#but she also owned a ducking hotel we even stayed at once and had a bunch of loritos también so like

[undyinglantern]

You know, I do have exactly one aunt who I remember would explicitly choose not to shave and like. As a kid I always found that a bit strange but I never particularly thought it was gross or anything either

[sv5hive]

womaniser | jb22

pairing: jenson button x fempopstar!reader, brief mark webber appearance

content warning(s): swearing, mentions of drinking, use of y/n, inaccurate information about the monaco paddock/circuit, suggestive champagne drinking(?)

word count: 1,771

note: first of all, thank you for all the notes on my lewis fic i'm absolutely blown away 😭🫶🏻 secondly, first fic featuring mr. playboy himself! i hope you enjoy this one bcos i had so much fun writing it 🩷

(masterlist!)

you gawked at the herds of people waiting for your arrival at the entrance of the paddock from behind your sunglasses. even after years of being in the limelight, you still weren't used to all the attention.

somehow, news had leaked that you would be attending the monaco grand prix this year, which meant that you had to cover yourself in team gear (that your manager had fortunately brought to your hotel room the night before) from head to toe and walk in with the other team members rather than make a glamorous entrance in a far too revealing outfit like you usually did.

not that you were complaining. your manager would have your head if you caused any more chaos especially after your recent stunt during some after party which involved a bit too much drinking and dancing for the public's liking. apparently people didn't think three awards was something to celebrate with several rounds of shots.

"over there!"

shit.

despite your best efforts to remain incognito, it seemed you were identifiable even while wearing the slightly grim team uniform you wouldn't be caught dead in if it were under normal circumstances.

in a split second decision you made a run for it, hoping to evade any and all slightly deranged fans who might cause mayhem if they managed to reach you. stifling a giggle, you sprinted down the road without sparing a single thought about how odd it looked to everyone else around. you were suddenly grateful for the fact that you were wearing attire suitable for an unexpected, albeit thrilling, getaway.

yep. your manager is definitely going to give you an earful when you get back.

after what felt like an eternity of running, you ducked in between two motor homes to try and catch your breath while also staying hidden. you were so preoccupied with your own endeavours that you hadn't noticed the two men who were once engaged in their own conversation, now ogling at you.

just your luck. were they fans too? god, when were you going to catch a break?

"sorry, i can't sign anything or take any pictures right now. thanks for your support though." you muttered, finally managing to get out your pr approved message while leaning against the wall.

you promptly figured out that you had obviously said something wrong by the sight of a growing smile on the slightly shorter, blond man. looking closer at his chest, you recognised the same brawn gp logo that you were currently wearing stitched onto his racesuit.

fuck.

you looked to the dark haired man on his right who still looked confused at your random appearance. as you moved your gaze down from his face, you then noticed the red bull racing logo on his racesuit.

double fuck. but of course it was your luck to run into the drivers and embarrass yourself!

"shit. ok, wait, hang on. sorry about that. i'm not actually like that, i swear. i'm just trying not to make my manager any angrier at me than she already is." you managed to huff out.

"no worries, take your time."

thankfully, the blond man could see that you were still desperately trying to get air in your lungs and graciously gave you time to recover.

"erm, sorry, can we start over? i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you."

you moved forward to shake both of their hands.

"jenson button, it's a pleasure. although i feel like i've already met you the amount of times you've been in the headlines."

you almost lost all your breath again as he maintained perfect eye contact while shaking your hand. you grimaced at the reminder of the mischief that you had been known for since the beginning of your career.

is this the regret that your manager was talking about during one of her lectures?

"mark webber, nice to meet you too. so, what was that all about?"

the brunet man, mark as you had just learnt, finally snapped out of his daze as he lightly shook your hand.

"oh, that? it's not a big deal, just some fans who wanted to meet me. i mean i appreciate them and i'm sure they have good intentions but it's a little scary to have a horde of people chasing you. you understand, right?"

jenson's shit-eating grin grew impossibly bigger and it was starting to get on your nerves. and this intense staring contest he had initiated didn't help.

what was his problem?

"yeah, i guess? something tells me you get recognised a lot more often than we do."

you nodded at mark's response without even giving him as much as a glance. if it weren't for the fact that you refused to lose the unofficial staring contest, you might have felt bad for practically ignoring him.

mark looked between you two and made the sensible decision to not get involved in whatever the hell was going on.

"uh, i'm gonna go get ready. see you out there, mate."

"yeah sure, see you later."

and just like that, you were alone with jenson.

"so, what's the world's biggest pop star doing at a formula 1 race?"

your face warmed at the compliment from the man who was becoming more and more attractive as time went on.

"thanks. my friend was meant to be here but something came up and she gave me her pass. i don't know anything about racing but i've heard the after parties are good. is that right?"

"good? they're better than good. they're the best parties in the world."

you raised an eyebrow at his declaration. you had been to more after parties than you could care to remember and you heavily doubted that they could be topped. sensing your uncertainty, jenson made an offer.

"tell you what. if i win the race today, you have to let me take you out to celebrate. i'll even let you watch the race from my garage."

he was on pole position and it was almost impossible to overtake at monaco. but you didn't have to know that.

you did need somewhere safe to watch from. and who knows? maybe celebrating with him could be fun.

"and what if you don't win?"

"don't worry about that, sweetheart. i'll win it just for you." he replied shooting you a wink.

jesus, was he trying to make you pass out?

"well if you're so confident then sure."

"great. let me take you to our garage. don't worry, your fans won't be able to get in there. although i can't promise that some of the team won't ask you for pictures."

"as long as they don't try and trample me i think i'll be fine!"

laughing along with him to the garage, both of you failed to notice the cameras pointed at you, broadcasting your interaction to live television.

almost two hours had passed by now and you were anxiously waiting for jenson to cross the line in first place. you didn't think watching race cars go round in circles could ever be so exciting but your mind had been undoubtedly changed after today. jenson had just begun his final lap around the prestigious circuit when the mechanics started leaving the garage. through all the emotion no one had bothered to tell you what was happening so you just rushed outside with them.

eventually you managed to push your way to the front of the crowd and rested against the wall facing the number boards waiting for the top 3 drivers arrival.

"where's jenson?" you turned to the mechanic on your right after the second and third drivers, who you found out were rubens barrichello and kimi räikkönen, parked their cars behind their respective number boards while jenson was nowhere to be found.

you soon got your answer once you saw him round the corner on foot.

"looks like he got lost!" joked the same mechanic on your right.

you shook your head and chuckled at the absurdity of a professional racing driver getting lost at a track he's driven at several times before. in the end he managed to get to the podium to raise his trophy and celebrate with his teammate.

a serene smile fell on his face as the british national anthem played for him for the fifth time that season. slowly but surely his claim to the 2009 title was becoming stronger and stronger.

as his eyes fell on his team he picked out your face in the sea of people. acting solely on impulse, he blew a kiss towards you ultimately causing an echo of wolf whistles. you made a motion as if to catch the kiss and slip it into the pocket of your jeans, saving it for later.

it would just be rude to leave the man hanging after he had let you stay in his garage. it definitely was not because he was charming your socks off.

shortly after the podium ceremony, he made his way towards the wall you were stood against. joining in with everyone else, you applauded him as he walked up. you let him celebrate with the people who had made the win possible before he finally reached you.

"congratulations, jense! you were incredible!"

"thank you, darling! would you like to try some of this champagne? might not be as good as some of the stuff you've had but i like to think victory makes it taste sweeter."

you smirked at the thought.

"if you insist." came your reply before you tilted your head back and opened your mouth to let him pour the champagne in.

for the first time since you had met him, he was speechless. snapping out of it, he poured the champagne into your mouth and the cheers seemed to become deafening. you tapped his chest to signal him to stop and wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

"you were right. victory does make it sweeter."

you mirrored the grin on his face as the celebrations almost faded away into the background. you two must have had the same thought in that moment because before you knew it, you were kissing each other as if there weren't dozens of cameras being shoved in your faces.

once again, you were breathless as you pulled away.

"i know i owe you a proper celebration, but how about dinner? just us two?"

your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent grin on your face now.

"sounds like a proper celebration to me."

your manager was definitely going to kill you now. but you couldn't care less; you had a dinner date with jenson button.

[stormz369]

The King of Hell and Me: Ch 2 - Molting

Chapter Guide Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Summary: Lucifer goes missing because he's embarrassed. Preening ensues. Wolf-demon reader. Warnings: fluff, Lucifer being bad at vulnerability, animal characteristics, implied arousal, rated mature (maybe?) Word Count: 3k

Lucifer had his own home, of course. But since the hotel’s grand re-opening, he’d been staying in his suite here. To be closer to Charlie, or to get himself out of his depression funk, or maybe both, it wasn’t clear. Either way, we’d found ourselves spending a lot of time together. We ate breakfast together most days, he told me all about his most recent duck-based inventions, and he was the only person I let into my office while I was doing my work for the hotel. Charlie had hired me as an all-purpose consultant, letting me work on any projects I wanted, and I dove straight into the advertising/community outreach/PR side of things. My work didn’t typically look like much until I had a completed product to present, so I didn’t like to have people watching my process, and as long as I kept her in the loop Charlie didn’t mind my secretive ways. But Lucifer was a creative mind too. He understood that sitting at my desk apparently doing nothing wasn’t actually nothing, and he let me be.

He was also the only person allowed to put things in my office, but that was only because he felt it was odd that I was a wolf without a pack, -because “Even hellhounds have packs, dear girl! Wolf-demons aren’t that uncommon, you need a family!”- and had started making one for me, a slowly growing pack of rubber ducks with wolf ears and fluffy tails. Every so often I’d find a new one in my office, and each one did something unusual. A pair facing each other on the windowsill had a laser between them that would alert us to intruders, but most were silly things like duck-wolves that could jump and growl, or were actually soap dispensers or changed color with the weather. 

It actually worked out to be a mutually beneficial relationship. We both had a tendency to dive headfirst into our hyperfixations, and when one of us did, the other usually managed to keep them from spiraling too far. He’d comb my hair and fur, and remind me to take breaks. I’d bring him dinner and get him out of his room when he was getting frustrated. One time I even sat in the bathroom taking notes while he talked so he could shower without losing his flow. We weren't exactly romantic, but it was far more emotionally intimate than any romantic relationship I’d ever had. And, with no one else filling that role for either of us, we did end up on the receiving end of a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. 

And that’s why, when he suddenly just wasn’t at the hotel one morning, I got a bit nervous. And, I’ll be honest, frustrated. I reminded myself that just because we typically spent breakfasts together didn’t mean we had to every day. Just because he’d told me every time he was leaving the hotel for the last few months didn’t mean he was beholden to me. We were friends, but he wasn’t mine and I couldn’t tell him what to do. I had no right or reason to be put off by this unexpected change to my routine. So I ate breakfast alone, went down to my office to work alone, and … couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t focus, everything was just a bit off. I should be able to hear his breathing, see his faint glow out of the corner of my eye, feel his hands in my hair. But I was entirely, soul crushingly, alone. 

I texted him every day for the first week. Then once every few days, which quickly became once a week, but he never responded. He didn’t even look at them. I was starting to think he might be mad at me, but I couldn’t imagine what I could have done to upset him so much. I started working evenings, finding it less uncomfortable to be alone at night, but I had trouble getting much done either way. Charlie started bringing me breakfast in my office when everyone else had dinner. I appreciated that she was making sure I ate, but I was just as worried about her as she was about me. Lucifer hadn’t reached out to her either, and he wasn’t taking her calls, and her calm facade was starting to crack. At least she had Vaggie though. I was just alone.

A month into his disappearance I was working late again. Everyone was in bed, and I was trying to finish up this advertising campaign mock up for Charlie, when I heard the door of the hotel creak open. My ears perked up, and I cracked my office door open, listening carefully. I couldn’t make out who had come to visit. There were footsteps, light and airy but far too heavy to be Lucifer. I sniffed the air, glad for my more animalistic senses, hoping to catch some kind of clue. Friend, or foe? Welcome, or defend? The air smelled … musty, and damp. Something was very off.

I flicked my wrist, extending my claws, and made my way silently down the dark hallway. The intruder stumbled up the stairs, it would be silent to those without acute hearing, but I heard every step. I followed along, trying to visualize where they were from the sounds. They made their way past the elevator and up more flights of stairs, and I tracked along behind them, staying a floor below them to avoid detection. I wanted to know who they were, but I also wanted to know what they were looking for. When they finally made their way down a hallway, I glowered. They were on Charlie’s floor. I waited, listening halfway up the stairs so I could pounce if needed, until I heard them stop at a door. I jumped up, landing a few feet away from the short, trenchcoat clad figure. They jumped, pressing themself against the wall as if they could disappear through it, and dropped … a key?

“... Lucifer?” I whispered.

He turned toward me, a sheepish grin on his face. “... Heeey … I’m home!”

I sighed, scooping up his key and unlocking his door, gesturing for him to go inside. “Don’t wake Charlie.”

He nodded, darting inside. His footfalls were too heavy, he was hunched over a bit, and his back looked bulky under his coat. Something was wrong. He sat awkwardly on the couch, kicking his feet a bit. “Sooo … How’ve you been?”

“How have I been? … Luc, where have you been? … Y- you didn’t call, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going, or when you’d be back, you sneak in in the dead of night in whatever that is, you smell like a drowned bird, and you’re walking like an injured dog. And you ask how I’ve been???” A deranged laugh ripped its way out of my throat as I collapsed onto the seat next to him. “... Do you even care that we’ve all been worried sick? … I … you didn’t text me back … You were just … gone.”

He flinched a bit, hesitantly reaching for my hand. “... I .. I’m sorry, puppy … I didn’t mean to scare you. I just … I had something to attend to.”

I sighed softly, letting him take my hand. “What was so important that you couldn’t even tell us you were ok?”

“I … just had to …” He sighed. “Look, it’s kind of embarrassing, ok? I …” He mumbled something, a low whine in the back of his throat masking his words.

“... What was that?”

“I’m molting, ok?” He whined, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m molting, and I can’t comfortably put my wings away until it’s over, and they’re ugly right now! So I just … I thought I’d just go to the manor until it was over. I was only coming back tonight to get my sketchbook so I could work on a project…”

I blinked a bit, trying not to laugh. “... Right. … Just so I’m clear, cause I didn’t really interact with birds on earth. Molting is the one where birds lose a bunch of feathers and get new ones, right?” He nodded. “And it’s a yearly thing?”

He nodded again, “For most birds. Angels get a little one each year, and a big one each decade. It takes forever! It’s … unpleasant. Messy …” He grumbled softly; “humiliating.”

“Humiliating? It’s just part of having wings, isn’t it? How is that humiliating?”

“... You’ve seen my wings, what did you think of them?”

I let out a sigh, thinking. “... They’re bigger than I expected, but that makes sense since you’re not a bird. They’d have to be pretty big to lift you up … unless you’ve got hollow bones and they’re just ostentatious?” I chuckled a bit, hoping to lighten his mood, but it didn’t seem to work. “... They’re beautiful, and they look really soft … You look so majestic when you fly …”

“Exactly. … Beautiful. Majestic. That’s what they’re supposed to be … but when the molt comes they’re … really not that. … Molting is messy, and itchy, and … gross! … I look like a plucked chicken under this coat…” He whined softly, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes as he hid his face in his hands. “And the worst part is that I can’t even rush it along like we did in heaven, because I can’t reach!”

“... Can’t reach? … Do you have to pluck something, or?”

He nodded. “At the end of the molt the new feathers have these keratin sheaths that have to be removed … In heaven we’d get a few trusted angels together and circle up, but I can’t do that here! So I just have to wait for them to peel off on their own!”

I frowned softly, gently stroking his shoulder. He whined softly, looking at me hesitantly. “Lucifer, … I’m sure this is a … sensitive topic, and I’m sure there’s a reason you didn’t ask, but … if you wanted to ask, … I would help. And I promise, I wouldn’t judge you for what they look like right now, or talk to anyone else about it, or anything like that … It’s just like when you got that matt out of my fur, that was pretty embarrassing for me, but I couldn’t see it well enough to get it out myself. So you sat down with me, and you took a set of combs, and detangling spray, and a pair of scissors, and you fixed it for me. … You could have just cut it out, but you didn’t. You sat there and meticulously detangled it for hours, and then you trimmed everything so it wouldn’t get bad so easily again. Remember? … I could do the same for you.”

He nodded slowly, sighing softly. “I just … I didn’t want you to see … you don’t understand, they look really bad right now …”

“So did my neck.”

He thought for a moment, sighing before he carefully slipped the ugly beige trench coat off. His wings were pressed firmly against his back, almost trembling. He turned away, letting me get a good look at them. The majority of his flight feathers had already gone through the process, but about half of the fluffy down feathers were still encased, or partially encased, in cylindrical sheaths. I smiled softly, gently stroking down his spine. “It really doesn’t look so bad, Luci. Let’s get comfy, ok? Do you wanna lay down somewhere?”

A shiver went up his spine, and his wings attempted to puff up in response. It did look a bit sad, but I wasn’t gonna tell him that. He was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was. His wings were usually a source of great pride for him, I wasn’t about to make this harder for him. He slowly nodded, and carefully got up. I followed him to his bedroom, a little concerned by how wobbly he seemed.

“... Luc, is the molt really the only thing that’s going on? You seem a bit … off?”

He collapsed onto his bed, pulling a pillow under his chest and crossing his arms under himself. “It’s enough … The little molts take a lot of energy, but the big ones … The big ones really suck … I’ve been in bed pretty much since I left …”

I nodded, sitting next to him. “I see … so, I just start peeling these things off the feathers?”

He nodded. “Gently, please … You can roll them a bit if they resist, but if that doesn’t work move on to the next one. Most of them should be ready though.”

I hummed softly, gently taking the wing in front of me and carefully extending it. He groaned softly, following my movements compliantly. I let the wing rest on my legs and began carefully sliding my fingertips over the little cylinders. Most of the keratin sheaths started to flake and crumble away under my touch, and I carefully rolled the slightly more resistant ones between my fingers. Under my touch, fluffy down and contour feathers began to emerge. I gently brushed the debris away, careful of my claws. I knew I had to do this perfectly; to prove he could trust me with things like this. He wasn’t moving or making any noises though, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad.

I worked methodically from the bottom where his wing attached to his back, up and out to the wingtip, periodically brushing the detritus away and stroking his freshly exposed feathers. I finished the right side and got halfway through the wings on the left before I ran into one that started to peel away, but then didn’t want to budge. I was about to move on like he’d told me, but I paused when I heard the first noise Lucifer made since I started touching his wings; a high pitched whine. He squirmed uncomfortably, and his wings ruffled up a bit.

“... Luci? D- did I hurt you?”

“Noooo … I want it off …” He whimpered softly, pressing his face into the pillow. “... C- Can you scratch it a bit? Just a bit!”

I nodded, humming softly my agreement, and carefully ran a claw along the sheath. His high whine returned, but this time it seemed a bit more … pleased? I scratched again, watching little bits of the sheath peel away. After just a little bit more the sheath fell away entirely, releasing its fluffy feather, and Lucifer sighed happily. 

“Ohhh fuck~ … Oh, that’s so much better! Your hands are magic~” He moaned softly, bringing a blush to my cheeks.

I cleared my throat; “... I’m glad you’re liking it, Luc.”

I carefully continued to the tip of his wing. There were only a few that hadn’t been ready to go yet, and his wings were back to their full, shiny, fluffy glory. He sighed happily, but didn’t move to get up, so I just continued to stroke his feathers.

“Ahh~ … Puppy, that’s wonderful~ … But y- … you do know, wings are sensitive, yeah?” He slowly lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at me. The heat on his face made me squirm shyly, and I shakily removed my hands.

“S- Sorry … I …” I blushed bright red, scooting backwards. He whined softly, slowly sitting up and facing me.

He shakily reached for my hand, running his thumb over my fingers. “... I wasn’t trying to make you stop. …”

I blushed even more, looking up at him shyly. “... So … should I continue?”

He slowly lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. “... Only if you wish to.”

I nodded slowly, shakily pushing him to lay back down. He did, watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I straddled his hips, stroking his wings gently.

“... They’re so beautiful, Luci … You are beautiful …” I was mesmerized, letting my hands trail along the soft feathers. 

He sighed happily, settling under me. “... I cannot believe I let this go on for a full blessed month when I could have had your hands on me this whole time …”

I chuckled softly, continuing to preen him gently. “Never again, yes? You come to me for this, whenever you need it. Or even if you just want it. … You take care of me, and I take care of you.”

“Because we’re an old married couple.” He nodded, yawning softly. “Yes, love, anything wifey wants~”

I blushed brightly, trying desperately to stop the squeak from leaving my mouth. Others had called us a married couple before, mostly to tease us, but we had never said it. “... That’s right, husband. Anything I want.”

He smirked slightly. “Husband … I like the way that word sounds when you say it ... If you’re not careful, I might just make you my wife for real …”

“... And what exactly would ‘being careful’ look like?”

“Oh, you know. Not letting me touch you anymore, keeping me out of your office, making fun of my ducks. … Taking your hands off my wings would definitely count as being careful.”

I chuckled softly, steeling my nerves and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. I whispered against his ear; “sounds like a horrible way to live. I think I’ll take my chances.”

His eyes flew open, looking up at me. A bright red blush spread across his face, and a hesitant smile graced his lips. “... I agree. A horrible way to live.”

He carefully slid out from under me, turning around so I was in his lap instead, and gently cupped my cheek, rubbing gently with his thumb. I leaned into his touch, sighing happily, and he slid his hand up to stroke my fluffy wolf ear. An almost electric feeling shot through me, leaving me gasping, and I hesitantly looked up at him. He smirked slightly, pulling me closer and kissing me softly before he whispered in my ear; “Now don’t give me that look, love~ You’ve been doing it to me this whole time~”

[toi-monogatari]

Chapter 3 - broken arrows (RadioApple fanfiction)

It felt like a whole chore for Lucifer to be dragging the Radio Demon upstairs, so much that he forgot himself and didn’t immediately let his daughter know that the hotel was once again safe to go to. He went up the stairs, too exhausted to use his powers, and not knowing how the demon's body might react to them, also reluctant to try, towards his own room, the Apple Tower. Back when they decided to rebuild the hotel, he had decided that if he was to stay to help his daughter, he needed proper headquarters to be able to work remotely. He gently nudged open the door with his hips, looking around unsure if it wasn’t better to bring the Radio Demon to the demons room, instead of his. Yet he knew, since he would look after him for Charlie, he would rather not go into the demon's room uninvited. Not even hell knows what he could find there. Severed arms? Weird voodoo slimes or dolls? Vials of weird liquids? He would rather not consider the possibilities. The blonde walked towards his bed, gently nodding his head, which made the ducks scattered over the bed fall off the opposite side of the bed before he laid down the taller demon on the blankets. As the demon got put onto the bed, the angel noticed a painful frown mixing into the smile. “Why are you smiling if you’re in pain… even when unconscious..” he questioned nothing more than himself, as the demon was unable to respond. “Blood…” The king remarked. “Oh to the unmerciful… Poor Niffty will have a hard job to do.” He said softly, before heading to the bathroom adjacent to his room to grab aid supplies. He had no need for most of them, given his powers being wide ranged, including healing, but they were nowhere near to cleaning. If he even considered healing the wound without cleaning or putting it back correctly, to whatever might have broken or moved, the consequences would be unchangeable. No matter how many times the Demon would come back, each time the wound could be back. Or at least that's what he assumed. It was not like he ever had actually healed a sinner before. All other times he only used the powers of his family, which was nowhere close to sinners. 

After he walked back with the supplies he looked at the passed out demon for a moment. He hoped the demon would be awake before this would go as far, so that he wouldn’t have to do this himself, without the permission. But now.. the demon's life was on the line. There was no time for permission. And he didn’t know if this wound was not from the angelic weapons. If that was the case, Alastor would never come back from this. He didn’t waste any more time, and opened up the clothes, only near where the wound was. He unpinned the jacket and discovered the damage to be far worse than he thought. Softly he patted the alcohol wipe on the skin near the open wound and its opening, before holding it tightly shut as his hands glowed softly gold and red. The damage slowly disappeared, the wound closing, and the once painful grin slowly changed into a soft smile. The look on Alastors face at that moment captivated the angel, its curiosity getting the better of him, as his hand slowly reached to the sinner's face. “You’re one annoying being… so damned annoying..” he sighed, looking at the sleeping demon, before taking his hand away and covering him up with another blanket.

Before long, Morningstar realized that he was yet to inform Charlie of everything. He grabbed his phone and dialed the number, waiting for a response, which felt like ages but was mere seconds. “Dad? Dad is everyone alright?” Charlie sounded worried over the phone. As if she needed to be held back from crying at any moment. “Everything is well, my little princess. You can come back, just don’t mind the mess at the front door. I’ll fix that later. Or perhaps we could call the cannibals over again. I doubt they’d mind it. Anyways, the danger is gone. Want me to get you a portal back?” Charlie got slightly speechless. While death was nothing new to her, hearing of her dad just killing people was totally unexpected. He might be the King of Hell, but he was nothing of a tyrant. “Yeah.. yes please. We could use it.” She answered, before a portal appeared in front of her. 

It took barely a few seconds before Charlie ran upstairs and knocked on the door of her fathers room, who needed a minute to get to the door. He opened it slightly, so that he would not show who else was in there, shielding the view with his body. Charlie didn’t take a barely open door as an answer and immediately went for a hug with her father, softly crying in his arms. “Oh CharChar.. you don’t have to worry about anything… your dad is right here. I’ll always protect you.”  he spoke silently to her, as she tried her best to breathe while the only thing managing to happen was gasps for air. “I don’t understand… Why did they do that?” She cried. “They are mad because they feel overlooked… I’ll have to head to the other parts of hell to talk with the royal families and sins… maybe we can come up with a plan to get them to calm down. But we can’t keep everyone happy… Now, turn that frown upside down. The sinners are waiting on you. I’ll be here if you need me.” Charlie took a deep breath, listening to her father and agreed, standing up and rubbing her eyes. “Alright dad. Thanks again.” “Anything for you, my sunshine. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to work.” “Of course not.” She nodded, but before leaving she started so ask something, abruptly ending the sentence midway, “Have you seen Alastor by cha- Never mind.” She then turned around and left, going to the rest of the demons in the lobby. Lucifer shrugged and closed the door, leaning against it and taking a short look at the man on his bed. “I guess we will be stuck together for a while.” 

Prev/Next

[layce2015]

John Wick Chapter 4 (John Wick x Female!Reader)

Chapter 2: The Battle Of Osaka Continental

JW 1 Masterlist

JW 2 Masterlist

JW 3 Masterlist

JW 4 Masterlist

The three of them clink their glasses together and begin to drink. "You want to die? That's your choice. A good death only comes after a good life." Shimazu said. "You and I left a good life behind a long time ago, my friend." John said and Shimazu takes a sip of his drink then looks over at them. "But what of your wife?" He asked and (y/n) looks down at the cup in her hand.

She let's out a small scoff and shakes her head. "I believe my good life was taken from me the moment I was kidnapped. It was only a few months ago but...feels like a lifetime ago. I'm not even sure...if I'm that same woman." She responded and John places his left hand on her leg. Even after she already forgiven him, he still feels responsible for everything that's happened to them. He would give anything to go back to that life, back when she was innocent and had no idea about this world.

"Father, The High Table." Akira exclaimed as she ran but stopped when she sees John and (y/n). "What are they doing here?" She asked, angrily. "Mr and Mrs Wick are our guests." Shimazu said and Akira glares at her father. "Father..." she growls. "I'll talk to them. They don't know you two are here." Shimazu said as he gets up from his chair and walks around.

"Please." Akira pleads to him as he walks up to her and she grabs his wrist. "Stay with Mr and Mrs Wick." Shizuma said and he walks away and Akira gives a pleading look to her father then turns to the couple and glares at them, like this was all of their fault.

She then looks down and shakes her head after a few moments of silence. "You and your wife have no right to be here. If they find you two here, The Table will kill my father, me, everyone because you broke the rules." Akira said then she looks up at them. "You two shouldn't have come." She said, a firm tone.

"I know my words mean nothing but...both my husband and I are very sorry. We just wanted to be left alone." (Y/n) said and Akira stares at her until a man, carrying a bow, walks up, bows then leans over to Akira.

"The hotel is being attacked." He tells her. She glares over at the couple then takes off her robes, revealing am armored body suit. "You two armed?" She asked them as she takes the bow out of the man's hand.

John and (y/n) pull out their handguns when the man is shot and killed. John and (y/n) fire a few shots as a group of armored men come up. The couple and Akira take cover and Akira nods to some nearby men and they begin to fire arrows at the men, killing two of them.

She runs out, jumps on one man, shoots him in the head with an arrow then goes to attack while John and (y/n) go and shoot a few armored men. John jumps on one man, flips him around and shoots him the head before shooting another man while (y/n) ducks from some bullets.

She gets down close the one of the armored me, wraps her legs around the man's leg and turns over, knocking the man down before shooting him in the head. They take down the remaining men before they meet up with Akira and the remaining members of her guards. "Let's go." She said. "Hai." One of the archers said and they all run towards the hotel.

Once inside, they were immediately attacked and they started shooting at the men. They make it to the escalators and one guard tried to attack John but (y/n) was able to take him down as she grabbed the man, shot him and threw him down the escalators.

John and (y/n) shot a few more men but would fight hand to hand to anyone that got close. Akira was also taking dien some men in her own as a few men in suits started to come in and fight. One big guy try to fight Akira but she was so quick he was unable to keep up and she stabbed him several times in the legs.

He tried to crawl away from her but she stabbed him in the back as she crawled up on him until he finally died. She gets off of him and walks down the steps when she was shot in her side. "Akira!" Shimazu shouts as he comes running in the room, kills a couple of men then runs to his daughter, not seeing some men coming up behind him.

But John and (y/n) make their way to him and shoot the men. "Can you stand?" Shimazu asked Akira as he places her arm around his shoulder and helps her up. He then turns to John and (y/n) as they walk up to them. 

"Get out the way you came. Go to the Umeda Station." Shimazu said. "We'll stay." John said. "Don't insult my gift to you." Shimazu said and they share a look before John nods. "And, John, do me a small courtesy. Kill as many as you can." Shimazu said as he raise a fist to John, who fist bumped him. Then John takes his wife's hand and they run as Shimazu helps his daughter to run in the opposite direction.

John and (y/n) make it to the museum area that was blinking white-blue lights and lean up against a wall. The two reload their guns then they share a look before (y/n) nods at her husband and they walk out from behind the wall and see more armed men coming and they start to shoot.

They run along the room and fire their guns at the men 'til they get into the middle of the room and just either shoot them or punch and kick at them. At one point, John ran out of bullets and threw his gun at one man and grabs at another man to pull his gun put of his hand and uses it.

(Y/n) punched and kicked at one man then used her knife bracelet to stab him in the neck. She takes his gun as he falls over and John takes another gun and shoots at the men that were on the ground, making sure they were dead.

The two started to walk when a large man in a suit grabs at (y/n) and punches her across the face, making her fall to the side. John goes to shoot at the man but he knocks the gun out of John's hand and they start to fight while (y/n) shakes her head, getting out of her daze.

The man then grabs John and tosses him against a glass case that held Nunchucks inside. John notices them and grabs them while (y/n) goes to attack the man when another suited man comes up and grabs her.

She slams the back of her head against the man's face as John gets up and hits the first man's face with the nunchucks, repeatedly. The second man that held onto (y/n) lets her go as he cups his nose and she lands on her feet, pulls out her knife bracelet and goes to stab him with it.

He does his best to block her but she was able to slice at him. Finally, she stabs him in the stomach then the chest, several times while John was able to grab a gun and shoots the guy he was fighting then the one she was fighting. (Y/n) sighs and looks to see if the dead man had a gun and takes it.

"Alright?" John asked her and she nods and they start to walk out when more gunfire sounds out. They fire back then they take cover behind some glass cases. They peak out from the edges of the cases and fire then John goes to one man and hits him in the leg with the nunchucks then his crotch.

They fight as (y/n) goes to the second man, jumps on him and swings around to get on his back. He tries to grab at her but she moves away from his hands as she stabs him in the back with several quick movements. The man yells in pain and falls to his knees before (y/n) pulls out the gun and shoots him in the back of the head.

John was able to knock his guy down and shoots him in the head as well. He places the nunchucks around his neck and (y/n) gets up and they start to walk when some armored men come in and fire at them.

John and (y/n) get behind a wall of painted glass and John takes the nunchucks off of his neck and gets into position. One of the armed men comes around, aiming his assault rifle, when John pops out and uses the nunchucks to pull the rifle out of his hand and shoots him then another guy.

The couple go around the wall and John fires through the glass at another armored man. (Y/n) hears footsteps behind her and she turns and fires her gun at them, killing one.while the second one comes up. John turns and goes to fire his rifle but found out he was out of bullets and he threw the gun at him before he goes to fight.

It seemed never ending as the couple would just punch, kick, shoot, or hit these men with nunchucks whenever they would come. But John and (y/n) were able to hold their own as they fought their way through these waves of men until finally John took down the last man then fell to his feet in exhaustion.

"John?" (Y/n) said, worried, as she kneels down next to him. "I'm fine." He whispers back to her as he takes a breath. Then she helps him up to his feet when they heard footsteps.

They look over and see an Asian man in a suit and sunglasses walking up to them, using a cane to run across the surface of the case. This was Caine. "John?" He calls out as he walks up to John, who seemed surprised to see him. "Caine." John said, a bit stunned, and Caine stops and stands a few feet in front of him.

"They gave you my name." John said, questioningly. "Yeah. And your wife's." Caine replied and (y/n) gasped, quietly, at this. "I'm sorry." John tells Caine. "Me too." Caine said before he fires his gun around and John grabs (y/n) and they run and hide.

Caine raises his cane and holds it in front of him as John and (y/n) duck down behind a wall. (Y/n) looks over to her left and sees a dead guard with a gun held in his hand. She takes it then hands it to John and he begins to look it over, seeing if it was loaded.

"You should have stayed out. For all our sakes." Caine calls out and John looks over at (y/n). "I tried." He replied and (y/n) gives him a sympathetic look. "Did you?" Caine asked as John grabs a nearby samurai sword and holds it in his left hand and the gun in his right hand.

He turns back to his wife and mouths the words stay here before he gets up. And before Caine could come around the corner, John goes to attack him with the sword but Caine was able to block it with his cane. 

The two sword fight for a bit while also firing bullets at each other, but missing. Caine then pulls off the cover of his cane, revealing a sword, and the two swing swords at each other. John then ducks from a swing then goes to hide behind another wall of glass.

While they were firing guns, (y/n) was able to get up and run for a different cover in case things got bad. She could tell by the way Caine was fighting that he was blind and she knew even if this guy was a good assassin like John, there was still a good chance she could get badly hurt...more so than usual.

She hide behind a wall of glass that is behind the one John was hiding behind. And she sticks out from the edge to show him where she was. He looks over then nods as Caine sits down behind another wall and reloads his gun. "Come on, John. Let's get this shit over with." Caine said. "Yeah." John replied, breathless. "That sounds like a good idea." He said and he reloads his gun while Caine comes out from hiding and holds his sword out, hitting a glass case, as he walks around.

"You took a deal." John said to him. "Same as you, John." Caine replied. "Family?" John asked as he gets up on his knees. "Family." Caine confirms as his foot hits a dead man and his rifle.

John peaks out from his hiding and fires at Caine. Caine grabs the rifle, runs and slides on his side and fires to where he heard the gunfire. The two men keep firing through the glass wall, not hitting the other, until the glass breaks and falls.

John was on his back, his gun aimed at Caine as Caine used his sword to feel his way around. "You dead, John?" Caine asked and John keeps quiet then looks over to his side to see a gun. He goes to reach for it but made a noise and Caine catches this. John goes to grab the gun but Caine slides across the floor and blocks him from grabbing the gun.

Caine started to get up and swing his sword but John ducks then gets behind him and grabs him but Caine flips him over on the ground, gets on top of him and starts to hold the sword to John's neck. John holds the sword back at bay then looks over to see his wife sticking her head out from her hiding place. 

She looked frighten and was about to move to him but he shakes his head at her. "John." Caine said. "Caine." John said as he struggles and (y/n) couldn't let him die so she goes to grab her gun and aim it at Caine.

But before she could fire, another gunfire shoots out and Caine jumps off of John and rolls away. John then gets up and runs as a man fires at Caine. John goes over to (y/n), takes her hand and they run out of the room.

They make their way outside when a few guards shoots at them and they fire back. Another suited man comes up and John fights him until he was able to knock him down and shoots him in the head. He then noticed a pin with a crest on his jacket and he takes it then pockets it.

Before (y/n) could speak, they hear a small branch breaking and the couple turn to aim their gun when a couple of guards come up. But then a dog comes up and attacks one man while the second man was shot in the head.

Then this African American man comes up while John and (y/n) aim their guns at him. "Damn, Johnny. This is quite the mess you and your woman made." He said as John stands up. "I don't know you." John said, confused. "But I know you." The man, Mr Nobody, said and he aims his gun at John.

"You a tracker?" John asked and Mr Nobody holds up his phone. "How much?" John asked. "Not enough." Mr Nobody replied as he shuts his phone and pockets it. "But it's gettin' there." Mr Nobody said as he lowers his gun.

Then a suited man comes up behind John and (y/n) but Mr Nobody shoots him, killing him. "I need you to take better care of yourself and your wife, John." Mr Nobody said as he holsters his gun. "Cause we're in this together now." He said and John stares at him then he lowers his right hand and reached out for his wife's hand, his left hand holding the gun.

She lowers her left hand, her right hand holding her gun, and they hold hands then back up before lowering their guns and run off into the woods, hand in hand.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Little hurt/comfort ficlet for @idiotwithanipad x

Robin & OC

-

Most of the time she managed to block out her 'gift', having had nearly twenty years to train herself to ignore the dead people who existed everywhere she went, the majority of them easy enough to spot with their outfits, the way they weaved between livings without getting a passing glance, or outright walking through walls and furniture.

As a child, she'd had the excuse of being an imaginative kid who acquired many "imaginary friends" to talk to. As a teenager that didn't go down quite so well. Not that she usually cared if people looked at her as a weirdo. It was more the 'getting sectioned' possibility that concerned her.

Her parents had gone on and on about how old this hotel was, how it apparently had enough history to warrant a quick tour offered by the resort. So Amy expected more than a few ghosts to pop up here and there. Thus far she'd done her best not to make eye contact with the giddy Georgian woman or the Bridgerton Ken who had been in the reception.

It was a little more of a trial to ignore the caveman scurrying around her room, sniffing at the leftovers of her dinner she'd ordered through room service, nostrils flaring above the lone slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Ooo, smell so good. Wonder how you taste. Cheese taste like cow bum? It all come from same." The feral man was muttering to himself.

Once he got bored of inhaling the food, he was judging her parents choice of books that they'd brought, having dumped them on their bedside tables.

Amy covered her head beneath a large pillow as he continued his one-sided conversation.

"Fanny read this one. Butler no do it, it maid disguise as butler. And she also vampire. Big twist but saw it coming. Oooh, Christine Lampard autobiography! Me want read! Might put on Christmas list-."

"PLEASE WILL YOU SHUT UP!"

He raised his head in time to see the pillow she's thrown hurtle towards him and he ducked to the side to dodge it. He blinked at her in wonder.

"You see me?!"

"Yes! I can fucking see you, all right?!" She confessed through gritted teeth, knowing she'd probably made her situation worse now.

The caveman gave an excited whoop and jumped like a hyperactive five year old.

"This so cool! We have new friend who see! Almost never happen. Me gotta tell others-."

"No, please, please don't!"

Perhaps it was the crack in her voice, brought on by a surge of pain throughout her muscles as she tried to reach forward, that made the ghost stop in his tracks and turn back to her.

His excitement quickly morphed into concern as his eyes met Amy's, her own shining with tears.

"You no look so good..." The man frowned, one of his hands reaching up to stroke at his shift.

"Gee thanks, haven't heard that before. You're not exactly Chris Hemsworth, mate." She bristled; "I'm fucking ill and don't need to have a party of dead people storming in giving me a headache on top of everything else. It's bad enough my earphones have crapped out on me."

"What you got? Plague?" He asked, inching a little closer to her bed.

She huffed a laugh; "Not quite...but my body gets these sores. Don't think it's the same as that bubonic thing but fucking feels like it sometimes." Amy held her arm to show the spirit the angry looking lumps and scars near her armpits.

"Ouchie. They no look fun." He said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She lowered her arm, slowly, wincing a little.

"Those aren't even the worst ones. The others are in...awkward places."

"That why you not downstairs with mum and dad at dinner and the show?" Her mum had been going on and on about this famous illusionist being the big star tonight, some Derren Brown-wannabe.

She nodded, miserably; "Wasn't expecting to flare up like this, or else I'd just stayed at home. At least then I'd have all the stuff in my room. Netflix don't even work on the TV here."

"Yeah, WiFi on blink since...some ghost, me not know who, play around with router when bored." He said, bashful, scratching at his ear. "So...they leave you here alone?"

"S'not like they abandoned me, I just didn't wanna make a fuss 'cause I know how much Mum's been looking forward to this." She sighed and waved her phone up; "Signal is crap here too so can't even WhatsApp."

"What's what?" He asked, turning his head to the side.

"No, WhatsApp."

"What is app?"

"No! I..." She couldn't help but laugh, realising how ridiculous this was, "Just something I use to text my mates. They're probably sick of listening to me moan too..."

"...You can moan to me if want?" He said, shuffling closer; "Me good listener."

Amy smiled at him a little; "Don't wanna be pitied, thanks. Anyway, I'm sure you got more exciting things to be watching."

"Eh. Me seen how that guy on stage do his tricks. Take all fun out. Lot to do with mirrors. Clever but boring. Rare me get to speak to living girl."

"Rare? So...I'm not the first?" Amy had never met anyone else with her gift.

"Lady who own hotel before golfy people come, she see us after my friend almost kill her. No, it cool! We good now!" The caveman assured after Amy's face went pale with terror; "She like family and come visit."

"She could see you guys because she almost died once?" Amy asked; "So she's not...chronically ill, like me?"

The caveman shook his head; "No think so. Just got bumpy on head. She say she now crazy forever but no ouchy scars and lumps and pain."

"Lucky cow." Amy clicked her tongue. She'd always thought her gift had something to do with having to deal with the constant agony, as well as other health issues she'd had as a baby.

Speak of the devil, another surge of agony hit her from her lower back as she shifted against the mattress.

"Shit!" She swore.

"Woah, woah, you 'kay?" The caveman fretted.

"Yeah, just a reminder to take my painkillers." She went to get off the bed, having left them on the sideboard, only for one of her feet to become tangled in the bedsheets.

Amy nearly fell before two hands caught her by the shoulders, fingers grazing against some of her abscesses. Painless.

"Fuck, that would've been embarrasing. Thanks, mate." She smiled, turning to see an almost cartoonish level of shock on the dead man's fuzzy face; "Uhh, you okay?"

"I....I touch you....?"

"Uhm, yeah, I've always been able to touch ghosts...Can that friend of yours not do that?" She asked, reaching for her pills and grabbing some water.

He shook his raggedy mane; "Only see and hear, but touchy hurt us, same as all other living people. You..." He poked her arm cautiously, mouth agape with awe at the contact, before poking again; "Ha ha!"

"All right, stop that now." Amy batted his hand away.

He retreated, looking regretful; "Oh, sorry. It hurt, yes?"

"No, it was just annoying." She laughed, sitting back down on the mattress; "It's weird. Ghosts are the only ones who can touch me where it's sore without hurting me. Don't invite too many of those though. Used to have a dead friend when I was a kid but...she moved on, I think." Amy looked down at her ebony nail polish, morose.

"Ah. Go up to stars. Me have many friends do same. I name each star for them." He explained, warmly.

"Her name was Lana, if you wanna find one for her." Amy said, quietly; "Speaking of names, do you have one?"

"Many. Most of them insults. But friends call me Robin." He said, holding his hand out to her.

It was a bit cliché but she supposed he rarely got a chance to meet anyone like this, so she shook it. "I'm Amy."

The fur of his sleeve brushed against her wrist. She couldn't resist the urge to feel it properly, softer than any comfort blanket.

"Wow...Is that...real wolf?" She asked, partly freaked out but also a little amazed - couldn't really compare hunting for clothes in this guy's time to the fashion industry today.

He nodded, then gently took her hand and pressed her fingers to different parts of his outfit.

"That bit cougar, that some wild dogs, that leather obviously from cow, and rest mostly mammoth." He explained.

"Real mammoth? Woah." Now that was pretty awesome. She'd never be able to meet one but she could say she'd felt one.

It definitely beat the hotel duvet.

She didn't want to move her hand away. It felt so soothing to be able to touch something, someone, so warm and soft without her skin being irritated. But this must look super weird from Robin's point of view.

"You look sad again. More pain?" He asked, reaching to touch her hand on his fluffy chest.

She shook her head; "No, s'just....My mum tried to give me a cuddle earlier when she could see I wasn't doing good and I had to tell her not to, even though I sure as shit need one right now. Pathetic, right?"

"No it not. I had little cousin, her skin like tissue paper, very delicate, tear easily. Big hugs make her cry too. But she brave and strong to survive. Like you." He told her, squeezing her hand; "We wrap her up in special leaves with Moonah blessed water to try to help. Not sure it did much good but we not have Doctor Google in them times. We just do best we can to ease pain."

"Well...you're doing a good job now." She praised, feeling the burning sensation ease a little with him being so close.

"You...want me to stay?"

"...Could you?" She couldn't understand why he would want to but didn't want to question it.

He nodded, a little bashful, as if he was just as new to the concept of being asked to stay for company.

"Want me to stay quiet still?"

Amy smiled; "Not too quiet, just not rambling out loud like you were doing. You look like you've been here for thousands of years, you must have some stories to tell. Could you just...tell me some of those till I get sleepy?"

"Ooh, yes. Hehe. Get comfy. Me know great one you like about man killed in library." He said, rubbing his hands together.

Getting comfortable was easier said than done in her condition, especially as she pulled away from his touch.

"I...Uhm...God, this is so cringe." She muttered to herself.

"What?"

"Would you be okay to just...hold me?" She asked, cheeks turning pink.

He smiled and nodded, shuffling to lay down and slide his arms around her, as she shifted into them, snuggling against the warm body of fur and skin and wild hair.

"This okay? Amy no ouch?" Robin whispered, fingers moving up to stroke through her hair.

She hummed, content at last; "Amy no ouch. Thanks, Robin."

A soft chuckle came from the long dead man as be continued to hold her close, his etheral presence doing nothing to aggravate her sores. On the contrary, a strange heat seemed to vibrate from his fingers as they brushed over her abscesses, melting the pain away.

It was a shame that ghost therapy wasn't prescribed on the NHS.

Amy relaxed in the man's arms and listened as he began the thrilling tale of the pirate captain who'd been slain in the library.

[andileighwrites]

We Ran and Found Home - Chapter 1 | Lane (March 2023) BOOK PREVIEW

It was raining the night Lane took off with nothing but what they could carry in their backpack. Their shoes were thoroughly ruined thanks to the puddled sidewalks. It would be a few days before the sneakers would be completely dry again. Lane carried their possessions-filled bag close to their chest while wrapping their light raincoat tighter around their body. It wasn't enough to cover the bag as well but Lane ducked down to shield the rain using their body. Cars were speeding by Lane who fumbled with opening their bag to retrieve a set of keys. Once Lane got ahold of the keyring, it slipped through their fingers and fell to the sidewalk. Thankfully, it missed a murky puddle. Lane grunted as they leaned down to pick up the wet keys and they shook them off. The keys jingled and echoed louder than the raindrops pelting the cold concrete. Lane shoved the keys into their raincoat pocket and dug in their jeans pocket to retrieve their cell phone. They struggled to enter the passcode into the phone. The raindrops made it challenging, but once they were in, Lane noticed a string of missed calls. "ATLAS" lit up at the top of the phone screen. Along with a number of missed call notifications. There was also a voicemail. Lane swiped the notifications away.

"No. I can't deal with you anymore."

Lane opened up the email app to check a certain email they had received.

"Okay. What was the address again?" Lane scrolled through the email conversation that they had with a landlord. She was a nice older lady named Phoebe. They had gone over the basics; first and last month's rent, included utilities, pet's policy (to Lane's excitement they allowed pets), and lease paperwork. Phoebe was understanding of Lane's situation. She kept all paperwork electronic for Lane and even personally dropped off the keys at Lane's new place of work. Atlas was unaware of what Lane was up to and as Lane stood on the sidewalk in the rain looking for the address of their new apartment, they were grateful they made it this far without Atlas finding out. He would have been upset.

Atlas had no idea that Lane started a new job, was looking for an apartment, and certainly did not know that Lane was finally putting their foot down and ending the relationship. It was a relationship that was well into its third year. Almost four years together but Lane couldn't be around Atlas anymore. Lane couldn't live another minute in a house with Atlas. Close to four years was enough wasted time on him and Lane built up the courage to leave. Lane snuck out of the house on a rainy night after Atlas had passed out on the couch from drinking. They pulled out their packed backpack that was hidden in the hall closet and quietly left the house they lived in for almost four years. Lane went out the back door and tip-toed carefully around to the front of the house. Then they sprinted off into the night ready to begin their new life.

After Lane found the address in the email, they looked around for street signs. "Oh, okay. I'm almost there." They felt relieved. Soon they could get out of the rain and be in their own apartment. A place just for Lane without Atlas lurking. A place where Lane could exist without Atlas waiting for every possible moment to criticize everything Lane did. This would be a place where Atlas couldn't hurt them. A place where Altas wouldn't be able to hit them again. Lane started walking down the street again after shoving their phone back into their jeans pocket. There was only a short distance left between Lane and the apartment building.

The apartment building that Lane was moving into used to be a hotel. The Sequoia Bay Hotel was once a popular destination. It had a restaurant and hosted large social events. Celebrities would stay there, causing crowds to gather on the street below, hoping to get a glimpse of these stars peeking out of their windows. The hotel was established in 1941 and was popular through the 1950s. In the late 70s, the hotel faced financial ruin and they were forced to close its doors. The Sequoia Bay Hotel sat empty for many years but the new owner of the building was determined to reopen the building, not as a hotel, but as affordable apartments. The building was converted into apartments in the 1990s and has been apartments ever since.

Lane had finally made it to the front steps of Sequoia Bay Apartments. At last, they were under the oning and shook off the rain, letting the beads roll off of their coat. They fished the keys from their coat pocket and looked for the one for the front door of the building. Lane felt a sense of security that no one would be allowed to get into the building unless they had a key. And there was the doubled security of needing a second key to get into the actual unit. Atlas wouldn't stand a chance! Lane checked their backpack, it wasn't completely soaked through and they swung it over their shoulder as they went into the main entrance. The lobby of the apartment building was a grand sight and Lane could tell that it used to be a magnificent hotel. During his email conversation with Phoebe, Lane learned a little bit about the history of the building and also learned that Phoebe's father bought the building after the hotel went bankrupt. She inherited the building after her father passed away. Lane looked around for the elevator and discovered an unfortunate out-of-order sign. They glared at the door that led to the stairwell. "Apartment C7," Lane said. "That's not that bad. At least I'm not on the top floor." Lane pushed open the stairwell door and was met with a brightly lit winding staircase. "Just a little bit of a climb and I'll be home."

...

Copyright ©️ Andi Leigh, 2023

...

Thank you for reading the first chapter of We Ran and Found Home. Let me know what you think! Tomorrow I'll be posting chapter 2. The first 6 chapters will be posted as a preview for the novel.

[rustedhearts]

Tough Guy (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)

summary: after a violent fight with a stranger on the streets of boston, steve reaps the consequences of his own actions. you worry about the future of your relationship.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

warnings: blood, boxing-related violence, also regular but pretty intense violence, angst, physical fight, steve goes to jail :)

boston, massachusetts april 1990

Within the first two months on the road, Steve's career skyrocketed.

He went from a locally famous fighter to a national name. The endorsements started putting together press conferences before and after fights, and every time you watched him from behind a curtain backstage, sitting at those tables with a mic in front of him, sunglasses shielding him from the blinding shutters of cameras, it filled you with a jolt of pride. His hard work was finally coming to fruition. All the training, the dieting, the bruises and headaches—it was starting to mean something.

You sat front row at every fight, flashing sweet smiles of encouragement, leaping to your feet to clap, leaning forward to shout validations. Before every fight—once Steve ducked into the ropes and stood to his full, hulking height—he'd look off at you and press his puffy, gloved knuckles once to his mouth, then twice to his heart. You'd blow a kiss back in response, nodding firmly in affirmation. You tried not to get too sappy before a fight; Steve had to concentrate, he couldn't have distractions.

But Steve was a hard man to distract before a fight. He was always deeply engrossed in his own head, staring off at concrete in the dressing rooms, bouncing his foot while his knuckles were wrapped. He rarely even paused to press a kiss to your mouth; he couldn't get out of his own head long enough to think about it.

You didn't mind, though. Steve always made up for it in the hotel room afterwards. Purpled and blued with bruises, mouth scented of blood, hands warm and clammy and still a little shaky—Steve would work himself slowly between your legs until they were jello, until he had you gasping and mewling and he could barely hold himself up with his sore arms. But he never stopped. Not until you struggled to breathe and were too tired to move.

It was his way of saying 'I love you,' when words escaped him.

"Man, once we get to Vegas—I'm hittin' the slots," Mikey boasted from the passenger seat of the SUV.

You wished you would've been able to rent a bus, or some sort of vehicle large enough for the four of you. The longer you drove, the more cramped it started to feel. Right now, your head was in Steve's lap, one hand buried in your hair and the other rubbing your thigh. You'd been fatigued for days, barely able to keep your eyes open on long drives between hotels, gyms, and arenas. It didn't help that you were on your period and cramping like hell.

"Don't go wasting all that dough, Santorini. The kid's gotta keep this winning streak up if we wanna stay rich," Big chuckled behind the wheel.

Above you, Steve rolled his eyes. You fiddled with the strings of his sweatshirt, pulling them gently just to watch them bounce back up.

"Nice to know you have faith in me," Steve grumbled.

Big glanced at the pair of you in the rearview. "I do have faith in you, son! I'm just keeping you on your toes. Ain't that right, Libby?"

You hummed, reaching up to scratch your nails against Steve's stubbled jaw. "Mm, I think Steve's gonna keep the streak up. He's a winner."

Steve tilted his chin down to look at you, softening at the sight of your eyes blinking up at him. He huffed through his nose, dragging his hand through your hair and along the side of your face, rough and firm. His thumb caught the underside of your jaw, tipping your head up to angle your mouth to his liking. He bent slowly, pausing when the tip of his nose met yours.

"Thank you, angel," he whispered across your waiting lips, just loud enough for you to hear.

You grinned, wrapping your hand around his wrist. "You're welcome."

♡ ♡

After five hours on the road, you finally arrived in Boston. The entire car began complaining of thirst and hunger an hour ago, so your stomach grumbled with overdue need the moment Big pulled in front of an Italian restaurant not too far from the hotel.

"C'mon, baby." Steve jostled you in his lap, ignoring your whining protests.

He hauled you into a seated position by the back of your neck, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before popping the door open. You huffed and puffed as you slid toward the open air, stomping your feet onto the pavement of the road. Steve grinned at your petulant behavior, yanking you close by the wrist to wrap his hand around your jaw.

"So pouty, baby," he teased, squishing your cheeks together and watching your lips pucker with amusement.

You furrowed your brows at him, eyelids drooping. "M' tired."

He pressed a quick peck to your squished lips. "I know. We'll eat, then sleep. Good?"

You nodded, and with another swift kiss to your mouth, he released your face and collected your hand in his grasp. You allowed him to guide you, woozy with exhaustion. The sounds of Boston—horns honking, people shouting, distant sirens—seemed muffled by blood rushing to your head. You hadn't been in an upright position for hours.

The restaurant was dimly lit, which did nothing to help rouse you from your wading state of slumber. They seated you at a table in the back, the heels of the waitress clicking hurriedly across checkered tile as she guided you to the table. By the way she smiled at Steve and bent over his plate to pour water into his glass, it was clear she recognized him. The sight of her breasts sitting on his empty plate like a slice of chicken woke you up—at least enough to glare at her and scoot closer to Steve, sliding your hand through the back of his hair.

The men lit cigarettes and browsed through the menu, and you leaned your head on Steve's shoulder while flipping through the laminated pages lazily. Steve flipped his lighter open and closed, the hiss of the flame quickly suffocated when capped. Mikey was talking about Vegas again, rambling about all the naked women he'd see and all the money he'd spend.

"When d' we go to Vegas again?" you murmured, rubbing your cheek on Steve's arm.

He tapped his lighter on the tablecloth, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to blow the smoke away. "Uh, end of next month. Why, you wanna try your hand at poker, honey?"

Steve rubbed at your hair, a scrunch of his fingers against the crown of your head that made you scowl. You flicked his hand away, huffing.

"No, m' just tired of hearing Mikey talk about it already."

Steve looked at Mikey across the table through his lashes, flashing an amused smile as he choked back a chuckle. Your generally sweet and quiet demeanor usually crumbled when you reached a certain point of exhaustion, and it was clear you were toeing the line now.

Big let his laugh loose, patting Mikey on the back. "You and me both, girl."

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed again. Steve ripped his cigarette away from his mouth again to nudge you up.

"Baby, you gotta stay awake."

You groaned, rolling away to sit up straight in your chair, though your shoulders soon slumped and your chin tucked toward your chest. A 'tired,' tumbled from your mouth, and Steve gently tapped his hand on your thigh.

"I know, baby, just a little longer. Want me t' order for you?"

You barely remember nodding, but soon there was a plate of angel hair pasta with shredded Parmesan sitting in front of you, a coke with lemon at your right. You sipped at it with a sigh, leaning your elbow on the table. You'd never felt this tired before.

You were so busy focusing on twirling the prongs of your fork into the mound of steaming pasta that you hadn't noticed the group of men lingering near your table. You were too worried about keeping a steady grip around the utensil, too tired to truly grip.

"Can we help you fellas?" It was Big that called attention to it.

You lifted your head from where it rested on your fist, turning to see the men at the edge of your table. Steve instantly pulled your chair a little closer. Sleep began to dissipate from the corners of your eyes.

"Ah you...ah you Steve Harrington? The Steve Harrington?"

Their attention turned to Steve, a finger pointed too close to his face for his liking. He instantly leaned away from it, eyes narrowing into that cold, empty look he gets when he isn't around the three of you at this table. You were the only ones who got to see a gentler side of him—the rest of America only knew his brick-wall personality.

"Listen, we're tryin' t' eat here," Steve gruffed, motioning toward your plates full of food.

The man was young, between your age and Steve's, his face red and puffy and alcohol stiff on his breath. He looked like he stepped right out of MTV, and you glanced sideways at the rest of his friends lingering behind him, tapping their ashes onto the floor of the restaurant without care.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, totally," the man stuttered. "Just wanted to say m' a big fan, man."

Big inched his chair out, preparing to stand when Steve placed a hand out to stop him. He turned his attention back to the stranger in the backwards baseball cap, nodding curtly.

"Yeah, I appreciate it. Now you wanna fuck off?"

You stiffened in your seat, knowing the sharp tone of Steve's voice meant his patience was wearing thin. In response to his abrupt shift, the other men guffawed.

"Whoa, man, I was just showing my ah-ppreciation. No need to be an asshole."

You saw it—the way Steve's head twitched the smallest jerk back, how the muscle in his neck bulged with a squeeze of his teeth together. You felt it next—his fingers gripping your thigh like a vice, sure to leave marks in their wake. You squeaked, reaching out to place your hand over his.

"Hey, man," Steve mimicked, parroting the man's accent, "I'm askin' you nicely to leave. You don't want me to have to make you."

The man stumbled back into his friends, head shaking with disbelief. His eyes were glossed with a drunken haze, and an uneasy chill whipped through you when they glanced your way.

"Whatever, man. Just some fuckin' fake anyway."

His friends tugged him away, and their descent toward the exit was slow and full of mumbled insults that all made you stiff and nauseous. When they were gone, Mikey scowled.

"Can you believe the nerve of those fuckin’ kids?”

Big sighed, shaking pepper flakes over his half-eaten slice of pizza, eyes narrowed on the door. "They're just looking for attention. Hey, you okay, Libby?"

All eyes turned to you, pale and queasy, poking at your pasta with the prongs of your fork. Steve let up on your thigh, rubbing the aching handprint on your skin. You nodded weakly.

"M' sorry, honey," Steve sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You okay?"

You flashed a tight-lipped smile, nodding again. "I'm fine, Stevie. I just...didn't want there to be a fight."

Steve picked up his pizza, ripping off a bite from the pointed end. Grease slicked his lips, made them shiny and pink.

"M' not gonna fight those fuckers. Just...eat your food, baby, c'mon."

♡ ♡

Steve managed to get you to eat half the plate of pasta and a roll of dense bread. You stumbled into the parking lot attached to his side, bloated with food consumption and still woozy with fatigue. You relied completely on Steve's solid figure to prop you up—an arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other hand ready to pick you up at any moment. Big and Mikey walked ahead, smoking another cigarette and chatting about what to watch on pay per view at the hotel.

You were just about to get into the car when a whistle shrilled from down the sidewalk. All four of your heads turned, finding the dark shadow of the same man from earlier, friends abandoned elsewhere. He continued to stumble your way with a glazed look in his eye, drunkenly determined.

"Hey, Harrington! Wanna talk t' ya, man," he called out.

You wrapped your hand around Steve's sweatshirt, anchoring him to you. Your other hand found the door handle, taking a sharp breath in.

"Steve, let's just go," you muttered. For the second time tonight, your sleepy haze dissipated like a cloud of smoke.

The man whistled again, cupping his hands around his mouth to holler at Steve. Big and Mikey were at Steve's side in an instant, crowding in close.

"Harrington, kid, don't do it," Big warned, voice stern and fatherly.

But you could see it in Steve's eyes—his face illuminated by the streetlight's yellow beam—that steely determination, the fiery stubbornness, his hungry need to prove himself. Steve never turned down a fight. He never stopped looking for one. All he needed was a tipping point—one thing to send him over the edge.

"What, you scahed, Harrington? All that tough guy shit on tv just for show?"

It wasn't enough, but it was close. Steve popped the door handle, nudging you toward the backseat. You fought his pushing hands, your own flying out to grab the door handle and the lip of the car. You held on with all your might, lip wobbling.

"No, Steve. Steve, please, it's not worth it," you begged, voice unsteady with panic.

Steve slipped his sunglasses from the collar of his sweatshirt, tossing them behind you into the backseat. The man behind him whistled again, clapping his hands together to amp himself up. Mikey ran his hand down his face, head shaking on the sidewalk. Everyone knew what was coming next.

"You should listen to her, Harrington," Big started, gazing at Steve over his shoulder. "You're givin' this guy exactly what he wa—"

"—yeah, that's right, Harrington, go cry to ya bitch."

Your eyes widened, heart thumping hard in your throat. Steve just smiled, half-lipped and sly. Your heart dropped. You were frozen as he cupped his hand around your jaw and kissed your head, barely even registering him ripping himself away with you until all you caught was cold air.

You heard the familiar crack of bones colliding before you saw it. It was like coming back to consciousness, like how you snap from slumber by the trill of an alarm clock. That violent sound ripped you from your frightened daze, just in time to see a body collapsing to the floor.

Steve stood over him, chest rising and falling with heavy, huffed breaths. He looked just like he did in the ring, massive and immoveable—dangerous and unhinged. He gave the man a second to recover from the right hook to his jaw before Steve was on top of him, pounding down hit after hit.

"Steve! Steve, stop!"

You leapt from your position in the backseat doorway, but a pair of arms immediately clutched around your middle. The barrier massive and full of tense muscle—Big, hoisting you up off the ground in a bear hug.

You clawed at his back and flailed your arms, kicking your feet and losing a shoe in the process. The kitten heel went flying across the sidewalk.

"Steve! Stop it!" Your throat was growing raw already.

Your vision of Steve blurred with the onset of hot tears, stinging your eyes already aching with exhaustion. You soaked Big's broad back, protests growing weaker the longer you fought his ironclad grip. Mikey was pacing the sidewalk, warding off people trying to intervene, doing all he could to avoid someone calling the cops.

But the 'woop-woop' of sirens was inevitable. Blue and red lights blanketed the street in flashing color. Your vision became a blurry kaleidoscope of figures and shapes, but nothing solid. Your hands were shaking, clasped around Big's t-shirt.

"Honey, I need you to breathe. Hey, can you take a deep breath for me?"

And then you were sitting on the curb in Big's lap, held like a child after a nightmare, struggling to breathe in time to the police officer's guiding gasps. Hiccuping breaths escaped you like stutters, and a slow turn of your head over Big's shoulder allowed you to see what they'd all been shielding you from for the past ten minutes:

A pool of blood on the sidewalk, a stretcher with an unconscious man wearing a neck brace. Even from this distance, there was no mistaking that the chunks sitting in the blood were teeth. There was so much blood.

"Wh-where's St-Steve?" you gasped, turning back to the officer.

He stood up again, previously crouched to accommodate your seated position. He rolled his lips together, hands finding his hips. He glanced behind you at Big, who nodded softly.

"Well, uh...your boyfriend beat a man half to death, honey, so...he's goin' to jail tonight."

All you could hear was the thump of your heart in your ears. You could feel it, too, pumping with such force that your throat ached. You thought your temples might burst open at any moment. Your stomach churned with sickness. It lined your cheeks with a sourness that gathered saliva under your tongue.

You swallowed once, hard. "Okay."

The officer lingered a moment, and with another nod Big's way, stepped back toward his squad car. The other one, the one your boyfriend was handcuffed in the back of, was already on its way to the station.

Big rubbed at your shoulders. "What do you wanna do, kid?"

Your hands were still shaking when they wiped at your cheeks, freeing them of sticky mascara tears. A sigh rattled in your throat with snot and more unsheathed tears.

"Sleep," you replied.

Big gazed off over his shoulder at Mikey, who was already on the phone with endorsements explaining what happened before they caught whiff of it through the paparazzi. They'd be here in no time with all the commotion on the street. Mikey looked at Big, shrugging his shoulders. Harrington did what Harrington did. Now he had to reap the consequences.

"Alright," Big sighed, patting your shoulders, "let's get you to sleep then."

♡ ♡

In the end, you didn't get much sleep.

You could barely remember what it was like to sleep without Steve pressed against your back. The bed felt empty and cold that night. You tossed and turned for hours, weeping into the pillow, and always moments away from calling your father to take you home. All you wanted was the safety of home, the security of Steve—you didn't have any of that right now. In fact, you'd never felt more terrified.

In the morning, you were like a zombie. Big and Mikey came knocking, carrying a cup of coffee (flavored with vanilla since they knew you liked sweet things) and a breakfast sandwich. You took one bite of the sandwich and could barely stomach half the cup of coffee. You looked paler than usual, and when they asked if you wanted to shower and clean yourself up, all you could do was shake your head.

Big managed to wipe your face clean and hand you a sweatshirt—Steve's, roomy and scented of Marlboros and pine cologne.

In the car, the backseat felt just as wide and empty as your bed.

"We already posted bail, but they want to set a court date. We gotta get ahold of that guy, see what kind of offer he's willing to take," Mikey rambled, elbow leaning against the door.

Big glanced at you periodically in the rearview. You hadn't said one word all morning, but he could tell just what you were thinking. How could he do this?

When you arrived at the police station, all you could feel was numbness. Your boyfriend was locked up behind bars in this sterile looking building, but you couldn't feel anything. Perhaps it was the exhaustion still puppeteering your body, weighing you down from truly feeling how you wanted to feel. Either way, all you could do was blink blankly at the barbed wire in the window, and wait for one of them to ask.

"Coming in, or staying here?" Big asked, and you turned away from the window.

You pondered it for a minute. Did you want to see Steve in there? Did you want to see him holding his belongings in a plastic bag, fingers smudged with ink from fingerprinting? Did you want to see him slumped on a bench in a cinderblock cell?

"It's fine," Mikey interrupted, "I'll stay here with her."

Big cocked his head gently. "That okay with you?"

You glanced up from your lap, nodding silent agreement. Big popped the door open and tossed Mikey the keys.

"Alright, I'll be right back then."

The car jostled with the slam of his door, and you instantly placed your head in your hands. Mikey rubbed at his mustache, shifting in his seat.

"Listen...it'll be alright. There's gotta be a number this guy's willing to take, and you won't have to worry 'bout Harrington going to jail, alright?"

A payoff. It was the only answer they could even fathom. There was no part of you that wanted Steve to go to jail, but that doesn't mean it wasn't what he deserved. It felt sick to cheat the system with money. You felt sick about it.

"It'll all work out," Mikey assured you. "Hey, here they come."

You lifted your head, wiping your cheeks and nose free of any sign of tears. You kept your gaze steady on your window, away from the windshield and Steve's figure trudging toward the car. The car jostled again with his arrival, sliding into the backseat. He smelled different, like stale cigarettes and sweat, a muted whiff of cleaning product. He didn't smell like him.

The car took off in silence, though you could feel Steve's stare burning a hole into your head. You caught his reflection in the window when you passed under a tunnel, and you pinched your eyes shut until it was gone.

"Baby," he whispered.

You captured your lip between your teeth and took a steadying breath. Steve sighed, reaching out for your hand, tucked into your arms crossed over your chest.

"Baby, plea—"

You yanked your hand away, knees turning toward your door. Steve's head thumped back against the seat, hands returning to his lap.

♡ ♡

At the hotel, you stood in the corner furthest from Steve in the elevator. Big stood between the pair of you like a statue. When you reached your floor and the doors dinged open, you stomped ahead of everyone silently. Steve followed, steps slow and small. When he approached the room, door open and still half full of your figure, you turned and slammed the door in his face.

Steve sighed, bringing an inked hand to the knob to turn on it. You locked it.

"Libby," Steve sighed, knocking gently. "Please let me in. I just...please talk to me."

You stared at the other side of the door, heart racing at the sound of his voice. His bags were in the corner near the chaise lounge, still fully packed and untouched. Steve knocked again.

"Baby, please."

You hurriedly turned the lock and scurried further into the room. You were on the other side of the bed by the time Steve opened the door and tiptoed in. He walked with an air of caution not usually present. His head hung toward his feet, shoulders tense. His hands found his pockets, concealing the swollen and purpled bruises painted across his knuckles. But you'd already seen—it was hard to miss: the blood crusted in the open wounds, the crimson stain on his jeans.

Steve walked closer, and when he came around the bed to reach for you, you jerked away.

"Don't fucking touch me, Steven."

Steve recoiled, lips pulled into a frown. You stomped toward the mini bar, grasping the edge of the glass counter. Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked with each passing second. Your heart was racing again.

"What were you thinking?" Your voice was so soft, but edged with disbelief and such horrifying heartbreak.

Steve felt like the world's biggest piece of shit.

"I don't know," he mumbled, running a hand down his face, drooping with exhaustion. "I just...I lost it."

You yanked open the mini fridge, bottles rattling and clinking together as you rummaged through them. You snatched a Ciroc, twisting the cap off and flicking it toward the wall. It pinged off, bouncing across the room. Steve stared at it while you tossed back a gulp, wincing at the sting.

"You could've killed him," you croaked.

Steve sank down onto the bed. "What, I was supposed to let that guy clown me? I'm supposed to ignore it?"

You whirled around, feverishly sucking more of the stinging liquid down as you paced toward Steve. He kept his eyes on his feet while you towered over him.

"Do you hear yourself? 'Me, me, me.' You don't think of anyone but yourself."

Steve's shoulders slumped, head tipping back to flash you a pleading look. "Baby, I was—"

You pointed a finger at him, rage suddenly replacing that numb emptiness from earlier.

"—and don't you dare fuckin' say you were doing it for me, because we don't lie to each other like that."

Steve's mouth snapped closed, jaw wired shut tightly. His nostrils flared, and then he was leaping to his feet with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

"I was doing it for you, Libby. You love to make me the villain, don't you?"

You scoffed, hands dropping to your sides, smacking against your thighs. "Well if the shoe fuckin' fits."

A moment passed. The words flew from your mouth like they'd been ripped; yanked like a tooth. Puffs of air made your chest ride and fall in quick successions. Steve's cheek ticked. He tore his hands from his pockets, bearing his bloody knuckles, and swept them over the top of his greasy hair.

Without a word, he stomped past you, snatching the plastic bag of his belongings from the dresser. You stood, stock-still, in the middle of the room as he fumbled for his cigarettes and lighter. He passed by again in a whoosh of air, yanking at the sliding glass door of the balcony until it gave way to cool morning air.

When it slammed closed, Steve sank down into one of the wicker chairs outside and lit the cigarette. Suddenly, you were left feeling like the bad guy.

Numbly, you moved toward the bathroom. The light buzzed for a fraction of a second when you flipped it on. Turning to close the door, you caught sight of Steve putting the heel of his palms to his forehead, hunched over his lap. You kept the door ajar by an inch—an invitation. Come in, let's forgive each other.

The water came out in a heavy stream, filling the tiled room with warmth. You stripped slowly, limbs throbbing with a tired ache. A small package of lavender bath bubbles sat on the edge of the tub, and you poured it in as you sank your feet into the water. It was a wide, oval-shaped tub—plenty of room, meant for two people.

Once submerged, you leaned your head back against the lip of the tub and closed your eyes. The water level rose higher with each passing second, coating your body in floral warmth. The faucet squeaked when you turned the handle off and cut the stream short.

A horn blared on the streets below, filtering through the balcony doors. Something thumped in the hall. Voices chattered on the other side of the blue tiles. The bathroom had blue carpet, the color of sapphires.

Steve smelled like himself again when he came in, hands scented of Marlboros. He kicked the door closed and leaned against it. You hadn't opened your eyes, but he knew you heard him. Your toe twitched in the bubbles.

He reached up and pinched the back of his sweatshirt, pulling it forward over his head. He toed his sneakers off, abandoning them near the door. His belt clinked, zipper snicking, denim whooshing as it fell down his legs. The water sloshed with his entrance—right foot, left foot, bending down until he was seated between your legs.

His hands slipped along the lip of the tub with a wet squeal, and by the time he was touching his forehead to yours, your eyes were open. Your legs mirrored his, pulled to your chest, making room for each other. White bubbles lathered on his arms, dripped from his elbows.

His hand was hot and dry when it cupped your cheek. "I'm sorry, baby."

You tipped your head, nose nudging his. "I know. Me too."

The water rippled when he brought both hands to your arms, skating along the length of them. You let your head fall where it wanted to, sliding away from his forehead to his shoulder. You rested there, letting his hands work over your body with tender care. His fingerprint ink disappeared in the water.

Steve pressed kisses to your skin, full-lipped and delicate. You shivered when he mouthed at your neck, the sensitive spot below your ear.

His apology wasn't enough to fix what he did. Mikey could pay off the man Steve nearly beat to death, but it wouldn't change what he did. He could never take this back. And you could never erase the memory of it from your mind.

You knew all this. But you loved him just the same.

♡ ♡

[gaysimpsstuff]

Accidentally Injuring Their Partner PT. 2

Part One Here

Y’all- the last one is like, my most popular post. As I’m currently writing this, it’s literally almost at 1K notes so... yeah. This one needed a lot of thought and effort if it’s going to meet people’s expectations. 

Please read the note I added at the end of the fic

Genre: angst

Type: drabbleshot

Warnings: gore, mentions of hospitals, crying, cursing, toxic relationships, self blame, some real ‘who cares how I feel, how do you feel?’ kind of unhealthy vibes, hazbin hotel reference (found in Todoroki’s section), talking down on oneself,

Other: this was requested multiple times, but this bitch was planning it before it was requested haha I’m so cool no I’m not I still feel like shit lmao. 

Angst Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore

Tomura Shigaraki

It was really all he could do to stare at you.

You’d moved from the theatre to an abandonment hospital, mostly to find any leftover supplies to help with your arm, or rather, lack thereof.

You’d only sort of expected this. Tomura lashing out at you, you getting hurt, you just didn’t expect it to result in you loosing a fucking arm.

Toga was helping to change your bandages, and Magne was speaking quietly with Twice, Spinner, and Compress.

Dabi was speaking with Shigaraki outside the room, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were glad, you didn’t exactly want to hear his voice right now.

You didn’t think you were being that annoying, you thought you were just helping him. And you usually did. When he’d have his little tantrums, he’d get upset at you sure, but he’d never hurt you.

You knew you didn’t do anything differently than usual, maybe he was just more stressed than ordinary? Maybe you should’ve recognized that and altered yourself to fit accordingly.

Or maybe he’d just been horrible, and attacked you for no reason, and you had just been trying to help him.

You knew it was more likely the latter, but you couldn’t help but blame yourself. People don’t just try to kill their partners that they love so much

The door slid open, and Dabi stepped in. He glanced around the room, waving his hand to usher Magne, Spinner, Twice, and Compress out of the room. Today stood up, but you grabbed her hand.

Dabi pushed the door open a little wider, and your boyfriend stepped inside. For once, you were glad he had that horrible hand in his face, you knew that if he took it off you’d probably vomit.

“Call us in if you need anything.” Dabi offered uncharacteristically, sliding the door shut behind him.

Everything was quiet.

Not even the people in the hallway wanted to say anything.

He slowly walked towards you, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

You sat cross-legged on the creaky hospital bed, staring at him as Toga held your hand.

“Why are you here?” You asked quietly.

“I- I um. Why is she here?” Tomura ignored your question, pointing to Toga next to you.

“She’s here because she chopped off my arm after you dusted it. She’s here because she saved my life. Why are you here, Tomura?”

One of his hands lifted to his neck, scratching lightly.

“Shit- I didn’t want anyone else in here-“

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to see you loose yourself and hurt me more? Don’t want anyone here to save me?” You snapped.

“You- you know I didn’t mean it-“

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not, Shigaraki.” He flinched away when you spat out his last name like that. “I still got hurt. I lost a fucking arm because of you. How horrible are you that you have to cover up your own insecurities by trying to kill me? No really, I could have died.”

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, nails digging deeper into his neck. “I love you, okay? And I promised I’d protect you so-“

“So you broke your promise in the worst way possible.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed, squeezing Toga’s hand before letting go. You walked up to Shigaraki, lifting your hand and gripping his shoulder tightly.

“I’m going.” You whispered. “I can’t be around you. I still have family outside the League, friends that aren’t villains. I can build myself a semi-normal life. I’ll be happy without you.” You turned back to Toga, offering her a smile. “You can come over whenever you want, you’re my friend.” You headed towards the door.

You paused when you heard a soft noise, like a gargled scream. You turned around, seeing Shigaraki shaking.

“No, no please no- don’t go!” He spun around, grabbing your shoulders. You shoved him off you in an instant, curling into yourself

“GET OFF ME!” You screamed. But he was already launching himself at you again, you saw his palm flying towards your face. This time, it wasn’t an accident.

And you knew you wouldn’t make it out this time.

You were pulled back by a strong force, realizing Magne was holding you tight. Compress and Dabi were on either side of Shigaraki, holding him back, while Twice had ran to Toga.

“No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me!” He screamed, the hand fell loose on his face, tumbling down to the floor. You turned away, not wanting to see him.

You could only imagine his expression.

“Goodbye, Shigaraki.” You whispered, ducking out of Magne’s grip and rubbing off.

“Goodbye.”

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi

It had been a week since he’d seen you, a week since he’d felt your hands on his. A week since he’d heard your voice. A week since he’d seen your smile.

A week since he’d burned you.

Called you inferior.

Threatened to kill you.

Well there was certainly a reason why he hadn’t gone to see you since the incident.

But...

He missed you.

He felt so guilty, knowing what he’d said and done to you, and he needed to see you.

Maybe he was just being selfish.

Maybe he knew he’d done something wrong.

Maybe he needed to call you.

He flipped his phone upside down, then right side up again on the counter of the bar.

Toga sat on a stool next to him, tapping her hands against the marble in boredom.

“So... what’s up with you?” She asked, cocking her head and glancing at him.

“Like I’m telling a brat like you.” He growled, flipping his phone over again.

“You’ve been off all week!” She exclaimed, leaning towards him. “Somethings happened to you.”

“If i tells you a little, will you shut up?”

“Mhm mhm!”

“Ughhhhh fine. I had a fight with someone close to me. I... I really hurt them. I know it. I haven’t spoken to them in a week.”

“So... Dabi has a soft spot?”

“That’s not the point of this. Also say that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Oookay then. You should just call them. Say something to them and apologize.” She offered with a shrug.

Dabi sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

“They don’t want to talk to me. Trust me on that.”

“Welp- that’s just my advice. Cent for my thoughts kind of thing except you didn’t pay me. You owe me a penny.”

Toga shrugged, hopping off the chair and leaving the room.

“Don’t owe you shit.” Dabi grumbled, glowering down at his phone again. He pulled up your contact, staring at the picture he’d set for you.

You had a bright smile, emoji hearts decorating your cheeks. It was from your first ‘date.’ When you’d hung out at your place after he broke in looking for shelter and food.

You’d taken care of him, let his spend the night, and even offered to let him stay whenever he needed to.

You were an Angel on earth.

And he’d burnt you.

Called you dirty.

And selfish.

You were anything but.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

“I-“

“Dabi. Why are you calling me? You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you...”

“Jeez, coulda fooled me.”

“Baby...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I- I didn’t mean it.” He choked out. “Everything I said, I didn’t mean it. And I-“

“I really don’t care. The doctors said my arms would scar. I’m burnt and scarred like you. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to achieve? Make me like you so that no one would want me? So that only you could have me?”

Yes

“No! I never wanted to hurt you, ba- Y/n please,”

“Please what? Please what, Dabi? What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to cradle you and say is all going to be okay? You want me to kiss your scars and tell you you’re beautiful? You want me to suck your dick and tell you I love you? After everything you’ve put me through?”

“I-“

“It’s not just you burning me. You’ve left me for days without contact, and then showed up like nothing’s happened! You’ve hit me and then groveled and cried for my mercy! You’ve made me do so much shit for you in bed that I never wanted to do! Our entire relationship, I was scared you’d get sick of me and kill me!”

“You really thought that?”

“Well guess what motherfucker? You can’t come after me! I’ve told the police what happened. Everything between us. They’re helping me move across the country. You’ll never see me again. Happy?”

“No. No no I’m not happy why would I be happy? You made me happy, when I didn’t even know what the word meant, you don’t have to go through with this, please don’t go through with this!”

“Don’t flatter me. I never made you happy. Nothing could make you happy except watching the world burn. I don’t make you happy, Dabi-“

“Yes you do!”

“Just shut up. I’m going to hang up. If I’m being honest... I’ll miss you. You made me happy. But with so much anger and fear surrounding you, it’s hard to even remember the last time we were happy together.”

“I’m... I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Beep

Beep

Beep

You were gone.

Shouto Todoroki

If you thought Shouto was quiet before, you should see him now, wait, you were seeing him now, in class, eyes boring into your spine.

You still had a large bandage on your face, being hit in the face with plus added fire power is bound to leave a mark that lasts for over three days.

Did I mention it had been three days now?

It’s very hard to ignore Shouto, seeing as you were in the same class and lived in the same dorms. 

Plus everyone in class wanted to know what happened between the two of you, why Shouto seemed so down, why you had the bandage on your face, and if it was all connected.

You’d only told one person what had gone down between the two of you, and that was Bakugou.

Which maybe was a mistake, because he took to trying to fight Todoroki every time he saw him, and repeatedly told you that he ‘fuckin knew that icy-hot bastard was a good-for-nothing bag of of poorly packaged horse shit.’

You appreciated his comfort, but it hurt you every time he said something about Todoroki.

“I don’t get why you’re defending the scumbag. His hand hasn’t even healed off your face yet!” 

You and Bakugou were heading to the dorms after class, and he had gone on his usual tangent about how Todoroki did this, Todoroki did that, Todoroki was an asshole, etc etc.

“I mean... he’s technically still my boyfriend. And he’s been nothing but kind to me up until this point. He just... he was stressed, and I was being a bother. I’m sure the injury will fade at some point, then he’ll talk to me again and we can get back to normal.” you shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck. “We’ll be fine.”

“You know what you are? A pushover.” Bakugou glared at you. 

“Wha- I am not! Where did you get that idea?” 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe from the fact that You forget to check in with how you feel and keep thinking only about that Half n Half bastard! ‘Oh, he must be so upset with himself!’ Fuck that! How do you feel?” 

You kept your eyes on the ground, speeding up. Bakugou grabbed your sleeve, tugging you backwards. His hands found your shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft circles. Your breath hitched, did Shouto ever do this for you? 

Not that you could remember.

“I feel... nervous.” you admitted. “I’m nervous that he meant what he said to me. That I’m nothing but a bother to him. I’m nervous that he’ll never come and talk to me, never apologize. I’m worried that if he does talk to me, he’ll think it was my fault. It wasn’t was it?”

You looked up at Bakugou warily, and squeaked when he tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“The fuck? Of course it’s not! Idiot.” he poked your forehead, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Keep talking.”

“Um... I’m...” you took a deep breath. “I’m angry. I’m angry that he hasn’t talked to me. I’m angry about what he said. I’m angry that he even hit me to begin with. If we were training, of course it’d be different, but we weren’t training. And he hurt me. And now I’m doubting everything between us.”

Bakugou was silent, Cardinal eyes met yours. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for a moment, you feared Bakugou would try to blow your ass up for being a pathetic little weakling.

I mean... compared to people like Todoroki and Bakugou, you were right?

Bakugou took a step forward, pulling you into his arms. You held your breath, wondering if he was going to finally snap and kill you. 

But... it felt nice. 

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his body and tugging him a little closer. You buried your face into his uniform shirt, body shaking a little as you cried.

You almost wanted to scream, but then the school would panic.

So you just cried, sobbing into his arms and letting him hold you. His embrace was war and comforting, nothing like you’d felt from your so-called boyfriend.

Maybe he was right, maybe you really shouldn’t try to think about him.

You did deserve better.

You sniffled, pulling off Bakugou with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Bakugou. I really needed that. And you’re right.”

“What was that second thing?”

“You’re right.”

“Hmmm?” Bakugou cupped a hand around his ear, feigning deafness.

“Oh my goodness- I said you’re right!”

“That’s it.” he patted you on the shoulder, proud smirk traced across his features. You chuckled. “Now you’re going to tell that to Mr. Daddy Issues and get the fuck over him.” 

“Alright, but you’re coming with me!” he nodded, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you returned to the dorms, heading to his dorm.

You paused just outside his door, knocking lightly. Bakugou was a few feet behind you, out of the way, but close enough to step in if something were to happen.

The door swung open slowly, revealing a bored-looking Todoroki. WHen his eyes landed on you, he jumped a little, taking a step back. His hand tightened around the doorknob, his other hand gripping his pants

“Y-Y/n-“ he stuttered, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou. “I-“

“We need to talk.”

“Listen I- I’m sorry!” He exclaimed.

“Todoroki, I don’t think you get it. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. You might have scarred me, so your one mistake might stay with me my whole life!”

“I know.” His head drooped, and his grip on his pants loosened. “I know. I’m- I’m just like him.”

“Him?”

“I promised I was nothing like him but here we fucking are!”

“Shoto what are you talking about?”

“I’m the worst kind of person!”

“No!”

Shouto looked up, eyes brimming with tears. You took a few steps forward, taking his face into your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered “it was an accident, and you didn’t mean it. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Bakugou grabbed you, yanking you away from him

“Uh, what the fuck? You came here to sever ties with him, not fucking comfort him!”

“Look at him, Bakugou. He needs me.”

“Y/n-“

“Trust me.” You smiled at Bakugou, pushing him away from you slowly before turning back to Shouto. You took the boy into your arms, rocking back and forth with him.

You ignored the heavy feeling in your chest, and the screams your brain slew ar you to get off of him, get away from him, and let Bakugou protect you.

You ignored logic, emotion, and all better judgement.

For this boy who’d hit you.

But Bakugou would end up being right, he was smart.

You’ll see.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight

Shit wrong Pomeranian

That’s better

Katsuki stood outside Recovery Girl’s room, waiting for Kirishima to come out and tell him what was going on.

He was chewing on his nails, foot tapping against the ground as he stared at the door. He could hear people moving around and talking inside.

He couldn’t get the sound of your screaming out of his head, the large dark patch that formed on your skin around your face, the way you just... fell.

The door slid open, and Bakugou stared forward and Kirishima stepped out, smiling and thanking Recovery Girl.

Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Kirishima’s arm.

“How are they? Do they hate me? Can I see them?” He rambled, Kirishima gently pushing Bakugou off him.

“Uh, they’re fine for the most part, they haven’t said anything about you at all, and ask Recovery Girl.” He said, backing off down the hall as Bakugou stared helplessly after him.

“You uh- you might want to apologize. They are really upset.” Kirishima told him, quickly running off down the hall. Bakugou faced towards the room, stepping inside.

A cyan curtain blocked him from seeing you, and he heard shuffling behind it. It slid open, Recovery Girl stepping out. She looked up and saw Bakugou.

She wacked his leg with her needle/cane, and he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“You have no shame!” she snapped. “With what you did to them, you should be cowering outside right now!”

“Shhh!” Bakugou pressed up against the wall. “Do you want them to know I’m here?”

“Are you that clueless?” she grumbled, pulling herself up into her chair. “They’ve gone temporarily deaf.” Bakugou froze, glancing back at the curtain.

He’d blown up your eardrums.

He felt Recovery Girl press something into his hands, and he glanced down. 

It was a small whiteboard, with a pen and washcloth.

This was how he’d have to talk to you.

On a fucking whiteboard.

RG pulled the curtains aside, revealing you.

You were laying in the bed, half your face wrapped up in bandages, hands resting on your lap.

“Y/n...” he murmured. You remained still, staring out the window. Bakugou cleared his throat, and you still didn’t react.

“They can’t hear you, remember?” RG shook her head, waddling over to the other side of your bed, pointing at Bakugou. He watched your face slowly turn, before his eyes shot away from you, staring at the ground.

He heard you swallow, and you let out a soft whimper.

Were you scared of him?

Bakugou lifted the whiteboard, quickly scribbling some kanji on it 

ごめんなさい (Translation: I am sorry)

You reached forward, taking the whiteboard from him and erasing his words, putting your own down instead.

分かってる。(Translation: I know)

Bakugou pursed his lips, fidgeting with his shirt before he watched you put more writing down

どうして？(Translation: Why?)

Bakugou reached out, taking the whiteboard back, quickly putting down his excuse explanation

私は弱いと感じました。 じゃあ霧島を助けてくれたんだ。 うらやましくなってきた (Translation: I felt weak. Then you helped Kirishima. I got Jealous)

お許しください (Translation: Please forgive me.)

He handed you the whiteboard back, tapping his foot against the ground. You passed it back to him, and he hurridly read your response.

私はそれについて考えます (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

He had a chance. His eyes finally lifted off the whiteboard, landing on you.

The visible part of your face looked exactly the same, although there was a large bandage on your ear. Your eye looked sad, fearful, and nervous. You had a shaky smile on your face, trying to make him feel better.

You were always thinking about him.

それは再び起こらないだろう (Translation: It won’t happen again)

You sighed, smile falling.

本気？(Translation: Are you sure?)

Bakugou felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Well of fucking course you didn’t trust him, look what he’d done to you!

おっしゃる通りです。. もうお前を放っておいてやる さようなら、y/n。(Translation: You are right. I will leave you alone now. Goodbye, y/n.)

He stood up, leaving the whiteboard on your bed. He headed towards the door, with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ignored the soft cry of your voice, surprised he was leaving.

He ignored the way you managed to choke out his name in a warbly, unsure voice.

He slid the door shut behind him, slumping against it and sliding down until he sat on the cold ground. He buried his face into his arms, finally allowing himself to cry.

He wasn’t going to try and talk to you, he resolved. He wasn’t going to bother you or scare you.

He’d keep you safe by refusing to talk to him.

He’d let the author end the fanfiction right then and there.

The door slid open behind him, and he flopped backwards, staring up at your face. You were holding the whiteboard.

オマンコにならないでください。 事故だったのは分かってる 頑張って俺を捕まえるのか諦めるのか? どんなヒーローがあきらめるだろうか？

(Translation: Don't be a pussy. I know it was an accident. Are you going to work hard and get me or give up? What kind of hero would just give up?)

A smirk slowly spread across his face. Yeah, he’d work hard. He’d never scare you or hurt you again. He’d do better.

He’d be the best boyfriend.

And he’d accept your help to stand up next to you.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

After fic note: ohmygod I’m finally finished. This took fucking forever. You loved part one so much, I had to make sure part two was perfect.

Some of these ended in heartbreak

Another ended in a questionable descision

The last ended happily

All of them are different! 

I hope you get my references, and appreciate the Japanese Kanji I put in Bakugou’s part (if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can try my best to fix it. I don’t speak or write Japanese, I used this translator to get what I needed). 

I worked hard on this, so if y’all could tell me what you like and dislike about this so I can improve my writing, that would be lovely. Don’t be afraid to pop a comment or pop into my ask box, I do my best to respond to every comment and ask, so don’t worry about being ignored.

I love all of you, and I’m so glad to be able to write for you.

Thanks for all of your support, I promise I’ll work hard on all of my drafts to make sure you get entertainment constantly! 

[whaleofatjme1920]

Waking Up Confused in Both Hotel Rooms and Forests [Jay Merrick X F!Reader X Masky/Tim Wright]

[Jay Merrick X F!Reader X (kinda) Masky]

[Warnings: firearms, slight language, slight blood]

[AN: I originally had Masky in the spotlight but couldn't like, directly fit him in like that. Also big thanks to Entry 32 and slight Entry 76.]

You could hardly breathe as you ran further and further through the trees. Panic seeped through your veins. Your only guiding light was the light of the moon. You weren’t supposed to be here - why the hell did you agree to begin with? You had no time to regret your actions as you continued to run. Where was Jay? Was he okay? No time to think of that either, Alex was catching up. But you had to find him. You just had to.

A few weeks ago, you woke up in a hotel. You had no recollection of even leaving your apartment. Strange, very strange. Confused, and unsure of how you even got there, you attempted to leave and get back to your life only to find you were hopelessly lost with practically nothing to support yourself. All you could do was remain.

The first few days were awkward. You managed to find some food and stock up the minifridge but other than that, your days were a little lonely, and mostly confusing. The longer you stayed, the hazier your memories and thoughts became. What have you been doing for the past year? Huge chunks of time, gone in an instant. Where even were you? None of your questions were answered and the days began to blur together.

Things only grew more confusing when you were given a neighbor. You had woken up, decided to get some fresh air and passed by a man wielding a camera in the hallway. Your eyes had quickly scanned over his features - it almost felt alien to look at another person. The entire time you’d been at this odd hotel, you hadn’t seen a single soul here but yourself. And it went on like that for a few days, just passing by each other in the hallways, politely nodding, sometimes saying hello, but nothing further. It didn’t take long for you to realize your rooms were conjoined - the only conjoined rooms in the hotel. Strange, how strange.

Feeling bold, you plucked up your courage to speak with him, albeit awkwardly.

“What’s the camera for?” You asked, a small smile on your face to set him at ease.

The man shifted a little uncomfortably but smiled back. “A documentary on, uh, hotels. Y’know?” He said in a more than awkward tone. He shifted slightly after a painfully pregnant pause took place. “I’m Jay and you-”

“Oh! I’m Reader,” you answered back, more than caught off guard he asked you a question. “I’ll see you around?” You said in a slightly unsure tone.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you parted ways.

That’s certainly not the last you’d ever seen of Jay though. If it had been, you wouldn’t be running from a maniac with a gun at this moment.

You and Jay continued to cross paths, awkwardly saying hi, sometimes commenting on the weather until you had finally reached a head. The previous day, you’d tried to prod him to see if he had any inkling as to what was going on when he sloughed it off as if your concerns meant nothing. Deep down, you knew he was going through the same mess as you. Frustrated, confused, you got up in the middle of the night to interrogate Jay. You lept out, slipped on your shoes, and knocked on his door. Immediately, you were greeted to his camera.

“Can I uh, ask you something?” You began, eyes dark and desolate due to the haze that swarmed in your mind.

“Sure?” Jay sounded confused. His eyes darted down to the camera and back up to you as you scratched at the back of your neck.

“Why… Why did you answer the door with a camera?” A slight frustration began to come to your tone.

“Well, I mean, I had it in my hand already-”

“Look, Jay,” you said in an increasingly exasperated tone. “I know you’re lying. First you tell me some stupid thing about a hotel documentary and then you tell me your house is being renovated, but then! But then you tell me your job was being relocated. What is going on?” You questioned, voice strained and harsh.

“It’s- It’s complicated I-”

“You’re not acting like a normal person-”

“W-What’s it matter to you? You’re just some stranger,” he tried to shake off. He looked at you like you were crazy, but his eyes conveyed something deeper.

“I think… I think something is going on,” you said, brows now furrowed together. “I know something is going on,” you took a pause and breathed in deeply. “I don’t know how I got here. You’re the only person I’ve seen in this hotel other than the staff and we have adjoining rooms. I don’t even know you. You said it yourself! I’m a stranger! Haven’t had any kind of memory loss at all?” You raise your hands and dragged your fingers across your scalp. “I-I think I’m going crazy,” you said with a small laugh, unsure of what could be considered real and what couldn’t. “Jay, I’m losing HUGE chunks of time. I’m having pounding headaches and coughing fits and I can’t even sleep, but when I do sleep, I feel like I’m still moving, like I’m sleepwalking.” You were pretty much shouting at this point and allowed all your anger, frustration and fear to bubble over.

“Reader-”

“And the worst part? I keep having these dreams back when I was a kid and I feel like something’s watching me-”

“Stop,” Jay sighed, his hand reaching out to hold your shoulder. “Let’s… Get your shit together. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, I just need to get some of my own things together.”

You nodded with shot nerves and let him go as you went off to your room, quickly getting everything together. From your room, you could what Jay rummaging around in a safe. What a mess everything had become. With a heavy heart still rife with confusion, you had begun to pack.

You never really completed packing, as the moment you touched the drawers, hands were wrapping around your face. A quick breath was all it took to black out.

Later, you woke up confused in the forest. Jay was by your side. Twilight had fallen over the land, you were unsure of how you got here, and all you knew is that you both had to get out. You were the one to wake up Jay, your hand nudging him.

“Where… Where are we?” He asked groggily, slowly sitting up before his hands pat at his chest. The camera was still attached.

“Was hoping you could tell me,” you mumbled, trying to make heads or tails of the place you were in. It looked like the two of you were laid in the middle of a burnt clearing.

“It’s a park, I think,” Jay said as he slowly began to stand up before helping you up as well. “We should make it back to the parking lot or something. Not safe to be here.”

“Not safe?”

Jay shook his head as he checked his pockets for his keys and nodded for you to follow him once he confirmed they were there. The two of you passed through the trees and greenery of all kinds before finally coming to an uneasy stretch of woods. Here, tunnels lined the sides of the paths, making your hair stand up. Every part of your body told you to run.

You did so and remained walking beside him in a tense silence before finally opening your mouth. “So, what were you gonna tell me back at the hotel?” You asked softly.

“I have some thoughts,” Jay began. ���Like-”

Before he can say anything, a gun shot rang out, making you scream and jolt as Jay ducked, hand immediately gripping at your wrist.

“Don’t run, you coward!”

That voice sounded familiar, oh so familiar. When he stepped out from the dark recesses of the tunnel, you knew him. You felt it deep down inside, but you couldn’t but a name to his face - not even when the remaining sunlight stopped obscuring his eyes when the light glare subsided from his glasses. But how could you forget him? You knew him - you knew him.

“Let her go, Jay,” the man said as his eyes narrowed. The barrel of his gun was pointed directly at you two, barring you from running past him to get to the parking lot.

“Alex, please,” Jay said in a strained voice, refusing to let go of your wrist.

“No, you know what has to be done,” Alex growled as his steps got closer and closer to the two of you.

“Come on man, you know her,” Jay attempted to reason. “She was Amy’s roommate, you can’t hurt Amy like that.”

A pause.

“All the more reason to shoot you dead where you stand.”

“Alex please,” you whimpered, eyes looking at him with a light that pained him to even consider snuffing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologized as his eyebrows furrowed. “It has to be done - there’s no other way. I have to stop it.” Alex sounded absolutely at war with himself as he continued closer and closer to the two of you. “I’m sorry, Reader. I’ve been sorry.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

The sun set; the park is bathed in darkness.

Before the trigger can get pulled, Jay momentarily let go of your wrist and punched Alex with all his might, sending the gun flying in one direction, and Alex careening to the floor.

“Stay down!” He shouted, moving to keep him on the floor.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, but you could hear something. Something growing closer and closer until it was practically on top of you. You let out a slight screech as a man in a tanned coat came zipping past you, shoving aside Jay (with an odd about of care) before pummeling Alex back into the earth.

“Stop staring and get the fuck out of here!” The man’s voice boomed as he continued to wrestle an invigorated Alex.

Jay reached for you again in the darkness, and you reached back. The two of you ran.

Somewhere in the confusion, you’d managed to get separated from Jay right around the time more gunshots rang out throughout the forest. You could almost hear Alex in the back of your head after they’d ripped through the silent night.

And that led to now. Running scared through the never ending, godsforsaken forest where static seemed to invade your head every other minute. You could feel Alex on your specific trail. Where had Jay gone? No idea. Who was that guy that tried to fight Alex? Possibly dead. There were a lot of gunshots.

You continued to run until your lungs burned, stumbling through the trees, praying he hadn’t caught up with you. Whenever the static grew louder in your head, so too did the feeling that Alex was close. Too close.

“Reader!” You heard Alex shout out into the night after a particularly rough patch of static that left your eyeballs feeling like barbells in your skull. He kept calling out for your name.

Your lungs and your legs burned. You couldn’t possibly go on for much longer like this - he’d find you. He’d kill you. You felt tears prick your eyes as the sound of crunching sticks and grass invaded your ears. He was closer still.

In your haste of running, you had slammed into what felt like a tree, knocking it off balance as well as yourself before recognizing, no, that was not a tree.

“What the fu-”

“Shh,” the voice said. You recognized it immediately as the man from earlier. “Come on, this way.”

Not even waiting for an answer, he took your hand into his and began to guide you through the trees, pulling you along at a speed you didn’t think was human.

You held your other arm out as you pushed away branches and brambles. “Who are you?” You ask as quietly as you could, the sound of Alex’s running steps growing faster.

“Unimportant,” the man replies, barely looking over his shoulder as he continued to pull you along. “You need to get out.”

“What about Jay?”

“He’s in the parking lot waiting for you.” The man sounded a little out of breath, or perhaps he was just restricted due to the mask he wore (you could make out its outline in the moonlight). “He’s okay.”

A relief floods your system as you attempt to match pace with him on your own accord. It’s gone when you hear more gunshots ring out through the trees followed by flashes of light from the muzzle when you turn your head around.

“Fucking reckless,” the man mumbled under his breath.

“Why is he doing this?” You asked in a panic.

The sound of Alex’s laughter echoes through the trees.

“He’s insane.”

You believe him.

Eventually, the two of you reach the same tunnel where it all began. How far had you run out? No time to ruminate on that thought, the masked man pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Keep running straight. You’ll hit the parking lot in no time.Jay is waiting for you.”

“But I-”

He hushes you as the sound of Alex grows closer and closer still. You can hear him taunting you as he realizes where you are.

“Go.” He pushes you in the direction you need to run before turning around and facing Alex, who’s finally caught up.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you run.

You’re almost certain you’re going to throw up or something to that effect when you finally make it back to the parking lot. Your lungs have expanded much too much, your muscles ache, and you feel light headed and dizzy. By the time you reach the asphalt, you don’t even recognize the sound of Jay rushing over to you. His words sound like a blur in your head as he grips your shoulders.

“Reader!” His grip tightens. “Are you okay?” He keeps asking but you feel so faint.

“Jay?”

“Hey, hey, stay up.: He holds you up as you sway. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, eyes looking at you with great concern.

You take in a deep breath as you nod along to his words, hardly able to even comprehend anything. You feel your body move on autopilot as he brings you to the car, and you act on autopilot as you buckle yourself up. The car begins to leave the parking lot, your eyes able to scan the tree line once more.

And there he is, the masked man, watching the two of you leave.

Red bloomed on his chest.

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

[moldisgoodforyou]

rome (v)

wordcount: 8.2k oops

warnings: smut !! like a lot i'm a tiny bit embarrassed. also angst at the end !!

______

“You didn’t.”

Rafe gave her an apologetic smile as their train pulled out from the station in Florence, outside slowly blurring as the train picked up speed. “I think I might have.”

She let him be completely in charge of the transportation, hotels, everything - which turned out to be a terrible mistake, seeing as he’d never traveled on his own before (and had never planned anything in his life). She’d had to amend most of their plans already , as he just purchased without thinking of any logistics. Instead of buying a train ticket directly to Rome, he’d accidentally bought two tickets. One leg of the ride went an hour and a half to Pisa, then the other leg sent them on a four hour train ride along the western coast of Italy to Rome.

The two had nearly missed their fourth alarm, sleeping through the other three, and had to scramble out of bed with Sophie nearly in tears in order to throw their things into their suitcases and make it to the train on time. Rafe bought tickets in advance, like usual, but Sophie had forgotten to check over them once they printed from the kiosk and they hopped on their train just in time. After shoving their luggage onto the rack and returning to Sophie half-asleep in their seats, he realized his mistake when he re-read their tickets.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily, frowning as she inspected the ticket and confirmed his confession. “How did you even manage that? There’s a direct transport to Rome.”

“I don’t know, the page was all in Italian! I don’t know Italian!” He defended, looking more and more worried by the second.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re fine.” She sighed. “Not the end of the world.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You’re definitely stressed.”

“I’m a little stressed.” She admitted, handing the tickets back to him. “We also got back to the hostel at 3am and nearly missed the train and you got kissed by a random boy last night even though I didn’t listen to you when you said he was flirting and -”

“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I’m fine, and we’re both on the train, it’ll just take us a little longer to get there. We’re fine. Okay?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated like she was trying to convince herself, nodding. “We’re fine.”

“Exactly. Now I think you need to sleep, angel, at least until we get to Pisa. I can find us some breakfast.”

She lifted her head to squint at him. “Sorry, say that again?”

“You need to sleep?”

“No. The city we’re going to.”

“...Pisa?” He repeated, pronouncing it like “pie-za.”

Sophie shook her head. “Pisa, baby. Try again.”

He scoffed, pronouncing it his way again. “It’s definitely Pisa, Soph.”

“...Okay. You go around telling people you went to Pie-za, that’s fine with me.” She shook her head, settling back into his side. “Can you scratch my back?”

(It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep but she was pretty sure she heard him using Google Translate to see how Pisa was actually supposed to be pronounced when he thought she was sleeping.)

When they finally made it to Pisa, Rafe nudged Sophie awake and pretended not to notice when she swiped a tiny spot of drool away from her cheek. They were both starving and made the thirty minute walk to the Leaning Tower of Pisa just for kicks in their layover - she made him stop to buy her some overpriced crepes from a market stand along the way.

They were both extra tired when they returned to the train, tucking into each other’s side and using Sophie’s jean jacket as a makeshift blanket. He played with her hair idly, watching her as she was about to fall asleep again. “Soph?”

She shifted, trying to stay awake. “Yeah?”

“Are you tired of traveling?” He asked tentatively. “Like, are you ready to go home?”

“I think those are two different things.” She lifted her head a little to check over his expression. “Why?”

“I don’t know, just.” He started, shrugging, but only continued when she nodded to prompt him further. “You seem so much more confident here, you seem happier to me. If living here is something you’d want to do, I’d want you to consider that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous for her reply. “Even if that means we would be apart for a little bit again.”

Sophie sat up completely so she could look him in the eye. “I love traveling, I really do. But I’ve also been homesick for three months - I miss my family, much more than I thought I would, I missed you like hell, and I miss having a routine.” She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t frown. “I haven’t been home to the Outer Banks since Christmas, and it’s August. That’s ages.”

He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “I can go home with you, if you’d like? For the week before we have to go back to start school?”

“You’d do that? Even if you have to see your dad?”

“Yeah, of course I would.” He smiled, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m glad you think I seem confident, because I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.” She smiled. “I feel much better with you around, I don’t think you realize how many days I cried when I first made it to Spain.”

He frowned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t like hearing that. I hate it when you cry.”

“Sweet boy.” She grinned, lifting her head to nudge her lips against his chin. “I’m okay. You need sleep, you’re going soft on me.”

“Remind me how long my mistake is?”

“Four hours. We both need sleep and I can’t sleep if you’re moving around. We get to Rome around two.” She yawned, tucking her knees to her chest to keep herself warm. “Then you need a shower, you still smell a little bit like the club from last night.”

“Rude.” He leaned back anyways so she could be more comfortable. “G’night, angel.”

“Morning.” She corrected, seconds away from sleep.

He laughed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Good morning.”

The train ride was fairly uneventful - every half hour or so, one of them would wake the other up for entertainment or to point out the window at a pretty view. At one point Rafe suggested they join the mile-high club - but for trains, aptly named by him as the “rail tail club” - she just glared at him and crossed her arms to go back to sleep.

They took advantage of the WiFi to cancel their hostel stay and actually move to a hotel instead - after what happened in Florence, Sophie decided they didn’t need the experience of making new friends. Rafe had to slyly hide the full bill from her when she asked how much it was. (He felt a little guilty seeing the relief on her face when he said it was cheaper than expected, but he swore he’d never put her through financial stress as long as he lived.)

When they finally arrived and walked the ten blocks to the hotel - with suitcases in tow, dodging other tourists and locals in the street - Rafe stripped off his clothes the second they walked into their hotel room. Sophie paused, watching him with amusement as the door clicked shut behind them. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I feel so gross.” He confessed, peeling off his socks and shoving off his shorts. “Why didn’t you make me shower last night?”

“You were drunk, baby, I had to haul you to the metro station.” She followed him into the bathroom and he turned in the shower, shutting the door so steam would fill the room. He raised his eyebrows. “You coming in or are you just gonna watch?”

“I’m too tired for sex.” She told him, hopping up to sit on the counter. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Okay. So let’s just shower.”

“Just shower? You gonna stick to that?” She let him tease the hem of her shirt up, slowly.

“Just shower. Please? I’ll wash your hair.” He encouraged, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to get in the shower.

“Hm.”

“I’ll wash your tits.”

He grinned when she gasped and reached out to swat his butt, making him jump before he stepped into the shower. “Or not! Whatever you’d like!”

She rolled her eyes and stripped down, joining him a few moments later. “You have a dirty mouth. I can’t let you keep getting away with that.”

He smirked, stepping close. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She challenged, backing him against the shower wall. He tried his best to hold back a laugh at how cute she looked, trying to seem all intimidating. “Yeah. You know I would.”

She leaned up for a kiss and he leaned down, eyes closing - until she suddenly pinched his nipple, twisting it. “Ow! Sophie!”

She cracked up laughing, getting under the shower spray and handed him the shampoo. “Wash my hair. I’m hungry, let’s go find food.”

“So demanding.” He complained, accepting the shampoo. “Turn around.”

“I said we’re not having sex -”

“I said turn around, not bend over.” He swapped places with her in the shower and started shampooing her hair carefully, adding the perfect amount of pressure and making sure he didn’t tangle her hair. She moaned quietly and he paused abruptly. “Sophie. Do not.”

“Rafe, keep going.” She whined, pressing her head back into his hand.

He grumbled, continuing his shampooing. “Quit making noises.”

“I can’t help it, it feels so good - hey!” She squeaked, whipping around to glare at him when he tugged on her hair at her scalp. “What the fuck!”

“You’re saying everything you say during sex!”

“Are you just constantly horny?” She scowled at him and shoved at his chest.

“Yes, you aren’t?” He argued, stepping aside so she could rinse her hair. She got under the shower spray to rinse and kept glaring at him until she squeezed some shampoo into her palm. “No. Come here.”

He ducked down a little so she could reach, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his strands. “Baby.”

“What.” She kept up her faux-anger, but wasn’t really too annoyed with him - he knew it, too.

“I love you.”

She softened, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she continued to massage his head. “Love you too. Even if you are horny as hell.”

He laughed and accepted her little nudge under the shower so he could rinse her hair. “The showerhead is detachable…”

She looked him over, debating, but her stomach rumbled in protest. “I’m starving. Can’t you get yourself off? You did that just fine without me for three months, I’m sure.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her shortly. “I did, but it is criminal that we never had FaceTime sex.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My apartment walls were way too thin, and you definitely would have been caught at Colin’s house.” She reached down to run the tip of her finger under the length of his cock, grinning when it twitched. “Enjoy. I’m gonna get ready.”

“Sophie, baby -” He protested, reaching for her, but she just blew him a kiss and got out of the shower. She’d learned that quickies didn’t exist with Rafe, and if she started something in the shower it would be taken out to the bed, then probably go back to the shower afterward.

(She did her makeup in the bathroom just so she could hear his little groans - ones that he definitely played up for her.)

After going to dinner, and getting lost on their way back, they were both thoroughly exhausted for all their walking and their travels. When they crawled into bed after their showers, Sophie snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. “Hey, Rafe.”

“Mm?” He hummed, half-asleep already.

“Do you have any special requests for your birthday tomorrow?”

He smirked, sleepy. “Yeah, you wanna wake me up with sex?”

“Like, actually?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’d do that?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t complain. But just spending the day with you is more than enough.”

“Alright. What time were you born?”

“Uh…” He furrowed his brow. “7:12 am, I think. My mom used to wake me up for my birthday at that time on the dot, every year.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.” She typed something into her phone, then nodded. “Oh, you’re a Virgo rising. That makes so much sense.”

He frowned, sitting up a little. “I’m not a virgin, we had sex two days ago.”

Sophie giggled, not bothering to explain - she’d attempted to before when she was first getting into astrology, and he had just told her he didn’t believe in witches. “Has it been that long?”

“If that’s long to you, baby, I can’t even imagine how difficult three months was.” He quipped, closing his eyes and lying back down.

She rolled her eyes. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close.

The next morning, Sophie woke up and managed to slip out from Rafe’s side, ignoring his grumble and half-hearted, still-asleep attempt to keep her at his side. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth then changed into some new lingerie, feeling a little ridiculous, but hoped it’d be worth it. When she returned to the bed, she crawled on top of him, rocking her hips gently against his hard on. “Baby.” She whispered, trailing a finger down his chest.

He stirred only for a moment but pressed his hips up against hers. “Fuck, Sophie, more,” he said and she nearly laughed at his dream mumblings. She ducked down under the covers and kissed along his length, rubbing him gently over his boxers. He woke up just as she was pulling his boxers down, thoroughly confused. “Soph?”

“Good morning. Happy birthday.” She told him with a grin before taking him into her mouth, pushing on his thighs a little when he jerked in surprise.

“Am I still dreaming?” He muttered, pushing back the covers so he could see her head. She licked directly up the underside of his cock, tracing a vein with her tongue. “Nope. Not dreaming.”

“Holy shit.” He breathed out, watching her with wide eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“That’s okay, we can fuck again.” She grinned up at him before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth again, moaning around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gathered up her hair carefully. “Fuckin - fuck, angel, faster, please.”

She obeyed, moving her mouth and hand just a little faster. It wasn’t long until he was spilling into her and she swallowed, then kissed back up his body. “Hey.”

“Hey -” He breathed out, jaw hanging open, then stopped. “Wait, what are you wearing?” He took her in with a grin and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand table to get a better view of her, wanting to see her in her full glory. “Is that new?”

She laughed, tugging at her bra strap self-consciously. “Yeah. Thought I could save it as a special birthday surprise for you.”

“Holy fuck, Sophie.” He scrambled for his phone. “I need, like, a picture to remember this or something -”

She was turning red from all his compliments and covered her hand with her face as she whined. “Rafeeee.”

He tugged one hand away, grinning at her. “Please? Just one? Or more than one?”

“Um...okay. Fine. Where do you want me?”

His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, incredulous. “You’re serious? You’ll let me? For real, that’s actually okay with you?”

She bit her lip, smiling. “Yes. As long as you keep it in a locked folder on your phone.”

“Oh my god. I’m in heaven. Is this my birthday present, the lingerie? Or the pictures?” He leaned up to kiss her, needy, and groaned as she rocked against his hips to lean forward.

She pushed him back a little, rolling her eyes. “No, you have a real present.” She stuck her chest out, adjusting the bra so her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, and fluffed up her hair a little. “Snap away, Cameron.”

He paused, waiting for another nod from her, then started taking photos, his eyes blown wide. He reached up and ran his thumb over her lips - she bit down on it gently, smirking at his expression. Rafe groaned just as he looked at her adoringly. “You’re incredible. Beautiful. I need to tell you that more.”

“Shut up.” She blushed more, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

He drank the sight of her in, lingerie and all, then set his phone aside. Abruptly, he grabbed at her thighs to pull her up and she squeaked, caught off guard and fell forward onto him. “Rafe!”

“Come here. Sit on my face.” He commanded, dropping his head back to the pillow.

She pushed herself up to straddle his hips again, wearing an incredulous expression. “You’re insane. I’m not doing that.”

He laughed darkly and curled a possessive hand around her thigh, digging his fingers into her leg just enough. “Yes, you are. Come up here. I need you.”

She could feel her cheeks getting hot from his demanding tone, the way he was taking control. “Rafe, it’s your birthday. Let me just take care of you.”

“You did take care of me, now it’s my turn.” He moved his hand up her leg to rub across her clothed clit, grinning when she gasped and twitched at his touch. “Like you said, it’s my birthday, and what I want you to do is sit on my face. C’mon, baby. I know you’re just dripping for it, absolutely filthy -”

For a moment she nearly considered climbing up on his face right then and there just to get him to shut up, but got too shy and felt her face burning with embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“No? You don’t like it?” He continued rubbing slow circles across her clit and grinned when she shifted onto his thigh and moaned. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

“Rafe.” She protested weakly, her resolve thinning quickly as he flexed his thigh and pushed against her.

“You know what I want my present to be?” He asked.

She started grinding slow against his thigh, trying her best to keep her gaze locked on him. “Hm?”

“I want to make you come. Three times. I know I can, too.”

“I already got you a present.” She mumbled weakly, rocking against him a little faster as her brain began to cloud over. When he shifted a little and flexed his thigh again, she gasped, leaning forward a tiny bit.

He reached up and pushed one cup of her bra down, gripping her breast roughly and pinching her nipple. She bit her lip hard to keep quiet and he shook his head right away. “I want to hear you.”

“Someone’s going to hear.” She protested, whining quietly.

“Let them. I want everyone to know how good I can make you feel.” He shot back.

“We’re gonna get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She argued, rocking her hips a little faster.

“Good. I’ll know I’m doing my job right.”

“Trust me, that’s not an issue,” she muttered darkly, circling her hips on his leg. When she came, whining, she practically collapsed onto him, so sensitive she had to move so his leg wasn’t between hers anymore.

He didn’t care and flipped them over quickly, shoving the sheets down the bed and dragged her panties down and off her legs. “So fucking pretty. Look at you, all wet, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?”

“You are on something today, where’s all this coming from?” She shook her head, even though his dirty words had her turned on more than she ever thought they would.

He grinned and kissed up her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. “You love it.”

“Hm. Do I?”

Rafe moved up to kiss her lips, then down her jaw, then to nip at her throat, although she certainly didn’t need the foreplay. He pulled teasingly on the ends of her hair, a little harder than usual, and stopped abruptly to look up at her when she moaned. “Oh, I forgot, you like it a little rougher, yeah?” He asked in a taunting tone.

She rolled her eyes as she blushed, thoroughly embarrassed by his teasing. “I mean. I wouldn’t mind.”

He paused, thinking. “Do you have anything specific you want to try?”

Sophie didn’t hesitate in responding, knowing she’d chicken out if she didn’t just say it. “Did you pack a tie?”

“...a tie? What for?” He shuffled out of bed, confused, but rifled through his suitcase until he found a nice silk tie, all wrinkled from being forgotten in a spare pocket. He tossed it at her but she held it out. “I can’t tie it myself.”

“Where’s it going?”

She bit her lip as she raised both hands above her head, her wrists pressed together. “Here? But not to the bed, I think that’d be too much.”

He gaped at her for the third time that morning. “You’re sure? You want that?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes. Just unexpected, okay. Okay. We need, like, a safe word or something right, this is some fifty shades shit - is this gonna hurt you? Or fuck, do you want it to hurt?“

She held back a laugh, finding his rambling endearing. “It’s a silk J.Crew tie, baby, not rope. It’s okay. I’ll tell you to stop if I need it.”

“Right. Right. Have you done this before? You seem a little too chill about it.” He put the tie around her wrists hesitantly in a loose knot, making sure she was comfortable before he settled himself back between her legs.

Sophie gave him a little smile, blushing. “No, I just. Thought I might like it and I trust you.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight - you won’t sit on my face but you’ll let me tie you up?”

“It’s different.” She tried closing her legs but he pushed them back open and nipped at her thigh. “Hey. Behave.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t?” She challenged him with a grin, and he just shook his head and teased a finger across her entrance. “Trouble.”

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He moved impossibly slow, rubbing two gentle fingers over her clit - she squirmed under him, letting out a little whine. “No teasing.”

“Hm, I think I’m going to tease all I want, with you all tied up. Can’t take control like that.”

She groaned, blinking at him. “I’m already wet, I don’t need to be edged.”

He grinned up at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“S’hardly dirty.” She countered, gasping when he caught her off guard with a wide lick up her entrance. “Fuck - I -” She started helplessly as she went to grab his hair, but just had to squirm instead with her hands above her head.

“Do we have plans today?” He questioned, breathing hot air on her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them toward herself.

“Not til later - oh, there, please -”

Rafe repeated his motions and flicked his tongue across her clit. “What are we doing?”

“Can we not discuss this now?” She argued breathlessly.

“Why, can’t concentrate?” He glanced up, amused. When she went to answer, he just sucked on her clit, making her gasp. “Answer the question, angel.”

“Rafe - fuckin’ - please -” She bit out, unable to think straight. “I’m so close, baby, more -”

He swore there was nothing he loved more than when she’d call him pet names, and the whine certainly added to it. Instead of teasing more, he curled his fingers again and flicked his tongue across her clit, working her through her second orgasm. She’d abandoned all pretense of keeping quiet and gasped out for him, arching her back as she came. When he withdrew his fingers and crawled back up the bed to press them against her lips, she took them easily.

“You are way too fucking good at that.” She breathed out, trying to grab for him again, but cursed when she remembered she was still tied up.

He reached up and untied her with a grin. “You okay? Did it feel alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Though I’m not sure I like not being able to touch you.” She smiled as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of her wrists.

“Dunno, I think I like when you’re not ripping my hair out when you come.” He grinned, nudging his nose against hers.

She rolled her eyes. “You love that.” She took on a mocking tone, making her voice deeper to imitate him. “Pull my hair, baby - oh, fuck, yes -”

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.” He laughed. “Your sex noises are more embarrassing, anyways, all whiny.”

“They are not embarrassing -”

“You want to record them and see?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

She blushed, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. You missed your chance for that the second you came here to see me.”

“Shame. Kind of unfair though, because you definitely got a voice memo or two.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you sent one to me every time you jacked off, that was much more than just one or two. Took my invitation and ran with it.”

He laughed, then reached around and unclipped her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then rested his head next to hers on the pillow. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“Happy birthday.” She smiled. “Love you too, sweet boy.”

He grinned, kissing her sweetly, then stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “We’re not done yet. I promised you three times.”

She laughed. “Alright, just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I’m that good, huh?”

She shoved at his shoulder, shaking her head. “You are too damn cocky for your own good. Oh! Here, let me get your present.” She hopped out of bed and pulled out a gift bag from her suitcase, all smushed down and wrinkled, and handed it to him. “Sorry it’s a mess, I had to pack it before you came.”

He sat up with an eager grin, pulling the covers over his lap. “S’okay, I’m sure it’s great.”

She pulled her underwear back on and pulled on a big shirt of his before crawling back into bed, watching him with a smile.

He unwrapped the gift and pulled out a leather jacket, whistling. “Wow! This is awesome, Sophie.”

She beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s custom fit to your measurements - I had Colin measure that jacket you always wear to be sure - and it’s ethically made. Well, as ethical as you can get with leather, but it’s handmade by this family in Barcelona, so there’s practically no carbon footprint. It’s neutral, at least. No sweatshops or anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure what all of that meant, but grinned at her enthusiasm. “It’s perfect, baby, thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

Rafe held it up, looking at all the details, then he caught a glimpse of the tag and frowned. It was $300 - he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many hours of work that was for her paycheck. “Sophie.”

“Just pretend you didn’t see!” She tucked it back in the jacket quickly, wincing.

“I swear this is a double standard...” He started, but decided not to finish his argument - the last thing he wanted to do with her on his birthday was fight about money.

“Don’t care. Let me treat you.” She beamed as he ran his fingers over the leather.

“You never let me treat you.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows and held up her hand with the ring as if to make her point, raising her eyebrows. “Never?”

“That was different, that’s a gift.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, so’s this. C’mon, put it on.”

“What? I’m all sweaty.”

“Just for a little bit.” She pleaded, pushing it toward him. “Please? I want a picture.”

“Oh, so you get nudes too? I thought that was a special birthday present.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her, and she giggled. “The jacket is the present. Rafe, please?”

He made a show out of huffing and rolling his eyes but held out his hand, sitting up. She grinned and handed it to him, grabbing her phone when he shrugged it on. “Okay, lay back?”

“You’re directing me? Okay.” He laid back in bed, completely naked except for the jacket, his hand tucked behind his head. She beamed and climbed up on the bed to stand over him, just wearing his big t-shirt and her underwear, and arranged the sheets so they were just covering his dick, his chest on full display and his hip and thigh peeking out suggestively.

“Okay. Don’t smile.” She held her phone up high to get the right angle, laughing when he smirked up at her. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Do I get a picture of you in it too?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the bed and held her hand out expectantly for him to take the jacket off. He sat up and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. “Sophie. Shirt off.”

“No.”

He just raised his eyebrows and she gave in with a sigh, tugging it over her head. He nodded, satisfied, and helped her shrug the jacket on. “You’re easy when you’re cock drunk.”

She gasped, shoving at his shoulder. “I do not get cock drunk -”

“You absolutely do!” He laughed, swiping his phone from the bedside table. “C’mon. Pose for me.”

She pretended to blow him a kiss, striking a bunch of poses. He grinned, holding up his phone and taking way too many shots. “There we go, angel. I’m gonna send these in to Victoria’s Secret for you.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off for the camera, holding the jacket closed. “Shut up.”

“No. C’mere, pick out which ones I can keep.” He reached over and tugged on her arm and she shrugged off the jacket, carefully setting it on the chair before climbing back into bed, purposely dragging herself across him. He groaned. “Baby.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t do that. I’m almost hard again.”

“Okay. You can fuck me again.” She smirked up at him and he took a deep breath, then handed his phone over. “Choose your photos.”

She flicked through them and deleted a few, then grinned at the one of her flipping him off. Sophie cropped it in a little so it was much less suggestive, her chest mainly covered, and cut it off where the jacket ended, then set it as his lock screen. “There. Now you’ll always remember this whenever you look at your phone.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, there was no chance of me forgetting.” He smirked, glancing at the screen then gave her a sincere smile. “C’mon. We need to shower.”

“No.” She threw her leg over his hips, catching him with her ankle tucked around his thigh and leaned in to kiss him, hard. He groaned against her lips, pulling her closer on top of him. “Sophie.”

“Rafe.” She mumbled, nipping at his lower lip. He nudged his nose against her cheek. “Baby.”

“Just kissing, c’mon.” She argued, even though she rolled her hips against him, felt him stiffening against her, and knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s never just kissing with you.”

“It was the very first time.” She grinned.

“When you kissed me drunk at the party and then rejected me?” He raised his eyebrows, clutching at his chest in mock pain. “Broke my heart, Flint.”

“And look, now you have me nearly naked in bed in Rome. I think you’re doing just fine, Cameron.” She quipped and he laughed. “Damn straight.” He gripped her hips when she moved to get off him, holding her in place. “Where are you going?”

“Want you on top.” She protested, grinding down against him. His breath caught in his throat and he flipped her over with ease, hooking his fingers in her underwear and dragged them off her legs, pushing one knee to her chest as he did. He reached to grab a condom off of the nightstand and rolled it down himself with a little groan, watching Sophie bite her lip. “Tell me how I got so lucky?”

“You’re such a romantic.” She teased, reaching out for him again. He leaned down and carefully slid into her, squeezing his eyes shut when she moaned at the feeling. “Can’t help it with you.”

“Cheesy.” She accused, gasping when he thrust a little harder.

“Mean.” He quipped, leaning down to kiss her, hard, and she responded eagerly. As much as he tried to hold back, they only lasted a few minutes before they were both coming again, Sophie biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet.

Rafe flicked her chest with a grin as he pulled out of her, shaking his head. “Did you just bite me?”

“We have two more days, we really can’t get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She giggled, smiling up at him with flushed cheeks.

___

The rest of the day was heaven for Rafe - Sophie was touchier than ever, even in public, and absolutely doted on him like it was her job. They wandered around a few tourist sites and by two pm, they’d already split three gelatos upon Rafe’s insistence they had to try ‘just one more flavor.’ He FaceTimed with Colin and James earlier in the day and was grinning ear to ear afterward, claiming multiple times that it was the best birthday he’d ever had.

Around six, after Sophie reluctantly agreed to their fourth gelato of the day, she waited outside in the sun as he went and got their cup to split. When Rafe returned from the shop with gelato for both of them, she covered her phone with her hand. “Thank you. I have someone on the phone for you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Julia and Allie already texted me earlier today.”

She just smiled and handed him her phone - her dad waved at him with a grin on FaceTime. “Rafe, buddy, happy birthday!”

Rafe’s grin was so instantaneous it nearly hurt. “Jeff! Hi, thank you! That’s so nice of you to call!”

“Of course, had to check in on you. How’s your day, been good so far?”

Rafe blushed and shot her a panicked look as Sophie shot him a glare off-camera. “Yes sir, it’s been great. Sophie and I have been exploring the city and stuff, getting to know the history.”

“That’s great, I’m glad. Have any big plans tonight?”

Sophie scooted over so she was on screen. “We do, but he doesn’t know about them yet.”

“Ahh, a surprise. What else have you done, the Colosseum? Vatican City? Your mom would enjoy that.” Jeff grinned as Sophie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m not taking him to the Catholic Church on his birthday -”

“I know, Sophie, I was kidding.” He shook his head and Rafe held back a smile. “You have two weeks before school starts, right Soph?”

“Yeah, just need to do a few TA things and get my studio set up. Why?”

“I was thinking, we’d love to have you home for a weekend if you have time before classes start. Rafe, you’re welcome to come over as well.”

Rafe brightened as Sophie nudged her knee against his, smiling. “I’d like that. If Sophie’s not too busy, I mean.”

“No, I think I can figure that out. I miss you guys.” She smiled. “So Rafe gets to stay in my room, right?”

Her dad froze up for a second. “I was thinking the guest room or his own room at his house, actually -”

Rafe’s eyes went wide and he pinched Sophie’s thigh, shaking his head quickly. “I can stay at my house! That’s perfectly fine. She’s kidding. We’re in separate dorms on this trip, so it shouldn’t be any different -”

“Oh my god, no, you’ll stay in the guest room.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, dad, we have to go.”

“Right.” Her dad eyed them skeptically, then smiled. “Well, happy birthday, Rafe, hope it’s a good one. I’m excited to see you both soon.”

“I appreciate it, sir, that means a lot. Thank you.” Rafe beamed, but he could feel his neck getting hot, hoping her dad wouldn’t pick up on his terrible lying.

“Alright. Be safe, you two.” Her dad hung up and Sophie’s cheeks burned a little, feeling he was implying a double meaning. She swatted his chest. “Can’t you control your blush for two seconds?”

“No ma’am.” He replied with a grin. “That was so nice of your dad. Did you ask him to do that?”

“No, he just texted me and asked when he could call. He likes you. Even if you’re a shitty liar.” She gave him a pointed look and he just laughed.

“He’s cool.” Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Man, that was so nice. I can’t believe he thought of me.”

She paused, eating a spoonful of her gelato. “Has your dad said anything today?”

“No, he won’t unless Rose reminded him. But that’s unlikely.” He shrugged. “Sarah and Wheezie texted me, that was nice.”

“Your dad’s not going to call on your birthday?” She frowned.

Rafe shook his head. “No. I’m usually up at school by now anyways, so he forgets. He remembered senior year of high school, but that was because I had a party at my house and asked him if we could string up lights by the pool.”

“Oh. I don’t remember that party.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t invite you and your friends on purpose. Was trying to keep it lowkey, y’know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, was that the one that Cassidy Anderson got so drunk at, she had to get her stomach pumped? And Kyle Green broke his ankle -”

“When he tripped into the pool, yeah, that was the one. Word got around that I was having a party, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t end up there anyways.”

She laughed. “Carter went and texted me not to come, he thought the cops were going to show.”

He wrinkled his nose at the memory. “They did. It was bad, Shoupe told my dad and everything, I was in trouble for a month after that.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “I’m sure you being in trouble meant nothing.”

“No, he canceled my golf lessons. That was actually a big deal, he knew I liked them.” He frowned a little.

She bit her lip as she suddenly remembered - her dad came home and told her mom that the big tips from the Camerons were going away, that they’d have to cancel their flights to go visit her in Sophie's first semester of college because they needed the refund as a safety net. It was a big deal that they had even promised to come at all, usually her dad had to work weekends to fit in more lessons and he’d asked off just to come see her.

When Ward canceled the lessons, a few of Rafe’s buddies followed suit and canceled as well - she and Carter went around to every course in the area that week to put up flyers to get their dad more customers. She felt a momentary pang of guilt putting two and two together and shook her head, trying to redirect the conversation. “Right. Um, so you want to head back to the hotel, get ready for dinner? I made a reservation for us at 7.”

“Yeah. You alright?”

She gave him a slightly forced smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t push it.

Dinner that night was on the rooftop of a hotel overlooking Rome, and they both dressed nicer than they had the whole trip, with her in a cream colored silk slip dress to complement her tan and him in a pair of nice slacks and a sleek short-sleeved button down. When their waiter came out to greet them with a drink menu, he glanced at Sophie’s attire and her ring and raised his eyebrows. “You are the honeymooners, yes?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “No, sir, the birthday. Under Sophie Flint.”

“Oh! The white dress, I was confused.” Their waiter gave them an apologetic smile. “Here is your drink menu, I will be back.” He returned later with two glasses of complimentary champagne, as well as the bottle of wine they ordered, and apologized again.

When he left, Rafe lifted his glass with a cheeky grin. “To my blushing bride.”

She scowled and stopped just short of kicking him under the table. “Shut the fuck up. Happy birthday.” She clinked her glass against his, shaking her head as he cracked up, thinking it was hilarious. “You’re not allowed to buy me any more rings, this just causes trouble.”

“Good trouble.” He protested and took off his signet ring with his initials, sliding it onto her thumb. “C’mon, you hardly wear any other jewelry daily. I like buying you things.”

“I know you do.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the menu to him. “Here. It’s our last night so go crazy.”

He paused, scanning over the menu. “Are we splitting this?”

“No, it’s your birthday dinner. My treat.” She frowned when he flipped the menu to just the entrees without any meat or fish. “No worrying about money.”

“I’m not. The carbonara at the other table looked good.” He replied, wishing he’d looked at how much the wine was that she ordered and made a mental note to pay for all their meals in the airport.

“You don’t like carbonara.”

“Maybe I do here.”

“Rafe.” She reached over and flicked the menu back to the more expensive options. “Do not hold back. I’m serious. I got this reservation back in June and I have more money left in my budget for this trip than I thought I would by now. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. And if you really want the carbonara, I’m getting it, so you can have some.”

He laughed as she reached over and refilled his wine glass. “Trying to get me drunk so I’ll give in?”

“Yeah, will it work?” She grinned.

He just shook his head and took a sip with a smile. “You’re spoiling me today.”

“Yeah, you deserve it.”

They were both giggly and drunk by the time they made it back to their hotel, after missing their metro stop twice. When they finally showered and collapsed into bed - to actually sleep, that time - Rafe hugged her close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I love you, Sophie. Thank you. So much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She murmured. “My favorite.”

When Rafe’s watch buzzed at 1am the next morning, he stirred a little, going to turn it off, but paused when he saw he had a call from his dad. He carefully untangled himself from Sophie’s koala grip and slipped out of bed, tugging on some joggers and a shirt before heading out to the hotel lobby to answer the call. “Dad? Is something wrong?”

“Can’t I wish my son a happy birthday?” Ward asked.

Rafe relaxed a little bit, settling back against a couch. “Yeah, um, it’s just early. I figured something was wrong with Wheezie or Sarah.”

“Ohio’s got the same time as the Outer Banks, kid.”

“I’m on that trip with Sophie, remember, I told you about it in June? We’re in Rome. I’m going home soon.”

Ward’s tone turned slightly sour as he was reminded. “Right. Forgot. You went all the way across the world for this girl?”

Rafe dug his fingernails into his palm, keeping his tone even. “For my girlfriend, yes. I love her.”

Ward sighed. “I’m sure you think you do, Rafe.”

“I know I do.”

His dad paused before speaking again. “I just don’t understand. You had a perfectly good thing going with Brooklyn, she has a great family. She’s used to our lifestyle.”

Rafe was exasperated, as well as exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She cheated on me, Dad. Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Must have done something to fuck it up.” Ward shot back, taking on a defensive tone.

Sophie had realized she was alone in bed by then and crept out of their room, following the muffled sound of his voice to find him in the lobby. She crossed her arms, frowning, and mouthed ‘come back to sleep.’

Rafe motioned her away and gave her a fake smile, shaking his head. She frowned, not convinced, and came up behind him on the couch, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I didn’t do anything.” Rafe replied curtly, standing to follow her back to the room. He lowered the volume on his phone so Sophie couldn’t hear a single word.

“Right.” Ward was unconvinced. “I’m sure this girl is just with you to get money out of you, don’t let yourself be fooled. I didn’t work this hard for our family just to let you think you’re in love with someone that can’t provide.”

Rafe was too tired to argue and kept his face impassive, wanting to end the conversation sooner than later with Sophie there. “That’s not it.” She took his hand and led him back to their room, staying quiet but watching his expression carefully.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Ward insisted. “You didn’t - you didn’t knock her up. Did you?” He questioned and Rafe wrinkled his nose a tiny bit at his accusatory tone. “No, Dad, of course not.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised that Ward had called, and let them both back into the room. Rafe gave her a quick smile and shut himself in the bathroom, not wanting her to hear any more.

“Oh. Well. Just, be careful.”

“I am. Uh, thanks for calling, I guess.”

“Right. Happy birthday. 21, right?”

Rafe’s face twisted and he was surprised to feel a few tears running down his cheeks as he leaned back against the wall, head hung low. “Close. 22.”

Ward made a small ‘huh’ noise. “22, I knew that. Night, son.”

When Rafe hung up, he let out a choked laugh, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Even if it was the first time in a while his dad had called on his birthday, he still couldn’t even remember his age.

Carefully, Sophie opened the door, peering in. “Baby? Are you alright?”

He turned to her with tears in his eyes, trying his best to force a smile, but she realized right away and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. “Come back to bed, Rafe.”

He followed her out and crawled back into bed with her, burying his face against her chest as she combed through his hair. “I deserve better.” He mumbled brokenly.

She frowned. “Of course you do, baby. I’m sorry. What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, and he was so tired that he let his guard down to cry, shoulders shaking a little as he did. Sophie practically clung to him, letting him bury his face in her neck as she stroked her back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” She whispered.

He nodded a little, nudging his leg over her waist to draw her closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Rafe, so goddamn much.”

“What time’s our flight tomorrow?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Not til six, we can sleep in if you want.” She pulled back just a little to kiss him, peppering kisses over his cheeks. “I love you. No matter what anyone says.”

He frowned and her heart broke just looking at how defeated he seemed. “You didn’t hear, did you?”

“No. It’s okay. You gotta sleep, baby.” Sophie pulled the blankets back over them, nudging him up so his head was properly set on the pillow, even though she knew he’d have his head on her chest by the time she woke up.

“Soph?” He whispered after a few seconds, sounding close to sleep again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “Of course. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[baebaejooheon]

Corpse husband x cottagecore! Reader headcanon

Just a cottagecore esque thing where it’s readers birthday and they throw a big meet up/sleepover thing.

Fem reader just bc. Mentions wearing a dress/skirt

A/N: uhhh leave me alone Ik I have a series in the works that I haven’t written for in months. Leave me alone 😎 not edited pls it’s rlly not good , as well as written at 6 am. Based on a maladaptive daydream I had for like a week straight. I could turn this into a real fic if anyone wants it but like ahaha I can barely write once a year 😌🤚🏻 I will probably reread it and fix it later but as of now you get what you get. I literally just typed this on my phone with no sleep so like 🤗🤪

Originally posted by datchidatchi

A little background, Y/N lives in a medium sized cottage esque house. She has a small garden in her back yard, as well as a free roam fluffy brown cow named dellie, and a big chicken coop. As well as a duck that roams the property and a couple of other animals. As well as a huge flower field a little off the premises. (All of this is infact important.)

It’s Your 23rd birthday, and for this big occasion you decided to invite over all your friends, even those who live outside of the country, to your small home in the middle of nowhere. This would be the meetup that would break the internet.

Many people were invited. The typical among us group:Jack, Felix, Rae, Sykunno, Toast, Poki, and even Corpse who was given the option even tho the likelihood was low given the situation.

A few SMP friends you had made through association were also invited: Karl, Alex, Nick etc.

Many people, lots of fun.

The morning of your birthday, You awoke to many messages and posts for your birthday. Lots of bomb selfies on the feed as well as #HAPPYBDAYY/N trending on Twitter. Along with this, you were greeted with a few texts from your non American friends stating that they arrived safely or that they were checking into the hotel rooms they had booked for the weekend.

When the time came for the party, most of the people had managed to show up. The party was in full swing, everyone had a drink in hand, posting pictures, celebrating being together as well as it being your birthday.

Filling the trending tab on Twitter with so many hashtags

Around 10 pm you got a call from corpse and decided to head upstairs to get some peace and quiet from the loud music in your living room.

Answering the phone the conversation wasn’t anything special, corpse wishing you the fourth happy birthday for that day, as well as asking how everything was going. It was a normal conversation, that was, until his breath hitched and his voice started to quiver as he grew quiet, barely mumbling. Asking what was wrong, corpse went on a small tangent about how he wished he was more confident with his looks, how he wished it wasn’t scary showing his closest friends what he looked like etc. and how he wished he could be there at the party with everyone.

“Corpse I’ve told you 100 times. I understand your situation and it’s ok that you couldn’t show up. I don’t hold it against you, but I didn’t want you to feel left out :))”

“What would you say if I said I just pulled up in an Uber and I’m absolutely terrified of what’s gonna happen?”

Sneaking out of the back door as quickly as possible and running to the front lawn preparing herself. Corpse steps out of the car and You just jump in his arms. like full on koala grip on this man.

Holding his face and just showering him with compliments. Lots of reassurance and sweet nothings.

Heading to the back porch in order to allow him to calm down and prepare. The two end up sitting outside in the dark talking for like 30 minutes.

Finally working up the courage to head inside. You hold his hand the whole time and you see his hands start to shake.

Stepping into the living room, Jack noticing corpse was there, smiling but not saying anything after realizing he’s nervous. Meeting eveyone for the first time really being hard on him. No one else knowing what he looks like so no one really has a reaction

“Look who I found”

“Oh Y/N!! We were wondering where you ran off too. Who’s your friend?”

Corpse just hits them with a “uhh, hi 🤗”

Everyone freaking out as soon as they realize who it is and trying to talk to him.

Phones were put away for most of the night in fear of leaking anything.

You going the extra step to check everyone’s camera rolls (with consent of course) just incase and deleting any photo with any form of corpes face.

A group selfie with just corpse’s hand doing a peace sign

Many drunk escapades

Everyone finding a place to crash for the night. Some staying awake on their phones, some heading to hotels, some alresdy passed out for the night.

You check in on corpse before you head to bed, knowing today was a lot for him.

“Surprisingly? One of the best nights I’ve had in awhile :))”

Heading off to bed.

6 am rolls around and ms Y/N is up at the crack of dawn to do morning chores for the small farm.

Cute hobbit esque dress. Brown skirt, off the shoulder white flowy shirt tucked in, white frilly apron, brown corset belt Etc. you know the fit

Walking down the stairs, you see corpse on his phone in the dark sitting at her dining room table. Everyone was still asleep and it seemed like corpse hadn’t even slept a wink. You know, his insomnia and all.

“What are you doing awake? It’s only 6 am and you partied pretty hard last night?”

“Farm life doesn’t stop for a hangover, but I could ask you the same thing mister :) come on you can help me out”

Corpse is 100% not dressed to do anything outside, especially not any farm work.

Tells him to wait on the back porch while she gathers some stuff from the house. coming out with a messenger bag as well as a basket and a blanket.

Sets everything down and continues to feed the animals with corpse, asking him to grab the big bucket of feed. showing him the ropes, filling up everyone’s water dishes. Collecting eggs etc.

Corpse just watching you with a smile on his face. Your just talking to all your animals, yelling at fiesty hens for pecking at your legs and/or talking to Gerald the duck for getting in the way.

Corpse lowkey obsessed with dellie the cow. Pets her and coos for like 5 minutes straight.

When they finish the sun is barely rising everything still looks like a silhouette from far enough away. putting what needs to go inside away, and then grabbing the messenger bag off the porch.

Dragging corpse to the flower field just down the hill at the edge of the property.

Laying out the blanket and sitting just talking for hours.

You plays music from your phone through a small speaker, dancing around and twirling, lost in your own world.

Corpse’s Instagram story is just full of videos and pictures of you in the sunrise, small captions like happy birthweek to the most amazing person Ik. Or damn who knew farm girl had moves.

Literally 30+ story posts at 7 am.

Corpse takes a picture of you making a flower crown. Shadows cast across your skin, the small bit of sunrise light casting a soft golden glow. The field of flowers all around. Literally goddess worthy.

Fans going crazy reposting the pictures, spamming Twitter etc.

His camera roll is FULL of pictures of her.

Giving corpse A flower crown full of an array of wild flowers

Dancing together. Just twirling and laughing.

City boy corpse loving the farm life

Secretly of course

Relaxing and just sitting with eachother as it slowly reaches 10 am.

“Uh, thanks for this morning, I had a lot of fun.” A small sleepy smile on his face. The flower crown crooked on his messy curls as he just stares into your eyes.

You both end up leaning in for a kiss bumping noses as you gently pull away

Definitely the best birthday gift you could have asked for

Heading back inside to see how everyone’s doing.

Rae being one of the few awake asking where the two of you had been seeing it was already around noon

“Those of us awake took it upon ourselves to raid your kitchen sorry not sorry”

Corpse getting sleepy wanting to take a nap seeing as it was noon and he was running on little to no sleep.

You let him rest in your bed as you occupy everyone downstairs

Everyone leaving around 3 pm, corpse is still asleep so you go outside to check on all the animals once again.

Letting Gerald in the house bc he’s being a pain in the ass.

When you come into the house you see corpse coming down the stairs rubbing his eyes and streatching. His shirt twisted and raising slightly, the jewelry and chains he was wearing now gone.

Giving him a good “morning” kiss.

The day is filled with you cooking for him. Making fun of his foil troubles, watching movies, laughing and overall joking.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together and making the most of the time you had together.

Making things between you official

✨Extra✨

When you post about eachother to tell the fans that the two of you have been dating for like 6 months the captions are wild.

Corpse is like “ugh look at my gorgeous girlfriend, so pretty, so nice and kind, the most amazing person ever” just full on simp. The pictures he uses are from the morning after your birthday.

Your picture is just you guys holding hands. His usual chains and jewelry. Caption just “eww a city boy 🤮, gotta take all the love I can get tho”

[moonwarriorautumn]

Vacation was Awesome!

Everything went so well for my sister, mom, and I. I got to shop at different stores, eat at nice restaurants, a couple of the hotels I stayed at were very nice, and I got to see many lovely things. First we stayed in Orange County, the night we arrived, where Drea and I went shopping at a mall and later visited my aunt Debbie. My cousin Sarah, and her family also came over to my aunt's place. My aunt's dog, Bella, loved being around me, and just laid down next to me with her head on my lap. I also got to see Debbie's cat, Wilson, who is rather timid around strangers. Debbie told me he usually hissing and scratches strangers, but he didn't do that with me. I let him sniff my hand and managed to pet him just before he hid under a sofa.

My hotel room in Orange had a couple of issues. 1. The coffee maker was filthy so I had to go to Drea and Momma's room to make hot chocolate and 2. The shower/tub was broken. But that wasn't a big deal to me. I was having too much fun to focus on that. On the day we left, I took pictures of the duck pond near the hotel, it was so relaxing. Before driving to San Diego, we went to a exotic fruit store and bought some mangosteen and these little yellow mangos. Our hotel in San Diego was much nicer, and I had no issues with my room, plus we had joining rooms to we were able to see each other easily. Also it had a nice tub that was bigger than the one I had at home, and I had some really soothing baths in it. Later that day, Drea and I went to a sushi restaurant, and boy was the food there great! Our mom wasn't able to go alot of places with us, due to some health issues, but she was enjoyed the time she got to spend with us (and the leftover food we would bring back to the hotel for her.)

The next day, Drea and I shopped at some Japanese stores, then went to a beach area. We had lunch at a cafe then went to see the ocean and the animals that were there. We saw seals, goonies, and pelicans. Later, we ate at a nice fancy restaurant in the city. We split a filet mignon and a side of three cheese mac and cheese. I had to look up the recipe for that mac and cheese, because it's the best I've ever had. We went to one more Japanese store, Daiso, (the previous three we visited earlier didn't have alot of things that I wanted, I think it's because of the quarantine) before heading back to our hotel.

The next day we drove to Solvang. Our rooms there were even better than the ones in San Diego! It was like I had my own little apartment! Drea and I ate at a restaurant and browsed some shops (there weren't that many open at the time) before heading back to our hotel. After having a nice hot shower (that was hard for me to leave), I spent some time with my sister and Momma at their hotel room. The following morning, while I was getting some much needed sleep, Drea and our mom went to have breakfast together. After checking out of our hotel, all three of us went looking at shops and bakeries in Solvang. I managed to find these two adorable dog plushies, and I got two big, chocolate chip cookies.

Later, while on the road, we stopped to eat at a diner. I'm glad that at least on the last vacation day, my mom got to do some fun things. Drea and I felt bad that she wasn't able to join us in other things. Daddy and the kitties were real happy to see us when we came home. I showed him the pictures I took while Drea and I told him what we did. Later that night, Drea and I gave Momma a Mother's Day gift we got for her in Solvang. Slipper socks with cute sloth faces on them (my mom loves sloths!) We had to give it to her then, because the next day, Drea had to fly back home.

I'm really grateful to my parents and my sister for making this vacation happen (of course I paid for my rooms and stuff.) It's what I needed. I'll post pictures here on Tumblr, once I get the ones that Drea took. We've already talked about taking another vacation together next year, but just in San Francisco. When we last went there, we only went to Japan Town and a cat cafe, and went home at the end of the day. Our plan next year is to stay there a couple of nights, so we can see more of the city.

Hopefully, all that walking I did during my vacation helped me lose some of the weight I gained during quarantine. I also barely had any sweets and drank juice instead of soda. Now, I'm gonna get some much needed rest and let my legs recover.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap �� I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

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

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

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

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

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

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

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

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[darkeninganon]

This may be a bit of a confusing chapter, but I was like... not functioning during this whole thing. Still not really functioning. Anyways, Trigger warning: Gream acting like Dream (He gets angry, yells, and throws stuff).

This was an absolute nightmare. Tubbo and Ranboo had returned home, stopped by Puffy's to pick up Gream, only to discover that Gream was gone. Missing! Not in the mansion or the house. He was free to leave...

That was a lie. What with the prison so close to Snowchester, it wasn't safe for Gream to leave. That wasn't even taking into account that no one on the server liked him and would likely try to kill him on sight. This was such a nightmare. Tommy did a sort of groan-scream in an effort to vent his frustrations, but with everyone looking in different directions to find the tiny green ghost, the teen was left alone with his own thoughts. Well, then again, it wasn't just for Gream's safety. It was sort of a revenge for what he did  when he sent Tommy to exile.

Tommy recognized how twisted it was, to get revenge on a ghost with no memory, and that was why he wasn't destroying anything Gream built or being stupidly cruel. Still, he would have to confront the ghost about leaving Snowchester. Especially if he had a shrinking episode while out and about.

"Oi! Pay the toll you-"

"Aw, fuck off man! This is still my hotel!" And just when his day couldn't get any worse, Jack Manifold had spotted Tommy searching the hotel grounds for the tiny ghost. At least Jack didn't know about what happened, hopefully it would stay that way.

"This isn't your hotel! Don't you see the name-"

"Fuck off you-"

And the two descended into arguing, finger pointing and cursing filling the little lobby of the hotel. If Sam Nook was here, Tommy wouldn't have to worry. A thought came to Tommy. He had built this hotel on top of...

"Oh, Jack, you brilliant bastard! See you later!" Tommy ran to the edge of the path, looking down to see a grouping of iron doors. Useless iron doors, but iron doors that lead to the one place none of them had thought about checking. Tommy ignored Jack gloating about how he was smart, or some other nonsense; it didn't matter right now. What did matter was the little green person running into the house.

Tommy jumped down, letting out a squawk as he hit the ground hard, ankle tweaking in protest. Jack was yelling something at him from above, probably to get lost or pay the toll. Tommy ignored him, ducking into the little hole that lead to the most dangerous place on the server: Dream's house.

Gream jumped as he spun to leave, greeted by Tommy's face in the entry tunnel. "Jeeze! Tommy! What the hell?!" Anger flooded Gream. Why was Tommy here? Gream finally felt somewhat safe and Tommy dared to just-

"Well, good to see you too mate. Puffy was right worried about you." Tommy pulled himself into the house, sitting cross-legged in front of the door as he smiled down at Gream. "Tubbo, Ranboo, and I were also pretty spooked. I mean, fuck, just imagine if Sam found you. God that would suck." Tommy rambled to himself, running his hand through his hair. Sure, some of it was a lie, but it was true enough that Tommy didn't want Gream to go back to the prison, that would just break the ghost and then he might return to being like Dream.

Gream stared at Tommy. Did the teen... know? "Wait..." No, Tommy had to know. Puffy once worked with and believed the man with the gold tooth. But to just ask that was... No, Gream would be punished for asking such a question. But surely there was some way to get an answer... "Uh, Tommy, we're friends, right?"

Tommy stiffened, staring at Gream in surprise. "Uh, yeah, I guess... It's a little awkward because, well... I was... was... friends with you... from before." Tommy fidgeted, pulling on the cuff of his sleeve. "It's uh... stirring up some old memories, you know?" Tommy looked at his hands, picking at his cuticles. Why now was Gream doubting him?

"Um, what do you know about... Puffy?"

"Gream." The ghost jolted, looking up at Tommy, who was clearly nervous about something. With a sigh, Tommy continued. "If you have a specific question in mind, just... just ask me, alright mate? I'm not going to blow a fucking... gasket or something. We're cool man, we're cool."

Gream sighed, fiddling with the edge of his mask. "Well, you see, Foolish came by... before."

"Yeah, We were told."

"Let me finish!" Gream watched Tommy flinch slightly, his heart twisting and fluttering at the same time. Weird. "Well, Puffy... She knew where I was and... And... How many people believed him? The man with the gold tooth, he... he spread lies and told people... told them I deserved to be there? Why? What did I do to him? Why was the book so important? How many people... how many people want me dead again?" Gream was bordering on tears now. He didn't want people to hate him, he hadn't done anything wrong. Surely it was just because he shared a mask with the monster Tommy and Tubbo talk about. "Why did my own mom believe him?" Gream curled up on the floor, sniffling and crying. The thought of Puffy, someone he cared about and someonje who cared about him, believing some creepy guy over her own child was twisting his heart too much. He didn't want to think about what he could have even said to get her to believe his lies.

Gream startled as something pet him. Slow and gentle. He uncurled slightly, looking at Tommy who was leaning towards him, hand extended. "Sorry..." Tommy pulled his hand back, looking away from Gream. "I... It's a hard question to answer... Not because I don't know. But because..." Tommy looked back at Gream, cringing. "It's hard to answer because I do know."

"Tell me." Gream stood, rubbing the tears from under his mask.

"Gream, I don't-"

"Tell me Tommy!" The little ghost took a step forward, trying to intimidate Tommy into telling him. Tommy flinched again, raising his hands as if Gream was going to strike him. Gream stopped, taking a step back; "Please, just tell me."

Tommy was silent for several minutes. "Just about... everyone. Including me, Tubbo, and Ranboo." Tommy could just barely see Gream moving back, shock and horror evident in his body language. "That's why... When I saw you as a ghost... I was so shocked. No one was supposed to visit you." Tommy relaxed, going back to messing with the cuff of his sleeve. "We were all turned away... when we tried to visit. I managed to sneak in once. You..." Tommy sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth. "You-"

"Enough. I don't want to hear anymore." Gream turned away from Tommy, covering his ears. Just how powerful was this gold-toothed guy? What did he have over everyone in the server? And what was the damn book-

"You brought Wilbur back to life."

Gream stopped. He... "I did what?" Gream turned to face Tommy, shaking slightly.

Tommy sighed. "The book was... It had the knowledge in it that allowed you to revive people. You never shared it with anyone. Not me, not Tubbo, not Ranboo, not Puffy. The only person you used it on was Wilbur. Possibly because Ghostbur had asked you to, and, well... It may have turned out to be a mistake, but, we'll see what Wilbur is doing eventually." Tommy sighed again, looking at Gream. The little green ghost seemed surprised.

"So... I only used it once?" Gream tilted his head, clearly confused.

"Yeah. And that one time was all the man with the gold tooth needed it seems. God... Had I not used Ghostbur to sneak in-"

"Why were you sneaking in?"

Tommy's mind floundered. What the hell was he going to tell Gream? You know what, fuck it. Tommy might as well tell him the truth. "I... may have been going in there to kill you...?"

"What?!"

"Listen Gream, the guy... he said you did some pretty awful things! Ranboo.. he's got memory problems, and he said you did that. He said you were best friends with the guy who executed Tubbo-"

"Tubbo got executed?!"

"He said you worked with the president of Manburg and were the reason Wilbur blew up Old L'Manburg-"

"Wait, Wilbur blew up-"

"God's sake man, this is just the tip of the iceberg, okay! The- No, you know what, we're done with this. He said you did a lot of really shitty things, and we believed him, because he may or may not have held a position of political power for a long time."

"What?!" Gream began pacing, groaning in agitation. "He had- Oh my GOD that makes so much sense now. FUCK. This sucks so mu-uch. For fuck's sake this sucks!" Gream opened his eyes, moving his hands away from his face. He was normal size now. Well, that was weird, but it helped. With anger, Gream kicked the closest chest he could, knocking it over with the contents spilling out across the floor.

"Gream, shh, you need to be-"

"No, Tommy! I'm not going to be quiet! This sucks! The person who tortured me- who killed me- is running around doing God only knows what, and people will believe him at the drop of a hat because he had political power?! This is bullshit! Manburg isn't even around anymore, neither is L'Manburg, but apparently he's still- ARGH! For fuck's sake!"

Tommy cringed away, hyperventilating as he watched Gream toss a chest across the small space. Tommy felt like he was in exile again, or the cell. Gream was going to...

"The fuck's going on in here?!"

Shit.

Tommy and Gream snapped to see Jack Manifold crawling through the entrance, stopping to stare at the green ghost. The three were silent for what felt like an eternity. And then Jack moved. "SAM!"

"Oh no you don't you fucking-"

"Tommy, let me go, Dream's-"

"Dream's dead! This is Gream! He's nice!"

"Fuck you, let go of my fucking ankle you prick!"

"Jack shut up and listen for once, you can't tell Sam!"

"Fuck you, yes I can!"

"No you fucking can't! Gream hasn't done anything-"

"He's trespassing on my property!"

"It's my hotel, bitch!"

Jack suddenly kicked Tommy, sending the teen sprawling back with a bloody nose. He could faintly hear Gream yelling his name, clearly concerned for what had just happened. A cold hand grabbed Tommy's arm, pulling him to his feet. Jack was gone, and Gream was struggling to keep Tommy upright. Tommy pushed the ghost away. "I'm fine! We need to get you back to Snowchester, now." Tommy grabbed Gream's arm, pulling the ghost towards the little tunnel. Both boys crawled out, climbing up the sheer cliffs to the prime path and running to the tunnel for Snowchester.

Something began following them. No, someone. Tommy looked to see a very angry Sam and Jack using tridents to fly after them. Gream was about to look back, but Tommy grabbed his arm, shoving the ghost in front of him. "Go! Get to Snowchester!"

"Tommy, what's-"

"Don't look, alright?! Just go!" Tommy shoved Gream towards the wall, sending the ghost past it, but Tommy stopped, drawing the sword- Dream's sword- and spinning to face their pursuers. Sam and jack slid to a stop on top of the tunnel, both armed with axes and shields against Tommy.

"Tommy."

"Sam."

The trio stood there in silence, Gream just beyond the walls of Snowchester; just out of reach from people who would put him back in jail.

"I hear Dream was out of Snowchester, Tommy." Sam's voice was dark, heavy. It wasn't the voice of Awesamdude or Sam Nook. It was The Warden.

"Well, you heard wrong. Dream died, Sam. You know that." Tommy pointed the sword towards Sam and Jack, praying that they backed off.

"What the hell do you mean?! He's right behind you!" Jack yelled, pointing incredulously at the ghost.

Tommy's gaze flickered to Jack. He wouldn't win in a fight against both of them. Jack he could maybe win against, but certainly not Sam. "You might want to get your eyes checked out mate. That's my friend Gream. He's a good lad and-" Tommy cut himself off. He almost said it. Almost but not quite.

"And what, Tommy?" Sam tilted his head. Out of the three of them, he seemed the most relaxed. It was more unnerving than if he were on edge.

Tommy took a breath. He had to be calm right now. "And he's not trying to cause problems. But things like that," Tommy tilted his head to the enchanted netherite axes held by the two, "That gets him on edge. He gets scared by those things, you know?"

"Oh, so him yelling and kicking stuff with you cowering was just you two having a bonding moment? Huh? Like exile?"

"Shut up Jack! I may need therapy from that, but I'm sure as hell not going to talk about it with you." Tommy grit his teeth. Of course Jack wouldn't care. No one but Tommy could see how fortunate this was, all anyone else could see was Dream. This was a chance at obtaining true peace, and nobody but Tommy was willing to see that. Well, okay Puffy, Tubbo, and Ranboo probably did see it, at least somewhat. Having your worst enemy be your best friend? What could be a better form of revenge? "Look, Gream is protected by Snowchester, and if you two don't-"

"Knock it off Tommy." Sam stepped forward, swatting the tip of the sword away as he closed the space between him and Tommy. "We all know you wouldn't win. So just hand over the prisoner, and you'll never have to worry about this again. Okay? Dream goes back to prison, you go back to living your normal life, and everyone lives happily, ever, after. Okay?"

A trident slammed into the glass between Sam and Tommy, the teen stumbling back into Snowchester. Ranboo jumped down, pulling the trident from the glass. Snow crunched loudly as more people gathered. Tommy looked around, suddenly surrounded by Technoblade, Philza, and Niki. He caught sight of Puffy and Tubbo climbing up the shore, the sheep woman running to Gream and hugging him. Tubbo's eyes were locked on Ranboo, who, even without a mouth visible, it was easy to tell the half enderman was smiling.

"Sam, you do remember what I said, right?" The little particles buzzed around him, agitation shared. Sam was trying to hurt his family. Sure, Gream wasn't part of that family, but Tommy sure as hell was. A few particles rushed to the other teen, dancing around him, examining him to make sure he was okay.

Sam was silent, eyes locked on Technoblade. Quackity had talked about getting the pig man into the prison, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen any time soon. That sucked.

"You know Sam, generally, when people are as tyrannical as you, it doesn't end well for them. You might want to watch yourself from now on... or, you know, spend some time on that island you have. Heck, you should probably bring Fran with you." Sam snapped his gaze to Ranboo as his only pet came up. "It would be a real shame if something happened to her." Ranboo took a step back as Sam took a step forward, barely controlling his anger. "Or what about Ponk? You still love him right? Or are you two split up after you cut his arm off with shears?"

Murmurs of shock fell through the group, people looking at each other before looking to the creeper hybrid, who was visibly shaking.

"You also took one of his lives. How many does that leave him with? Two? And no totems~. No revive book either. Even if Dream were here, he'd never waste such energy on Ponk. But you already know that~."

"What the hell are you planning?"

Ranboo's smile seemed to widen, face splitting to finally reveal his mouth, like a twisted version of an enderman. "Nothing. Just paying back a favor! Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, tell Quackity that I'd like to talk to him. Maybe he and I can finally work something out with the cookie stand, you know?"

"What? I haven't-"

"Buh-bye now Sam~. Go on, shoo, both of you." Ranboo made a shooing motion with his trident, voice warbling as he spoke. He watched intently as Sam and Jack finally retreated, glaring at him and the group from the safety of the other side of the tunnel.

Gream suddenly smacked him over the head with a stick.

Ranboo opened his eyes to grass beneath his feet and people scolding someone. Scolding Gream. Why were people scolding Gream and asking if he was okay? Why were Jack and Sam glaring at him from across the tunnel? "Uh, guys, what's going on?"

Everyone fell silent, staring at him.

Phil was the first one to speak. "Are you fucking serious mate? Were you sleepwalking that whole time?"

Ranboo nodded. "I guess..."

"Heh? Sleep walking? Hey, wait a second, Ranboo did you call Snowchester your family?"

"Mate, Techno, now is not the time."

"Ranboo, you sleepwalk?" Niki looked between Phil and him, clearly confused. "How long has this been going on?"

Ranboo shook his head. "I'm... Look, I don't want to talk about it- actually I literally can't- but thanks, whoever woke me up?"

"Oh, that was Dream." Phil stated, motioning to the ghost. Gream looked to Puffy, motioning to Ranboo as if that vindicated him somehow. "He whacked you with a stick. Kind of like I did way back when." Phil mused, snickering to himself at the memory. "Wait... how did you know to do that?" The older man asked, turning to Gream.

Gream seemed to straighten up, almost looking proud of himself. "I didn't! I just got the urge to do something and hitting him with a stick made it go away. Well, made it less prominent." Gream turned to Tommy, tilting his head. "Does Ranboo's sleepwalking have to do with his memory issues?"

"Let's not talk about this, okay? Like Phil said, now is not the time. Are you okay Gream?" Ranboo was more than eager to get the attention off of himself. This was like when Dream announced he was traitor all over again.

Gream nodded, pushing Puffy away. "Yeah, sorry for running."

Tommy smiled, walking over to Gream and slapping his hand on the ghost's back. "No worries mate! We just worried about you. What made you run anyways?"

Gream looked at the group, silent. He knew Tommy was hiding things. They all were. It hurt. They were his friends, so why would they lie to him? It didn't make sense! "It's... It's not important." Gream moved away, heading towards the mansion. Maybe Sam would tell him the truth. If only the two could talk without having anyone interrupt.