal family.

“I know,” Y/n answered. 

She did. She knew it was incredibly reckless of her to reject all of the proposals she had received. She knew she was naïve for basing her decision based on love. Yet, even so, she could not keep herself from holding out on the hope that she would not end up in a loveless marriage.

“I do not mean to upset you, Y/n,” Mrs Y/l/n said sincerely, as she guided her daughter to the nearest seat. “But I fear that if you continue on, you will have no more proposals to reject, and I... I simply cannot bear the thought... Please, dear, you must-”

Y/n began to close her eyes ready to brace herself for what she feared would inevitably happen- her mother insisting she accepts a proposal. However, just as she did, a maid knocked on the door and promptly brought in the newspaper. When Simon left for London, Y/n requested that any newspaper copy or mail sent to her from London be immediately handed to her. She looked forward to any kind of update on him.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to the maid as she handed her the newspaper. Without hesitation, she immediately turned to Lady Whistledown’s column.

“What does it say?” Her mother asked, giving up on her attempts at convincing Y/n to accept a marriage proposal, at least for the time being. 

Y/n’s blood ran cold as she read the column. She had expected to hear more about the bitter impression Simon was leaving in London. She was going to comment on how typical arrogant white elitists villainising anyone who did not approach them in a way that appeases their ego.

But that was not what she read.

Instead, she read about Simon showing a particular interest in the woman named the ‘Diamond of the Season’ by the Queen herself- Miss Daphne Bridgerton. She read about him courting her and spending a significant amount of time with her. She read about flowers, the expensive kind, and walks through Hyde park, and she was unsure whether to feel betrayed or feel furious.

It was one thing for Simon to begin courting another woman, after explaining to Y/n that he would never marry. It was another for her to have to learn all of this from reading the Lady Whistledown column. 

Without providing her mother with an answer as to what the column wrote, Y/n slammed the newspaper against the table beside her and stood up abruptly. 

Her mother went to reprimand Y/n for slamming the paper so violently against her favourite table. However, Y/n walked hastily into her bedroom. She began to plan what she was to pack when she would leave for London in the morning.

She was adamant on learning the truth in its entirety. And, this time, not from an anonymous publisher but from Simon himself.

***

Y/n had an aunt who lived in London with her husband and their three kids- all much younger than Y/n was. She knew that if she could get away with arriving in London unannounced with intent to stay for longer than a week, her only luck was with her aunt.

After she was escorted inside by one of the workers, Y/n stood and marvelled at her aunt’s husband’s estate. It looked nothing like the sitting room at her home. It looked fancier with much nicer things, leading her to think back to why her mother pushed so hard for her to marry. Mrs Y/l/n had helped her younger sister find a match, and now she lived in a beautiful home in London. 

Perhaps all she wanted was to ensure the same future for her only child.

“Y/n, my dear!” Her aunt came bursting through the doors with arms stretched out. She pulled Y/n into a tight embrace as she always did whenever greeting her niece. Before her three children, she had Y/n. “Oh, how I have missed you!”

“I have missed you too, Aunt Philippa,” Y/n smiled, gently clutching her aunt’s hand as she held her cheek. “Please forgive me for arriving here unannounced. I would have written to you in advanced, but I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

“Do not be silly, my dear,” Philippa laughed, before guiding her niece out of the sitting room and towards the staircase. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you may need. Though I imagine your mother will be impatiently anticipating your return... how is my dear sister?”

“As restless as ever,” Y/n mumbled. Philippa’s laughter echoed across the halls. Just as she expected, her older sister had not changed. Not one bit. “She is adamant that I am engaged by the end of the season, which is part of the reason I needed to leave home so quickly.”

“I do not blame you, dear,” Philippa murmured. She knew from first-hand experience how relentless Y/n’s mother could be. Even so, she knew it was out of love. Y/n knew as well. “Now... what is the urgent matter you need to attend? I imagine you will need a chaperone... and perhaps a carriage?”

Y/n smiled in relief. Everything she had done leading up to her arrival in London was purely impulsive. She hadn’t even thought of how she would get to Simon or who she would have to escort and chaperone her. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of... the Duke of Hastings?”

Philippa’s eyes grew twice in size. Whether it was shock or excitement, Y/n could not figure out. It wasn’t until her aunt pulled her into the nearest empty room, checked to see if anyone was listening in, and grinned at her that Y/n concluded it was the latter.

“When I read about the Duke and Miss Bridgerton, all I could think of was you,” Philippa began, speaking in a hushed tone, though unable to contain her excitement. She did not typically indulge in gossip, but she was entirely invested in staying updated to her niece and Simon. “You never did tell me what happened when he returned. Did you confess your feelings?”

Philippa had generously volunteered her afternoons so that her niece could practise what she would say to Simon. She hoped those afternoons had not been spent in vain.

“I did... And then he did too... Before telling me, he would never marry,” Y/n explained, trying to conceal the way her breath hitched and the way tears welled up in her eyes. “Though, after reading Lady Whistledown’s column, it is clear that perhaps he meant that he would never marry me.”

Philippa frowned and lifted her hand up again, holding the side of Y/n’s face and swiping the few tears she couldn’t stop from escaping. As she did so, Y/n inhaled sharply- trying desperately to keep herself from indulging in her sorrow.

“I am sure that is not the case, dearest,” Philippa insisted. 

She refused to believe Simon would do that to her niece. Not after the stories she had heard from Y/n as they grew up. Not to mention all the times she caught one staring at the other across ballrooms and dining tables. 

“We must hurry,” she chirped, dropping her hand so she could grasp her niece’s arm. “I believe the Duke will be in Hyde Park with Lady Danbury. ‘Tis best we leave now if we wish to catch them.”

Y/n smiled. Being with her aunt was a nice change of pace to being with her mother. She would have scolded Y/n had she caught wind of what had happened. 

***

Upon their arrival at Hyde Park, Philippa approached Lady Danbury. Her plan was to make conversation with her, find out more about Simon and Daphne’s relationship. Then, she would ultimately create a segue for Y/n to have a somewhat private conversation with Simon.

However, Y/n had other plans.

When they arrived, she scanned the park in search of Simon. Once she spotted him walking alone on the pavement, she threw caution and decorum to the wind. Before her Aunt Philippa could stop her, Y/n sprinted. 

Once she reached him, she grabbed his shoulder roughly, prompting him to turn around.

“Peach,” Simon whispered, dumbfounded by Y/n’s sudden appearance.

He stopped calling Y/n by her name when they were five. Instead, he called her Peach, for reasons that remained a mystery to Y/n. Despite not knowing the reasoning behind it, she always adored it. She was the only person he had a unique designated name for.

More recently, she wondered if Miss Bridgerton would soon become an exception.

“You owe me an explanation,” Y/n said harshly, not having the patience to beat around the bush. This was primarily because she wanted to know the truth and because she was out of breath from sprinting to Simon.  “Do I really mean so little to you, Simon?”

“Please lower your voice,” Simon begged, subtly grabbing Y/n’s arm and quickening their pace to avoid the crowded area of the park. 

“Do not speak to me as though I am a child,” Y/n growled, yanking her arm away from him and stepping back. 

“Then do not act like one,” Simon retorted.

Y/n scoffed, before dusting off her dress. Simon rolled his eyes to cover his nervousness. He had a habit of concealing it with aggression. Y/n was often able to see through it, but she was guilty of doing the same.

“What changed?” Y/n asked as she looked back at Simon. “You seemed so certain when you told me you would never marry. Now you have extended your stay in London to court Miss Bridgerton?”

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Simon responded honestly. It was perhaps the most honest statement he had made all month. 

His courtship of Daphne was a mere ruse to attract more suitors for her. Truth be told, Simon was incredibly stressed by it, but he was too deep into the lie to give up any time soon. He hadn’t anticipated Y/n would be caught in the middle of it.

“Well, what could be hindering you from doing so?” Y/n cried, confused by how vague and cryptic Simon was acting.

He struggles to find the right words. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Y/n any more than he already had, but he could not give her the answer she wanted. Although he was not actually courting Daphne, he still would not marry. Thus, he could not do what would make her happy, which was the main reason he kept his distance from her in the first place.

“Things are different now,” Simon said apologetically, hoping to deter Y/n from prying. Though he desperately wanted to say more, he knew that doing so was incredibly risky. “We... we are not children anymore.”

Y/n blinked, astonished by Simon’s reaction. It was far from what she had expected. She expected an explanation. She expected assurance. Instead, she has pushed aside as though she and her feelings were disposable. 

This was a familiar feeling to Y/n.

“Is that all you think of me?” She asked angrily. Simon, of all the people in her life, had the most power to hurt her. And he often did so without realising. “A child?... And our relationship? You think it is something as easy to put behind you as your childhood? Is that all this is to you, Simon?”

She went to speak again. To demand what she felt she had a right to. However, before she could get a word out, a woman appeared from behind her. She was fair-skinned and wore a dress that resembled her complexion. 

“Miss Bridgerton,” Simon gasped. He did not know whether to be grateful for her arrival or concerned about how it would affect Y/n. He eventually became both. “May I introduce you to Miss Y/l/n. She is a... very close family friend.”

Y/n had to keep herself from scoffing. She was more to him than just a friend. Y/n knew that well, despite Simon’s denial.

“I am terribly sorry,” Miss Bridgerton cried, averting her attention to Y/n. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Y/n assured, smiling sincerely at Daphne. Her anger was entirely directed towards Simon. Unlike him, Daphne had no pre-existing history with Y/n to remain considerate of. “I actually must return to my aunt. It was lovely to finally meet you, Miss Bridgerton.”

Before Y/n turned to walk back to her Aunt Philippa, she glanced back at Simon, who was very clearly terrified of how calm Y/n was. He could only imagine the amount of anger she was harbouring. Deterring her would prove to be much more complicated than he expected.

“Your grace,” Y/n snarled through gritted teeth, before forcing a smile as she turned away.

***

It had been a week since Y/n and Simon’s interaction at Hyde Park.

Y/n sat beside her aunt Philippa in a carriage as she read through her mother’s letter. She had made vividly clear, through an eight-paged rant, that she was absolutely livid with her daughter. Y/n’s hands were trembling. 

“I assume she is quite upset?” Philippa asked, though she already knew the answer. 

Y/n had extended her stay to a week just so she could attend a gala at Lady Danbury’s estate. It was her last hope of catching a moment alone with Simon and gaining, at the very least, some form of closure. She hoped it would not come to that, but from their last interaction, Y/n was losing confidence.

“She is furious,” Y/n answered shortly, before folding the letter abruptly and placing it aside. Her mother wrote one demand that sent chills through her bones. “If I am not home within a week, she will come to London and take me back herself. Then, I will have to accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Philippa’s stomach dropped. She placed her hand atop her niece’s. Y/n looked down to conceal the tears that began to gather in her eyes. Philippa noticed and wrapped her arm around Y/n, gently squeezing her shoulder. 

“I am sure it will not come to that,” she whispered soothingly, though she struggled to sound sincere. Y/n nodded. She didn’t quite believe her aunt, but she knew there was no point in losing hope entirely. At least not yet.

Once they arrived at the gala, Philippa made conversation with a friend, whileY/n made way to Lady Danbury. The event was held in her courtyard. While others marvelled at her estate, Y/n felt a warm sense of nostalgia. When Lady Danbury brought Simon to her London estate during summers, she would often invite Y/n and her parents. While her parents and the Danburys made conversation in the house, Simon and Y/n would run about freely outside.

“Welcome back, Miss Y/l/n,” Lady Danbury smiled warmly, as Y/n and her aunt approached her.

“It is a pleasure to be here, my lady,” Y/n responded curtly, before laughing out loud as Lady Danbury pulled her into her arms for a tight hug. 

Once she let go, they made small talk. Lady Danbury asked Y/n how her parents were. Y/n asked Lady Danbury how she was and how her fruit orchards were. After they ran out of things to discuss, Y/n could not help but scan the room searching for Simon, who was nowhere to be found.

“I am not completely sure where he is,” Lady Danbury said, startling Y/n who had not realised how far from natural she was acting. “Though, he did complain about how suffocated he was by the throng here... I imagine he has gone to a place where it will be difficult for most to find him.”

Y/n thought for a moment. Lady Danbury was cryptic by nature, and after years of knowing her, she had a knack for figuring out what she meant. Once Y/n knew, she smiled at Lady Danbury, before excusing herself from the gala.

Y/n headed away from the gala and towards the maze area. It was well-lit, which she was grateful for as it meant she could navigate her way around swiftly. It felt like second-nature to her; running about in the Danbury’s London Estate. She forgot how much she enjoyed the thrill of running through and past the hedges.

Once she reached the maze’s centre, she saw Simon standing idle, his back towards where she stood. That was the place they spent most of their time. When they were younger, they would sit there and play games. As they got older, they would sit there and talk. Sometimes he would read while she drew. Sometimes vice versa. But most of the time, they spoke—about everything worth talking about, and then some.

“I remember the first time we played here together,” Y/n began, causing Simon to jump. Once he turned around and saw Y/n his tense posture softened, and a small smile appeared across his face. She felt relieved by it, though she didn’t want to let her guard down entirely. “I got lost, almost immediately, and you found me sitting here, cross-legged, in a puddle of tears. Do you remember?”

Simon chuckled. Of course, he thought. 

“You were inconsolable when I found you,” he mocked, prompting Y/n to reach out and lightly punch his shoulder. His laughter only grew.

“We were five,” Y/n reasoned. She would never admit that she was dramatic. Not even as a child. “I genuinely thought no one would ever find me... and then you did, within a matter of minutes.”

She joined him in laughing. It made for a very entertaining story that they retold relentlessly. While others were sick of hearing it, neither of them were sick of recounting it, for their own reasons.

“I told you I would never leave you behind,” he added, smiling as he thought back to that day. His smile faded quickly when he realised the irony. He frowned and took a step towards Y/n. “Peach, I must apologise-”

“-No... I am the one who must apologise,” she intervened. Simon stood back in confusion. Y/n sighed before clarifying herself. “I did not mean to blindside you so aggressively before. I did not come here to argue with you, Simon, I... I came to ask you if it is true... Are you courting Miss Bridgerton... with the intent of marrying?”

Simon winced. 

He felt conflicted by both his love for Y/n and the promise he made to Daphne to uphold their ruse. He could not in good faith outright admit that he was merely pretending to court Miss Bridgerton. However, he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Y/n’s heart a second time.

His lips parted, but his mouth ran dry. Before Simon could keep himself from blurting out the wrong thing, he was overcome by a habit he developed over the last month of playing along.

“I am,” he answered.

Just as he did, he lifted his hand to his temple and scrunched his eyebrows. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Y/n. He was still haunted by the look on her face when he told her he would never marry.

“Right,” she sniffled, unsure how to react. Y/n had convinced herself that there was more to the story than what she had read from Lady Whistledown. She regretted how in-denial she allowed herself to become. 

One thing Y/n knew for sure, though, was that she did not want to be near Simon. Although she was on the verge of sobbing, she still turned around and intended to leave him, but Simon grabbed her arm and kept her from doing so.

“Please let me explain,” he begged.

Y/n’s tears halted as she glared at Simon, shocked. She shook her arm out of his grasp and took a step back from him. She had always despised the way men often treated women as though they were disposable and replaceable. She never expected Simon to be one.

“There is no explanation necessary,” she scoffed.

“Y/n, please, you do not understand,” Simon cried. It was rare for him to call her by her name, but Y/n dubbed it as him trying to manipulate her emotions. She would not let that happen. 

“No, of course, you would deceive me,” Y/n spat, unwilling to let Simon get a word in. She was tired of waiting around just to hear from him. This time, she would be the talking. He would be the one listening. “-about not wanting to marry or have children, and of course, I believed your ridiculous lie, like the fool I have always been for you.”

“Ridiculous?” Simon hissed. Y/n’s dismissal of his vow sparked a fit of anger that overcame him before he could realise it had done so. No one had ever called to question or criticised his decision to remain a bachelor for life. No one until Y/n.

“Perhaps not a ridiculous lie,” Y/n sneered. “No, it was more-so childish and nonsensical.”

“And yet, you believed it... What is that to say about you, Miss Y/l/n?” Simon scorned. Y/n flinched. Simon had only ever addressed her in such a way to either tease her or to emphasise his anger. It had been a long while since he had done so for the latter. “It was not a lie, Y/n, I... You could never understand the immense pressure I have been placed under my entire life-”

“- Pressure that significantly decreased with the death of your father,” Y/n argued. Simon acted as though he had a monopoly over her when it came to challenges in life. He could not have been more wrong. “I, on the other hand, am placed under severe pressure and will continue to be, long after my parents pass... That is one of the many things you will never understand.”

“That is not true,” Simon fired back, only for Y/n to continue speaking- this time, with a louder voice.

“We may be the same in one sense, but we are significantly different in another, because you, Simon, are still a man with a title.” Y/n and Simon both shared similar challenges as neither of them were white. However, where Simon inherited certain advantages for being a man, and a Duke, Y/n was only disparaged more. He often forgot that. “You, at the very least, still have the luxury of choice. To choose how you wish to fulfil your future, and whether or not that may include a wife or children.”

Simon lowered his eyes defeatedly. Though he was still angry, there was no denying the shame he felt. 

“I do not. Those choices were made for me the moment I was born a daughter and not a son. So do not act as though you are in a position to empathise with me,” Y/n said. “Especially when you have been the least bit empathetic after I came all the way here, just to confirm the truth about you and Miss Bridgerton.”

“I never told you to come to London,” Simon snapped.

“No, you did not,” Y/n retorted, with just as much, if not more, annoyance in her voice. “You did not tell me anything. I had to find out at the same moment as everyone else in England, as though we are strangers.”

Simon flinched as Y/n progressed from speaking loudly to outright shouting. He had always relied on having her sympathy and her support, even when he was in the wrong. Thankfully, they were far from the gala. However, Simon still feared someone had heard her reprimanding him.

“You claim you are different, now that you are a Duke, but you are the same as you have always been,” Y/n continued. She knew how he had always been. Better than anyone, let alone Miss Bridgerton, that was for sure. “You are still rigid and arrogant. You are still a coward who will never allow himself to feel any kind of joy. And you are still revolving your every decision in life around a man you claim to despise.”

“You do not know a thing,” he whispered, which only confirmed to Y/n that he was scared. He was intimidated. For as long as they had known one another, Y/n rarely confronted his relationship with his father.

“I have watched you go from living only to please him to living only to spite him, even if it means hurting the people who actually care for you,” she cried. She had no more anger within her. Not any more. She had only sadness. “Did it ever occur to you how much it hurt when you rejected me?”

“That was never my intention,” Simon said regretfully. 

It was the truth, though Simon had begun to realise that his wrath against his father blinded him from what he cared about more: her happiness. 

“Peach,” he whispered, inching towards Y/n as he lifted his hand and held the left side of her face. “Please, believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since they had shared a moment like that. An intimate moment shared between no one but them. Where Simon was not the stoic and emotionally detached Duke of Hastings. He was Simon. Dare she say, her Simon.

Despite that, Y/n was the first to turn away. She wanted to indulge. To take advantage of the opportunity to reconcile with him. To enjoy how vulnerable he was, after months of distance. 

But she couldn’t. 

Not when there were still questions burning in her mind. She could not rest until they were dealt with. After all, she was her mother’s child.

“Then what about Miss Bridgerton?” Y/n’s expression remained stagnant, but she could not keep hands from trembling. Simon winced at the mention of Daphne. “You... courting her after rejecting me... You cannot possibly tell me you did not intend to hurt me when you did that.”

Simon opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had no response to what she had said because there was no justification for what he had done. All he could do was curse quietly to himself for taking so long to realise how foolish he had been.

“I had always expected this to happen,” Y/n began, sniffling as she tried to compose herself enough to explain herself. Simon remained quiet and decided he would until she finished. He figured he owed her as much. “I always knew I would be turned away for someone like Daphne Bridgerton.”

It had been the subject of many of her mother’s lessons. Before she was introduced to society, her mother made it a point to prepare her for rejection. To not hold out hope for any man, until a marriage proposal was made. 

Simon had been Y/n’s only exception to that rule. 

“It’s happened to me my whole life,” Y/n laughed bitterly, as she recalled all the times she had lost to a woman of fairer skin than her. All the times she wept to her Aunt Philippa and to Simon. “I always expected this would happen. But I never expected this would happen with you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Y/n struggle to stifle her cries in between her sentences. He had watched her sit in this sorrow many times, just as she had done for him, for this was a pain she shared. But this time was different. This time he was the one responsible. 

He didn’t know pain, so heart-wrenching, was possible. But watching her cry and knowing he could do nothing to fix it. That pain had never felt more real.

“I do not blame you, Simon,” Y/n whimpered, which only made him hurt more. He wanted her to be angry. To berate him some more. It was the least of what he deserved for causing her such sorrow. “She is the ‘Diamond of the Season’ after all, and... I am just me.”

Y/n hated the pity party she was throwing for herself, but she could not help what she felt. After a life of being classed second to white women, who could blame her for internalising this? 

He was dying to say something. To tell Y/n that she had it all wrong. He wanted to reveal that his courtship of Daphne was all a ruse. That he could never bring himself to entertain the idea of marrying anyone but her. But his fear of only making things worse left him paralysed. 

“You have made it abundantly clear that I was a fool forever waiting around for you,” she said to Simon. Unfortunately for him, she had taken his lack of response as confirmation that what she had concluded of the situation was accurate. “I will not make that mistake again.”

“Peach-”

“Goodbye, Simon,” Y/n blurted as she turned away hastily. 

Left in too much shock to reach out and stop her, Simon stood, dumbfounded, and watched as the woman he loved walked away from him and back to the gala. Looking back, he wished he had called out to her. Simon wished he had run after her. But he did not.

When Y/n reached the courtyard where the gala was being held, she couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that rushed over when she realised Simon let her go. This assured her that she was right to leave him, but it did not alleviate the pain in doing so. 

She made her way through the crowd and searched for her aunt. As she did, she felt her cheeks burn and her pace of breath quicken. She had gone through all the effort of coming to London just for what she feared most to be the reality. 

“There you are, my dear!”

Y/n turned around and saw her Aunt approaching her. Philippa smiled brightly as she walked towards her niece. However, when she realised that Y/n’s enthusiasm fell short of matching hers by a significant margin, her smile began to fade.

“Where is Simon?” She inquired, her voice lowered to not draw attention to their conversation. From Y/n expression, Philippa inferred that was the last thing she wanted.

Y/n’s lip quivered as she tried desperately to answer her aunt’s question. When she failed to do so, she hung her head- too embarrassed to face her aunt. Philippa frowned. A line appeared between her brows as she reached out to her distraught niece.

Though she was dying to know, the details of Simon and Y/n’s conversation were the least of her concerns. All she cared for was her niece and helping her in any way she needed. 

“I will call for our carriage,” she whispered, before guiding Y/n out of the courtyard. 

Once their carriage arrived, Philippa sat opposite her niece and watched worriedly as she refused to make eye contact, let alone speak.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Y/n took a long moment to respond. She stared at her gloved hands as she thought about what to do next. She regretted all the proposals she had turned down, and all the ways she put her life on hold for Simon. She felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to be in the situation she was in. 

Then she realised the only thing she could do to fix it.

“May you organise a carriage to take me home tomorrow?” Y/n asked. Her aunt’s eyes widened. Returning home to face her mother was the last thing Philippa expected Y/n to want to do. 

She watched her niece closely, trying to figure out what her plan moving forward was. Y/n finally looked up and met her aunt’s gaze. To Philippa’s surprise, her niece had a prominent sense of confidence in her expression. 

“Why, my dear?” Philippa quizzed, her eyebrows still knitted in confusion as well as fear. The way her niece was suddenly overcome with confidence after being on the verge of tears was concerning. She couldn’t imagine it would lead to anything good.

Y/n inhaled sharply, pursing her lips as she did so. She knew her aunt would disagree with what she planned to do. But she also knew that, given the circumstance, Philippa would reluctantly do as she asked. Before she answered, Y/n momentarily glanced down at her hands and turned back to her aunt.

“I have a proposal to accept.”

NEXT PART

[warriorrazor]

Welcome to the Spooky Family AU Masterpost!

The Spooky Family AU is an AU for Spooky Month (which is a web animation by Sr Pelo). I’ve posted quite a few things for it, so everything I’ve posted for it is all sorted out here for your convenience!

Very quick and basic summary:

Lila finds out Pump is being extremely neglected by his father. Pump stays at her place all the time and she loves the little guy so she is having NONE of that. She goes through the whole process of reporting child neglect, getting a lawyer and doing large amounts of court research, and gaining custody of Pump. Lila and Skid then proceed to shower him with the love and affection that he deserves, and they become the most loving, spooky, Halloween-obsessed family the world has ever seen.

*****

So that’s a very condensed explanation of this AU, but I’ll probably be posting more stuff about it as I develop it more. While I do, please feel free to tell me what you think about this, literally any comments/questions/asks/additions would make my day!

For now, here are some AU details (fun facts?) that probably vary in importance:

Spooky Family boys reference

Lila doesn’t want to leave Skid in the dark about the situation. She tries to explain it to him in kid terms. Thankfully Skid is an extremely empathetic kid and while he may not completely understand, he wants to help Pump however he can.

If you think Skid and Pump couldn’t get any closer, oh boy. Now that they’re brothers, they do pretty much EVERYTHING together. They’re inseparable most of the time. They somehow manage to never get bored of each other.

Not only did Pump joining the family bring him closer to Skid and Lila, it also brought Lila and Skid closer to each other. Their bond has never been stronger.

Pump is pretty touchstarved. Thankfully Lila and Skid are always there when he needs to be held.

Pump was at first shy about calling Lila “mom”, but after many days of Lila assuring Pump it was okay, he now says it a lot.

Because he didn’t always get much to eat, Pump will eat pretty much anything given to him, unlike Skid who would eat candy and dinosaur nuggets his whole life if he could. Lila often explains to Pump that it’s okay to have preferences and he can ask for snacks whenever he wants, both take Pump a bit of time to get used to.

Pump had like, two toys so he finds himself overwhelmed by the amount of toys Skid has. Skid wants to share them all with him.

Pump sometimes has nightmares of Lila and Skid leaving or abandoning him (as well as other things, he’s quite prone to nightmares in general). At first Pump would run to Lila’s room whenever he would have one, but now Skid has gotten good at comforting him too. (They share a room, there is a guest room but Skid and Pump love sharing a room.)

Pico sometimes babysits the boys (not a big part in the AU but I don’t want to leave it out bc Friday Night Funkin’ is what got me into Spooky Month in the first place-).

Posts so far in the order of the AU timeline (Bolded posts are important events, italics are fun facts n’ stuff):

Late night research - a drawing

Pump Joins the Family - a summary of Lila finding out about Pump’s father and her gaining custody of Pump

Hope Within Winter - a poem

Finally Together - an in-depth look at Lila working to gain custody of Pump, and a mini story of Pump finally joining the family. Additionally, the first drawing I made for the AU.

Pumpkin Bear - a drawing, a lil bit of writing, and a doodle

Weekly spaghetti night - a mini comic

Broken toy - a mini comic

Don’t separate them - a drawing

Safe and Sound - a small fic

Mother’s Day - a drawing and some doodles

Hugs galore - a drawing

A mother’s worries - a drawing (Additionally, midnight check-in)

Lil baker - a drawing

Stimming! - a drawing

Familial love - a mini comic

Inktober things - some lil sketches

Assorted fun facts

Skid and Pump ramblings

Lila fun facts

Jaune stuff

Hatzgang headcanons

Answers to some particular asks:

Pumpkin Bear vs Happy Fella

Protective Skid

Sometimes Skid needs comfort too

Sleeby tired

If you’re looking for more, take a look at the comments on this post! Some people have offered some amazing ideas and have helped me already expand this AU a bunch!

*****

So obviously this AU deals with themes of emotional abuse and neglect. I’ll be tagging my posts accordingly, and this AU will also be tagged “spooky month spooky family AU” and such, so please feel free to block the tag if this AU makes you feel uncomfortable, I won’t be offended. Also if there are any tags you want me to add, please let me know!

[vdlest]

My Lady

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary:

It is Tony's birthday party and everyone's required to wear their best formal attire, and when you did, you caught the attention of James Buchanan Barnes.

Warning:

None

You take a look at yourself in the mirror one last time before you make your way downstairs for Tony's birthday party.

You stared at your reflection. You are wearing a black halter neck satin long dress with high slit, approved by Wanda and Nat. You're still unsure if it fits you since it's not your thing to wear this kind of outfit, but for the sake of Tony's birthday party you have no choice but to endure it.

"Come on, y/n, you've been up here for quite a while now! You're missing the fun down there," Wanda said as soon as she entered your room.

You grabbed your clutch and go after Wanda.

The moment the elevator stopped in the floor where the party is, you asked Wanda one last time about your look.

She faced you and held you on both of your arms, "You're perfect! You should wear outfits like that more often," she said.

You groaned, "It's not as if I could wear this in a mission," you joked.

The elevator opened and Wanda went up walking ahead of you. You stepped out of the elevator and you immediately roamed your eyes around the party.

You saw your friends mingling around with other guests. Tony and Pepper are talking with Fury and Maria, while Nat and Bruce are in the bar area talking, more like flirting. Your eyes continue to roam around until you saw a familiar pair of blue eyes.

He looks dashing in that tuxedo he's wearing, his hair look so neat, his beard is gone and he is so cleaned up. You never thought he'd follow the advice you gave him when he asked you about what shall he do for Tony's party. You told him that he should get rid of his beard just for this night, and he did.

Before he set his eyes on you, you saw him having a conversation with Sam and Steve but the moment he saw you, his eyes never left yours.

You and Bucky has always been friends, but you are both aware that you like each other more than that.

You walked your way to the party without removing your eyes from him, and he did the same thing. His gaze is following you, wherever you go and whatever you'll do. It's not long enough when Sam and Steve noticed that Bucky is not paying attention to both of them anymore. So when they saw that it was you who made their friend drift away from them, they gave Bucky a chance to talk and approach you.

But before he could do that, Pepper saw you.

"Y/n! Wow! You look amazing," Pepper said as she make her way to approach you, alongside with Tony, Fury, and Maria.

"I didn't see that in your old closet. Wow!" you don't know if the the birthday boy, Tony Stark, is mocking you or he's just being himself, "I bet a lot of guys will make a move on you tonight." he added.

Tony hated the idea of men being so fond of you because he knows how Bucky will react about it. Last time, he and Steve needed to call for glass and floor replacement after Bucky's outburst.

Well, you don't care about those guys, who you care about is the man you were having staring contest with a few seconds ago.

"But seriously, you look amazing, y/n," Pepper said as she gave your arms a light squeeze.

You smiled at her, "Thanks Pep!" Then you turn to Tony, who you haven't greeted yet, "Happy birthday Tony."

"Thanks! But you should start making your way to Nat and Bruce who's been flirting around since the party started," he commented as he points his finger towards the bar area.

You left Tony, Pepper, Fury, and Maria, making your way to Bruce and Nat.

"You know, Tony has been complaning about the two of you flirting and flirting nonstop," you made your presence noticed as you sit on the stool beside Nat.

Nat and Bruce turned to you.

"Woah! What a transformation, y/n," Nat said as soon as she turned the stool that she is sitting on to face you.

You rolled your eyes at her and asks for the bartender for a drink.

"Why don't you use this night to have your heart to heart confession with the white wolf?" Nat asked you, referring to you and Bucky.

You glared at her and reminded her that Bruce can also hear her, "Thanks for the advice, but no."

You and Bucky has been going around the bush for quite some time now, you are aware that everybody is starting to notice that. Not to mention whenever Bucky is being an old man whenever he will see other guys talking to you. And you are completely agitated when you see girls are trying to flirt with him.

"Come on!" Nat groaned, "Everybody's aware of you and Bucky's "hidden feelings that is not so hidden" for each other," she added.

You're about to answer Nat's sentiments when Bruce decided to side with her as well, "We are all aware of it since the first time we saw how furious Bucky was when you and that intern from Stark Industries asked you on a date. He almost break the window for checking if you got home already," he said as he took a glance at you, "And you were also like the female version of my green monster friend whenever girls will approach Bucky and ask to take a picture with him."

You can't believe Nat and Bruce are teaming up against you.

"You guys are unbelievable," you turned to the bartender when your drink arrived, but you noticed that it isn't the drink you ordered, "Excuse me, I did not order for this one."

The bartender is not bothered by your complain, so when you're about to ask the bartender to change your order, someone spoke behind you.

"You're not allowed to drink any alcoholic beverage tonight," you heard that familiar voice.

You take a look at Nat and Bruce who are giving you an ear-to-ear smile.

(Yeah, that kind of smile.)

You took a deep breath as you spin your stool and face the man who forbids you to drink an alcoholic drink, "And may I know why?" you asked the blue-eyed dashing man in front of you, the Bucky Barnes.

"Because," he took a step closer to you as he rest his arms on the bar countertop while facing you, "The last time you had one, I needed to clean up the mess you've made from the elevator up to your room."

The night he was referring to was during Pepper and Tony's engagement party. You're so happy for them to the point that you and Wanda became the number one customers of the bar that night.

"We'll leave the two of you," you heard Bruce said behind you.

Bucky moved to the seat where Nat was sitting a few moments ago.

"Why are you here?" you asked him as you turn your seat around again to face him, "You were having a conversation with Sam and Steve and just because you saw me, you left them. I mist say, I'm flattered but..."

"You look perfect," he said, stopping you from finishing your sentence.

Your eyes met his gaze again and your heart started to pump as fast as it could, you thought you were having a heart attack but you realized that it's the effect of Bucky being near you.

You felt his gand grabbed yours and that delivered an electric shock through your veins, "I should've brought my gun, so when guys try to make a move on you, I will just shot them right through their eyes."

He was just kidding but you felt how concern and protective he is to you.

You liked that feeling. No, you actually love that feeling — whenever you see him ready to rip off any man's head when they are making a move towards you, whenever you feel his care when you are not in your usual mood, whenever you are not in a good state of mind, he's there for you.

It makes you happy, but it also makes you sad, knowing that you have no idea what kind of relationship you both have. You want to become selfish when girls are trying to flirt with Bucky, but after every time you call them out, you kept on thinking what is your right to stop and forbid them from flirting with him.

"Buck," you called him and then you sighed, "I know this isn't the right time to talk about this, but I'm already sick and tired of hearing the same old question that is being thrown upon me that I can't even answer even in my mind."

His brows furrowed, "What question?" he asked.

"The what's with you and me. The what are you and Bucky question. The are you guys together kind of question. 'Cause honestly, I'm tired of hearing it from our friends, and I hate to admit it but that's also the same question I have for us," you looked down as you feel embarrassed of the things you are telling him. You sounded like a needy girl who wants to know what you are in this boy's life, "I'm sorry to bring this all up right now, but I can't help it."

When you looked up to him, he was just staring at you, which pisses you off a bit.

"Come on, Bucky. Stop acting like you don't know what I am talking about." you kept your voice calm and low since you don't want to be noticed by the other guests around you, "I am certain about my feelings, but you, I have no idea what's going on in your mind. You take care of me. You feel responsible for me. You hate it when I wear too revealing clothes. You don't like the idea of me going out with other men. Tony, Nat, Bruce, and the rest of our friends kept on telling me that I'm hell of a lucky woman for catching your eyes, but they have no idea how confusing my position is. I have no idea who and what I am to you."

You were stunned by your own words. You did not see yourself exploding tonight. You feel embarrassed of all the unexpected things you bantered to Bucky, you decided to walk away from him.

You have no where else to pass by but the dance floor. You excused yourself from the people dancing, but you were in the middle of the dancefloor when you felt a hand on your wrist.

As you turn around to face the owner of the hand who grabbed your wrist, you realized that it is a vibranium hand and the only person who have that kind of left hand is the person you walked away from.

Your eyes trailed from your wrist up to Bucky's face.

"So you're just gonna leave me hanging?" he suddenly asked you.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head, "Bucky, I'm sorry for my sudden outburst, okay? Just forget everything that I said," you were about to walk away again when he suddenly pulled you towards him and claim your lips with his.

You lost your senses the moment his lips dance with your lips. You know that people are noticing both of you, especially you are in the middle of the dancefloor but you didn't care. You thought that this is the best answer they'll get to all the unanswered questions they've given you for the past months about you and Bucky.

When he let go of your lips, he cupped your face and you received the most unexpected answer from him.

"I love you," he said in the passionate way he could.

All you need is a straight answer from him, but what he gave you is much much more than that.

"I've realized this a long time ago. I just didn't know how to tell you. I can't find the right words to tell you this. I don't know how to tell you my feelings without being a dumb douchebag, but even if I look like a dumb douchebag right now, I don't care. All I care is you being aware of how I truly feel for you, and I'm sorry if it took some time before I could finally say it," he said while his hands are still in your cheeks.

Now you realized why you clearly heard every word he said, the music stopped and everyone's attention is with both of you. In short, they all heard Bucky's confession.

You roamed your eyes around and you see all of the guests, including your friends, watching and staring at you and Bucky, like you are the main attraction in the circus or something.

"Now is the perfect time for you to say something," you heard Bucky said, making you look at him again.

You smiled at him as you grabbed his two hands from your cheeks.

"I love you too," you finally said it.

He didn't wait for anything, he pulled you towards him and gave you another kiss. Not long enough, you felt his arms around you, giving you the warmest hug he could ever give.

You heard people around you cheering for both of you. They've been waiting for this, but little did they know, you were also waiting for this for a long time now.

"About dang time!" you heard Sam yelled.

"Oh come on, it's not as if we didn't expect them to do this anytime soon," Tony being a jerk as always, but you know he's happy for you and Bucky, "Don't forget it's my birthday!" he joked.

When Bucky let go of you, he extended his hand towards you, "My lady?" he asked, waiting for you to give your hand to him.

You smiled at him as you gave your hand to him, "My love."

-v.dl

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[flooffybits]

At Your Corner

Idol: Kim Minji (Dreamcatcher)

Anon: my heart just broke bc i saw a pic of minji smiling but trying to hide her pain when their deja vu win got snatched by the sh*w so may i request a scenario with jiu being sad abt that but since shes in public, she needs to smile for the fans. 8th member reader who doesnt rlly show her emotions notices and just lets her kid side out like suddenly jumping in front of jiu and going "hey im a race car get on!" to make her laugh then fans coo and stuff? sry if this is a mess u can change anything tnx

A/n: this came very recently and i don’t usually work on newer requests but this fit my mood way too much that i couldn’t help BUT write it

☕buy me a coffee☕

Standing at the corner of the room, you survey the scene and watch as your members all look exhausted after everything you’ve been through.

It’s quieter than usual, and while you usually preferred it, you hated this silence.

Once again, you were close to finally obtaining a win for your group, and yet you were just a few points too short when The Show finally released the results. You could feel as your members’ shoulders visibly fell when you were all finally off the stage and from the public eye. You had all worked so hard and believed that this comeback would finally be the one to get you a win.

The first weeks of promotions had made you start to lose hope when you had yet to obtain what your group desired, but your leader remained optimistic through it all, telling you that it wasn’t over and that you still had more chances. Yet in the end, her optimism was snuffed out as she sat by the corner, head in her hands as she struggled to pull herself together for when you all had to leave the venue and face your fans.

To make matters worse, Handong was leaving for China in a few days.

With a shaky breath, you turned away and shrugged off your stage outfit, replacing it with the shirt you previously wore, tossing on your hoodie and cap when you were done before heading out of the room, one of your managers quickly following after you as Bora’s frown deepened when she caught a glimpse of your expression.

“Come on, girls. We have to get going soon.” Minji called after she cleaned her face and dusted herself off. She watched as Yoohyeon hurried and quickly left, silently asking your remaining managers where you had gone off to before she went to find you.

With a heavy heart, the girls exited the waiting room and headed for the building exit where you and Yoohyeon were already waiting, the younger girl holding your hand while she kept her head on your shoulder, nuzzling against you for comfort whilst you held her closer to yourself with your own head down.

Minji felt a tug in her heart to see you, but when she tried to reach you, Siyeon tugged at her arm and then shook her head, knowing that there would be no getting to you at this point.

While you rarely expressed yourself, it was easy to tell when you wanted to shut everything and everyone out. You would let the girls come near you, but you wouldn’t say a single thing or react to anything they’ll say except for a nod or a shake of the head in case they ask you something.

“Unnie told me she was with Everglow before Yoohyeon unnie found her.” Gahyeon muttered softly from beside the vocalist. “She said she was trying to make them feel better because of the votes.”

It was a little after you all exited the stage when people began making comments online about miscalculations. As much as it was a possibility, you and your members decided not to look into it just so it wouldn’t further worsen your mood. You were already upset with having lost, it made you feel even worse to know that your dongsaengs were most likely receiving backlash with everything that was happening.

“It’s going to be okay.” Bora murmured, squeezing her friend’s hand as they approached you and the quiet girl. Handong offered you a small smile, but you merely nodded at her before looking to the door, hearing the shouts of fans that were waiting for you.

You lower your cap over your eyes just to avoid making further eye contact with anyone before finally leaving the venue, eyes squinting at the flashing of the cameras. Yoohyeon had let go of you to join Bora and Yubin’s side. Siyeon and Gahyeon stood closely side by side and Minji was clinging to Handong in order to comfort both of them.

And it just hurt so much more to see them forcing smiles on their faces when you knew just how terrible they all felt. You also knew that your own fans felt just as bad, seeing the tears on some of them when the winners were announced.

Right now, you felt stuck because it was usually Gahyeon and Minji who kept bright smiles on their faces. Your members were always eager to interact with fans, just like you, but this whole predicament merely took its toll on all of you.

But you refused to let this night end with them in tears.

Smiling, you waved to your fans and tried to give off the energy your members were lacking despite how it would usually be the other way around. Looking to your managers for permission, they were a little less strict this time around when they knew you just needed some space and allowed you to approach some fans.

Your members were somewhat surprised as you stepped away from them to greet everyone, thanking each of them for coming and supporting you all. Minji could feel her eyes watering at the sight of you trying your absolute best in covering for all of them, even trying to distract fans from noticing their weary state.

“Please be safe when you get home! The others are a little tired so please understand.” You tell them with a meaningful look and you were just grateful to know you had such understanding and thoughtful fans.

Even with the blinding flashes of the camera, you did your best speaking with them until your eyes landed on a few teary eyed Somnias. You felt your throat close up, but you do your best to swallow your emotions before approaching them. “Hey, why are you crying?” You asked and they turn to you with sadness swimming in their glossy eyes.

“We wanted to finally give you all a win, but we couldn’t do it.” One of them answers, your expression softening before you shook your head and opened your arms for them. Giving them both a warm hug, you patted their backs before giving them a small squeeze. “You guys did more than enough. You got us nominated, and that’s a really big thing, so thank you.” You assure them with your best smile,

“We’ll keep working harder, so please don’t be sad.”

Seeing your interaction with the fans pushed tears to Siyeon’s eyes and she had to avert her gaze while Bora wiped at the corner of her own eyes at your selflessness.

It didn’t take long before you came bounding over to your members and you sported a grin as you patted all of them, be it on the arm of back. “Come on, come on! I’m hungry, aren’t you?” You question playfully, earning a giggle from Yubin while Handong reached to pinch your cheeks.

When you turn to your leader, you smile before turning around so your back is facing her then gesture for her to hope onto your back. “Unnie, everyone is slow! Come on, you can get the food faster if you come with me.”

Minji couldn’t help but laugh at your display, her heart warming at your rare carefree personality and knowing that you were doing this for them.

So, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around your shoulder as you crouched down before allowing you to lift her on her back, laughter bubbling from her lips as you carried her away from the rest of your members while they watched on with smiles on their faces, happy to see your leader a little better compared to earlier.

“Yah! Unnie, be careful!” Gahyeon called out when Minji squealed after you nearly tripped, but you were able to tighten your hold on her legs, securing her on your back before you decided to merely walk instead of run to the van, the older woman’s face tucked comfortably against your neck that you could feel her smiling against your skin.

You didn’t have to go out of your way to check up on her and make her feel better, but she appreciated how you still did so without anyone having to ask you to do it. As quiet as you were, she loved the way you were ready to come to their aid.

“Thank you.” You hear her whisper and you hum while shrugging your shoulders lightly. “It’s nothing, unnie.” Though despite your words, she knows that you were relieved to have her, and the others, smiling as well.

Later that night, there are articles about you and your actions for that day. Pictures of you with fans and Minji, especially, circulate everywhere, but the girls decide that staying off social media would be healthy for them as they happily ate the food that you had asked your managers to bring to the dorm.

“Do you think we should wake her up?” Yubin asked when she glanced to your shared room, but Handong shook her head and smiled after drinking some water. “Jiu unnie did say she’ll take care of Y/n, so we can wait until they’re back.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen Y/n unnie have that much energy.” Yoohyeon commented after chewing her food, Gahyeon nodding in agreement with a tiny smile on her face. “Unnie is honestly so cute. I wanted to cry when she was hugging and comforting Somnias.” The maknae pouted while Bora giggled. “That kid is really unpredicatable sometimes.”

Siyeon scoffed at her claim, chopsticks pointed in the dancer’s direction. “Speak for yourself.” That earned a smack on the arm as Handong burst into laughter, everyone else following after as they exchanged more stories, forgetting about the award show and their previous concnerns.

Meanwhile, Minji looked down at you with a fond smile as you laid on her chest, arms wrapped around her waist as she kept her own around your slightly smaller frame.

As much as she cried earlier, you were able to make her feel better. Even as you slept soundly against her, she would thank you endlessly for being in her life and picking her up whenever she was down.

Somewhere along the way, she realized that some trophy meant nothing compared to the love and support she’s received from the people who surrounded her. While it was nice to have that recognition for the group, she would pick a group that was stable and gave as much as they received any day.

As long as you were among those people, her heart was safe and sound.

[iwaizooming]

➵ not good with words — i. hajime

✧ pairings: iwaizumi x fem!reader ✧ type: drabble ✧ genre: fluff ; a lil angst and pining ✧ wc: 1421

synopsis: iwaizumi knows of your flirty dynamic with oikawa, and he doesn’t really mind it—until he does.

ever since he was little, iwaizumi has always struggled with expressing his feelings.

his mom frequently joked about how much of a quiet kid he was. she said that he rarely ever cried or threw a tantrum. it wasn’t until he met oikawa that he started becoming more expressive, albeit with a little violence here and there.

even with oikawa’s help, iwaizumi still uses his words sparingly. it’s not like he’s shy or anything, he just feels like he isn’t good with socialising and he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and accidentally offending someone.

on the other hand, oikawa has always been a charming kid. he has a way with words that can make every single woman, young or old, to hand their hearts to him.

ever since middle school, oikawa is always surrounded by a horde of girls who blush and giggle at his every word.

his charm and flirty nature never really bothered iwaizumi (well, except for the fact that it makes it five times harder to get to their next classes after each period), but this changes when he met you.

you moved to seijoh during your first year of high school, and through some miracle, you were placed in the same class as iwaizumi and oikawa.

you were a curious case. instead of blushing at oikawa’s cheeky flirts, you flirted back at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

naturally, oikawa was enthralled by this.

throughout the year, all of you became very close. you fit into their friendship group very easily. hanamaki and matsukawa adored you, because no other girl has been able to match with oikawa’s ridiculousness before. you always participated in bullying oikawa, which made them love you even more. the flirting did not stop though, oikawa always made sure to blow a kiss across the gym whenever you came to their practice matches, and you always pretended to throw the kiss in the air and served it back at him.

although iwaizumi is aware of your flirty dynamic with oikawa, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating twice as fast when you gave him a smile.

he didn’t notice his feelings at first, being the oblivious boy that he is. it wasn’t until he saw you receive a confession from a black-haired boy in the corridor during your second year that he realised, the clench in his heart wasn’t normal. well shit.

after that day, he started becoming hyper-aware of the little things that were previously normal in your relationship.

when you grabbed his arm to tell him to look at the new takoyaki stand on the way home, he couldn’t help but flush at the touch.

every time you shot him a toothy grin when you saw him waiting for you by your front door to walk with you to school, his heart skips a beat.

your flirting with oikawa is no longer just a daily annoyance, it causes his stomach to twist just a little bit.

but iwaizumi knew better than to interfere with his best friends’ relationship. he believed that you and oikawa were right for each other, your personalities were very similar after all.

he could only stand and look from afar while his heart aches when you laugh at another one of oikawa’s stupid jokes. his arms were around your shoulders and you were leaning into him. you looked happy.

as if you sensed his eyes on you, you suddenly look up to meet his gaze. you locked eyes with him for a moment, and then you shot him a soft smile. he loves all of your smiles, but this one is his favourite.

iwaizumi doesn’t even bother to deny the skip in his heart anymore.

like any other day, iwaizumi walked home with you by his side. you were happily humming to yourself while munching on your onigiri.

iwaizumi swallowed hard, as if trying to stop his stomach from jumping out of his mouth from nervousness.

“h-how are you and oikawa?” iwaizumi asked, immediately cringing right after. that sounded so awkward.

you shot him a weird look, “what do you mean? didn’t you see him just now? he looked fine?”

iwaizumi swallowed again. his palms were getting sweaty.

“what i mean is, do you like oikawa? you guys seem super close and he obviously likes you.”

you stopped munching on your onigiri as your mouth opened in disbelief.

a blush formed on iwaizumi’s cheeks, “stop being disgusting and chew with your mouth closed.” he hoped that his gruff tone is able to mask the embarrassment in his voice.

you obliged and swallowed quietly. he could see the gears turning in your head.

a mischievous smirk formed on your lips as you teased, “are you jealous, hajime?”

the blush on iwaizumi’s cheeks got even darker as he feels his head get hot. he thinks that he’s one second away from overheating.

“n-no! stop being so annoying.” wait, that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

you smiled, completely unbothered by his insult. after being friends with iwaizumi for over a year, you’ve grown accustomed to his antics.

unbeknownst to him, your heart was also beating abnormally fast. you were just better at hiding your shyness.

“well, to answer your question, no i don’t.” you shot him another one of your soft smiles.

iwaizumi felt like a weight the size of an elephant has been lifted from his chest.

“but i do like someone else.” you looked down at your feet as you feel a blush creeping up at your cheeks.

“oh,” the pain and disappointment was apparent in his voice, but he didn’t have the energy to hide it anymore.

your eyes widened in disbelief as you looked up at him, “what do you mean oh you stupid godzilla? oh?!”

now it was his turn to look at you with wide eyes.

“i like you, you doodoo head. god! you’re so dense it’s annoying sometimes.”

iwaizumi felt like time stopped when he heard you say those words. he thought that he wasn’t breathing for a minute.

when he came back to his senses, he looked down to see you clenching your fists with a furious blush on your cheeks. you looked so unbearably cute.

his throat felt dry. he swallowed again.

“are you sure?” he asked dumbly. dammit. that’s not what he wanted to say again.

you raised your eyebrows at him and shook your head. you scoffed and turned on your heels to speed walk away from him.

thankfully, iwaizumi shook himself out of his dazed state after a few seconds.

“wait, y/n! stop!”

you didn’t stop. you can’t believe that you fell in love with a man who’s denser than a brick. your pride was hurt today and you are beyond embarrassed.

iwaizumi ran over to you and grabbed your hand to spin you around to face him. he let out a heavy breath and sighed.

“i’m sorry for being stupid. i’m not very good with words, but I like you too. i’ve liked you for a long time but i didn’t tell you because i thought you and oikawa were a thing. i didn’t want to ruin your relationship so i just stood from afar as my heart long for you. i thought i didn’t have a chance.”

you felt another blush form on your cheeks. you think that this is the most honest and transparent iwaizumi has been over the course of your friendship.

“wow,” you breathed out. his confession left you speechless. you didn’t know he had it in him.

iwaizumi smiled warmly with eyes full of affection.

“i’m sorry for not saying it sooner.” he mumbled while scratching his head in embarrassment.

you couldn’t hold it anymore. “can I kiss you now?”

iwaizumi blushed but didn’t say another word. he held your face in his hands and leaned in to close the gap between the two of you.

his lips were a bit chapped, but that was the last thing on your mind. he kissed you softly, with so much tenderness as if he was afraid that you’ll disappear if he kissed you too hard.

but you didn’t complain. the kiss was a product of months and months of pining and secret glances at each other. both of you sighed in relief into each other’s mouths like the kiss was the thing the both of you wanted most in life. and it was.

iwaizumi may not be good with words, but you didn’t mind if this is what you get instead.

��͙⁺˚*･༓☾  ⭒ ⊹ ⭒  ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✎ a/n: I hope you guys like this one! I had fun writing this one bc this is sort of self-indulgent heheh :^) as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!!!

other works

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader)

Chapter 2: A Valuable Friend

Summary: After surviving the Empires attack on Nevarro, you reluctantly go back to your monotonous life. But when the Mandalorian returns, you find yourself in a new position you never would have expected: his friend.

Warnings: Me making shit up about Mandalorian culture whoops, alcohol consumption & getting sick (reader gets drunk), some self-deprecation on the part of the reader, vague talks about having children, mature language (real life and starwars),

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: (more at the end for important note on one line in the fic)

Previous - Next

No. NO?!

How and why would you -

Did you really -

You really kriffed up that one.

Not only was that the single most embarrassing moment of your life, but you also just blew your first real chance at escaping this prison sentence of a planet.

Ever since you arrived on Nevarro you’ve wanted to leave. It was something of an accident, ever ending up here in the first place.

After the death of your mother, you were effectively an orphan, although old enough to care for yourself. In fact, you had already been caring for yourself and your sickly mother ever since your older sister left to fight in the rebellion. You always admired her bravery, her passion to do good in a galaxy that had treated her so poorly. You only wished you had half of her sense of purpose. So, when your mother finally passed, you decided you needed a change. You needed to find your purpose. You had nothing and no one to hold you back, so why not search for it in every remote corner of the newly liberated galaxy?

After gathering your dwindling stash of credits, you caught a ride to every backwater skughole you could find, just for a change of scenery. Along the way you learned that being a young – relatively attractive – humanoid had its fair share of advantages. It wasn’t long until you picked up certain…skill sets…to help you survive. But you didn’t get very far. You somehow ended up on Nevarro with little to no credits remaining. Meaning you were stuck in the same position you had been desperate to leave behind in the first place – broke and alone. You figured you could pick up a job to save up, but it barely paid enough to get by. You were stranded.

But suddenly the perfect opportunity to get away from it all had landed in your lap. In a moment you were granted the perfect opportunity to flee this hell hole and never look back. But in that same moment your incredible ability to self-sabotage just couldn’t be contained.

You had no kriffing clue why he would ask you – someone he barely knew – to join him on his new adventure, but nevertheless he did. Had you really proven yourself that trustworthy, or was he just able to see that you were evidently no threat to him? But why even ask you in the first place? How could he know of your deep desires to traverse the galaxy?

You were baffled. So much so that in that overwhelming moment your confused consciousness decided to betray you. What in the outer rim could possess you to say no. To travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian, The Mandalorian that you couldn’t get out of your head.

He said join him. But now you realize he probably just meant like for a little while, until their next stop. Right? But your flustered idiotic brain had to go and overthink it. In your panicked state you started to imagine what it would be like to travel with the Mandalorian and his child. To see the galaxy, as you always dreamed, at the side of a man who could protect you from anything. There would be no safer companion, but maybe that's just it. You’d been crushing on him so hard that being stuck in confined quarters with him might not be the best scenario. There’s no way you could force yourself to act normal for that long. And that must have been the thought racing through your head at light speed when you choked out the words you may now live to regret.

~

A week later you decide its probably time to get over him. Your crush over Mando has only caused you pain and put you in unbearably uncomfortable situations. You’d be much better off forgetting about him and moving on with your life. Besides, you don’t even really know him. You’ve probably spent a collective hour or so with him, maybe a bit longer if you add up all of the small conversations you held whenever he bought supplies from you.

It’s not even a real crush, just some lustful wishing. Do you secretly wish he’d take you out behind the cantina and fuck you into the next millennia? Yes. Would you let him do absolutely anything he wanted to you... probably? But is that very realistic? What is all of that really based on anyway? A suit of armour. His hypermasculine gait. The intensity behind his unflinching helmet. Nothing really about him. You don’t know his name, or his age. What he even looks like, but you bet it wouldn’t matter. No-

You need to stop those thoughts if you’re ever going to get past this. You. Do not. Know him. Therefore, there is no logical reason you should have any emotions invested in him. And that’s that. The plain and simple truth. It just doesn’t make any sense. So, you need to stop. Take control of your horny ass brain and stop thinking about him.

And just then – as if the Maker himself planned it – the Mandalorian walked by your booth. The sight of his broad shoulders almost erases all thoughts of letting go of your feelings. But just then you notice something. Something in the way he’s moving through the bazaar. It strikes you as odd, almost as if he were stalking prey. He’s hunting, you think. He scans over the area, but a little too erratically for someone of his status. You thought he’d be more elegant, sticking to the shadows until the right moment. Invisible. Deadly. However, here he is frantic. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was afraid.

You don't know how one of the most frightening beings in the galaxy can become a beacon of panic and worry, but there he was. Suddenly, he spots you and makes his way over in several large strides, making quick work to shorten the previously large gap between you.

“Have you seen him?” he barks forcefully.

“Who?” you ask, immediately catching the worriy in his tone.

“The child, my-”

“You lost your kid?!” Your worst suspicions confirmed before he even finishes his sentence.

“I didn’t - I thought he’d be safer with me than on the ship. I looked away for one second-” and then you hear it. His fear finally pried its way into his voice and cracked it. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he may be on the verge of tears.

“Hey it’s okay,” you place a hand just below his pauldron, grabbing his warm, thick bicep. If the situation had been different you might have let yourself think about the fact that only a slip of fabric separated you from him. That only millimetres below was a man of flesh and blood, not of cold hard metal. “I’ll help you find him,” his tension melting away slightly at your words and your touch, so you continue. “You take this side of the market and I'll look over there,” you insist, hoping that giving him some sort of tactical plan might spring him back into bounty hunter mode and away from panicked Dad.

“Thank you,” he stops, and stares at you. “I’m sorry I never asked…”

But you finish his thought, and finally tell him your name. You can’t believe after all that has happened, all the times he came to your vendor, your dumb ass never told him your name. But he nods and returns quickly to his search for the kid.

You turn on the spot and sweep the area with your gaze. In that moment you think back to when you were small. You loved to hide. You were amazing at it. So good, that your father once looked for you for over an hour and the only way to lure you out was with the promise of your favourite Alderaanian sweets. You use that memory and thought where you might have hidden. The market is buzzing and booming, much livelier now that the Imps were gone, and amongst all the chaos it would be natural for a child to feed off the wild energy. You begin peering under other merchant tables, behind walls and crates, when you stumble across a vase. Oddly out of place, but the perfect size for a little green monster to hide. You lean closer and hear a distinct coo as you tilt the lid back. Those giant black orbs staring back at you fill you with relief. You scoop up the child as you wonder how the hell he would have even got in there in the first place, never mind how he then placed the lid back on top.

You move quickly to find his flustered father, hoping to give him that same sense of relief you just experienced. When you do find him, he meets your gaze and moves quickly towards you. So quick it's unbelievable. One minute he was across the bazaar, the next he was scooping the baby up from your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again kid. You had me worried sick.” the child’s mischievous grin suddenly disappeared at this scolding and he became quiet in his father’s arms. “I better let Cara and Karga know. I was with them when he went missing and they also went looking for him.”

“Tell them to meet us in the cantina, I think you could use a drink… or at least a minute to unwind,” you silently curse yourself for being such an idiot. Offering a Mandalorian a drink might be the most oblivious and inconsiderate gesture you could make. In your shameful silence you watch Mando place the child in a floating orb. You recognize it as the same one that trailed him into town on the day everything went down.

“Don't you have to go back to work?” Mando questions, kindly skipping over your foolish comment.

“It was a slow day, and the sun is almost down, which means I’m almost off anyway. I don’t think my boss will miss me. But I mean, if you prefer to be alone I-”

“No, please come” He interrupts. “Without you I may have lost him for good.”

“I seriously doubt that Mando. I don’t know if you know this, but you are a bounty hunter.”

And then he chuckles. Like an actual laugh. Quick, quiet, and modulated, but still there. You think about memorizing the gorgeous sound, which also makes you wonder how often that happens. When was the last time he actually laughed? And what it would take to make him truly laugh? Loudly and unabashedly. You wonder what circumstance would allow him to fully let his walls down around you. How you would fall apart at the sound of his full tenor. Finally, you make a mental note to scold yourself later for these thoughts.

As the three of you make your way to the cantina you decidedly lag one step behind the Mandalorian, walking right next to the floating orb that contains the child, just to make sure the kid doesn’t pull anything before you can get there. You’re shocked at how Mando can be so trusting of this little menace so soon, letting the orb follow him without keeping an eye directly on the kid. It’s starting to make more sense how he might have gotten lost in the first place.

When you finally reach the cantina Cara and Karga are already set down at a table with possibly the largest bottle of spotchka you’ve ever seen sitting centre of the table. You take the seat next to Cara, while Mando places himself directly across from you, next to Karga.

“So, we have you to thank for the capture of this bounty huh?” Karga somewhat insensitively jests as he glances over to the child. In fact, you think you see Mando stiffen at these words. The last time you were all together was in service of protecting the child from the people who put a bounty on him in the first place.

“She’s truly a wonder.” Cara says in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean how’d you find the little bugger?”

“Truthfully? It sounds kind of odd, but I put myself in his position. I just thought about what I would have done when I was a child” You answer back to her, a little embarrassed at your confession. “I remembered how I liked to hide when I was that age. I figured he’d probably be wanting to have some fun. Of course, he couldn’t know that hiding in the middle of a crowd was only fun for him.” You continue as you look down into your hands, slightly lost in your thought, “Kids are often like that, giving us grief for their own enjoyment. But it really is a wonder. They seem to have an ability to find joy in the most desolate of places. They still see magic in the galaxy; they still believe in the impossible.” A subtle comfort fills your chest, and you smile as you remember your time spent with children back on your home planet. Time spent with your younger brother. You glance up at the child in his crib, “They have natural curiosity for the world around them. An endless hope for what the galaxy could be.” When you finish you look back to the group at the table, only to see the shared glances of amusement between Cara and Karga at your naïve outlook. You felt a little embarrassed at their reaction, but it didn’t last.

A droid disrupts the uncomfortable silence by approaching your table with 2 extra glasses, obviously unaware of the fact Mando would not be joining in the drinking. Good to know your common sense was on the level of a bartender droid.

You however were unsure of what to do. It wasn’t that you were necessarily opposed to the beverage now being offered to you by Karga, but this didn’t seem like the right time to indulge. You had probably already embarrassed yourself enough in front of this particular group for one night. So, when the child began to stir in his crib you took it as an opportunity to forgo the beverage and focus on him. With your arms reached out towards the child, you suddenly think to get the consent of his guardian. You look up at the Mandalorian and smile when you receive a silent nod from him. After grabbing the child and setting him in your lap, you hope that you had successfully removed yourself from the attention of the others.

“You like kids then?” Cara pries at your thoughts, trying to continue your previous chain of conversation.

“Well, I haven’t really been around them in a while, not since being home. There were always so many children in my village, and they were always so filled with wonder. It made me see the world a little brighter.” You finish, hoping the conversation ends there.

“Ever think you’ll have your own?” She continues, obviously seeing the gleam in your eye as you speak.

You laugh at this question but honestly you hadn’t really thought of it. You’ve never been able to picture a future like that. Husband. Kids. Home. It had been too long since you had any feeling of security to hope for that type of life. You'd pretty much spent more of your life alone than with your family, to the point where you don't even know what it’s really supposed to look like.

When you don’t give her an answer past laughter, Cara switches her attention to the Mandalorian, “How ‘bout you Mando, ever thought you’d end up with a kid of your own?” and you turn back to the baby, hoping that you had finally left the center of the conversation.

It seems to work as you overhear the members of your table switch their topic to the criminals that still plague Nevarro, and the recent advances ‘Marshall Dune’ has made in her efforts to clean the town.

Tuning them out, you begin to play with the child, making faces and babbling along to his adorable coos. The child becomes fascinated by the idea of hiding your face behind your hands, only to suddenly reappear seconds later, and he tries to pry your hands away every time. After popping your face out for the tenth time the child begins to reach for your face again, but this time grabbing your nose, and you can’t help but giggle at his precious three-fingered grip. However, when his tiny hand slips to your cheek, a sudden wave of emotions rips over you, and you feel overwhelmed by a grief you haven’t felt in years. Your eyes tear up, and you remember flashes of a memory you’ve worked hard to repress. Standing in a dark closet huddling tight to your brother and sister. Then, the loudest sound you’ve ever heard fills your ears and-

“Kid!” Mando bellows and removes the child from your grip. You turn away from the table and look up at the Mandalorian, cheeks drenched by your tears and barely able to breathe. He sets the child in his pram, and crouches in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay just breathe, slowly, breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he reminds you, holding your knees. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath, but in those moments, you stare through the visor, past your own reflection, and focus on the eyes that you knew were staring back at you.

“What… was that” You finally manage to choke out.

“The kid, he must have done something to you. He’s got these powers-”

“He made me remember?” You blurt in disbelief.

“Umm, I’m not sure. Maybe. The people he belongs to, the Jedi, they are sorcerers.”

“So, whatever he just did to me… that’s what that woman, the other Mandalorian, was talking about?” You ask.

“Yes, whatever he just did, and more,” Mando adds

“More than that?”

“So far, a lot more.”

You finally snap back to reality, remembering that there are other people present, so you turn to give them a reassuring nod.

“How ‘bout that drink?” Karga asks in an attempt to lighten the mood, and you shoot back the beverage quickly, attempting to wipe the resurfaced memory from existence.

~

After the first round of spotchka had been downed, Cara and Karga made their way to the bar for more drinks, leaving you and the Mandalorian alone.

“So… you’re stuck with him, huh?” you ask, feeling quite light-headed from the drinks, any filter you previously possessed had now dissipated.

“Well, I wouldn’t say stuck,” Mando states sitting up straight.

“You don’t think you bit off a little more than you can chew? He seems like quite the handful.”

“He’s a good kid.” Mando snaps shortly, making you finally realize he has become defensive from your words.

“Oh. No, I just meant, kids are already a lot of work, I can’t imagine the magic powers make it any easier,” you joke, trying to diffuse your mistake with a small chuckle.

“No, I can’t say they do. Although without him or his powers I’d be dead.” Mando says blankly, as if his words were common knowledge to you.

“Wait, what?” You ask in shock, wondering if in your current state you forgot about some lifesaving event that took place previously.

“Yah, so would Karga.” He glances over at the pair at the bar, and you follow with your eyes. “Saved me from a mudhorn the first day we met. Healed the poison in Karga’s arm when he was attacked by a reptavian.”

“Wow,” you say quietly to yourself, “Look at you go kid. You’re pretty dang special.” You say towards the child, sticking your tongue out and successfully getting the kid to giggle at you.

“Yah he is.” The Mandalorian says quietly, almost a whisper to himself, and with a lightness that makes it sound like he might be smiling.

“So, will you raise him to be Mandalorian as well?” You wonder aloud, taking a swig from your drink, as if you needed to increase your level of inebriation.

“Not necessarily. Although I’ve adopted him as my founding, he belongs with the sorcerer group called the Jedi. My goal is to reunite him with them, but until then, technically yes.”

“Does that mean anyone can be Mandalorian, if they get adopted by one?”

“Yes. But they may not need to be adopted. If someone was old enough, they could simply train under another Mandalorian, and then swear an oath to the Creed once that training is done.” And although you want to know more about how he grew up, some grain of restraint is planted in your brain, thankfully stopping you from prying into his private life. Instead, your interest in the Creed is piqued, and you decide to follow that train of thought instead.

“And is that a difficult process then? I mean, not just anyone would be able to pass it, right?” And even though warning signs were flashing in your brain, telling you not to risk disrespecting the secrecy of the Creed, the Mandalorian responds. He continues to tell you intimate details of his training process, specifically towards the fighting corps, including how his adoptive siblings and he were forced to spar with each other, often walking away with several harsh wounds. He tells you about how he studied the language as much as he could, as it was rarely used, but still sacred among his people. How he had an affinity for languages, and how he specifically enjoyed the simplicity and poetic nature of Mando’a. He tells you of grueling trials, times where he thought he wasn’t going to make it. But he also explains how his low moments lead him to find the strength to persevere.

The whole time he spoke, you stared at him with glimmering eyes. You hung onto every word. Even through the modulator you could hear the care and restrained excitement in his voice,. You could tell just how important this culture was to him, how he cared deeply for the history and sanctity of his people and Creed. And as he spoke with such tenderness, you felt yourself become entranced with his words. As he detailed the responsibilities and dedication to his covert - how important his training had been - you felt something within your heart, a longing sentimentality. His words describing a life you wish you had known. A sense of purpose and duty. A greater cause to fight for. A chosen family with a common mindset. A place in the galaxy.

These were things you had dreamed about for your entire existence. Every day that passed felt meaningless and draining, knowing that you were doing nothing of importance. The life Mando described to you sounded like heaven. The idea of having something to fight for filled your entire body with electricity. You couldn’t help but stare at him with wonder as he detailed to you a life you had always wanted.

“Dank ferric.” He grumbles. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said all that.” Mando says, snapping back from the trance he had found himself in.

“Oh gods, no that’s my fault I shouldn’t have pried.” You try to apologize. “I’ll forget everything you said.” Although you don’t truly know if you had a choice. You think you might never be free from the wishful idea of belonging that had latched onto something deep within you.

“Oh, I don’t mean that I shouldn’t have told you. I trust you won’t do any harm with that information.” He says with a nod towards you and you can’t help but blush at his compliment. Being trusted by Mando might be the highest honour he could give. “I just shouldn’t have gone on so long. I apologize for taking up your time.”

“Mando, you don’t have to apologize for speaking.” You joke, although simultaneoausly noticing the way Mando had stiffened at your words, you continue, “At least not to me,” you say reaching out across the table to grab the Mandalorians hand, a gesture that your sober self would never have had the courage to do. “You obviously care about your heritage, and rightfully so. It sounds magnificent. You should be able to be proud of it.”

“I don’t usually have that privilege. Many people would take advantage of such knowledge.”

“Well, you deserve to have the freedom to talk about something you care about,” you say as you bring your other hand across the table and give a caring squeeze to his hand, “And I swear, the only exploitation you’ll get from me is my claim to babysit your little womp rat whenever you come to town.” you say retracting your hands away from Mando and instead making grabby hands toward the child.

“Well, I don’t know anyone better suited to the job. It would be unwise to deny you that wish, especially now that you have intel on me.”

“Was that a joke, and a complement? From a Mandalorian?” you scoff, “Wow. I never thought I’d live to see it.”

“Does that mean I have to kill you now?” he shifts to the edge of his seat and leans towards you.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, bucket head.” you tease, knowing full well he could kill you in an instant without even trying. Regardless, you shift forward and cross your arms on the table, challenging him with the mirrored motion.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, your mouth creeping into a mischievous smile. You wonder what might be going through his mind, as all you can think about is the idea of him pinning you to the ground in a millisecond, and just when you think he will break, a voice brings your attention away.

“I think we gotta call it,” Cara says, a little too loudly for her close proximity to your ear. You wince at the intrusion, cursing the fact that you won't get to know how your challenge ended.

“I should be on my way then” the Mandalorian states, “Although I’m still missing some supplies-”

“Lemme grab them for you.” You insist, “I can meet you back at your ship in 30 minutes. Got a list?”

The Mandalorian lists off a handful of items, and you instantly know you have them all in stock. You give him a nod and stand from your booth. “See you in a few.” You say with a wink that you instantly regret the minute you turn your back.

~

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” You question Mando as you approach him with the crateful of supplies he requested.

“Not really sure. If I get any leads on the Jedi, I have to follow them up. Of course, Nevarro is always a safe place to refuel and restock.”

“So, you’ll be back as long as you need shit from me?” you startle yourself with your choice of language, remembering the several shots of spotchka you just downed and how your tongue might be a little looser.

“Not just you.” The Mandalorian states rather quickly, in a tone you’d almost label as flustered. “I can’t get fuel from you,” he continues much more coolly.

“Mhhhm, right. That is true. But no other reason.”

“Another reason for what?”

“For you to come back. Here. I mean you’ve got friends here-”

“I don’t really have friends.”

“Well, that mighta hurt my feelings if I knew you a bit better, but I’m certain Cara and Karga would feel a bit under appreciated. Especially after everything that happened…” You trail off.

“They are much more business partners then friends,” you squint your eyes and raise your brow at him with those words, making him corrects himself, “But sure. If you want to classify them as friends, then yes.”

After a brief silence you somewhat bravely somewhat stupidly ask, “And me?” Eyes wide and hopeful, sober-you would be ashamed. Taking a step towards him you muster up even more courage, “Would I be classified as a friend too?”

“Yes. A valuable one,” He states stepping towards you as well, “One who could teach me something about caring for a child.”

“Oh, no. I know nothing about that. I guess I’m just good at relating to them. Maybe I’m still young at heart” you tease. Something about the Mandalorian tells you he’s got a lot of years behind him, a lot of...experience. You don’t have much evidence to back it up, more of a vibe really.

After another small silence the Mandalorian speaks. “I guess it’s nice to have friendly faces around, for the child's sake. Perhaps I should make it a habit to return until he’s been united with his people”

“And what about you? You don’t go crazy having no one to talk to but the kid?”

“Not much of a talker”

“Except for tonight.”

“Fair.” He bluntly states. “It doesn’t seem too difficult to get information out of you”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You seem to like to talk, is all”

“Well, it’s been a while since I've been in good company. To be honest I think I talked more tonight than in the past several years''

“I can agree with that.”

“We make a good pair then. Two people who don’t talk yet can’t shut up around each other” And at this point you don’t even know what you’re saying. The proximity to the Mandalorian and the alcohol in your blood are mixing at a dangerous level, making you blurt out things you’re sure you’d never have the courage to say.

In the silence that followed, you are eager to find something to fill it. You think back to how he talked of his upbringing, the joy you felt in his voice. It reminded you of the last time you could remember feeling that way.

“You know, the way you spoke of sparing with your siblings, it reminded me of my childhood.” You say, eager to find something to fill the silence. Normally you don’t mind quiet but drunk you has decided otherwise. “When I was very young my siblings and I would fight constantly, always in good nature of course. We wanted to win the affection of our parents, although they would have loved us either way. But they would cheer us on. They always encouraged our fighting, telling us we would be stronger for it when we were grown.

“When they watched us, they looked so in love, so proud. My mother would turn to my father and say ‘we raised warriors’. It was like they knew things would turn bad. I mean of course there were wars, and the Empire was a constant threat, but somehow, they were always prepared for the worst. Like they were ready for a fight that might never come.”

The Mandalorian stood silently, and it seemed your attempt to relate to him failed spectacularly. However, for a moment, you thought you caught the subtle tilt of his visor. Like he was examining you, maybe unsure of what to make of your lengthy anecdote.

“That does resemble my upbringing.” He spoke softly, finally filling the conversational void. “Quite a lot, actually.” But then silence returned. A buzzing filled your ears from the complete lack of auditory stimulation. You felt yourself becoming unsteady, like the force of the silence was pushing you off balance. You now realized the total effects of your inebriation were hitting you. “Were you-” but before Mando could finish his thought, your stomach forced its contents out violently, and you were lucky enough to find the sense to turn away from him, and rush towards a near alleyway, just in time.

As your body rid itself of the liquid poison, you couldn’t help but let multiple tears spill out of your eyes, unsure if it was from the force of the projectile, or the complete embarrassment.

“Oh, dear gods,” you finally croak as you regain your bearings on the spinning world around you. “I am so sorry, Mando. That was so kriffing embarrassing.” You try to cover your face, as you sweep your tears from your cheeks. But Mando already made his way over to you, crouching to meet you on the ground, grabbing your hands in his and placing a canteen in them instead.

“Drink. It’ll help.” He says in a soft hushed tone. You aren’t even sure where he got the canteen from, maybe it just happened to be near at the time, or he went back up to the ship in the time you were hurling… “Drink.” He repeats, interrupting your train of thought.

You unflask it with shaky hands and take a large swig, immediately feeling some relief from the burning sensation in your throat. “You need food as well.” He adds simply, grabbing your arms and heaving your dead weight off the ground as if it were nothing to him. After helping back to standing position, he turned toward his ship and made his way to the ramp. Before ascending, he turned back to you and finished his original thought, “Let’s see what rations you gathered for me. Come on.”

So, you make your way over to the ship, which is a task in itself as your legs felt as though they might give out at any moment.

“Wow,” you say in astonishment. You’d never seen a true cruiser like this. Any inter-planet hopper you’d taken to make your way to Nevarro had always been either completely basic and Imperial made, or a complete hunk of junk. And although you had nothing really to base it on, this ship was leagues ahead of anything you had experienced before. To think he got to spend all his time travelling the galaxy in a ship like this, all on his own. That was true adventure.

And you knew from the carbon scoring on the exterior that he had actually seen it. Excitement, danger, freedom. But the inside of this ship told a more complex story. You think that before it would have been simple. A weapons locker, a tiny sleeping quarter, a refresher, and not much else. The bare necessities for a man always in motion. No home. No attachments. But what you figured must have been new additions showed glimpses of a different man. A tiny hammock over the sleeping area, a small padded seat lifted to meet the height of a protruding shelf that almost resembled a dinner table, and what looked like makeshift toys strewn across the hull. All signs of another lifeform making itself comfortable on his ship and in his life.

“Here.” the Mandalorian grunted, breaking you from your daze, as he held out a ration stick to you. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I don’t feel as… vomitty, as before.” You start, now staring at the man in front of you, right where you figure - where you’re almost certain - his eyes are meeting yours. You think of his willingness to take care of you, twice tonight. Nothing added up. He was a complete mystery. Just when you thought you had him pinned, everything was suddenly flipped.

“That’s good, you just look a little out-of-it.” He said as he placed a hand on your shoulder, probably trying to steady you from whatever state you were in.

“Oh no, I’m just admiring the place.” You say, breaking eye contact to scan over the area again, taking in new details as you did so.

“Ha ha.” he says dryly, retracting his hand from you.

“No, I’m serious,” you reply sternly, offended that he would think so little of his own ship. “I’ve never seen anything like this, except for maybe in my dreams. I can’t imagine getting to fly in this every day. Or, oh maker! You get to see the stars in hyperspace, that was my favourite part! I only got to travel through hyperspace once. And, dank ferric, it was spectacular. Every other damn transport was sublight, not fun. Very slow, but generally cheaper, I guess. I’d kill to get to see that again” You could feel the excitement within you reach your face. A giant grin bursting out of you when you could no longer contain the joy within.

“Where were you travelling?” He questioned after examining your elation, and you could hear the genuine nature of his question, like he actually cared. Most people had never taken this much interest in your past.

“Oh, really anywhere I could. I just wanted to get away from, well, everything. My family, the war, my whole life. I tried to start over, but I didn’t get very far. Got stranded here, and I could never find the means to continue my journey.”

“Your journey?” He prompted, trying his best to stifle the laugh that followed.

“Yah okay that sounds a little ridiculous, but really I was just trying to find some excitement, something different. Just trying to find… something. It sounds dumb, I know, but I was so sick of my life, so when I had the opportunity to go, I went. I went everywhere I could afford, until I could barely afford food. So, I worked at that vendor for scraps until I saved enough to keep going, but I guess I never saved enough.”

“So, you’re still looking?’

“Huh?”

“You said you were looking to find something, but it doesn’t sound like you found it.”

“No. I haven’t. Not that I even know what I was looking for. But it seemed like one of those ‘you’ll know when you know’ things”

“Well, what if someone could take you away from Nevarro?” he questioned.

“Wouldn’t happen. I’ve got barely enough credits to buy bantha crap.”

“What if that person didn’t need credits, just company.”

The statement threw you. Suddenly you weren’t sure what Mando truly knew about your reputation. “Uhhh what kinda company, because I really don’t-”

“A friend.” He paused, making you wonder why he would propose such an idea, “A valuable one.”

And only then did the wires connect in your still-woozy brain. He was asking you to join him. Again. But this time as a friend. Someone he knew and trusted. Someone who he felt comfortable enough with to talk about his Creed with. And suddenly your heart stopped beating.

You could not – for the love of the Maker – mess this up again. But maybe you should make sure.

“Me?” you say while lazily pointing towards yourself for further clarification. “Mando are you asking me to join you two?”

“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.” He says before making his way back out of the hull to finish packing the remnants of the supplies, apparently making the decision for you, as you definitely gave no answer. But it was the answer you wanted. A way out. An escape. And for kriffing sake, free.

As you stood, dumbstruck and alone, in the hull, you wondered just what it might be like. Getting to see some danger up close and personal. To see treacherous planets one week, then beautiful landscapes the next.

When Mando returned to the hull with the last of the supplies, only two words could escape your mouth, quieter and softer than you may have ever spoken before. “Thank you.”

Chapter 3

☆ I appreciate every like and comment so much, thank you all! And if you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know ☆

Taglist: @peppywitch @tobealostwanderer @thecraftyartist @ajeff855 @greatcircle79

Notes: In this chapter I say that the reader is “relatively attractive”. I’m not trying to single anyone out here or make you feel like you can’t be the reader if you don’t view yourself as attractive (because we are all fucking gorgeous anyway fuck societal norms). What I really mean to say is that like being a human looking person makes the reader more attractive than some alien-being might be (like weird alien species that would make up the general population of the more ‘outer rim’ planets she might be on). I was just trying to emphasize that she would be viewed as rare since young female humans wouldn’t normally populate those types of planets. Also, because the reader being female and kinda youngish will play a role later as I kinda touch on the dangers of the bounty hunter life and how the reader needs to navigate it.

[morganwrites-starwars]

I Stand Here Right Beside You- Chapter 20: Vode

On Ao3

Series Summary: CC-2224 had been a good soldier for the Empire its entire existence, never failing a mission assigned to it. But Lord Vader's next mission might do it in: raise and protect Lord Vader's son. CC-2224 was not cut out for childcare. It's a good thing Cody is.

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           “Oh,” Luke said, vaguely dejected. Cody rested a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

            Ahsoka winced and quickly added, “But despite everything, Luke, you are one of the lightest people I’ve ever met. You remind me of a star.”

            “Ka’ra’ika,” Cody said, chuckling at Luke’s pout.

            “I’m not a child,” Luke complained.

            Before Cody could disagree- Luke would always be a child to Cody-, Ahsoka said, “Don’t bother. Cody’s still calling me a kid too.” Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “I think he’s in denial.”

            Cody frowned but decided not to comment, mostly because she wasn’t wrong.

            “What language was that?” Leia asked, reminding Cody of her presence.

            “Mando’a,” Cody told her, “The language of Mandalorians. Mandalorians taught us clones, and we picked up the language. What I called Luke was ‘little star,’ ka’ra for star, and ‘ika is a suffix for little.”

            Leia contemplated for a second before smiling innocently. Bail saw her look, and his expression became exasperated.

            “Leia-” Bail started before being cut off by Leia with faux-innocent Tooka eyes.

            “Knowledge is power, isn’t that what you always say, father?” Leia asked. Bail sighed and gestured for Leia to ask her question. Cody was growing more amused by the second and could tell Ahsoka was too. “What would the word for prince be?”

            Cody smirked, knowing full well that Luke was about to have a new nickname. “Alor’ika- little ruler. Mando’a is gender-neutral so that it could work for anyone.”

            Leia nodded. “Thank you, Commander Cody.”

            Luke stared with narrow eyes at Leia, and the princess just stared back smugly. Cody decided not to interrupt, and he could tell the Bail was choosing to do the same.

            “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” Cody asked Bail.

            Bail smiled and looked away from his daughter, who was still in a staring contest with Luke and said, “Well, mostly, I just wanted to let you know that the high command has decided that you and Luke are free to leave whenever you wish, you will not be held captive by the rebellion since you willing divulged a lot of important information on the Empire. We are thankful for that, and we,” Bail’s smile turned slightly mischievous, “and by that, I mostly mean me, are willing to offer you and Luke a ship to take to wherever you would wish to go. If you do not wish to go, we are willing to offer you a place within the Rebellion. Your experience with the Empire and with battle strategies would be greatly beneficial.”

            Cody hummed and looked at Luke. Apparently, Luke and Leia had finished their staring contest. Leia had won if her smug expression and Luke’s small pout were any indication. Luke looked deep in thought. “Do we have to decide right now?” Cody asked without looking away from Luke.

            “No,” Bail responded softly, “And if you choose to stay and at some point change your mind, you will be free to leave. I cannot promise that you will be welcomed back to the Rebellion if you choose to leave first. Some may worry that you contacted the Empire in that time and had become a spy. Not something that I believe you would do, but we are a Rebellion; people are suspicious and untrusting of anything related to the Empire.”

            Cody nodded in understanding. Cody wasn’t particularly attached to either idea. Yes, he would probably like to settle down for the first time in his life. Not be involved in any type of fight. But Cody also knew himself and knew that he would probably get bored and paranoid quickly. So Cody was content to let Luke decide what he wanted to do. Cody would follow his ad’ika wherever he wanted to go. Except back to the Empire. Cody would drag Luke kicking and screaming away from the Empire if he had to. Not that Cody expected Luke to want to go back.

            Luke eventually shrugged. “I don’t know.”

            “That’s ok. We’ll talk about it later,” Cody said.

            “That’s a good idea,” Ahsoka agreed. “In the meantime, you think you can handle more ghosts, Cody?”

            “Sure. But maybe some warning would help?” Cody asked. Mostly because there was a chance if he didn’t have an idea of who he was meeting, his heart genuinely might give out. And Cody would like to spare Luke that trauma.

            “Some of your brothers,” Ahsoka responded. “Wolffe, Rex, Helix. Maybe a few others. I’m not sure who else is in the base right now.”

            It turns out Cody didn’t have to wait to see them for his heart to get out. Cody thought his heart may have stopped when Ahsoka listed off his brothers. Brothers, he hadn’t let himself imagine being alive, living in the sith hell that the galaxy had become. But Cody couldn’t help the questions that began to run through his mind. How long had his vode been free? Did Wolffe, who loved his General like a buir, have to kill General Koon? How had Rex survived, had Ahsoka saved him? How many other of his vode, of his batchmates, were alive? How many were still trapped in the Empire?

            Cody let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding. Cody nodded at Ahsoka. “Ok,” he said, the word coming out hoarser than Cody had wanted. Cody cleared his throat and tried again. “Ok.”

            “Isn’t Wolffe your vod that bit you?” Luke asked. “That’s what the scar on your leg is, right?”

            Bail looked concerned, Leia looked a mixture of grossed out and interested, Ahsoka was smiling. Cody narrowed his eyes at her.

            “Yes, Wolffe is my bitey ori’vod. But the scar he gave me is on my arm.” Cody kept staring at Ahsoka as her shoulder began to shake in silent laughter. Bail began to smile as he noticed Ahsoka’s state.

            “But you have a bite mark on your leg….” Luke trailed off as he looked at Ahsoka. “No way.”

            “Commander T- Fulcrum was a feral ad,” Cody sighed. “And the day she met Wolffe, I knew it was only time.”

            “Wolffe wasn’t the only bad influence,” Ahsoka defended, still smiling widely. “I learned to punch droids from you.”

            “You punched droids?” Luke and Leia exclaimed in unison.

            Cody stood up. “Well, I don’t want to keep my vode waiting, now do I?”

            It was a bad deflection, and the look Luke gave him said that Cody’s punching droids days were going to come back and bite him in the shebs soon. But Luke was kind enough to leave it be for now. Leia looked like she wanted to keep going but would let it go for now.

            Force, he was going to have to deal with two teenagers now, wasn’t he? Cody was getting too old for that. At least Luke had made a friend.

            “Of course not,” Bail, thank the stars for the miracle that was Bail Organa, said while standing, moving so Leia could stand up. “I believe they have waited long enough.”

            Ahsoka tapped something out on her comm as she moved her chair back to the table. After a second, her comm dinged. “Ok, they’re in Wolffe and Rex’s room. I’ll walk you over.”

            Cody and Bail shook hands, sharing a fond look as Luke and Leia awkwardly tried to figure out how to say goodbye. “While you were unconscious, Leia kept Luke company as soon as we were able to get here safely. It’s good to see her making a friend her age.” Cody agreed wholeheartedly.

            Luke and Leia settled on a semi-awkward hug that could only happen between two teens who were used to having less-genuine friendships.

            After everyone said their goodbyes, Ahsoka led Cody and Luke out of the room. As she led them past the interrogation rooms and offices, Luke spoke, “So you’ve known Cody for a long time?”

            “Since I was about your age,” Ahsoka confirmed. “My grandmaster was his general.”

            “You were a Jedi!” Luke whispered in awe. But the moment of awe passed quickly, and Luke realized the implications of that. “I, um, I’m sorry. For your losses.”

            “Thank you,” Ahsoka said softly as she opened the locked door leading back to the main hallway. “But you don’t need to apologize for anything. It was years ago, and I’ve learned to cope.”

            “That’s good,” Cody said, trying to lighten the mood and distract himself as they walked down the hallway. “I remember when you were an ad, you refused to talk to Skywalker for two days after he broke your data-pad. Poor Rex was stuck being a human transmitter.”

            “It was good for Skyguy’s ego,” Ahsoka responded bitterly. It seemed that Cody had managed to worsen Ahsoka’s mood. Apparently, Cody was better at dealing with upset ade and teenagers rather than adults.

            “Not for Rex’s blood pressure.”

            That got a chuckle out of Ahsoka. Luke was watching the exchange with fascination.

            “Wait, so is this Rex, that Rex?” Luke asked Cody as the group stopped to let a hurrying group of pilots pass. Ahsoka shot a curious look at Cody at Luke’s words. Cody felt that whatever he said would get repeated back to Rex.

            Cody sighed, already trying to do damage control. “Yes, he is.”

            “Well, come on, Cody,” Ahsoka drawled as the group continued their walk. “You can’t leave me hanging. What did Rex do to earn that response?”

            Cody frowned at her, and she smiled back. Ahsoka opened another locked door, the label next to the door signifying they had reached the barracks. Cody’s heart picked up.

            Luke, who never missed an opportunity to both learn about Cody’s vode and to mess with Cody, told her, “Apparently Rex tried to tackle buir when they were kids, but since buir was bigger, he only smacked into buir and broke his nose!”

            Luke was smiling as he recounted the story Cody had told him years ago during a lesson about not tackling bigger opponents. Cody wasn’t sure the lesson stuck, but the story did.

            Ahsoka shot a curious look at Cody. Cody tried to figure out what prompted the look as they stopped in front of a non-descript door. “I’ve never heard the story before.”

            “Yeah,” Luke chuckled, “buir only told it to me after I kept trying to tackle him.”

            It smacked Cody in the face, the reason for Ahsoka’s look. He looked at her for anything signs of disgust or similar emotions. She just smiled softly and knocked on the door.

            Almost immediately, the door opened, and Cody was met with a face, a nearly exact copy of his own. The only difference was the blonde-white hair. And the beard.

            “Su cuy'gar, ori’vod,” Rex greeted, tears forming in his eyes. And Cody wanted to cry and pull his dear vod’ika into his arms. Cody had been certain that his dear little brother was dead- because how was he alive?- but Cody couldn’t move. And it wasn’t because he was shocked that it was Rex. No. It was the beard.

            “Vod?” Wolffe spoke this time, stepping out from behind Rex. At least Wolffe looked normal- one organic eye and one synthetic one. Wolffe still cut his hair to regulation and no facial hair. Wolffe was frowning, and Cody noted it was his concerned frown. Probably because Cody still hadn’t said anything.

            Cody also realized his mouth had opened. He shut it, raised his hand, and moved it around his chin. “Tion’jor?”

            Rex raised his hand to his beard, offended. Wolffe snorted and rolled his eye. “Still a di’kut, huh vod’ika?”

            And to continue the rollercoaster of shock, Wolffe stepped forward and pulled Cody into a Keldabe kiss. Wolffe tightly gripped the back of Cody’s neck. Wolffe had never been the most affectionate vod, but Cody had learned to read his ori’vod and knew that Wolffe’s shaky exhale was one of relief and Wolffe’s attempt not to cry. When Wolffe pulled back, his eye was shiny, and he had a small grin.

            “It’s good to see you alive, vod’ika,” Wolffe said and stepped back to let Rex move in. Rex pulled Cody into a hug, tightly squeezing him. Cody hugged back, ignoring the scratching of Rex’s beard on his shoulder and neck.

            “Rex’ika,” Cody breathed out, the realization that his vod’ika and ori’vod were here, were alive and didn’t seem to be missing any important parts. Tears formed in his eyes, and Cody finally let them fall as he pulled Rex further into his arms. Two other pairs of arms wrapped around them. One was Wolffe and the other, Cody assumed, was Helix. It had been so long since Cody had hugged and been hugged by something that wasn’t Luke. It wasn’t the same- it wasn’t the hug between a buir comforting an ad, it was brothers who had thought each other dead, brothers who knew each other sometimes better than they knew themselves.

            For the first time, Cody was with both of his alit. And he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep them together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mando'a Translation Ka'ra'ika- little star Alor'ika- prince, lit little ruler ori'vod- older brother Su cuy'gar- hello, lit 'You're still alive Tion'jor- why di'kut- idiot vod'ika- little brother

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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[blu-joons]

Decorating The Christmas Tree ~ Kim Namjoon

“Where do we even start, it looks like a bomb has gone off in here?”

The two of you stood with your hands on your hips as you took in the chaos that was all around you. After picking up your Christmas tree, you thought the hard job would be over, that was until you went and dug out all of your decorations that you kept hidden away.

Every year the two of you forgot how festive your house became, the stream of boxes that Namjoon carried down the stairs at times seemed to be never-ending. Neither of you had anticipated quite how much would be left for you to do.

“What do you say to just throwing something together and seeing what happens?” Namjoon asked you, clearly allowing his frustration to get the better of him. “Who really cares what it looks like?”

Your head shook, nudging gently into his side, “that’s not the attitude to have at Christmas. Even if nobody sees it, we still have to look at it night after night.”

His eyes rolled, knowing how right you were. He could pretend, but he knew it would wind him up to no end seeing a messy tree on the other side of the room.

The two of you were both reluctant, but you were the first to tear open one of the boxes and pick up the top bauble, placing it through the hooks you kept every year. You placed it in the middle of the tree, letting it hang perfectly with the light through the window bouncing off of it.

“Shall we just call it a day there?” Namjoon continued to tease, earning himself yet another jab from you. “Nothing has gone wrong, what’s the point in risking it?”

“Nothing will go wrong, so long as you’re careful.”

It felt easier said than done with Namjoon, somehow decorating the tree every year ended up with you digging through the emergency box for something. You didn’t quite understand how he managed to get himself in so many messes, but he did.

“Let’s just get the colourful baubles on first, and then we can think a little more,” you suggested, twirling around Namjoon to hang a few more decorations onto the branches.

He hummed in response to you as he filled up the higher branches that you struggled to reach, “doesn’t it feel a bit pointless when we’re going to take it down in a few weeks?”

You glared across at him in surprise, “you really are turning into such a scrooge this year, find a bit of Christmas spirit Namjoon.”

Whilst Namjoon worked a lot slower than you did, it didn’t take long for you to start filling the tree up properly, placing the baubles carefully in position. No one else would be with the two of you this year, but you still wanted to make it perfect.

In fact, a Christmas for the two of you was why nothing could go wrong, it was special for the two of you to just be together and enjoy time together after what had been another rather chaotic year for Namjoon and the boys.

He hated to admit it too, but he also looked forward to Christmas with you and being able to escape a bit of what was going on in his crazily busy world.

“Do you want to put some of the funny baubles on?” Namjoon asked as you cleared the main box, tearing open the lid to peer in.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked in too, the whole box was filled with tat you’d collected throughout the years. Usually, you had to put them up to make sure that you pleased your family, but that was no responsibility of yours this year.

“I’d rather throw them in the bin then put them on the tree,” you noted, exchanging a glance as a hint of a smile finally appeared on Namjoon’s face.

Before you could add anything else, he pushed the box across the room making sure that it was out of the way. He grabbed the next box, pulling out several strands of knotted tinsel.

“And this is why I said we should’ve put new,” he remarked as he held it up for you to see, throwing it down to the floor as he looked at all the intricate knots it made.

You sat yourself down beside him and grabbed one end of the tinsel, as he did the same. Between the two of you it didn’t take too long to break it all apart, carefully placing each strand around the room so it couldn’t knot itself again.

“We just need to place it around the tree now,” you smiled, noting Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Why didn’t we just call one of those companies that come and do decorations for you?” He questioned, but still took a large strand of gold tinsel to wrap around the top branches.

Your eyes rolled as he stretched up on his tiptoes, “because I enjoy decorating the tree with you, it’s all about making memories.”

His body froze as you spoke as he paid close attention to the smile on your face. As much of a scrooge as he may have been, he could see how happy you were causing absolute carnage with him.

“I never thought of it like that,” he commented as he began to enthusiastically stretch more tinsel around the tree, “perhaps that is what this whole Christmas is about just with you.”

Initially, he was disappointed to not be able to be with his family, but the more he thought about it, the more exciting the prospect seemed. To be able to spend the day just with you, doing what the two of you enjoyed, felt like a dream.

“Making memories?” You asked as his head nodded, “that’s something that we always do, not just at Christmas.”

“But doing it at Christmas makes it much more special,” he laughed, walking around you whilst pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It makes me feel like I’m a kid again.”

You smiled softly in his direction as the tree soon became filled with all the decorations the two of you had pulled out. It might not have been perfect to most, but as Namjoon said, it was the memory the two of you had crafted.

“It looks cute,” you giggled, taking a step back as Namjoon’s arm wrapped around your waist.

“I actually bought a little something else to put on it,” he noted, digging through one of the boxes to pull out a box of candy canes that he’d purchased. “And these aren’t to be eaten, they are purely for decoration on the tree.”

“That’s horrible, you know I love a candy cane.”

His shoulders shrugged innocently as he counted exactly how many there were before scattering them around the tree. You pouted as he placed them around, knowing now you had no chance of sneaking a few.

Once they were all on, Namjoon stood back proudly and took it all in. The tree really did take up most of your house, but the adventuring the day had bought had certainly ended up being well worth the effort.

“Now, it looks perfect.”

Your head nodded in agreement as you laid against his shoulder, it was exactly how the two of you had designed, which made it perfect in your eyes.

“I’m excited for Christmas to just be the two of us this year,” he whispered down to you, resting his puckered lips into your hairline, “are you?”

“Of course, although I’m happy just to be with you.”

“I know I’ve been away for most of the year, but hopefully now we can make the most of our time together,” he continued to speak, as always, letting his guilt get the better of him.

You smiled up at him, resting your hand against his chest. “You always do this, stop being sorry, I knew what I was getting myself into when I dated you.”

“Did you really?”

You nodded, moving your hand to his cheek, “just having you home for Christmas is enough for me, to be able to do things together. It never bothers me if you’re away for the rest of the year.”

He smiled, paying close attention to the things you said, “I’d never miss a Christmas with you.”

For all the days, weeks, and months he spent away from you, there was nowhere else he would ever allow himself to be in the world then beside you for the holidays. There was no other time more important for him to be with the ones he loved, and that most importantly, meant making sure that he was with you.

“I think it’ll be the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Namjoon spoke down to you, squeezing you tighter into his side.

“I hope so too, we get to do whatever we want,” you laughed.

“No one to stop me from opening a present at midnight.”

“Exactly, we get to do, whatever we want to do, whenever we want to do it. “

---

Masterlist

[themysteriousauthor18]

Your worth it [Radiodust oneshot]

"Care to explain why you are late again this evening." 

"I toldja I was out with someone!" 

This isn't what Angel needed right now. He just got back to the hotel and it was a little over midnight. 12:05 to be precise. Clearly, Alastor had an issue with it. Since Vaggie nor Charlie could get him to follow that curfew, Alastor had been put in charge. 

It wasn't like he hadn't been trying to get back in time, but it didn't matter how hard he tried. 

Naturally, Charlie and Vaggie were also in the room, standing behind Alastor watching as he tore Angel apart, metaphorically of course. Vaggie scoffed crossing her arms and rolled her eyes. Normally Charlie, who was behind her, would have intervened but she seemed to justify it this time.

What a load of bullshit was that?

"So you were out with another of your 'clients.'" Alastor asked his tone firm.

With the day Angel had that tone sounded smug which only pissed him off more when in reality it was just how Alastor talked and merely a simple question. He just wanted to go to his room and deal with any punishments later.

Angel crossed his upper set, lower on his hips as he glared right back at the deer demon. "Maybe it was a fuckin' guy who was takin' me out fa dinner you don't fucking know!"

Alastor laughed, "right. Like anyone would date you, a slut." 

"Alastor!" Charlie interjected her eyes growing wide at the clear overstep. 

"What? I am merely stating facts, my dear. You truly believe anyone in their right mind would actually compliment him on anything besides his sexual favors? Give him flowers, or even give him a letter that isn't-"

"Alastor enough." Charlie sternly said, eyes meeting her business partners. Alastor didn't understand what the big deal was, that was until he looked back at Angel dust.

He wasn't crying, no of course not. But his eyes held a clear gloss over them. Nails dug into his arm and clothing but the look on his face practically spat venom.

It was then he realized he'd gone too far. He didn't know what to say, 'sorry' obviously was appropriate. But no words found their way to his mouth as he stared at that expression.

"Angel, Alastor didn't mean it. I'm sure anyone would wanna-"

The arackniss laughed it off as he quickly brushed by, the bar cat watched from his place behind the counter. Eyes just as wide as Charlie's and even Vaggie who knew it had gone too far. 

"No he's right.," Angel muttered, voice strained. "Who'd eva love a slut like me. It's all I'm good for is sex."  

"Angel that's not what he was saying!" Charlie tried but Angel was already walking out of the room, making the excuse of feeling tired and needing to sleep. Though it wasn't entirely false. 

Alastor stared at the spot Angel had been in, only turning once the spider had left the room. His smile tightened and although the others couldn't see, his nails dug into the palms behind his back.

"Alastor that was so mean! You shouldn't say such hurtful things!" Charlie said with a disapproving frown.

Vaggie wrapped an arm around her girlfriend shaking her head as she pulled her away. Even Husk was shaking his head at the radio demon before turning his back away and chugging down some alcohol. 

The demon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he had gone too far. 

"You gotta fix that. Kids not gonna be too happy with you if you don't at least say sorry." Husk announced. 

Alastor looked back at the hall. "..Yes, perhaps you're right." Although he didn't doubt what he said was true, it was uncalled for. 

The redhead briskly walked out of the lobby and down the hall to Angel's room. Near the end, he stopped at one of the many doors and gently knocked. It sounded quiet, normally he would have heard some sort of music from inside or something breaking from the other times Angel had lashed out.

There was no response to the knock, understandable. So he tried again, this time hearing shuffling from inside followed by a hiss of some sort. He took a step back, folding his hands behind his back, and waited. But when there was no answer to the door, nor any indication that there would be, he decided to speak.

"Angel? This is Alastor." No response. "I recognize that what I had said may have been out of line and I would like to apologize." Still no response. 

The redhead sighed and shook his head. "Angel? Are you there?" At times Alastor wasn't great at picking up on social cues, right now was one of those times. 

He was apologizing, isn't that what Angel desired? Why not simply open the door and accept it? Then they could be on their merry way. 

Alastor took a step back, deciding it best to just leave the spider to his tantrum. But when he heard the all too audible footsteps followed by the door opening he turned back. 

Angel stood in the doorway, his usual attire wrinkled, mascara running down his white fur eyes puffy and red. A blanket was lazily draped around his shoulders held up by his top set while the bottom held himself. 

Alastor simply flashed his usual smile, the fake one. "Ah there you are, I hope there are no hard feelings between us. You do understand that-" 

"Your fucking fake Alastor!" Angel suddenly yelled.

His words caught Alastor off guard, he couldn't remember the last time someone had dared speak to him in such away. The last person who had ended up being his dinner for the night. 

His eyes narrowed, grin widening. "You are certainly one to talk Angel. You are the very definition of it." Alastor spat back. 

Angel's grip around the blanket tightened, baring his own teeth. "Oh, you just came ta insult me some more hah!? Your only apologizing 'cause Charlie got on ya fuckin' ass for it! I don't need your damn pity! I know what I am I don't need you to fucking tell me!" 

Alastor for the first time in years found himself at a loss for words. And before he could gather any the door was being slammed in his face with enough force to cause his monocular to fall off. 

He rolled his eyes, the spider would calm down in time. He always did, this would all blow over in a few days.

It didn't. 

1 week had passed and while Angel seemed back to his usual self it was clear he now had some strong animosity towards the radio demon. Whether he'd always had it and was now showing it, or it was the result of their argument was undecided. 

He behaved normally towards everyone else in the hotel, drinking with Husk, helping Charlie out where he could, and only occasionally messing with Vaggie. 

But Alastor, he wouldn't even look at the man. And when the radio demon directly approached him he would walk off. 

It was no secret, everyone had noticed it including Alastor. 

Angel would only occasionally hit on the radio demon and that was whenever the redhead approached him or he was told to. Otherwise, they didn't speak, that had been how things were between them before all of this. 

Truly, it was a blessing to no longer have those comments. At least, he thought it would be. He didn't miss him, no no. To miss someone you had to enjoy their company in the first place. 

No, it was...simply exhausting. 

With Angel being the hotel's prime and first client there was a lot of advertisement involved. And quite a lot of times Alastor or Charlie would handle them, lately, Charlie had to handle them since the spider wouldn't even speak to Alastor. 

Truly it was just, problematic. 

"Your gonna have to fix this," Husk told, pouring a generous glass of whisky. He'd need it.

"Yes Husker I am well aware," Alastor replied, sipping the drink. 

"And you tried apologizing?" The cat poured a glass for himself. 

"Yes, but the stubborn fool wouldn't accept it. He insists on fighting about this when there is truly no point in it." Alastor shook his head as if it were all so crystal clear.

Husk gave him a look as he leaned on the bar. "I know your new to friends and everything-"

"He is no friend of mine," Alastor said into his glass.

"Yeah, sure." Husk grumbled. "But you can't just say something like that and expect them to forgive you just like that. Not how people work kid." 

Alastor scoffed at the term, even if Husk was older than him he didn't like being addressed as such. "Then what am I supposed to do? Hm? This little tantrum of his has become quite troublesome for my work."

Husk rolled his eyes as he finished his drink, refilling it. He knew what Angel was feeling wasn't a tantrum and was justified, but he knew Alastor too. He wasn't going to listen, he'd have to just learn the hard way. 

"Figure it out. Your problem, you clean it up." 

Alastor's eyes glowed, an obvious annoyance behind them. But Husk knew as well as he that the radio demon wouldn't kill him. Not unless he crossed a line. The cat didn't fear death but welcomed it, so there wasn't much he could do to punish him or scare him. 

Husk met his glare, not backing down or cowering like most of hells citizens would in this situation. He'd stared death in the face during life more times than he could count, he wasn't about to cower just because some pissy deer man was glaring at him. 

After a moment, Alastor huffed and shot back the rest of his drink before setting it down on the counter. As per usual, Husk was right. 

"Fine. I shall think of something." Alastor grumbled as he pushed off the bar and begun walking towards the exit. 

"Good luck." Husk offered as Alastor left the hotel for the afternoon. 

He didn't know what day it was, nor the month. Then again time was irrelevant in hell.  All he knew was that he was tired and wanted to sleep. 

It had been another hard day at the studio filled with its usual challenges and little rewards. With the shooting for his new film coming out, the clients and then having to deal with Valentino's horrible attitude, it was all too much for today.

Not to mention his temper that had gotten him into trouble in the first place and the bruises on his face. Make-up would cover it up, or at least that was Valentino's excuse. 

The spider trudged to his door, the sky had darkened long ago. Sleep. That's all he wanted. 

Walking to his room he expected a lot of things, mainly Charlie ambushing him and trying to convince him to 'make up' with Alastor. He didn't see the point, it was Alastor who had crossed the line, to begin with. And frankly, he no longer wanted to deal with the man.

When he reached the door of his room, something greeted him that he did not expect. 

Sitting on the floor in front of his door lay a red envelope closed with a wax seal. 

With a grown, lower pair holding himself, he leaned down and picked up the envelope walking into his room with it. Fat nuggets greeted him, the only highlight of his day. He picked up the small pig in his lower set and sat himself down on the bed. 

He switched his lamp on as he settled onto his small pink bed. It wasn't the best but it was something, and that's what mattered, to him at least. 

He sighed as he removed the seal and opened the envelope. It was probably one of his creepy fans sending him another letter. He didn't mind it, it came with the job. What he did mind was that they were being sent to his room in the hotel. He wanted this to be a place where he could get away from that, not having to deal with it still.

Oh well.

As he pulled the red? A red paper? Okay, that was strange.

As he pulled the red paper from the envelope, discarding that he turned it over in his hands, his brows knitting together in confusion. It wasn't a letter about how much this person loved his body, movies, or any of that, hell there weren't even any stains on it. It wasn't even a letter.

It just had a single sentence written on it in neat cursive. 

You are nice

Angel wasn't sure how to feel about this. His first thought was that this was a prank, but then remembered nobody in the hotel pulled pranks, except maybe Nifty. But she didn't talk with him much.

Maybe it was sent to the wrong place? 

Angel shook his head, far too tired to try and figure this out. Still, even if it wasn't meant for him the note was nice even if he didn't believe it or if it wasn't true. 

He smiled briefly and carefully set the paper on his vanity somewhere where his pig couldn't get it. 

With that out of the way, the spider flopped onto his bed, allowing the much-needed sleep to take him as his mind buzzed around the sentence on the note and the mysterious person who wrote it. 

He thought that was the end of it, but the next evening when he returned from the studio, just like the previous night another letter greeted him in the same spot. Same envelope, same-colored paper, and same hand-writing. 

Doing the same as he had the previous night, he opened the letter again, this time a new sentence greeted him.

You are good

Angel huffed at the message, if this was an accident then it was a nice one. If there had been an address anywhere he would have perhaps written back and let them know of the mix-up. But there wasn't.

Still, he enjoyed it while it lasted. He was sure the person they were intended for would notify the other that they weren't getting them and this would end, but for now he would enjoy it. 

As the days went on, Angel continued to get a new letter each day upon returning to his room. Each and every single one held the same red paper and envelope and always had just one sentence neatly written in cursive on it.

At first, the messages seemed awkward but with each new one, they appeared more genuine than the last.

You are smart

You are brave

You are strong 

You are powerful 

And then those notes branched off into longer messages with more emotion behind them.

You glow brighter than any star.

You are incredibly selfless 

Your smile is a rare and beautiful site. 

And then came the latest one...

You are worth it.

This had been going on for another week at the very least and Angel found himself looking forward to them. He didn't know who they came from, but he could imagine that they were meant for him.

"Whatever you did must be working," Husk muttered from behind the bar. Alastor sat on the other side, sipping his whisky as he worked on some papers.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, not looking up from his work.

  Husk was polishing a glass as he looked to the redhead. "Kids seemed more chipper than usual. He left this morning smiling like an idiot and actually wanted to help that princess with cleaning yesterday. What did you do put a spell on him?"

Alastor chuckled, sipping his drink a more genuine smile falling on his lips. "No. Merely an....experiment you could say." One that seemed to be working. 

Truthfully the first few had been just cliche greetings and compliments, but in his more...recent ones, they had been rather genuine. 

Angel still refused to speak to him, but that was fine. He wasn't outright walking away whenever he got close to him now, but still wouldn't talk. 

He couldn't help but observe Angel these past days, noticing just how kind he could be whenever those rare moments presented themselves. He'd offered to help Charlie with cleaning, Nifty with cooking, and even held a decent conversation with Vaggie without fighting. 

And while there were times Angel could be rather vulgar, he found he had his moments where he shined like a star. Just the other evening he'd stumbled upon the spider teaching the princess a bit of dancing, likely during their cleaning. 

Of course, once he was noticed the spider went cold once again. 

It was a side that he didn't know Angel could have. And it fascinated him. 

"Hey Husky~" The voice came from behind, Alastor didn't bother turning already knowing who it was. 

The cat rolled his eyes as the spider strolled up to the bar, hopping onto one of the stools, noticeably away from the redhead who he pretended wasn't there. 

"The fuck do you want." Husk grumbled, per usual.

Angel wasn't affected, he was wearing a dress today, and his make up a little heavier. He'd just gotten back. "A drink~" He purred.

Husk shook his head with a groan as he got to work on getting the spider a drink.

Alastor kept his gaze off the spider, knowing it wasn't wanted nor was he. But he wasn't going to move just because Angel was here, he had work to do. 

As Husk prepared the drink, Angel leaned on the bar a small smile on his lips. He did appear more chipper, but with Alastor there, it did make things a bit awkward. 

"You look like haven just accepted your ass. What you get some good dick for once?" Husk asked, placing the pink drink in front of Angel. 

The spider hummed, sipping the straw lightly as he maintained that smile. "Nah, but let's go with that." 

Husk shrugged, not prying. It wasn't his business, but he already knew why the spider was behaving this way and who was behind it. Not that he was going to say anything. 

"I'll be right back." Husk grumbled, turning to leave the bar. Angel piped up, alarmed as he grabbed the cat's arm.

"Were ya goin' Husky? You don't wanna hang with me?" Angel said, batting his eyes but the anxiety was there.

Husk gave him a look. "Can't I fuckin' take a leak? Damn. You're a big boy you'll be fine." He grumbled as he pulled his arm away.

It was an excuse but the pair needed an obvious talk and he sure as hell wasn't going to be around for it. 

Angel frowned as Husk left the room, leaving just him and the radio demon alone at the bar. He slumped down against the bar, keeping his eyes on the drink. His stomach churned, he wanted to get up and leave but at the same time knew he had to confront this eventually.

Just not today. 

At least that was his excuse, he would finish his drink and then go back to his room. He was never good at confrontation.

Alastor knew what Husk was doing and didn't miss the fear in Angel's voice. Not fear of him, but for being alone with him. 

He closed his eyes, sighing, and set the papers aside. This confrontation was inevitable, it was bound to happen eventually. 

The redhead looked to his side, only noticing just how Angel was dressed. It was tacky at best, but that was only because he found Angel more appealing without all the make-up. It was that raw bare-bone self that he enjoyed seeing. 

The real Angel, not this facade. 

He cleared his throat, watching for any indication that Angel wanted to speak to him. He flinched but didn't look his way. Of course.

Lord, what was he supposed to say in this situation. 

"You are wearing quite a lot of make-up today.." Not that.

Angel frown turned into a scowl at the comment but didn't offer a reply, hit pace on the drink quickened. 

"Not that there's anything wrong with that..." Alastor quickly added it didn't seem to help. 

Angel shook his head, finishing his drink. "You can tell Charlie to stop pressuring you I'll fuckin' tell her I forgive you." Even though he didn't. 

Alastor's smile faltered as Angel pushed off the bar and started for the hall, a week back he would have let him go. Wouldn't have cared but this time for whatever reason, he did to some extent. Whether it was the desire to be forgiven or to no longer have that cold towards him.

He quickly followed after the spider who was briskly walking down the hallway. He had to say something. So in this moment of panic and limited time frame, his mind decided to blur out,

"You're worth it!" 

He mentally smacked himself. 

He didn't know if the reaction was positive or not, but he caused the spider to stop dead in his tracks. 

Alastor ground his teeth together at the deafening silence that lasted for five minutes at the very least. He was truly contemplating just turning around and leaving the hallway, pretending this never happened. 

But refrained from doing so when Angel turned and looked at him, not with anger but pure confusion. 

"What." He finally said. 

Alastor hesitated, cursing at the ears on his head folding back at his anxiety bubbling up in his chest. He swore these feelings were destroyed long ago.

"You... you're worth it." He slowly repeated. 

Angel just stared, wide-eyed as the gears in his head worked to click the pieces together. Alastor stood like a statue, his body tense. 

"You wrote those notes," Angel said his voice strained. Alastor opened his mouth to reply but was at a loss for words. "Seriously!?" Angel's voice raised as he spun around, not marching up to Alastor and aggressively poking his chest. "You think it's fuckin' funny playing these pranks on me!? Huh! Your pretty fucking sick Alastor!" 

"Angel let me explain please!" Alastor's voice raised, something that didn't happen very often if at all.

Angel was back to glaring at the deer demon, he clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. "You got five minutes." 

He didn't know why he felt the need to explain himself, or maybe he did know why and just didn't want to acknowledge it. Either way, he wanted to try at the very least to mend the tear in whatever it was they had.

"I'm not very good with words nor emotions." Alastor started with, ears still pressed down against his head, showing his true feelings despite the now smaller smile on his lips. 

He continued, "I am not very good with people. Their desires yes..but not truly befriending them." 

"Four minutes," Angel stated bitterly.

"What I said to you crossed a line." 

"Yeah, it did." 

"But I did not mean to offend you. Even if it appeared that way, Husker aside, I've never met someone such as you either Angel. Someone who has no problem putting me in my place and not fearing me. I am not sure what to say that could mend what I've said nor am I sure there is anything I could say except, I'm sorry. And Charlie is by no means forcing me to this, it's all my own choice." 

Angel sighed, his eyes glued to Alastor and that expression. "I don't know if I can forgive you right now.." Angel muttered. 

"I understand," Alastor answered calmly. 

"Why the notes..was that just a game." 

Alastor shook his head. "I wanted to apologize, but I didn't know how. Even if I am not forgiven I believe it's only right that you deserve some sort of happiness here." 

A silence fell between them as Angel processed it all and Alastor tried to maintain eye contact, resisting the urge to walk away. 

"Didja mean it," Angel asked, an uncharacteristically serious look to those mismatched eyes. "Your notes." 

"At first, no." He answered honestly. "But the more I wrote them they began to become genuine." 

Angel huffed shaking his head. "You got a crush on me or somethin' Smiles?" He joked, lightly. 

Alastor smile tightened. "I don't know." His answer was honest and vulnerable something Angel didn't expect.

Angel colors tinted red in surprise. "Uh.." 

Alastor looked away, his own face turning a shade of red. "You are..different, and it's intriguing." 

Angel scoffed, unraveling his arms. "Yeah, I'm different alright. Sex worker 'in shit." 

"Yes, you are.." Alastor looked up. "But I've come to realize that you are far more than that. That you are indeed worth it." 

Angel's lips turned up into a small smile, the genuine tone in the deer's voice being more than enough of an indication that he was being truthful this time. 

"I'll consider forgivin' ya. But this is a good start." Angel offered, and Alastor perked up a visible light in his eyes if those ears perking up too were any indication. 

That was cute.

"Would dinner perhaps help?" Alastor offered his face reddening.

"Hm, I'll think about it," Angel said with an obvious smile. "Gal needs 'er beauty sleep though." 

"Ah-yes, right," Alastor said nervously. "Well, goodnight Angel." 

"Goodnight Alastor," Angel called back as they turned their opposite ways down the hallway.

The next morning Angel awoke to another note on his nightstand, and this time, a red rose sat beside it. 

Angel beamed as he opened the note finding the following message written in neat cursive:

You are an Angel.

[anntoldst0ries]

Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

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

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it. 

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible. 

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture. 

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed. 

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh. 

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’ 

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times. 

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely. 

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass. 

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around. 

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in. 

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed. 

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too. 

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision. 

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time. 

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention. 

He thought he felt it once before. 

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo. 

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him. 

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure. 

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.  

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself. 

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

[yukiwrites]

Behavior, Making the Difference

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This one was so fun to write, I hope you like it! I love exploring all of these different interactions!

Summary: Ricken, Lysithea and Hayato banded together due to their similar circumstances in their home world. They were now good classmates, who shared the same woes even in another world like Askr: why are they being looked down on, just because they were young?

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

The amount of Heroes being summoned in Askr grew day by day. The castle alloted to house the Order of Heroes had enough space for them all, yes, but there were some areas that a few groups of like-minded Heroes claimed for themselves.

For example, the western training grounds was now CHOP’s exclusive meeting spot. The eastern forest? Home to Heroes who would rather stay away from people to focus on calming their raging power. There was also a meadow past the southern garden, almost touching the outer wall, where the dragon-shifters liked to gather.

In the same manner, the central library was used as a classroom and gathering spot for the mages. It was big enough that classes could be taken on the second floor while others could quietly do their personal research on the first floor without one being a disturbance to the other.

Every other day, more experienced mages ministered classes on the second floor in favor of the apprentice mages. Merric’s was a particularly popular class due to how Young Merric also participated and asked many questions to his older self, which would extend the lecture for hours upon hours.

After class had finally ended, many of the students had stiff necks and sore legs for sitting up for so long. Be that as it may, one of the most eager students, Ricken, observed how Merric and his younger version interacted. On top of that, he noticed how younger Merric received different treatment whenever he went despite being the very same person who was just at the helm of the class.

Sure, the years of experience made a whole lot of difference, but younger Merric was in no way lacking in comparison to any other mage!

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause Merric’s tall.” Ricken grumbled to his deskmates, Lysithea and Hayato, as he looked up to his intentionally large hat.

Lysithea revised her notes calmly, resting her head on one hand. “At this point in time, young Merric has much more experience than Professor Merric had when he was that age. He’ll grow into a much stronger mage if he keeps up with this hunger for knowledge.”

Hayato nodded beside Lysithea, yawning loudly while he stretched his stiff muscles. “I do not know if it was due to the special summoning or if something different happened in his home world, but this young Merric has outstanding innate magical energy. It’s even larger than Professor Merric’s.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying. He’s much stronger than a lot of the adults, but he’s still treated like he’s not that capable because he’s young. They’re treating him like a little kid in favor of his older self!” Ricken protested with puffy cheeks.

“I do understand the hierarchy that comes with the territory of being a mage, so it’s not like I agree completely with you,” Lysithea pinched in, lifting her gaze to the red-haired young boy, “but I don’t disagree completely, either. They could treat him with the deserved respect of someone who holds that much power.”

“Though the man himself doesn’t seem to mind, unfortunately.” Hayato sat back down after cracking his neck a few times. “He sucks it all up, as though he himself feels unworthy of respect.”

“I suppose seeing how much you’ve grown can do that to people,” Lysithea mused, then mumbled so only herself could hear, “I’d be jealous if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”

Ricken’s cheeks only inflated more and more. Seeing people just like him, full of potential and stacking on accomplishments, being treated as less than they deserved made his blood boil. It reminded him of the constant ‘are-you-alright’s and ‘someone-your-age-should-rest-now’s he received on a daily basis.

“He shouldn’t be treated that way!” Ricken exclaimed, raising both fists up. “It’s the same everywhere! Back home, Chrom and everybody else treated me like a little, helpless kid and never saw how much I could do.”

Hayato crossed his arms, bobbing his head to the sides. “Just blow something in their vicinity; that will shut them up.”

“But I don’t want them to fear me! I want them to respect me! Besides, that’d probably just make them tell me I’m still too reckless for the battlefield.” Ricken’s shoulders dropped as he saw the exact scene being played in his mind, word by word.

“... Ah, you’re part of a specialized task force, right?” Hayato momentarily forgot that although the other two shared the same amount of potential and suffered from being berated by their ages, they weren’t the heirs of their tribes. He could get away with a lot of stuff because the heir was usually the strongest one, but that wasn’t the case with Ricken, who was simply one soldier amidst many.

Ricken sat back down, deflated. “Yeah, and there’s this other boy who got in after I did but no one treats him like they treat me! He’s only older than me by a few months, but everyone already sees him as a man and they never hold him back on doing stuff.”

Lysithea immediately remembered Petra, the princess of another country who studied with her under Byleth. They were both the SAME age, but no one treated Petra like a little kid. “... Is it the height?” She mumbled, though both of them heard it loud and clear.

… Oh.

It was the height.

Ricken took off his hat, then glanced up as though to remember how tall Donnel was compared to him.

… After a moment, he realized Donny was at least a head taller than himself.

“This is ridiculous!” However, Hayato was the one who slammed the table. He, too, was conscious of his height. “Bring it on, I’ll zap him with my magic and we’ll see-”

“Wait, wait, wait! I don’t wanna hurt my allies!” Ricken pulled on Hayato’s sleeve. “Besides, he’s not a mage, he’s- uh, I don’t know what he does exactly, but he’s a villager. Everyone trains with him and gives him tips and puts him on the frontlines without question… It’s unfair! I can hold my own, too!”

“That does seem like special treatment,” Lysithea nodded. “It’s unfair, but that only means that you have to overwhelm everyone with your effort. Study a lot and show them how good you can be to shut them all up.”

“Yeah... It’s my dream to be able to fight side-by-side with Chrom, but it’s not something for the far future. I can do it NOW, but they just don’t acknowledge me! It’s driving me nuts.”

Before the other two could reply, the sound of steps going up the stairs to the second floor interrupted them, which was unusual. It was an unspoken rule to use sound-muffling magic while walking around the library; not to mention that the second floor was commonly used for classes, so there shouldn’t be anyone going up at that moment, as the next class would only happen after dinner.

“C’monnn, up we go, Donny!” A familiar, peppy voice echoed. Soon, the blonde pigtails could be seen before the princess’ body: It was Lissa, Chrom’s sister and princess of Ylisse.

“W-wait, wait, Miss Lissa! I reckon we shouldn’ta be ‘ere now! Aren’t them egghead folks studyin’?” Being pulled by Lissa, Donnel held the pot on his head to hide his face, whispering in an attempt to be quiet.

“Nope, class was over a while ago, so now it’s Professor Lissa time! Take your seat, Donny, and let your big sister here teach you stuff!” She pulled out a monocle from her sleeve and a presentation stick from the other, pointing at the blank blackboard. “Now, todaaay we’ll learn about… Cloud formations!”

Apologetic, Donnel glanced around as he scratched the back of his neck, meeting Ricken’s, Hayato’s and Lysithea’s eyes as he sat down. He bowed to them before turning back to Lissa’s long winded explanation about Stratus clouds.

Lysithea’s expression turned cold as her optimal studying space had been breached. “Aren’t they from your world, Ricken? Don’t they know how this is a place of learning and not of fooling around?”

“Ah, um, yeah. He’s the boy I was talking about, too, but…”

“You said people don’t treat him like a kid, though? But look, even that young princess is making sure to even call him ‘little brother’...” Hayato commented, glancing between Ricken and the other two.

“I’m surprised, too. I only see people praising him and telling him to go to the frontlines more often. Princess Lissa can be annoy-erm, difficult to deal with, especially if you’re younger than her…” Ricken spoke with a jaded voice, as though he had experienced all of that first hand (he did). “I didn’t know Donny also went through that.”

Hayato cracked his fingers. “He doesn’t seem to be much older, just like you said.”

“Yup, I can only imagine they treat him differently because he wields a weapon, not magic. They might think I’m weaker than others just ‘cause I don’t have muscl-”

“That’s ridiculous.” Lysithea interrupted. “Mages are one of the most terrifying pieces of the battlefield. No one has any right to look down on a mage just because they’re more fragile than their weaponized peers.”

As both boys nodded, Ricken clutched his hands. “Yeah, but that’s the only conclusion I can come to, honestly. What IS the difference between us if not that? We’re basically the same age! I refuse to believe it’s because I’m- I… I’m s-shorter than him!”

As the three of them discussed, Donnel raised his hand to ask Lissa a question. “But ‘scuse me, ma’am, it’s the Nimbus kinda cloud tha’s the rainy one! Folks called ‘em that ‘cause no matter how fast you saw ‘em, they’d catch up with ya and wet all your laundry, that it would!”

“Weh? What? No! It’s the Cumulus one, I’m sure of it!” Lissa was bewildered for a moment before stomping her foot stubbornly. “I’m the older one here, so I know best, okay?”

Donnel scratched his head awkwardly. “B-b-buh… But the Cumulus kinda cloud’s the one’s looks likea’ tree, ain’t it? Mighty tasty-looking too, like a pretty treat I saw in one offa those fancy towns we gon ‘bout.”

“Nghhh!” Lissa shook with embarrassment and mortification. That wasn’t the first NOR the second time Donnel corrected her during her ‘classes’. She was the older sister here, darn it all!

In between the three mages, the princess and the villager boy, none of them could truly fathom the reason why people treated Donnel differently, despite their close ages. In other circumstances, perhaps, Lissa would be sitting at the table alongside Ricken, Hayato and Lysithea. However, since that was not the case, the group was fated to observe the duo.

If they had just a little more self-awareness, they might have realized that the simple and obvious reason was only one’s behavior and humility.

But perhaps, they were all still too young to realize...

[kafka-ish]

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

-

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy). 

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three. 

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home. 

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea. 

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. 

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary. 

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.” 

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart. 

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh. 

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’. 

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?” 

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.” 

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way. 

Taking Stan’s sister home it was. 

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision. 

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. 

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him. 

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.” 

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her. 

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed. 

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together. 

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to. 

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top. 

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it. 

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them. 

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face. 

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road. 

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails. 

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me. 

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.” 

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.” 

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts. 

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her. 

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much. 

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either. 

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.” 

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.” 

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot. 

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him. 

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost. 

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area. 

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game. 

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine. 

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look. 

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek. 

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves- 

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face. 

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses. 

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh. 

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.” 

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events. 

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?” 

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off. 

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister. 

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true. 

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it. 

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.” 

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before. 

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt. 

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.” 

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. 

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).  

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind. 

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher. 

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night. 

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.” 

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another. 

But Richie was impatient. 

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion. 

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him. 

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly. 

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place. 

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.” 

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now. 

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so. 

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly. 

Another knock at the door. 

“Can you please get that?” 

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face. 

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot. 

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke. 

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend. 

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den. 

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten. 

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar. 

Well, not anymore. 

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going. 

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car. 

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris. 

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice. 

But Richie already knew who it was. 

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use. 

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer. 

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.  

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend. 

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel. 

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did. 

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled. 

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there. 

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself. 

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes. 

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.” 

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly. 

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true. 

“And a good kisser.” That was also true. 

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation. 

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look. 

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.” 

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was. 

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it. 

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.” 

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained. 

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t. 

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep. 

Richie had already hung up. 

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter. 

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once. 

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now. 

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them. 

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her. 

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well. 

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more. 

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin. 

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs. 

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question. 

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned. 

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway? 

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response. 

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever. 

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of. 

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone. 

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?” 

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing. 

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined. 

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face. 

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her. 

She was stunning even after sex. 

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?” 

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand. 

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.” 

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt. 

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop. 

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful. 

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be. 

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing. 

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house. 

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

[knuffled]

just practice - chapter eleven

ao3 link

Ambrosia was Annabeth’s favorite coffee shop in the city. It was a quaint affair, tucked behind an alleyway, cozily decorated with clusters of polished cherry wood tables surrounded by plush purple chairs. There weren’t many drinks on the menu, but what the cafe lacked in quantity, it more than made up for with quality. Although she wasn’t a coffee connoisseur or anything, Annabeth could easily tell the coffee at Ambrosia tasted far richer than anything at Starbucks.

Annabeth drummed her fingers on her window-side table and twirled a strand of hair around her index finger, trying not to feel too nervous as she sipped her espresso. Inviting Reyna out for coffee so she could get relationship advice after turning her down a month prior was quite possibly one of the worst ideas she’d ever had. The thing was, she had no other options. All her friends were also friends with Percy, which made confiding in them impossible. She could only imagine the ensuing chaos if she were to come out and say that she had only pretending to go out with Percy.

Still, that didn’t make her feel any better about her current situation. In fact, Annabeth was nearly on the verge of sending her a text to cancel the whole thing under the pretense of not feeling well when Reyna walked into the cafe. She looked around until she spotted Annabeth and made her way over to the table, a dark look on her face.

“You sure picked an absolute bitch of a place to find,” Reyna said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Google Maps had a fucking aneurysm trying to give me directions.”

“Nice to see you again too,” Annabeth said, smiling despite herself.

Reyna rolled her eyes and plopped down in the seat opposite her. “This better be the best goddamn coffee I’ve had in my entire life,” she grumbled.

Annabeth slid her a menu and tried not to laugh at the disgruntled look that spread across Reyna’s face as she surveyed the prices. Annabeth raised her palms up in surrender when Reyna looked at her with an immaculately raised eyebrow.

“It’s worth it, I swear!” Annabeth promised.

Reyna pursed her lips and nodded in a clipped fashion before studying the menu again. After a few seconds, Reyna set the menu aside with a sigh and looked at Annabeth again, a tired look on her face.

“I have no idea what to get,” Reyna muttered. “What’s good here?”

Annabeth shrugged and said, “Pretty much everything. I really like their espressos, but their cappuccinos are great too.”

Reyna pulled a face before mumbling under her breath, “Hazelnut latte it is then.”

“Funny, I would have pegged you for a ‘black coffee’ kind of girl,” Annabeth said, grinning.

For the first since she’d met her, Reyna blushed and twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger, refusing to meet Annabeth’s eyes.

“I’m just bad with bitter stuff,” Reyna muttered.

“I had no idea your tastes were so basic,” Annabeth teased.

Reyna scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not basic.”

Hearing Reyna sound genuinely offended by the implication only made delighted Annabeth instead of deterring her.

“Uh huh, sure,” Annabeth drawled.

Reyna narrowed her eyes and said, “You’re on thin fucking ice, Chase.”

Annabeth held her palms up in surrender and tried to suppress the grin threatening to split across her face.

“Ok, sorry, I’ll stop,” Annabeth said. “Go treat yourself to a hazelnut latte.”

The glare Reyna gave her before she made her way to the front counter to order could have withered flowers with its intensity. Annabeth allowed herself to smile once Reyna left the table and noticed she felt significantly calmer than she had before Reyna’s arrival. Thankfully, it seemed that things weren’t awkward between them, despite the fact that she had rejected Reyna last time they’d spoken.

When Reyna returned with her drink, Annabeth watched with avid interest as she blew into the lid of the cup and took her hesitant sip. Her eyes widened in surprise momentarily before returning to normal, but it only made Annabeth’s smirk grow larger.

“So how’s your drink?” Annabeth asked innocently.

Reyna cleared her throat and said, “It’s passable.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “That’s high praise.”

Reyna’s lips quirked upwards in a smile. “Don’t be such an ass. It’s good, okay?”

“Worth the drive?”

“Hardly,” Reyna said, snorting.

“That’s a win in my book,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

Reyna scoffed and took another sip before saying, “So why did you call me out here today? I assume it wasn’t just to make fun of my choice of beverages.”

“Tempting but unfortunately not the case,” Annabeth said. “I wanted your advice on something.”

“About tall, dark, and handsome, you mean?”

Annabeth blinked. “What?”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about your ‘friend’, Percy.”

“Oh,” Annabeth said stupidly. “I uh- I just wasn’t expecting you to refer to him that way.”

“I may be gay, but I have eyes,” Reyna said, giving her a significant look.

Annabeth laughed despite herself. “Yeah, you’re right. I wanted to ask about Percy.”

“It’s kind of a dick move to ask someone you turned down for romantic advice,” Reyna noted.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said, looking down at her lap. “It’s just not something I can talk about with my other friends.”

“It’s whatever,” Reyna said, shrugging. “Besides, I can’t help respecting that you had the audacity to ask me anyways, so kudos to you. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Annabeth began telling Reyna everything that had happened since the school year began, starting with Clarisse’s comment and the fake dating proposal to Percy’s sudden penchant for speaking in riddles to the Kara incident to what Percy had said as they descended Aspen Peak and finally her conversation with Sally after Thanksgiving. It took her a little over a half hour to explain everything, which was longer than Annabeth had been expecting, but Reyna listened intently the entire time. On occasion, she would ask a clarifying question, but for the most part she was content to listen silently.

When Annabeth was done, Reyna said, “Well, I think I get the gist of the situation now. I’m just not sure what you need advice about.”

“I want to figure out what’s going on with Percy. I’ve given him enough time and space to come forward and talk to me on his own, but it’s clear that he’s not going to do that. Usually, I’d be fine with that, but I can’t help feeling like there’s something going on here, something I can’t just ignore,” Annabeth said.

Reyna snorted. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious that he’s just being emotionally constipated about his feelings like men always are when it comes to displaying anything more than the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Annabeth shook her head. “Percy isn’t like that.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow and said, “No offense, but I find that hard to believe. Judging from your story just now, he is exactly like that.”

“Percy has no problem talking about emotions,” Annabeth argued. “Trust me, I’d know.”

“Talking about other people’s emotions maybe, sure, but not when it comes to himself.”

Reyna’s statement gave Annabeth momentary pause. Although her immediate instinct was to argue with her, the more she thought about it, the more Annabeth found herself wondering how she had never picked up on that. Even though so many of their conversations strayed into their personal feelings, it had only just dawned on Annabeth how the overwhelming majority of those conversations tended to be about her own feelings, not Percy’s.

Of course, that wasn’t to say Percy never shared how he was feeling. Their conversation atop Aspen Peak and the conversation where he told her that he had gotten recruited by USC were examples of that. However, there were still clearly some things that Percy just never really talked to her about. An obvious example being how she knew practically nothing about any of his previous relationships.

It was difficult to tell but she could detect that there was a pattern of Percy deliberately hiding things from her if they were painful for him to talk about. Yet, Annabeth had never gotten the impression that those repressed feelings would someday inevitably explode out of him, demanding to be released. Whenever she bottled her own feelings, despite her best efforts, they were destined to burst at some point, only ever prolonging the inevitable, but in Percy’s case, it was like they were swallowed by a black hole, leaving no evidence of their existence.

“I can’t believe I never noticed,” Annabeth whispered.

Reyna shrugged and said, “Don’t blame yourself. Men are just like that.”

Annabeth shook her head. “Percy’s different. It’s not like he’s so out of touch with his own feelings that he can’t talk about them. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s not like what you’re thinking.”

“Maybe you’re just giving him too much credit,” Reyna said lightly.

Annabeth bristled despite herself. “What’s your deal with him? You haven’t liked him since you met him and you don’t even know a single thing about him.”

Reyna was quiet for a while before she said, “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but when I look at him, all I see is a fake.”

“A fake?”

“He reeks of lies. Lies about how he feels, what he thinks, what he wants. I’ll take your word about him being a good person or whatever, but that doesn’t change anything in my eyes. I can’t trust someone who is constantly pretending to be someone else,” Reyna said.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “That seems like a huge stretch to me. Like I said, you barely know-”

Reyna held up a hand, stopping her. “I can tell. I can’t explain why, but I just know. I’ve been able to since I was a kid, and I have never been wrong.”

Annabeth paused and considered her words for a moment. It was certainly believable that Reyna could be someone with incredibly good instincts, but at the same time, Annabeth couldn’t accept that she was making judgments about her best friend without knowing a single thing about him. Yet, for whatever reason, Annabeth couldn’t bring herself to immediately reject what Reyna had said. There was something about the conviction in her voice and eyes that gave her pause.

“Was there something you noticed? Something you saw him do that made you think about him like this?” Annabeth asked.

Reyna thought for a moment before sighing. “It’s not like there was a specific thing about him that made me realize. It’s like his overall vibe.”

“His vibe?” Annabeth said, trying not to sound skeptical.

“Let’s just say, I’ve met men like that before. Men who look kind on the outside, but are monsters on the inside. It’s hard for me to not feel hostile towards them,” Reyna said tersely.

Annabeth couldn’t help immediately repeating: “Percy’s not like that.”

“I hope he isn’t,” Reyna said simply.

A silence filled the space around them, charging the air with a vague sense of unease, until Reyna sighed and spoke again.

“I’ll just say this: he might not be a monster, but he is still pretending to be someone he’s not. If I were you, I would do well not to forget that.”

:::

It was Piper’s fault. She had made it sound so wonderful when she had pitched the idea to Annabeth: ice skating on the night of New Year’s Eve. Even a cynic like Annabeth couldn’t deny that there was an inherent romantic appeal to that. Unfortunately, it just so happened that New Year’s Eve was the coldest day of the year. And, of course, the rink that Piper had chosen happened to be outdoors. That obviously went without saying.

Annabeth tried not to wallow in too much self-pity on the walk from her car to the chalet, but she couldn’t help indulging herself. After all, it was freezing outside. She buried her hands in her coat pockets and hid her nose behind her scarf to keep it from turning red, but the horrible faux-wool material felt like sandpaper against her skin. She fantasized about turning around and leaving before anyone noticed her and spending the night buried beneath a mound of blankets, but she arrived at the chalet before she could decide.

Unfortunately, the chalet would offer no reprieve. The first thing that assailed her was the heat - a dry, stuffy heat, the kind that made it hard to breathe. The second was the smell. The stench of sweat clung to the linoleum peeling off the walls, and the slight give of the vomit-colored carpet underfoot made it feel like it had seeped into the fabric too.

It was time to leave, Annabeth decided brightly, but Piper noticed her and waved her over before she could make her escape. Annabeth sighed and headed towards the benches where Piper was sitting and hoped she wouldn’t contract hepatitis from sitting down.

On her way there, she was somewhat late to arrive. Frank and Leo were at the front desk, renting their skates, and Piper and Jason had already finished lacing their skates. Jason offered her a small smile when she sat down across from them, but her lips were so chapped that they would probably start bleeding if she tried to smile so she settled for a nod.

“Someone looks grumpy.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t antagonize her, Piper.”

Annabeth nodded and pointed to Jason. “Listen to your boyfriend. He seems to be the smart one.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Rude.”

“I think I’m entitled to a little rudeness,” Annabeth said, sitting back. “I could be in bed right now, covered in blankets.”

“This might be our last New Year’s Eve together,” Piper said. “You really sure you want to spend it hiding in your bedroom?”

Annabeth hummed. “Remind me again how you chose this wonderful establishment?”

Piper had the decency to look sheepish. “It was the only place open on New Year’s Eve.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Annabeth said.

“You should go get your skates, Annabeth,” Jason interrupted tactfully. “It looks like Frank and Leo are done.”

Annabeth stood up and sent an I’m-watching-you gesture in Piper’s direction, but Piper just opted to flick her off. Charming.

Thankfully, there was no one waiting at the front desk when Annabeth made her way there. The balding man behind the counter asked for her shoe size before disappearing behind the shelves, stocked to the brim with skates, and it didn’t take long for him to return with a pair of white skates and set them on the counter. Annabeth was in the process of fishing for spare change when the door to the chalet opened, letting in a gust of cold air.

Rachel stepped inside, her freckled cheeks pink from the cold, and waved to Annabeth enthusiastically with a grin. Percy stood behind her, rubbing his palms together to warm his hands, looking cold for once in his life. They both made their way up to the front desk as Annabeth tucked the skates under her arm.

Percy turned to her smiling while Rachel spoke with the store-owner. “Happy New Year.”

“It’s still New Year’s Eve.”

“Only for four more hours,” Percy said, shrugging.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Happy New Year’s Eve to you too.”

“You’re always so grumpy when you’re cold,” Percy said fondly. “Aren’t white people supposed to be good with the cold?”

“Oh my God, Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white.”

Not a beat passed before Percy answered: “Boo, you whore.”

Annabeth bit back a laugh and pushed him towards the counter. “Alright, alright, you can terrorize me after you get your skates, you dork.”

Percy did his best seal-eyes impression, but Annabeth stuck out her tongue at him and followed Rachel back to the benches. Once they sat down, Rachel finished lacing her skates with practiced ease and watched Annabeth struggle with hers with avid interest. Annabeth wondered how long it would take for her to swallow her pride and ask Rachel for help, but Rachel volunteered before she could, crouching in front of her and deftly tying her skates in seconds.

“You’re good at that,” Annabeth said.

Rachel stood up and shrugged. “My parents forced me take figure skating lessons for like six years, so I have a lot of practice.”

“I think the last time I went skating was in like second grade,” Annabeth mused.

“Do you even remember how to skate?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess we’ll both find out very soon.”

“I could teach you, if you’d like,” Rachel offered.

Annabeth rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Thank you, but I think I can figure it out. I mean, how hard could it be?”

:::

It turned out to be plenty hard.

Annabeth managed all of three steps on the ice before falling backwards, arms flailing. Percy caught her before she hit the ground thankfully, his hand curled around her hip. Annabeth felt her face heat up when he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips, but he helped her upright without commenting on it. Unfortunately, it only took two more steps for her to slip again. He caught her by the arm before she fell any further and shook with barely suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, asshole,” Annabeth grumbled.

“Weren’t you just telling Rachel something about how skating didn’t seem all that hard?” Percy asked innocently.

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek. “I think you just have an overactive imagination.”

“First the cold, and now this,” Percy said solemnly. “Looks like your Scandinavian roots have failed you in more ways than one.”

“This is reverse-racism.”

That tore a laugh out him, but he quickly held his palms in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, just give me a minute.”

Annabeth flicked him off and retreated to the wall circling the rink to steady herself. She looked at the rink, hoping she wasn’t alone in her embarrassment, but it seemed like everyone else seemed to be faring much better than her. Frank was her only comrade in arms, arms stretched and teetering, a mortified look on his face, while Leo stood next to him, not even trying to hide his laughter. Hazel scowled and swatted him before going to help Frank maintain his balance. Rachel breezed around the rink with an effortless grace and fluidity, seemingly in her own world, while Piper and Jason held hands and made slow, leisurely circuits around the rink.

Percy moved towards her and said, “C’mon, I’ll help you.”

“Can’t I just go home?” Annabeth whined.

Percy’s lips quirked upwards. “It’s not that hard, trust me. It’s just like riding a bike.”

“Something tells me I’m just going to spend the next few hours falling on my ass and making a fool of myself.”

“I’ll catch you before you do,” Percy promised.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “And if I take you down with me?”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Percy said, shrugging.

Annabeth was silent for a while before she shut her eyes and sighed. “God, I hate you. Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Percy took her by the hands and helped her away from the wall. “That’s the spirit.”

Annabeth glared at him before lacing her fingers between his. She couldn’t help noticing how warm his hands were, but she didn’t have long to dwell on it because being back on the ice put the fear of god back in her real fast. Percy tried to help her make a lap around the rink, but it was a grueling journey. She spent most of it crushing his hands and teetering on the brink of embarrassment: legs outstretched, knees turned inwards, feeling like an absolute idiot. The concentration needed to maintain her footing was exhausting and demanded every ounce of focus she could muster. But, with Percy’s help, Annabeth managed three laps around the rink over the span of ninety minutes without falling a single time.

At the start of the fourth lap, Percy untangled his fingers from hers, striking a bolt of fear through her. Annabeth reached for him desperately, eyes wide with panic, but he caught her by the wrists and gave her a stern look.

“I’m going to let go of you now, okay?” Percy said. “I promise, I won’t let you fall.”

“I need more time,” Annabeth said frantically. “I-I’m not ready yet.”

“You can do this,” Percy said, firmly not unkindly. “Trust me.”

Annabeth licked her horribly chapped lips and nodded uneasily. The conviction in his words made her want to believe him, but it did nothing to dispel the terror inside her.

“Okay, here goes,” Percy said.

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and watched Percy slowly release her and step away. She stood there for a few seconds before Percy skated backwards, still facing towards her, and beckoned for her to follow him.

Her heart thundered in her chest. It was the moment of truth.

She took one step. Then another. Then another.

With her eyes locked on Percy, she used every atom in her body to keep herself steady. She kept waiting to fall as they slowly made their way around the rink, but she managed to somehow make it the halfway around without falling.

Annabeth looked up at him with an incredulous laugh. “Holy shit! I-I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it!”

A smile crossed Percy’s face, equal parts proud and fond, but Annabeth couldn’t help thinking it looked a bit sad too.

“You are,” Percy said softly. “I knew you could.”

“You have way too much faith in me,” Annabeth said, shaking her head. “It’s a miracle that I didn’t fall.”

“It’s not faith,” Percy said. “I just know you.”

Annabeth stilled for a moment and locked eyes with him. His words were light, like he had spoken them without thinking, but it made a lump form in her throat all the same.

“Yeah, yeah you do,” she said softly.

Before the moment had a chance to establish itself, Annabeth’s legs both decided it was an excellent time to give out. She only had time to emit a short yelp before she fell on her ass and Percy rushed in.

He helped her up with a laugh. “Okay, looks like someone needs a break.”

Annabeth’s face was beet red and it had nothing to do with the cold. “Uh, yeah, I think I’ll go to the chalet and sit down a bit.”

Percy nodded and moved to help her, but she shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You’ve been babysitting me this whole time, so go enjoy yourself.”

He paused for a moment before reluctantly nodding and skating away. Annabeth watched him go before making a beeline for the chalet. After nearly two hours of constant terror, even the stuffy, pungent air in the chalet was a welcome change. She took off her hat to let her hair loose, but some sweat-soaked strands lay matted against her forehead.

An overwhelming need to take a nap washed through her, and she was so tired that she didn’t bother resisting it.

It was hard to say how long she was asleep but she started when Jason sat down beside her, holding two styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. Annabeth accepted a cup from him and took a sip. It was so watery that she could hardly taste the chocolate, but at least it was hot going down her throat.

Annabeth wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Where did you get this?”

“There’s a machine by the bathroom,” Jason said.

“Ah, that certainly explains things.”

Jason nudged her with his elbow. “I know you’re not thrilled to be here, but Piper really tried her best to get this whole thing together.”

Annabeth sighed and said, “Yeah, sorry, I’m just indulging in a little pettiness.”

“I know,” Jason said, smiling. “Just be aware of your limits.”

“I feel like you’re one step away from going full Dad and being like, ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’.”

Jason laughed and said, “I suppose I deserve that.”

There was a pause before Annabeth gave him a tentative look. “Is she mad at me?”

Jason shook his head. “Nah, she knows you well enough to know you don’t mean it.”

Annabeth cleared her throat and nodded before staring at her cup pensively. “How are you both doing?”

“We’re good,” he said, sighing. “Just trying to make the most out of the rest of the year. Piper’s really worried about leaving behind regrets, so she’s going a little overboard, but her heart is in the right place.”

“That’s a mood,” Annabeth said. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

“It’s hard not to,” Jason admitted. “I mean our lives are going to change pretty drastically in a few months, after all.”

There was a pause before Annabeth said, “That doesn’t ever scare you or anything, that things might not be the same?”

“I know they won’t be the same,” Jason said. “But the way I see it, if it’s inevitable anyways, there’s no point worrying about it. The only thing you can do is to enjoy things while they last.”

“That’s a very lonely way of looking at things,” Annabeth said quietly.

“You might be right, but I don’t want to waste the time I have left with Piper and you and everyone else being stressed and miserable,” Jason said, shrugging. “If the time we have left is limited, I want to choose to spend it being happy.”

She paused for a moment to stare at him. “Honestly, sometimes I can’t help feeling like you’re an eighty year old stuck in the body of an eighteen year old.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but thanks.”

Annabeth leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. “The idea that nothing lasts terrifies me.”

“I don’t know, there’s something strangely beautiful about it too,” Jason mused.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “In what way?”

Jason shrugged. “Things are precious to us because we can’t take them for granted. You have to pay attention and appreciate them while you can, or you’ll miss it and never have it back. I’m sure you’ve felt it too: those moments that you wish you could live in forever, even though you know it’s impossible, so you try your best to savor them and burn them into your memory so you don’t ever forget. There’s just a special kind of beauty about that. At least, that’s how I feel.”

Memories flashed in her mind with an almost desperate urgency, so quickly that she couldn’t register their contents, only the lingering impressions they left in their wake. The cold touch of steel beneath her palms lying on Percy’s car, staring up at the night sky, and the warmth of the sweatshirt he’d draped across her shoulders. Dappled sunlight filtered through half-drawn blinds, flour stuck in her hair, the smell of cookies baking in the oven, and the sound of laughter. The untraversable distance between his hand in hers, his heat searing through her skin ever so gently, and the lazy circuit of his thumb brushing her knuckles with a tenderness she didn’t deserve.

Annabeth couldn’t help thinking that “beautiful” was too small a word. The feeling was beautiful, yes, but the word alone could not capture the fact that it was also deep and gentle and tinged with melancholy, but all the more exquisite for it.

A lump formed in her throat. “I-I think I get what you mean.”

Jason offered her a soft smile and squeezed her hand. “There’s a phrase for that in Japanese, you know? They call it mono no aware: the bittersweet, wistful appreciation of the impermanence of things.”

There was a pause before Annabeth said tightly, “I’m glad there’s a word for it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jason said, still smiling.

They sat there for a while in silence before Jason stood up and stretched. “We should probably back. They must be wondering where we are.”

Annabeth nodded but made no move to stand up. Jason looked at her for a while before sighing and showing her his wristwatch.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting for us.”

That was enough to get her out of her seat, but she still couldn’t help sighing. She followed him back to the rink and noticed that they had it to themselves. Earlier, there had been a few other couples and families, but they must have left while she’d been asleep.

The light of the full moon reflected off the ice, casting a milky-silver glow. She stepped onto the ice with Jason and skated towards their friends. They were sitting down at the center of the rink and talking amongst themselves until they noticed her arrival.

“She’s alive!” Jason announced. “She was just sleeping.”

“Percy was worried sick about you,” Leo said, smirking.

Percy scowled and said, “I wasn’t that worried.”

“You kind of were,” Rachel said. “You should’ve seen him fretting like a mother hen.”

“I would apologize, but I can take care of myself,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes.

“You were gone for like two hours, Annabeth,” Hazel said. “I don’t think it was that weird for him to worry.”

“Again, you guys are all exaggerating way too much,” Percy protested.

“You guys should sit down,” Frank said. “We can spread out a bit to make extra space.”

Once the circle expanded, Annabeth sat down between Percy and Rachel, and Jason sat close to Piper and wrapped an arm around her, tucking her into his side. Rachel continued a story that she must have been telling prior to Annabeth’s arrival, so she couldn’t follow it at all. She tried to listen for a few minutes before getting bored and turning to Percy.

“I know you’re protective of me and all, but don’t worry so much,” Annabeth whispered firmly.

Percy lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, but sometimes, I just can’t help it.

“You have to try,” Annabeth said. “What are you going to do when we leave for college?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Annabeth sighed and said, “I’m not trying to be mean or anything. I’m just scared you’ll burn yourself out for no reason. We both know that I can handle things on my own.”

“That’s not the point,” Percy muttered.

“Then what is the point?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t doubt your ability to take care of yourself,” Percy said slowly. “It’s just that I care about you, so I can’t help worrying.”

“I care about you too, but I can worry about you without feeling the need to step in and get involved.”

At this, Percy was silent, so Annabeth continued. “When you get involved, it kind of feels like you’re babying me.”

“I’m not trying to baby you,” Percy said, frowning.

“Then trust me to come to you when I need your help, okay?”

Percy paused for a moment before nodding hesitantly. “Okay.”

Annabeth offered a small smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

The look on his face was inscrutable, but he nodded again all the same. Annabeth tapped a finger on the ice and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. She’d said her piece. The rest was up to Percy now.

She had another reason for wanting him to understand this, although she hadn’t said so aloud. Percy’s worry and need to help her made it all too easy for her to rely on him too much. Sometimes, she had to catch herself before immediately going to him anytime she had even a trivial problem. It hadn’t always been that way, but over the years, she had come to depend on him far too much. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that, apart from Percy, she didn’t have any experience relying on anyone else but herself, so she had no concept of moderation when it came to depending on him.

She didn’t know how to let someone in halfway. It had always been all or nothing.

“There’s only two minutes left till midnight,” Frank said, looking at his watch.

“We should try to find a stream of the ball drop,” Hazel suggested.

“Already on it,” Leo said, typing furiously on his phone.

Once he found a stream, Leo turned the volume up on his phone and slid it to the center of the ring. His phone was old, so the volume was feeble but it was still audible for the most part. Anderson Cooper was talking to some celebrity or other about how excited the crowd was in Times Square and pointed out how there seemed to be more couples in attendance this year compared to other ones.

“Aw man, that’s right,” Leo complained. “Now, there’s another couple I gotta see kiss on New Year’s Eve.”

Hazel pulled a face. “Don’t ruin things for Annabeth and Percy, Leo.”

“Yeah, Leo, fuck off,” Piper said, flipping him off.

At first, Annabeth didn’t know what they were talking about, but then she immediately looked down at her lap, her face burning.

That was right, the New Year’s kiss was a thing. She’d totally forgotten about that.

Discreetly, she looked at Percy out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was going to kiss her or not. After all, it would look kind of strange if they didn’t, considering they were supposed to be a couple now. Annabeth was certain their friends would notice and comment about it.

He was staring off in the distance with a clenched jaw, shifting uneasily beside her, which only made her growing anxiety worsen. She picked at the fraying wool on her peacoat and wished they had some time to at least discuss a plan of action, but there was only thirty seconds before the ball drop.

For the last ten seconds, they all chanted along with the crowd, but Annabeth could barely make a sound.

 10.

 9.

 8.

Percy shifted again.

 7.

 6.

Annabeth could feel his eyes on her, so she looked up at him.

 5.

 4.

Percy moved closer to her, blocking out the full moon. It cast a silver halo around his head, reflecting off his obsidian hair and bathing him in an ethereal glow.

 3.

Her throat was bone dry.

 2.

She barely registered the conflicted gleam in his eyes as he leaned in to her or the featherlike touch of his fingers, tilting her chin upwards.

 1.

Annabeth felt his breath on her face and the scent of his cologne. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the thundering of her heart pounding in her chest, parting her lips.

 0.

Distantly, she could hear her friends yelling “Happy New Year” but her entire world was reduced down to a singularity. She waited, her heart stuck in her throat.

Christ, her lips were so chapped.

Then she felt the brush of his lips, but not against her own like she’d expected. By the time she noticed the lingering warmth on her cheek, Percy was already pulling away. She opened her eyes and caught the look in his eyes. The emotion shining in them was too complicated for her to describe in words, but she couldn’t help thinking that he looked almost tortured.

“Happy New Year,” Percy whispered, voice raw.

Annabeth blinked and cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, Happy New Year.”

The conflicted look on his face didn’t disappear until Hazel gave him a one-armed hug and wished him a happy new year. Annabeth couldn’t dwell on it for long either before Rachel tackled her in a hug and wished her as well. The carousel of wishing each of her friends was oddly annoying even though it shouldn’t have been. A single emotion burned in the pit of her stomach, predominating her field of awareness, but it only served to bewilder her. She tried stealing looks at Percy in the hope that it would offer some insight, but the more she looked to him, the more intensely it gnawed at her.

Moonlit snowflakes fell through the dark as Annabeth struggled to make sense of the overwhelmingly empty feeling in the hollow of her chest and why it felt so much like disappointment.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Safe & Sound Part 2–Mitch Rapp

Part 1

After my bullet wound was healed, Stan found a new house for Logan and me. It was in a safe neighborhood in the town not too far from Stan's House of Assassins. We wanted somewhere close by just in case.

"Now, remember," Stan said as his assassins helped packed the last of our things into our car. "I'm not far away and you have the house number, my office number, and my cell number. If either of you needs anything, Y/N, just call me."

"Stan," I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around him. "Thank you," I whispered.

Stan broke the hug, sighing as he looked down at Logan. As he said goodbye to my son, something over his shoulder caught my eye.

It was Mitch Rapp walking down the steps of the house with two duffel bags in his hands. Without having to ask, I already knew one bag was his clothes and the other was his guns.

"Rapp," Victor said through his teeth. "You're late."

"Late?" I asked, looking between the three assassins.

"Yes," Hurley cleared his throat. "Y/N, honey, I'm sending Rapp with you. I want him to be there for a month, at least, to ensure that you two are safe."

"Oh," I said, looking between Rapp and Hurley. "That's okay. . . I guess," I whispered the last part.

We didn't say another word as we finished packing the car. Once Logan was in the back seat, his seatbelt buckled and him already distracted by something on the iPad, I said my final goodbyes to Stan.

"I mean it," he said, gently rubbing my arms. "Rapp is there to ensure the house and the neighborhood is 100% safe. And I'm only a phone call away."

I gave him a final hug before heading back to the car. I turned around and watched as Hurley shook Rapp's hand.

"Rapp," he said, his voice different from when he was speaking to me. "I am counting on you to protect them. This is more important than any other mission you've been on. It may not seem like it is, but it is. Do not let anything happen to Y/N or Logan. You are my best assassin. Use it to protect them. . . They are the closest thing I have to family."

"Yes, sir." Rapp nodded. He walked over and stopped me. "What are you doing?"

"Getting in the driver's seat," I stuttered. The look on his face told me that he was going to drive. "Never mind," I mumbled. "Guess you're driving."

                       * * * * *

We've been in the house a week now and things are still strange between Mitch and I. On the other hand, Logan has already taken to him. Which, of course, makes me nervous. I knew this man wouldn't be around for long, but does Logan know that?

Luckily, the longer we were around each other, the more Mitch warmed up to us. He started eating dinner with us, not keeping himself locked in his room 24/7, and he even started coming with us to the park whenever Logan needed to get out of the house.

Two weeks later, things had done a complete 180 with Mitch. He was still protecting us, but it didn't feel the same. I also noticed he had started to smile and laugh more. To be honest, I liked seeing this side of him.

I woke up from my nightmare with a start. I took a few deep breaths in hopes of calming myself down. Ever since Alan found us and shot me, I've been having nightmares.

"No!" I heard Logan yell. "Mommy!"

I jumped out of bed and ran down the hallway, towards Logan's room. I stopped outside the door as Mitch beat me to it.

"Hey," he soothed as he ran over to Logan who was sitting straight up in bed. Mitch sat next to him, taking Logan in his arms as he pulled him into his chest.

"It's okay, kid. It was just a dream. You're alright," Mitch said gently as he rocked them.

"But. . . He shot. . . Mommy. . . I lost her. . ." Logan said between sobs.

Mitch soothed Logan as he cupped his head in his hand. "Mommy is fine. She's alive. You didn't lose her. That's why I'm here. To keep you and Mommy safe."

Logan continued to sob as Mitch held him close. I leaned against the wall outside Logan's room as I heard Mitch continue to comfort my son.

"It's alright, buddy," he whispered. I peaked in to see Logan tucked into his chest as Mitch leaned against the bed frame. "Tell me what happened."

"It was daddy," Logan stuttered through his tears. "When he attacked us back at Uncle Stan's. But. . ."

"But what?" Mitch asked as Logan snuggled more into Mitch's chest.

"But we didn't save Mommy," Logan cried. "We didn't get to her in time. By the time that we did. . . She was. . ." Mitch's face dropped as he tightened his arms around my son.

"But we did save Mommy," Rapp whispered as he ran his fingers through Logan's hair. "She's in her room, sleeping."

"I know," Logan said, his voice soft. "It's still scary. I don't want to lose my mommy, Mitch."

"You won't," Mitch said without a second of hesitation. "That's why I'm here. My job is to protect you and your mother."

"But you won't be around long," Logan said, slightly pulling away from Mitch.

"Buddy," he sighed.

"Mommy says you're only staying with us for a few more days. Then you're leaving us. You're leaving me." Logan avoided Mitch's eyes as he looked down at his blanket.

"I like having you around," Logan whispered. "You're here to protect my mommy and me. It makes me feel safe. Mommy has always done a good job of protecting me, but she deserves a break. She deserves to be happy."

"Your mother is happy, Logan. She has you."

"But that's not enough!" Logan's eyes widened as he yelled. He lowered his voice as he continued, "Mommy has always taken care of me. She deserves someone taking care of her. Someone like you."

"Logan," Rapp sighed. "I'm just temporary, remember? I go back to Uncle Stan in a few days."

"You don't have to," Logan stuttered. "You don't have to leave us, Mitch. You can stay. You can stay with us. Please? You can protect us. Don't you. . . Don't you care about us? I've seen the way you look at Mommy. It's the same way she looks at you."

"Really?" Mitch smiled but instantly shook his head. "Look, kid. It's hard to understand at your age, but I would do more damage than good."

"What do you mean?" Logan asked, tilting his head like he always does when he questions things.

Mitch sighed as he relaxed more into the bed. "I lost the woman I love a few years back. I couldn't protect her."

"But you protect Mommy and me just fine," Logan shrugged.

"I know," Mitch stuttered. "It's just. . . Everyone I love ends up getting hurt. I can't. . . I can't risk anything happening to you or your mother."

"You won't," Logan said through a yawn. I smiled, a tear streaming down my cheek as I saw Logan cuddle up to Mitch. The second Logan leaned his head on Mitch's chest, his eyes started to get heavy.

"Get some sleep, kid," Mitch whispered.

I gasped, quickly ducking back into the hallway right as Mitch looked up at the open door.

                       * * * * *

I woke up the next morning, the conversation Mitch and Logan had last night replaying over and over again in my mind.

Who was the woman he loved? And how did he lose her?

"You're up early."

I looked up to see Mitch walking into the kitchen. I tried to calm my nerves as he got himself a cup of coffee.

"I couldn't sleep last night," I said before I could stop myself. "I woke up in the middle of the night after I thought I heard Logan scream."

I glanced over my shoulder to see Mitch's back suddenly stiffen.

"Did you go to him?" He asked after clearing his throat.

"I was about to, but I heard you talking to him. I figured you had gotten to him first."

"I did."

I turned around so we were looking at each other. "Thank you."

My comment made him snap his head up at me. "Logan never sleeps after his father has an. . . Episode," I continued. "He's not used to having a man around who isn't drunk or hurting us."

"He's a good kid," Mitch said, the faintest smile on his lips. "He loves you a lot, you know. All he could talk about last night was making sure you were safe and happy."

Mitch was silent before he added, "He asked me to stay."

"Do you want to stay?" I asked without hesitating. He slowly looked at me, his answer in his eyes. He wanted to.

But instead of saying that, he said, "You wouldn't want me to stay."

"I don't know," I stuttered. "Logan's started to really like you and. . . And it's nice having a man around who can help me open those stubborn pickle jars."

Mitch laughed, this time his smile staying on his face. "It's nice to be able to do that for someone again."

I blushed as the kitchen grew quiet. Rapp took a hesitant step towards me, watching me carefully.

"Y/N," he whispered. I gasped when he stopped right in front of me. He grabbed my hands, instantly intertwining our fingers. "How much of that conversation did you hear last night?"

"All of it," I whispered as he leaned down, getting closer to me. I sucked in a breath as I felt his lips press against mine. My eyes fluttered closed as our lips started moving in sync.

Mitch was the first one to break the kiss, instantly leaning his forehead against mine.

"Don't leave," I pleaded as I caught my breath. "Please, Mitch. Don't leave us. Logan can't. . . He's already grown up this far without a father, without a positive fatherly figure in his life. I don't want him to grow up anymore that way."

Mitch leaned back, cupping my cheek in his hand. "And what about you?"

"I want to feel safe again," I whispered. "And I only feel safe when I'm with you."

Mitch smiled as he took my face in both of his hands before slowly leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. I smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around my waist. This time I was the first to break the kiss.

"Ask me to stay and I will," he whispered.

I looked up at him, happy tears in my eyes. "Please, Mitch," I whispered. "Stay with us. With Logan. With me."

Mitch smiled as he looked down at me. "Okay," he chuckled.

"Okay?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"I'll stay," he shrugged.

"Really?"

We both turned around to see Logan looking at us from the kitchen doorway with wide, hopeful eyes. "You're. . . You're staying with us? Forever?"

"Yep," Mitch smiled, sending me a knowing look before glancing back at Logan and stepping away from me. "If that's okay with you."

I laughed as Logan ran over to us, jumping into Mitch's arms. Mitch smiled as he looked at me as he held my son.

"Of course I'm okay with it!" Logan giggled. He pulled away and smiled up at Mitch. "I. . . I love you, Mitch."

Mitch smiled, tears building in his eyes. I watch as Mitch pressed a soft kiss to Logan's forehead. He pulled away and smiled at me before looking back at my son.

"I love you too, buddy."

"I love you too, Mommy!" Logan smiled as he reached out to me, silently asking me to join their hug. I chuckled as I walked over to them, Logan hugging me around the neck as Mitch snaked his arm around my waist.

"I love you too, baby."