#but then she said something and i went wait a second that's harper talking

[kanerallels]

For @chenford-prompts 2 Weeks of Chenford, prompt: Injured.

This is set sometime mid season four, and is obviously not canon compliant. It's also technically a deleted scene from a fic I'm posting later this week, but doesn't have any real spoilers. Oh, and it was inspired by a piece of art by @accidental-spice, that I will link here when it's posted!

(TW for hospitals and injury)

Tim felt like he spent a lot of time in hospitals for someone who wasn’t a doctor. Sure, it was bound to be a part of his job— hazard of being a cop was you got hurt. A lot. And he was fine with that.

It was when it was someone else who got hurt on his watch that things were different.

He glanced at the bed he was sitting next to, and his heart twisted in his chest at the sight of Lucy Chen, pale and motionless, hooked up to a heart monitor. He hated seeing her like this. It was unnatural for her to be anything less than bright and energetic and full of life.

She’d been shot on patrol. A shooter had gone after him, and she’d tackled him just in time. Just in time for him to be safe, and for her to be hit herself.

Tim could still feel the panic swelling in his chest at the sight of the blood welling through her shirt as he clung to her, begging her to stay with him. She’d been unconscious by the time the ambulance reached them.

But somehow, miraculously, she was alive. The surgery had been fine, and she was supposed to wake up by the next day. The others had been in to visit her— Jackson for a brief stint, Lopez and Wesley right behind him with Thorsen. Genny had been one of the more recent visitors, carrying a bag with his things, and had walked out again with Nolan. He’d stayed longer than almost any of the others— besides Tamara, who had been right there with him for hours, until the Greys insisted on driving her to their house, where she would stay the night.

Tim hadn’t moved from his spot in hours, and he didn’t intend to. Clasping his hands, he bowed his head, emotions swirling in his chest.

She’d taken a bullet for him. And that had landed her in the hospital. I failed. Again. I couldn’t keep her safe.

“Neck deep in the guilt spiral already?”

Tim’s head snapped up at the sound of Harper’s voice. Handing him a disposable cup, she said, “I thought I’d bring better coffee than what they sell here.”

“Thanks,” Tim muttered, taking a sip. 

He could feel her studying him, and elected to ignore it. Finally, she said, “It wasn’t your fault. Lucy knew what she was doing.”

“She was jumping in front of a bullet meant for me. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Nyla said flatly. “Don’t try and take the credit for it. Lucy made the choice to protect you, and she wouldn’t want you to be worrying about it like this. Don’t make it about you.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Tim said. “I just— she shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have made the same choice any other cop would have made? Shouldn’t have protected someone she cares about?” Nyla snorted. “Sure. When she wakes up, I’d love to see you sell her on that.”

She turned towards the door, then paused, looking at him. “Accept the fact that she got hurt helping you, and then move on. Wallowing in it isn’t going to help anyone. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tim said, looking back at Lucy. Like it or not, he knew she would have said the same thing.

That didn’t mean he was going anywhere, though. Sliding his chair a little closer, he took her hand, lacing his fingers around hers. He felt Harper watching them for a minute, then she turned and left, leaving them alone together.

[janeyseymour]

Far From Home

for @jeridandridge

Summary: you're far away from home when you meet another Phillie's fan.

WC: ~3k

It’s just Melissa’s luck that her flight would get cancelled because of a hurricane sweeping over the Atlantic at this very moment. After a near brawl with one of the attendants because she insisted that it’s safe to fly (and it very much is not safe to fly), the redhead finds herself lugging her carry-on over to the restaurant bar with a huff.

“Whiskey, neat,” she sighs as she hands her card over to the bartender. “Please.”

“Flight get delayed?”

“Canceled,” she huffs. “They said they’d put me on the next flight out to Philly.”

“You’re a long way from home,” the bartender states softly. “Why you come all the way out here?”

“To Italy?” Melissa chuckles softly. “Because it’s Italy… and I was visiting my nonna.”

“So then why are you in such a rush to get back?”

“My baseball team is playing, and I have real nice tickets for tomorrow’s game,” the redhead explains. “Damn… they’re playing right now too. Any chance you get American sports to play over here?”

The bartender shakes his head. “But if you got an iPhone and can pull it up on there, I can cast it to the television so you can at least watch on the big screen while you figure everything else out.”

Melissa looks impressed and pulls out her phone. After a bit of work, the Phillies game is up on the screen, and the redhead is cheering along for her team with a beer now in hand.

Your flight from Italy back to the States was canceled. Of course it was. After a more than disastrous trip to Italy with your now ex-girlfriend, all you want to do is be in your apartment and curled up in your bed with a tub of ice cream and a glass of wine in hand. But now… you’re sitting in a restaurant bar while you wait for confirmation that the airline has put you on another flight home and seeing if they can put you up in a hotel for however long it will take to get back to Philly.

You have half a mind to go try to sleep off your exhaustion and anxiety, but something catches your eye. There’s a Phillies game on the big screen… in Italy? So, instead of finding a deserted corner, you sit down at the restaurant bar and pull out your phone. The bartender comes your way and pours you a drink when the Phillies are able to pull ahead of the Mets- the rival team.

“Hell yeah!” you raise your glass in the air with a smile. Schwarber was able to deliver again.

“You a Phillies fan?” the bartender chuckles.

“I bleed Philly,” you smile as your eyes stay trained on the screen. “Why do you even have this game playing? I didn’t think the Italians cared about baseball the way that Philadelphians do.”

“You aren’t the only Philadelphian in here,” he laughs as he points down towards the redhead at the other end of the bar, eyes also glued to the screen.

You cock your head to the side. “Wow.” She’s… really, really pretty. But you’re able to cover up that little gasp with the afterthought of, “Two Philadelphians in one little bar across the ocean.”

“She’s casting it from her phone right now,” the man tells you. Then he slides his way back down the bar to check on that beauty.

There’s something inside of you that wants to go over and talk to her- let her know that you think she’s beautiful. But… then you remember what you’re doing here. You just got dumped, and you don’t want to be that asshole who uses someone as a rebound. Especially not someone as stunning as her. So, you keep to your end of the bar while she keeps to hers. You don’t know it, but while you’re entranced by the screen and watching as Bryce Harper hits a ball that goes flying and Johan Rojas goes flying around the bases, she looks down to you, licking her lips subconsciously.

Your cheering at the screen as Rojas comes home and Harper slides into second pulls the redhead’s eyes from you and back onto the screen. Damn, she missed how that all went about.

She glances back in your direction, and your smile warms her heart. Deciding to take a leap of faith, she picks up her drink, gathers her bags, and makes her way down the bar.

“I missed what was happening,” you hear a voice. “Tell me what happened?”

“Rojas was on second, Schwarber and Realmuto struck out, and Harper hit a ball that found its way through. Rojas scored, Harper’s on second,” you recite the play, eyes still trained on the screen as Bohm tries to further the inning.

“Bohm’s gonna strike out,” the voice tells you.

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch,” the woman sighs. The truth is that she got the notification on her phone that he struck out and the inning was over.

She’s right, and as a commercial comes on, you finally turn. You don’t expect it to actually be that beautiful woman from the other end of the bar to be sitting next to you now, eyes watching you with wonder.

“Wow,” you whisper softly.

“What?” she asks you.

“I saw you from across the bar and thought you were pretty, but,” you cough awkwardly. “You’re more gorgeous than I thought.”

The woman smirks, and her eyes sparkle. She sticks out her hand for you to shake while saying, “Melissa.”

“Y/N,” you tell her as you shake her hand. “The bartender told me you’re the one casting the game right now?”

“I am,” she tells you. “Born and raised a Philly fan from South. You?”

You break out into a smile. “Born and raised in the ‘burbs of Philly, moved to Center City Philly a few years ago for work… I’ve been cheering for Philly teams since I could talk.”

“Yeah?” Melissa chuckles.

After a few taps on your phone, there’s video of you at the age of two dressed in an Eagles cheerleader outfit and singing the fight song playing.

The redhead next to you grins as she watches. When it’s finished, she hands you back your phone. “That’s fuckin’ precious.”

You blush. “It’s… definitely something.”

She goes to say more, but the Phillies broadcast comes back on, and you’re both taken to the screen. The two of you cheer together and boo the other team together as the game continues. 

In between innings, you chat and get to know Melissa more. You come to find that she’s a second and third grade teacher at a public school in center city- one that you pass by on your walk to work almost everyday. You find that she knows a lot of people. You also find that she’s somewhat of a legend when it comes to the casinos down in Atlantic City- as it turns out, she’s the ‘Red Hot’ that you hear people talking about as you would mill around the casino floor. But you also learn that her eyes sparkle when she talks about the things she’s passionate about. You discover that her laugh is a source of happiness for you. You’ve also learned that her smile is something that could light up Center City Philadelphia all on its own. She has you absolutely enchanted with her being.

It isn’t until the bottom of the ninth inning when you recognize the fact that she’s holding your hand in anticipation, and she has been holding your hand since… since the first full inning that you watched together. 

When it’s announced that the Phillies won, she’s jumping up out of her seat and hugging you tightly. You of course embrace her back with the same ferocity.

But now that the game is over, nothing is keeping her from sitting next to you. And you feel… disheartened by that? Upset that she’s probably going to leave and you’ll never see her again? You don’t know.

It doesn’t matter though, because she’s sitting back down on her barstool, taking your hand again, and sipping her beer. “So…”

The two of you continue to talk for hours. It isn’t until both of your phones ping that you look away from each other.

“Uh,” you sigh. “They put me up in a hotel room, so I guess I should head out.”

“Me too,” the redhead breathes quietly.

“I had a really nice time watching the game with you,” you tell her softly. “Like… it made me feel like I wasn’t stranded in the middle of another country without a way to get home for who knows how long.”

“Where did they put you up?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, and her eyes light up. “That’s where I am too. Should we split a cab to get there?”

When you do get there, she checks herself in and then helps you check in. It’s a sweet gesture, and your rooms are next to each other as luck would have it.

“Would you want to come in?” she asks you as she unlocks her own door.

You smile. “Just give me a few to settle in, but then I’ll be over.”

Melissa and you spend the rest of the day together, walking around the little city that you find yourself in, picking up beer and wine, and then spending the rest of the time in her hotel room drinking and talking about everything. It’s not anything like what you expected being stuck in another country alone would be like. You’re not alone now though, Melissa is keeping you company. A small part of your mind wonders what your ex-girlfriend is doing… because she’s stuck in Italy now too- probably finding the first woman who was gay and throwing herself at her.

You’re in a tipsy haze as the two of you lounge on her bed watching whatever show in English you can find. And then… her lips are on your own. Oh god. She’s kissing you.

You pull away gently and sigh. “Melissa, I-”

“I read the situation wrong,” she says immediately and pulls away. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” you promise her. “I just… fuck. I just broke up with my girlfriend, and as much as I am attracted to you, I don’t want to use you as a rebound.”

“Oh,” Melissa’s mouth forms into a small ‘O’. “Oh.”

“I don’t want to be the jackass who uses someone as beautiful and as sweet as yourself to rebound,” you say again. “I just… I’m not like that.”

She sits up just slightly. “I respect that. Thank you for… for not doing that.”

You just nod. “I suppose now that I made it awkward, I should see myself-”

“Stay,” the redhead tells you softly. “Just because we aren’t going to hook up doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company- as a friend.”

You settle back down onto the bed.

That was two days ago. In the two days since that kiss, you’ve still spent all of your unexpected time in Italy with Melissa. She’s… if you weren’t in the situation you’re in, you would be all over her. Maybe… maybe once you get back to the states and a respectable amount of time has passed. But for now, the two of you are getting ready to get on the flight back to Philly.

You’re not sure what strings she pulled, but you’re seated next to each other for the nearly nine hour flight. The two of you are already seated when your ex-girlfriend passes by, arm linked with a very pretty girl. She sneers at you.

“That her?” Melissa asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Already moved onto the next.”

“You could do better,” the green eyed woman smirks. “And you’re a better person for not doing what she’s doing to me.”

In your own dozing state, you feel Melissa’s head drop down to your shoulder, and it brings you a small sense of happiness. You let her continue to rest that way until you know her neck is going to be paying for it if she sleeps that way any longer.

“Mel,” you shake her gently. “Mel, you gotta wake up, or your neck is going to be killing you when we land.”

She blearily opens her eyes and looks at you, confused. Right… she’s wearing earplugs and headphones and can’t hear you. You type out on your phone what you’re trying to convey, and she nods. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths. It’s only a few minutes later that you feel her head again, although this time she’s laying across the middle seat and has her head in your lap. You just smile to yourself as you close your eyes again, a hand draping itself gently over her hip.

The next time the two of you wake up, the flight attendant is looking at Melissa very unhappily. The seatbelt light had gone on while you were both asleep, and you were beginning the descent. With a frustrated huff, the redhead sits up and buckles her seatbelt.

Once the plane lands, all hell breaks loose as it always does what with everybody in a rush to get off the plane and home. And in the chaos, you lose sight of Melissa. You go to text her or call her before you realize that you never actually got her number. The time that the two of you spent together was constant, and there was no need to be able to contact each other over the phone when she was always right next to you. Exhausted and frustrated, you let out a groan.

Deciding that you should probably just get your belongings and try to hail a cab to head home, you make your way to the luggage carousel. You wait for what feels like forever- hoping that Melissa will make her way over to you. Only once you’re positive that there is no more luggage on that particular belt do you give up and go home. You don’t know that she’s doing the same thing on the other side of the loop. There’s a pole blocking your sight. 

You think about her on the Uber ride home, you think about her while you eat dinner, you think about her while you’re preparing for bed and when you’re crawling into bed. You dream of her. You can’t believe you were stupid enough to not get her number after spending three entire days with her.

Similarly, in a townhouse not too far from where you reside, Melissa is kicking herself. She knows that you’ve just broken up with your girlfriend- she knows that you don’t want to use her as a rebound. And somehow, she’s still mad that she didn’t get your number. She… she wouldn’t mind being your rebound, and she doesn’t have a doubt that it would turn into something more than just a rebound… if she had your number to contact you. She supposes what happens in Italy stays in Italy. 

On Monday morning, you still can’t get that redheaded beauty out of your head- you can’t even why you try to busy yourself with literally anything else. So… you take fate into your hands. You know she works at the school down the street from your office, so you take it upon yourself to call in late to work, explaining that you have a few personal things to take care of as you pull into the Abbott Elementary school parking lot.

You see her pull in, and after a quick glance at your appearance in the rearview mirror, you deem yourself put together enough to face again. You slide out of your car and call her name.

She looks… shocked. Her jaw drops open as she watches you step out of your car.

“Y/N?” she calls out.

You jog up to her car. “Listen, I know I’m probably coming off as a stalker right now, but 

I just… I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts as we lost each other in the airport. I wanted to call or text, but I didn’t have your number. And then I remembered you work here, and I literally work right down the road, and my boss is probably going to kill me for being late on my first day back in two weeks, but-”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” she cuts you off as she reaches for your hand.

You pull her into your arms gently before pressing your lips to hers. “Look, I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I knew I couldn’t let you go that easily, and I don’t want to be a jackass and use you as a rebound, but-”

“I’m here,” Melissa whispers to you as she pulls you back in for another kiss. “I’m here when you’re ready for whatever you think this might turn into. For now though, we can be friends… we can hang out like we did in Italy.”

“Yeah?”

The teacher smiles at you. “Of course. I actually have two tickets for tomorrow’s game if you wanted to come with me?”

“I thought you had tickets for the game while we were Italy?”

She shrugs. “I told you, I know a guy… I was able to contact him while we were there, and he just exchanged my tickets.”

You grin. “I would be delighted.”

Her smile matches yours. “Wonderful. If I could just get your number so we could arrange to meet tomorrow? And then I really do have to get into my classroom… prepping a science lesson.”

“Yeah, of course,” you fumble for your phone in your bag and hand it over. She texts herself with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” you ask hopefully.

She kisses your cheek. “For sure.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[avatar-anna]

Grief Fic, Part 2

this is a continuation of the fic i posted a few weeks ago where reader helps harry with his grief. you can read the first part here!

tw: themes/mentions of abuse/domestic violence.

as always, i try to be as sensitive as possible, and i never want to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable. there's nothing in this fic that's overly explicit, but there are mentions and allusions to dv.

Harry looked down at his phone and wondered if he was crazy for thinking it was strange that Y/n hadn't so much as emailed him in weeks.

Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into a situation that didn't actually exist. Perhaps he was reading a little too much into the fact that Y/n's new boyfriend was a raging asshole who was slowly but surely isolating her from all her friends and family.

Perhaps he wasn't crazy.

It wasn't like it was unusual for Y/n not to talk to Harry consistently. Both of them were plenty busy. He was a full time dad and simultaneously juggled a pretty successful music career—if he did say so himself—and she was the head nurse in the Labor and Delivery wing of a huge hospital. They went days without talking. It happened.

But this silence felt different.

It started with Y/n declining invitations. Sometimes Harry would invite her to a show if he was performing in town, or out for drinks when he needed a break from helping Harper with schoolwork and dance classes and Girl Scout troop meetings. Harry had plenty of friends he could go to and hang out with, but Y/n understood him in a way no one else did. She was Harper's godmother, had been his late wife's best friend. There were just some things that Harry felt comfortable talking to and confiding in with Y/n that he didn't with anyone else.

So when she started declining invitations to go out and stopped dropping by the house, Harry felt her absence. When she stopped coming over to see Harper, he'd became annoyed. And when she arrived late to their monthly family dinner looking like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, he became worried.

"I've been picking up extra shifts at the hospital," she'd said, trying to wave off her fatigue. But Harry knew better. He'd known Y/n long enough to tell the difference between exhaustion from work and...whatever she was now.

And now she wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry called, texted, left messages at the hospital, and she didn't respond to a anything. As days went by, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

His last effort was going to see her in person. Harry had managed to find out from one of Y/n's coworkers that she was off today, so he drove to her house, only when he knocked on the door, his friend wasn't the one who answered.

"What do you want?"

Harry had had the pleasure of meeting Y/n's boyfriend once, and for him, once was enough. He wasn't overtly rude—though now Harry would say otherwise—he just didn't really acknowledge his or Harper's presence the whole afternoon they were together. And while Harry realized that not everyone was a fan of kids, he couldn't help but think Y/n's boyfriend's icy demeanor toward his daughter was very telling.

Doing his best to swallow his negative thoughts and feelings, Harry mustered a smile. "I'm here to see Y/n. Is she here?"

"No."

"Okay...Do you know when she'll be back?" Harry asked, getting the feeling that extracting information from the man in front of him was probably going to be similar to pulling teeth.

"That's none of your concern."

Y/n's boyfriend tried to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry was having none of that. Putting his hand on the door, he said, "You know what? I think I'll just wait inside for her. It's pretty urgent."

"Back the fuck up—"

"Excuse me? You back the fuck—"

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, relief washed over Harry. Y/n was alive, which Harry seriously started to doubt for a second there. Then, as his eyes did a quick scan of Y/n, some of that dread started to creep back in.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She had fading bruises on one wrist, and harsh red marks on the other. Hand prints, Harry realized as he narrowed his eyes. He looked over at Y/n's boyfriend furiously. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"None of your fucking business, popstar. Now get the fuck off my property."

Civility had flown out the window. Harry wasn't about to let this prick get in his face or treat Y/n like that. He didn't care who saw or if he was about to come to blows with this guy. All Harry knew was that the bastard had hurt his best friend, and Harry couldn't let him get away with that. "Get out of my face, of I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? What? What are you gonna—"

"Enough! Harry, please. I'm fine. Now's really not a good time. Please, just—please go."

Y/n had frantically put herself between Harry and her boyfriend, and now that they were so close, he could see just how dark the rings around her eyes were, just how hollow her cheeks had become. The shirt she was wearing was too loose on her. What the hell was going on here?

"Harry, please. Go."

Y/n sounded scared as she pleaded with him, and that told him everything he needed to know. "Promise you'll call me," he said, taking her hand in his. "Promise, Y/n."

Nodding quickly, she squeezed his hand feebly. "I promise."

Harry went reluctantly, nearly stormed over to her boyfriend and beat the shit out of him when he saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. But he swallowed his anger and frustration, not wanting Y/n to get caught in the crossfire.

When he got home, Harry was a nervous wreck. He was distracted as he made dinner and cleaned up around the house. Part of him was glad Harper was spending the weekend with Soph's parents so she wouldn't see him like this, but he could've used their nighttime routine to take his mind off things.

He waited. And waited. Nearly stayed up all night in the hopes that she would call him. He must've fallen asleep at some point, though, as he woke up with a start on his couch. When he turned his phone on, there was nothing from Y/n.

*.*

"You were there for me, Y/n. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you."

"I don't want your help—I don't need your help, so just—just let it go, Harry!"

"He's trying to isolate you, Y/n," Harry said gently. "He's creating a wall between you and everyone who loves you and knows you and wants what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

Harry looked at Y/n sadly, which only seemed to piss her off even more than she already was. She'd been defensive, tried to convince him that she didn't need his pity or his help. This wasn't the same scenario, she insisted. She wasn't a danger to herself the way he had been two years ago. She was fine. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

It was all spilling out of her, yet it only made it more clear to Harry that she needed him.

"That's not what's happening. He's my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we spend time alone together?"

"Harper misses you," he said, going for a different angle. "She keeps asking when she'll get to see you, and I can't give her a straight answer. We're your family, Y/n, and he won't let you see us."

"That's not—That's not fair," Y/n said, not wanting to believe the truth, which was that Harry might be right.

"What's going on out here?"

"You're right. It isn't. It isn't fair that you call me crying three times a week because your boyfriend is out and you can't reach him. It isn't fair that he expects you to cook and clean for him when he's a grown man and you have a full time job. It isn't fair that he belittles you and—" Harry paused, the emotion he felt catching in his voice as he thought about the state of her wrists the last time he saw her.

He hadn't seen Y/n in weeks, but a few days after he went to her house, she called Harry absolutely beside herself at the situation she was in. He talked to her for hours, calming her down and reassuring her that he was there and so was his home if she needed somewhere to get away. And for the first time, Harry was convinced that Y/n was seeing reason.

Until days passed and she never left him, which led to a weeks-long cycle of her calling him crying, him comforting her over the phone while she convinced him she was done, and somehow never ended up leaving him. Harry finally couldn't take it any longer and drove to her place again. Seeing her slowly whither away, seeing her less and less physically because her boyfriend wouldn't let her hang out with him or Harper, it killed him. "It isn't fair that he's turned you into this—this shell of the person you once were. It's not right, Y/n—"

Harry didn't miss the way Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice, or the way she subconsciously curled in on herself. It was like she wilted every time he walked into a room, or tried to be as small as possible so he wouldn't notice her. How could she not realize it?

"Nothing, baby. Go back inside," Y/n, her hand shaking as she rested it on his arm.

"Is he giving you trouble? I thought I told you I didn't like you hanging out with him. What's he doing here?" he said, sending a withering glare Harry's way.

Harry stared right back, unwilling to let the piece of shit unnerve him. He had half a mind to say something when Y/n spoke up first.

"He was just going, I promise," she said, turning her eyes on Harry pleadingly.

Harry wanted to say something so badly. He wanted to shake his best friend by the shoulders and make her see reason. This man she called a boyfriend wasn't a man at all, but a monster, and he hated how much Y/n had changed because of him.

But Y/n still couldn't see what he saw, and starting a fight when he knew she would side with her boyfriend wouldn't do any good. It would probably just isolate her even more than she already was, which said something. It had been hard for Harry to tell when he was on the road, but now that he was back for a few months, his stomach was constantly in knots.

It made him miss his wife sometimes. Harry knew that Sophia would know exactly what to say to Y/n, to Harry. She would've been the voice of reason in all of this mess; she would've stopped this mess before it even started. And Harry couldn't help but feel partly to blame for not being around for Y/n when it was so clear she needed someone to look out for her. She'd always been so good at helping others, but it was as if she gave all her kindness and compassion to her patients and friends and family and saved none of it for herself.

"Go, Harry. Please."

Harry could see it, then. The terror. The fear that something might escalate if he stayed, which meant that at least on some level, Y/n knew that her boyfriend was bad news. So why put up with him?

He didn't want to go, but he didn't see any alternatives. Promising himself that he'd call first thing tomorrow morning, Harry nodded and backed down the walkway that led to Y/n's home.

*.*

It was a few weeks later when Harry spoke to Y/n again. He texted her constantly, and sometimes he would get a response. Then all of a sudden, nothing. It was like she'd gone radio silent again. Harry never liked involving Harper in all this, but just once he had her try to call Y/n, but there was still no answer, which was when he really started to worry. Y/n might have cut him off, but he never thought she would do the same to his daughter.

So now he was driving to the hospital. As far as he knew, Y/n was still working in L&D, and even if she wasn't working today, he hoped to get some answers from her coworkers.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry mustered a small smile for Miranda, Y/n's friend at work. He saw her often when he and Harper visited Y/n at the hospital, and she would always give Harper sweets from behind the counter. "My secret stash," Miranda would say with a wink. Harry never really considered the Labor and Delivery wing of a hospital somewhere where his daughter enjoyed spending her time, but they went often enough that he was pretty sure she liked it more than going to the park.

"Miranda. Hey. Is Y/n in today?"

The cheery look on Miranda's face faltered, which told Harry everything he needed to know. "She, um, she called out today. Said it was the flu."

"Do we really believe that?" Harry said.

Miranda's expression looked strained. "I—I don't know, Harry. I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was awkward to talk about Y/n when she wasn't here. Miranda was just a work friend, but Harry could tell that she knew more about Y/n's situation than she let on. But even so, it would be uncomfortable to talk about. "I'm—I'm just worried, that's all. "

"I know you are, Harry. I, um, I can spare a few minutes in just a bit if you want to wait over there," she said, nodding her head toward the waiting room where families and future fathers were anxiously awaiting good news.

Desperate, Harry nodded and found a seat in the waiting room. The minute he sat down, his leg bounced anxiously while his fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He just couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. His stomach twisted itself into knots to the point where he had to bend over and wait for the stress to pass, but every time one of his texts or calls went unanswered, it just got worse.

"Is this your first?"

Startled, Harry looked to his left to find a man about his age sitting two seats away from him. He also looked nervous, but in an excited sort of way. Harry's brows furrowed for a moment before remembering where he was sitting. "Oh, um no. My friend works here. I'm just waiting for her."

Seeing this man did distract Harry in a way. He remembered his own experience as an expectant father. Sophia had gone into labor a few weeks early, and Harry was on the other side of town buying some last minute things for the baby when he got the call. He'd missed nearly all of it, but Y/n had been there. She'd always been there for his family .

"Oh, sorry," the man said, and Harry noticed his fidgeting hands and nervous looks toward the entrance of the delivery room. "My girlfriend wanted me to wait out here. She claimed I shouldn't have to see her in such a compromised position. I disagreed, but she insisted."

Harry smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's..." He didn't even know how to describe it, but he wouldn't have exchanged sharing that experience with Soph for the world. Eventually, he said, "Good on you for respecting her wishes."

"Thanks. I mean, we weren't exactly dating when she got pregnant and we haven't known each other all that long, so it makes sense, but I love her, you know? I want to be there for her."

"I know the feeling."

For a moment, Harry thought of his wife. When she got sick, Harry had been there for her for every doctor's visit, every scan, every appointment, every symptom. He never let Soph feel like she was facing her illness alone. Because he loved her, and he promised to take care of her and be there for her when they got married.

Then, flashes of Y/n appeared in Harry's mind. He thought about how important she was to him, to Harper. She was there to pick up the pieces that Soph had left when she died. When no one else knew how to reach him, she did, and he never imagined there would be a way to repay her kindness. And now that there was, he couldn't just let her keep fading the way he had been two years ago. The situations weren't the same, but it was dire enough to keep him up most nights as he waited for the call to take her away from her awful excuse of a boyfriend.

Before the man could say anything else, a nurse appeared in front of him with a large smile on her face. Harry was left to stew in his anxiety-riddled mind once again. He tried not to look at his phone too much, but he still checked every few minutes, even though his ringer was on high and he wouldn't have missed a single text. He wanted to call until she picked up, but he also worried that her boyfriend would see and get suspicious or delete his number, so he settled on waiting for Y/n to do the right thing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Miranda appeared at his side. She nodded at Harry to follow her, and he hastily stood up while they left L&D behind.

"You know, we deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, what have you, all the time who try to force their way into the Delivery Room," she said as she walked, shaking her head sadly. "And she—she doesn't take shit from any of them, doesn't even flinch, and yet—"

Miranda's voice hitched as it trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Y/n was strong, didn't take shit from anyone. When he was lost in the darkest moments of his life, she was there to give him the tough love he needed to survive. She pushed him around, held him up in the shower, practically forced him to get better. And still—

"I don't know what to do."

Y/n had seemed to know exactly what Harry needed without him having to tell her, without him even knowing what he needed. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't do the same?

Miranda gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "You just have to be there for her when she realizes who he is."

"I can't wait that long! He's a monster—"

"You have to, or you'll just push her further away from you," Miranda said. "I know it's hard, believe me, we've fought about it at work, but she's not listening to reason right now. Saying the wrong thing will isolate her even more."

"I would never abandon her," Harry insisted.

"I know, and deep down she knows that too," Miranda said gently. "But if you push her the wrong way, she might think she's burned a bridge with you and not reach out when she's ready."

Harry understood what Miranda was getting at, he really did. He was currently walking on a tightrope, and one wrong move, one wrong comment could send him careening to the ground and Y/n would be left standing alone. He just wished he knew what to say to make her see what he did.

Harry shook his head. "I can't wait for him to do something to seriously hurt her. I would never forgive myself if—"

Harry didn't even want to finish that sentence, but luckily he was saved by his phone's ringer. Relief filled his gut for a moment, then dissipated when he saw it was an unknown number. Still, taking a chance, he answered.

"Hi, is this Harry Styles?"

Not a question he received often, but the person on the other line sounded official, so he said, "Yes, this is he."

"This is Lisa from the ER at Dayton Health Medical Center. We have you listed here as Y/n L/n's emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is Y/n hurt? What happened—"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Styles. Y/n just took a tumble down some stairs and is in need of a lift home. Are you able to come get her, or is there someone else I can call?"

"No!" Harry said, perhaps a little too intensely. Quieting his voice, he said, "No, I can—I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great. Be sure to bring your parking ticket. We validate at the front desk."

Harry all but scrambled to his car, sending a hasty text to his mum asking her to pick Harper from school. He told the woman on the phone that he would be there in twenty minutes, but damn it if he didn't make it in fifteen.

*.*

"Your wife is just behind this curtain, Mr. Styles."

Harry didn't even have time to correct the nurse, to register the ache in his chest at the word "wife." All he cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. He did, however, take a moment to steady his breathing before pushing back the curtain, praying for calm thoughts as he set his eyes on his friend.

Truth be told, Harry didn't know where to look first.

On the phone, he was told Y/n had fallen down the stairs and that she was fine, but she definitely didn't look it. Her cheek was bruised a greenish-yellow, and bled across the bridge of her nose. A cut marred her bottom lip, making one side look puffy and beyond painful. Her right arm was in a sling too, and each injury that Harry spotted filled him with more and more anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/n's voice was slightly distorted by her swollen lip, but he could tell she wasn't exactly happy to see him.

"I'm your emergency contact," Harry said simply, trying not to linger on any of her injuries for too long. He figured Y/n went to a different hospital to avoid being seen by anyone she knew, but she obviously forgot about him being her emergency contact. "What are you doing here?"

"I fell."

He'd hoped Y/n would give up the charade, but he wasn't surprised that she hadn't, either. "I heard. How did that happen?"

That question seemed to splinter the damn surrounding Y/n's heart. With a shaking hand, she covered her face and began to cry.

Harry was surprised by the tears, expecting his friend to deflect and lie the way she had been the last couple months. But with the first tremble of her shoulders, he was there, sliding into the cot beside her. He was gentle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her to his chest. He didn't like how frail Y/n felt, or how she flinched at first before settling against him.

"I don't know how this happened," she sobbed. "I never—I love him, and he—How can I love someone who did this to me?"

Not having the answer, Harry just continued to hold her, letting her get out everything she needed to. She didn't say much after that, and while he was desperate to know how she'd sustained so many injuries, he stayed quiet.

He expected to feel angry at Y/n's boyfriend, or perhaps angrier. But all he felt as she cried in his arms was despair, and perhaps a small seed of relief that she finally seemed to understand the danger she was in. And maybe guilt too, that he couldn't protect her the way she needed him to.

Harry kept it all to himself, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder and squeezing her gently. "You're gonna be okay."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

It was all he could think of to say. He didn't know how to answer her question, and he knew she wouldn't be okay for a while, but she would be. Harry would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said quietly. "You've been trying to get me to see the truth for weeks, for months, and I didn't listen. I didn't—"

"Hey, none of that."

Harry continued to hold Y/n and stroked her hair gently until her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Relief washed over him like a bucket of ice water down his back. He could physically feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that Y/n was asleep, Harry allowed himself to really feel everything he put a lid on since the curtains were pulled back on her section of the Emergency Room. He was scared, anxious, mad, but mostly just relieved she was safe. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the familiar smell of her shampoo eased his mind, and the way she curled into his side while she slept helped him feel like he was keeping her safe.

"I'm so happy you're safe," he whispered into the crowd of Y/n's head. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

*.*

A few weeks later, and Y/n and Harry were lounging on the couch together after dinner. Harper was asleep in her room after Y/n read her a bedtime story. His daughter had been ecstatic when Harry told her Y/n would be staying with them for a while, and even though she was recovering from her injuries, she still played dress up and tea time and built forts and made cookies and basically anything Harper wanted to do. Y/n was quieter and more subdued than usual, but her smile continued to grow as each day went by. It was just a little, just not by bit, but it was progress.

Now they were both lounging after dinner—one that Y/n insisted she make for Harry and Harper. They were talking about the album he was slowly but steadily working on. Well, Harry was talking, Y/n was listening quietly with one hand holding the stem of her wine glass.

When a lull in the conversation settled them in comfortable silence, Harry found himself looking at Y/n. He hated seeing her beautiful face so marred, and not just physically. The usual playful glint in her eye was gone, and she didn't smile as much anymore, and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He missed seeing her smile, seeing the light fill her eyes when she laughed at one of his lame jokes.

But in the last few days, Y/n's bruises started to heal, she was getting her sling off at the end of the week, and she didn't flinch when he helped her change her bandages or at casual touches from him. Things weren't totally back to normal, seeing as she still didn't feel comfortable staying alone at her place, but Harry was confident that they would be.

Harry blinked, his face flushing when he realized he'd been caught staring. Shaking his head, he looked at Y/n funny. "You'll stay with me obviously. I'll send someone to get you some extra clothes and stuff and you can stay with me and Harper while we work on getting your locks changed. Or longer. Whatever you need."

He sounded so matter of fact, so sure. It made Y/n want to cry. "I meant, like, far into the future," she said, running a tired hand through her hair. "I've always been able to trust my judgement, but now? I'll never look at a guy the same again."

"Rude," Harry joked. A desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but you appreciated it.

"You don't count. You're..."

"I'm...What?"

Hers. Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it, though, even if it was true. Sophia was Harry's great love, the mother of his child. Y/n would never even consider him as someone to date, which was a shame because he was quite possibly the perfect man in every other respect.

"My friend. I think you've held my hair back one too many times as I puked my guts up."

Harry nodded and laughed, but he didn't say anything after that. He looked contemplative, as if a million thoughts were swirling around in his head. Y/n was curious to know what he was thinking so hard about, but wasn't at the same time. Maybe some of their thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Well, I have an early shift tomorrow. I should probably get to bed," Y/n said eventually, standing up from her spot on Harry's sofa.

Harry nodded and mumbled something about having to take Harper to school early too, and she couldn't help but feel like there was this tension between them. Maybe not tension, but something. Something was off-kilter between them, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

As she went up the stairs to the guest bedroom, the same one she stayed in for as long as she'd been Harry's friend, he called her name. She turned to find him at the base of the stairs looking up at her with a fond little smile on his face.

"I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you need to. You'll always have a home here."

The words filled Y/n with warmth, making her feel safer and more settled than she had in months. In that moment, there was so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't even begin to vocalize, but even with the distance between them, she could read the look in Harry's eyes and knew she didn't have to say a thing.

[cresent2003]

You put a spell on me.

Seth Borden x fem! Reader smut.

Unedited.

**********************************************

The cold wind blew through Salem as the amber leaves mixed in with it's harsh force.

Harper walked through the Witches Nest Inn as she admired the old architecture that blended so well with the modern parts of the ancient in.

It hadn't been opened since 1895 yet it was barely noticeable as she explored.

She saw the spiders as they made homes in the corners and cracks as she felt the energy that radiated from every corner of the Inn.

It was well known by her friends and some of the public that she was related to a witch who died in the Salem witch trials which was most likely why Sam and Colby asked her to come along on another ghost hunt.

She had been in many videos but it was always with Seth and Josh.

They were her best friends.

Harper went around a corner before smiling as she saw Seth exploring.

"Hey" she said catching his attention.

"Hey.

I'm guessing you didn't want to go on the tour" he said as he walked to her.

"I used to live here" she said.

"Oh yes I remember you telling me that.

I've already been here for a video years ago so I thought I would explore" he said.

"Same.

This place is beautiful.

It makes me wish I still lived here" she said.

"Hey?

Wanna explore together?" he asked.

"Sure," she said with a smile on her face.

"Cool.

I already know a place but I was waiting so I didn't have to go down there alone" he said before taking her hand causing her heart to race.

There had always been tension between them.

She had liked him for a while but didn't know if he shared her feelings.

"Your hand is cold.

Are you ok?" she asked.

"Yeah.

This place is fucking awesome but very cold" he said.

They walked down to the basement together as they heard the tour in the distance.

"This reminds me of when we would go to abandoned houses together.

I forgot how fun this is" she said.

"You know we can do that again.

No cameras and just us in some awesome locations that wont end us in jail" he said.

She laughed before looking into his eyes "I would like that" she said.

"Cool.

Remind me to plan that once we get to our rooms" Seth said.

"My memory is the equivalent of a goldfish Seth" she said.

"Then I'll remind me" he said.

"Good idea" They walked further into the basement.

Harper looked around before gasoing as she tripped over a brick that was thrown at her.

"Woah" Seth said before catching her.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah.

Something threw that brick right in front of me" she said.

They looked into each others eyes.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked softly.

She nodded.

"Good," he said as he kept his arms around her.

Seconds passed as he slowly leant in before freezing as Sam and Colby walked into the basement.

He looked down as she swallowed harshly as a perfect moment shattered in front of them.

"There they are.

Dude we've been looking all over for you" Sam said.

"We were exploring" Seth said.

"Cool well we were just talking about what were going to do tonight.

Obviously, we have a few days here so I was thinking we should just settle in tonight and pick things up tomorrow" Colby said.

"Ok.

I like that a bit better than starting the video right now" Harper said.

"It's settled then.

Also sadly because we waited too long we could only get two-rooms.

So it will be me and Colby in one and if you're okay with it you and Seth in the other" Sam said.

"That's fine" she said before looking at Seth.

"Yeah we'll do that" Seth said.

"Ok then good night.

Meet up in the kitchen tomorrow around twelve" Sam said before he and Colby walked back upstairs.

"We should head up to our room" Harper said.

"Or we could stay down here for a while" he said.

She looked into his eyes "I want to see our room first and then definitely" she said.

Butterflies filled his stomach as her heart pounded against her ribs.

Harper and Seth started to go up to there room ignoring that he just tried to kiss her.

She would have let him if Sam and Colby didn't interrupt them.

Minutes later they walked into there room.

Harper looked around before flopping on the bed.

"Wow" she said.

"You love this place dont you?" Seth asked.

"So much" she said before looking at him as he sat next to her.

"I have a feeling these few days are going to be a start of something" she said.

"Are your witchy senses tingiling?" Seth asked as he looked down causing there eyes to meet.

"I think so.

By the way I wanted to ask you something" she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Sometime during these few days, I want to find where my very great-grandmother is buried and I want you to join me.

It'll be like old times" she said.

"Cool.

Yeah I would love to" he said.

"Yay," she said.

Their eyes met as Harper heard someone watching TV next door.

"Still want to go to the basement?" she asked.

"Maybe not right this second" he said.

She smiled before placing her hand on the side of his face causing the coldness of her rings to give him chills.

He placed his hand on hers as he blushed.

He laced there fingers before looking at her and her lips.

Harper watched him as he leaned in softly so there was time for her to push him away not like she wanted to.

Suddenly there lips met as he kissed her.

Harper gasped before melting into the kiss.

It was heavenly.

She never wanted it to stop.

She kissed back allowing the kiss to become more heated.

Harper wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down with her.

She tangled her fingers in his long hair as he moved so he was straddiling her.

Both of his hands were beside her head as she broke the kiss.

She looked at him "You sure you want to do this?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I need a verbal response," he said.

"Yes" she said.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes.

I've wanted this for so long" she said.

"Me too" he said before kissing her again as their bodies moved in sync.

She lifted up his baggy sweater causing her nails to scratch him lightly causing a whimper to slip from his lips.

He broke from her before taking off his sweater revealing his thin but slightly toned body.

Harper looked at him with hearts in her eyes as he started to kiss her neck.

She gasped before throwing her head back softly as he sucked on that one spot.

"Seth," she said causing him to grow harder in his ripped jeans.

He slipped his hands under her shirt before squeezing her breasts, feeling the black lacey bra.

Her body was so warm and perfect as they both grew more needy.

Seth looked at her before taking off her long sleeve black shirt as she took off his belt.

"You're driving me crazy" he said.

She unbuttoned his jeans as he did the same to her black skinny jeans.

"Please" She didn't know what she was begging for but was desperate for something other then soft touches.

"What to you need sweetheart?

Tell me" he said as he kissed her temple.

"I need you to touch me" she said.

He nodded before taking off her jeans revealing her black thong.

"Fuck" he groaned as he took off his jeans before tossing them somewhere in the room.

"Come here" he said before getting on top of her.

He kissed everywhere he could causing her to laugh.

He then took off her bra releasing her breasts.

Seth looked at her for any inch of uncomfort before taking one of her nipples in his mouth causing her to moan as she grabbed the old sheets.

He then switched the the other one as she arched her back.

"Sensitive?" he said out of breath.

"Yeah" she moaned.

He sucked on her nipple as he slowly started to grind against her causing him to moan against her breast.

He took off her thong before looking at it.

"Dirty girl," he said before kissing her as he threw the thong against the wall.

Harper slipped her hand down there bodies as she let out moans from the feeling of his dick rubbing against her.

She palmed him causing him to groan.

She took his dick out of his boxers before giving it a few strokes.

"Don't tease.

You have no idea how much I want you" he said.

"Put it in" she said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Please Seth.

I need it.

I need you" she said.

That was enough to leave him drunk with lust as she rubbed his tip against her clit causing her to moan.

He sat up as he lined himself up to her entrance as he watched her arousal coat his tip causing him to throb.

He slowly pushed in causing her to gasp before letting out a loud moan that was mixed with the slight pain.

He continued to slowly slip inside her as he felt her warm walls squeeze and flutter around him.

He groaned before watching her take all off him.

"Good girl.

Oh fuck" he said.

She kissed him as she pulled on his hair slightly as her body got used to having him inside her.

"Move.

Please move baby" she said before moaning as he hit her cervix.

Seth pulled out slowly before rolling his hips allowing his dick to hit all the right places inside her.

Harper couldn't control her moans as he hit places inside had that she didn't know existed.

It was amazing.

It was like ecstasy.

"I'm positive that your fuck a witch" he said as her walls squeezed him perfectly.

He knew he wouldn't last long but wanted to make her cum at least once before he thought about himself.

"Why?" she said before moaning.

"Because you put a....spell....on me" he said before groaning.

She wrapped her arms around him as he started to speed up.

Sweat began to cover their bodies as Harper's moans got louder as she stuffed her face into the crook of his neck.

"More" she moaned before biting his ear lobe causing him to throb inside her.

He slid his hand down to her glistening clit before rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

She screamed out as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

Her legs began to tremble as she git closer to her release.

Suddenly he hit the spot that made her see stars.

She let out a scream like moan "Right there.

Fuck it's so good baby" she said.

He continued hitting that one spot as she bit his shoulder as she clung to him.

"Gonna cum" she said as she struggled to get anything but moans out.

"Me too" he said before moaning.

Harper threw her head back before screaming as her release washed over her leaving her brain dead.

Seth grunted and whined as his thrusts became sloppy before moaning as he held her hips in place as he shot his cum deep inside her.

He panted before collapsing beside her.

Harper could feel his cum rushing out of her as he sat up.

"Where are you going?" she said thinking he was going to leave.

"To the bathroom to grab a wash cloth so I can clean you up.

I'll be back in a second" he said before walking to the bathroom.

She smiled as she realised that she wouldn't have to hide her feelings for him anymore.

He came back out with a fresh pair of boxers on and a damp washcloth.

He sat next to her and began to clean her up as she looked at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I like you.

I've liked you for so long and I feel like I can finally admit it" she said.

He smiled "I feel the same.

I honestly thought you weren't interested until now" he said.

She let out a soft hiss from the over-stimulation as he tried his best to be careful.

"Sorry" he said.

"It's ok" she said.

He then put the washcloth in the laundry basket before coming back to the bed.

Harper got dressed in one of Seth's shirts as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Did you enjoy everything?" he asked.

"It was the most incredible thing I've ever done in my entire life" she said.

He kissed her shoulder before leading her to the bed.

"Lay down" he said.

She laid on the bed before laughing as Seth tucked her in.

He smiled before kissing her.

Harper looked into his eyes before laughing as he rushed to get into bed with her.

"You're too adorable" she said as he laid beside her.

She moved so she was lying on his chest.

"What does this mean?

Are we dating now?" she asked.

"Yeah.

I mean what we did wasn't just a hookup to me" he said.

"Me neither" she said.

"Tomorrow is going to be interesting" he said.

"They don't need to know what we did.

This is just for us to know" she said before placing a kiss on his chest.

[onestormeynight]

Lily Oversteps

Between Winterfest and New Years, Penny received a call from her old frenemy; Lily Waite. Ricky's girlfriend.

Mmmmkay? Penny thought. Maybe Ricky is using her phone or something.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Penny, how are you?" Lily's voice oozed into Penny's ears sticky and saccharine sweet. She was less than impressed.

"Fine, Lily, did you need something?"

"Actually I wanted to talk to you in person about something. Are you free today?"

"Uh....yeah?"

"Great I'll be right over."

Penny grimaced and went to her fridge for one of her brownies. The brownies Rosie wasn't allowed until she was 21.

Lily was even sweeter in person, making Penny's skin crawl. After getting through the unpleasant pleasantries, Lily finally said what she came to say.

"So, with our life in San My going just so well..." here she gave a high pitched snicker. "Ricky just can't make it here as much as you may like."

"I'd honestly like him to not come, but this is about Rosie, not me," Penny said, raising an eyebrow. "If I'd wanted him, I'd still have him. Remember? But he is Rosie's father and he should have a relationship with her."

"Well, Ricky said that your daughter looked really put out when he explained it to her on Winterfest, and I just think that you should explain to her how things are and that she's really selfish to make her father feels so guilty."

Penny was worried her eyebrows would crawl into her hairline with how high they were getting. "Okay, first of all, Ricky should be discussing this with me, not you. Second, talk about my kid like that again in my house and see what happens. Third, he is a grown man. She just learned her multiplication tables. Have some perspective here."

"Well, she is selfish. You Harpers always have been."

Penny started laughing. It was hard to tell if it was from her brownie or the sheer audacity that Lily had to walk into her house and speak to her like this. It was absurd. Deranged. Entitled. Penny giggled harder.

"What is so funny?"

"You," Penny snickered. "You....you really think this is how this conversation is playing out? You're gonna walk in here and tell me how things are and make rude comments about my family?"

Penny pulled out her phone and started to message Ricky.

<<You need to put a leash on your dog before I drag her.>>

Lily scoffed and crossed her arms. "I am not his dog. I'm not a dog at all."

"I mean, you sure are acting like a bi--"

"You are going to stop talking to my fiancé unless it's about your brat," Lily snapped.

<<Pen, don't, I'll handle it.>> <<Nah, I got this.>> <<Pen, please.>>

Penny put her phone away.

"Get out of my house," she snapped. "Get off my property, get out of Harper Valley. So help me God, Lily, if you say anything less than apologetic, you are going to eat the words. And don't come back. Don't call me. Don't call my daughter. If I even hear a whisper about you speaking about Rosie again, I will remove that disrespect from your mouth myself."

Lily silently picked up her things. Penny thought she was actually going to leave without saying anything. Fists clenched, she had been prepared to follow through with her promise. She hadn't been in an altercation since before she was pregnant but she had faith in her muscle memory.

Then she was shocked as Lily looked further into Penny's house, her lip curled in disgust.

"We all know that kid isn't Ricky's. She's paler than both of you. We all know how you really paid for this house."

Penny promptly removed the disrespect from Lily's mouth, as promised, and sent her home, tail between her legs.

<<Send me the vet bill.>> <<What did you do?>> <<I solved a problem.>>

Ending Credits: "HISS" - Megan Thee Stallion

((prev)) ((next))

((The Soundtrack))

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: Drake locates Christian... but that doesn't mean his night's over.

Word Count: 6,600

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Apologies this took sooo long to get out! I started working on this chapter back in November, but I got stuck several times, then I went to chase the shiny butterfly that was Polo!, and then I was busy collaborating on the Mardi Gras Mayhem fic. But... after much ado, here is the (long-awaited!) chapter! Hope it meets expectations!

A/N2: A day early, but this is also my submission for the Choices April Challenge. This chapter would fall under the ‘Just want to be with you’.

Chapter 9 - Edge of the Night

Ten minutes later, I'm standing at the St. George Ferry Terminal on Staten Island, wearing a standard-issue NYPD leather jacket (courtesy of O'Sullivan), scanning the disembarking passengers, on the lookout for Chris.

I chew the inside of my mouth nervously as I feel my foot tap against the polished concrete floor.

Time is everything right now, and unfortunately, I don’t have much of it in the bank.

I can only hope that Hayley hasn’t had a chance to post the photo yet. Because if she has, then it’s only a matter of time before someone recognises Chris and blows up the carefully faked narrative of his whereabouts.

And then all bets are off...

Because even if we manage to make it back to Cordonia without any nasty surprises, chances are good that the paps will twist even the most innocent selfie into some kind of dig about Chris and his fitness to rule. While a snap of him getting kissed by an American girl days before the start of the social season where he is supposed to choose a wife...? There’s only one way that’s gonna end. With him smack bang in the middle of a scandal that we definitely don’t need right now.

And hence my one rule for this trip — no fuckin' photos.

Not that anyone ever listens to me...

Thankfully, I don't have to wait long. At this time of night, the ferry is basically empty and the terminal deserted.

The automatic doors in front of me whoosh open and I catch sight of Chris, holding hands with Hayley, laughing at something she'd just said.

My gut tightens.

I've never seen him happier.

But unfortunately for my best friend, this impromptu escapade's about to get shut down.

"Pleasant trip?" I ask, striding up to them.

Chris throws his head up in surprise. "Drake?"

"You're a cop?" gasps Hayley in disbelief.

I follow her gaze to the NYPD insignia patched onto the jacket's sleeve. "Heh. No. This ain't mine."

"Then how did y—?"

"Put two-and-two together?" I ask dryly, deliberately sidestepping the question she’s actually asking. "Simple maths."

Chris' shoulders drop as he lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I guess I am rather predictable..."

"Good thing, too," I drawl. "Otherwise I'd've had to call in the cavalry, and then we'd be having a very different kind of conversation."

Hayley's widen. "The caval—? You mean the FBI? Is that what you are?"

I suppress a snort. Seriously? The second time in just as many nights? Maybe I should drop my resumé off at Quantico...

"No," I reply simply before shifting my focus back to Chris.

"I am sorry," he sighs, catching fully onto my meaning. "I didn't intend to cause a ruckus. I honestly thought we could get here and back before anyone noticed."

"You know you could've just said the word, and we would've made this happen, right?" I ask. "There was no need for you to cut and run like that."

"To be fair, this was all quite spur of the moment, wasn't it?" he admits, sneaking a glance at Hayley, who blushes in response. "We were just talking back at the club, and I happened to mention that we never got to see the Statue of Liberty this morning... To which Hayley admitted to always having wanted to take a night-time ferry tour... And all of a sudden, one thing led to another, and—"

"Yeah, I get it," I interject. "And I don't blame you for doing it. But next time, leave your phone on. Regardless of whatever kind of BS Leo tries to sell you." I fix him with a pointed look.

Chris has the good graces to flush embarrassedly. "Duly noted."

Hayley shakes her head. "But his phone was—"

"And speaking of phones..." adds O'Sullivan, strolling up with a half-eaten Boston Cream donut in his hand, "I'm going to have to ask you to hand yours over, ma'am."

Hayley's mouth drops open. "My phone?"

"Yes, ma'am," O'Sullivan affirms, popping the rest of the donut into his mouth.

"What is the meaning of this, officer?" demands Chris, moving in front of a shocked Hayley.

"Chris..." I warn in a low voice. "Back off."

He throws me a disbelieving look. "But—"

"We have reason to believe that the device contains information pertinent to a matter under investigation," O'Sullivan clarifies.

Chris reels back. "What investigation?"

"A joint investigation," comes the stone-faced reply.

Hayley's face drains of colour.

I shake my head. Christ, O'Sullivan can be a bastard when he wants to be.

But the situation can’t be helped.

There are sensitive pictures of Chris and Hayley on that device that cannot be allowed to see the light of day. And despite the fact that O'Sullivan’s skirting a very dangerous line right now, we have to sacrifice one form of privacy to protect another.

Because even though O'Sullivan’s an NYPD officer, sworn to uphold the laws of the Empire State, he’s also duty bound to look out for his principle. So, he offered to play bad cop. In part because he actually is a cop.

He turns back to Hayley. "Were you aboard the recently docked Staten Island Ferry?"

Chris heaves an exasperated sigh. "How is that—?"

O'Sullivan ignores him. "Answer the question, ma'am."

"Yes," squeaks Hayley.

"Damn it, Drake!" snaps Chris. "Do something!"

"Can't, buddy..." I inform him flatly. "Don't have jurisdiction here, remember?"

"So, you're just going to let him—?"

"Impeding a police officer from carrying out their public duties is a criminal offence," I point out, folding my arms. "So, I suggest you let the man do his job."

Chris glares at me.

But he’s gonna have to suck it up.

Because he got himself into this avoidable mess as a result of his impulsiveness and complete disregard for our standard security protocols. So, now it’s my job to clean up after him.

Regardless of how it makes him — or Hayley — feel.

"While onboard, did you take photographs with a cellular device?" continues O'Sullivan.

Hayley's basically quaking in her boots. "Yes, but—"

"And in the course of taking such photographs, did you—?"

"—but, I didn't use my phone!"

The intensity of Hayley's outburst catches everyone off guard.

I shake my head. "Then what—?"

"She used my phone," explains Chris tersely. "To take a picture of me with the Statue of Liberty in the background... so I could commemorate the once-in-a-lifetime experience."

"But she—"

"—may have taken a few additional pictures as well," admits Chris with a self-conscious smile, as his eyes finds Hayley again. "Somewhat spontaneously, I'll admit, but—"

"None on hers?" I press.

Chris lifts his eyes to mine steadfastly. "No. Her phone stayed in her purse the whole time. So, whatever it is that you are accusing her of, she did at my behest and therefore should be relieved of any and all responsibility."

I feel the tension in my shoulders unwind slightly. Some goddamn common sense, at last!

But Chris isn’t off the hook yet...

"Did you share any pictures with her?" I ask.

"He tried," Hayley admits. "But for some reason, there was no signal on the ferry."

I let out an explosive breath. Thank Christ for that signal jammer!

Never thought I'd actually be thanking Leo for anything. But here we are...

Hayley is still glaring at us. "Well, aren't you going to ask to see his phone, then? Seeing as you're so concerned about... whatever it is that you're concerned about?"

I glance at Chris. She's got a point...

He pulls out his phone with a nod of acknowledgment, knowing we have to continue playing this game for the sake of his cover. "Here you are, officer."

Taking it, O'Sullivan makes a bit of a show of flipping through Chris' camera roll before handing the device back. "Thank you, sir. Looks like we got bad intel. None of the images contain anything pertinent to our investigation." He throws me a dirty look.

I shrug. Shit happens.

But the important thing is that we’re in the clear... and my ass is no longer on the line.

"So... that's it? asks Hayley cautiously. "We're free to go?"

"Not quite," I admit, meeting Chris' eye.

He drops his gaze in resignation before turning to Hayley. "As delightful as this spontaneous outing has been, I am afraid we must call it a night."

Her mouth falls open. "Just like that?"

"Unfortunately so," he confirms, lifting her hand gently to his lips. "But believe me when I say that you made my night, Hayley."

A blush rises to her cheeks. "I don't know about that..."

"Truly," he asserts, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. "I am forever grateful..."

"Jesus, I'm about to get diabetes..." huffs O'Sullivan under his breath.

I elbow him in the ribs.

"...and as a small token of my appreciation, I hope you would allow us to escort you home," finishes Chris with a meaningful look in my direction.

I can't help but scoff. Well played, buddy. Well played.

But I guess I owe him one after gatecrashing his date the way I have. And let's face it — we can’t exactly leave the girl stranded on the wrong side of the Hudson without a safe way to get home. So, we might as well kill two birds with one stone.

"Sure," I concede. "She can ride back with us."

"In your drea—"

O'Sullivan grunts as I nail him in the side again.

"Oh, you really don't have t—" demurs Hayley.

"But I want to," insists Chris, turning the full force of his emerald gaze on her.

She wilts under his sincerity with a blush. "Well, in that case..."

"What the hell, Walker?" hisses O'Sullivan under his breath as Chris offers his arm to Hayley to lead her from the ferry terminal. "Finding your missing prince is one thing, but you can't just go around handing out free rides to civilians like—"

"Trust me," I reply quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I'll make it worth your while."

He snorts. "I already paid for the donuts."

"This is a bit more substantial than some Dunkin's," I assure him.

"Better be," he declares. "Kerosene ain't cheap, Lieutenant."

I throw my head up. "You've done your homework."

"What can I say?" he shrugs with a smirk. "I'm good at my job."

"And if you've read my file," I reply, recovering quickly, "you'll know that I am too."

"Seeing is believing, Walker," O'Sullivan reminds me as we exit the terminal hot on Chris and Hayley's heels.

I roll my eyes. "Hardass..."

But, I can understand his scepticism. This is the first time the two of us have officially worked together, and in this job, trust doesn’t come easy, or cheap.

So, I’m gonna let his attitude slide.

Hayley stumbles to a stop in front of us. "Why is there a—?"

"Had to get here somehow..."

Her jaw drops as she turns to gape at me. "So, you flew in a helicopter?"

"Faster than swimming," I tell her with a shrug.

Hayley stares at me like I was insane.

"And it's not waiting for stragglers, so if you want a lift, you'd better move it," prompts O'Sullivan, striding past her towards the idling chopper.

"Hold on. He's coming with us?" asks Hayley in disbelief.

"It's his bird," I shout over the roar of the rotor blades. "So, yeah."

"His—?" Her eyes widen. "Wait. Are you guys... arresting us?"

I fix her with a pointed look. "See any handcuffs?"

"Then why are we getting into a helicopter with a cop!" she demands, stubbornly throwing the breaks on a few feet from the aircraft.

"Because he's doing us a favour," I explain with a sigh. "So if you—"

"No!" she protests. "Not until you tell me who the hell you are! Because if you're not cops and you're not FBI then—"

Chris steps assuringly up to her. "Hayley. There is nothing nefarious underfoot. I promise. We are simply—"

"Diplomats," I interject quickly, not 100% confident that Chris won't choose this moment to come clean about who he really is. "From Europe."

"Diplomats?" queries Hayley, eyeing the two of us uncertainly.

"Here on an unofficial, turn-and-burn visit," I confirm. It’s basically the truth. The best lies always are.

"Unofficial?" she frowns. "You mean secret?"

"You make it sound much more suspenseful than it in fact is," chuckles Chris, holding a hand out to help her into the ‘copter.

"But we are trying to keep a low profile," I remind them.

She mulls over our responses. "So, that cop—?"

"Doing us a favour, like I said."

"What's the holdup, boys?" shouts O'Sullivan from the cockpit.

"Nothing!" I holler back over my shoulder as Hayley finally climbs in...

...while simultaneously throwing a hand out to intercept Chris as he's about to follow suit.

He meets my eye quizzically.

"Not with that kit in your pocket, buddy," I tell him. "I've had more than enough excitement for one night."

His brows furrow. "Isn't it just—?"

"It can down the chopper," I reply flatly, holding out my hand.

Chris pales. Reaching into his trouser pocket, he quickly palms me the signal jammer without further protest.

Killing the power to the device, I pocket it and hop in after Chris.

"'Bout time, Walker," observes O'Sullivan dryly as I pull the door closed.

Securing the hatch, I flick my middle finger 'round, giving O'Sullivan the go to take off while simultaneously flipping him off.

He throws his head back with a laugh as he relays the instructions to Hendricks.

The pilot revs the throttle, and we start to lift into the air.

Dropping into the seat across from Chris, I pull the seatbelt on as I fire off a quick text to Schweitzer to let him know that we were inbound back to the hotel. Stowing the device, I pull the headset on just in time to hear Hayley's gasp over the intercom.

Glancing up, I see her latched onto Chris, eyeing the rapid retreat of the terra firma with a confused mix of emotions on her face.

Chris's voice crackles over the intercom. "Exciting, isn't it?"

She swallows hard, tightening her hold on his arm. "You... you could say that..."

His face clouds with concern. "Do you... suffer from acrophobia by any chance?"

"W-what?" she stammers, glancing back at him nervously.

"Acrophobia," he repeats. "Fear of heights."

She shakes her head. "I... I've just never flown before."

"Ah," nods Chris in understanding. "Some trepidation is perfectly understandable, then. But, as someone who has been flying since infancy, I can assure you that it is quite safe."

"Promise?"

"Solemnly," he assures her, covering her hand in his. "I wouldn't dream of putting you in harm's way. And, if it helps at all, you are welcome to focus your attention on me."

I scoff under my breath as Hayley lifts her gaze to Chris' like clockwork.

Guy’s slicker'n a greased pig on ice...

But I can’t really blame him. It’s his last shot at freedom before the start of the season, so he’s entitled to bring his A-game...

...even if his play had cost me mine.

I give myself a mental kick.

Quit it, you ass.

This is Chris' time. Not mine.

And I’m not gonna let some misplaced sense of resentment fuck up what’s left of this trip.

Especially since I only have myself to blame.

For dragging my feet around Gale. For second-guessing myself... and her. And for letting myself fall for her in the first place.

I heave a breath as I stare out of the cockpit.

I fucked up. Big time.

Don't get hooked.

That’s my number one rule.

Because I have no time and zero interest in anything resembling a serious relationship. It’s too distracting, too much work and I probably wouldn't be able to sustain it anyway. At least not without a level of disclosure that’s way higher than what I’m prepared to give after just a handful of dates. And even then there’s no guarantee that all the late nights, erratic schedules and constant jet-setting won’t drive a massive wedge between whatever promises we make to each other.

Hell, this life literally destroyed my family.

Yet, here I am, despite everything, wishing it’s Harper that I’m sat next to right now, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine, smelling the honey scent of her hair as we whip over the city.

Would she be clutching my hand nervously, like Hayley is Chris'? Or would she be pressed up against the window, hazel-green eyes sparkling with excitement as she sought out each famous landmark? Or would she be on my lap, taking me for a very different kind of ride 2,000 feet over the city, the view outside forgotten?

I swallow a groan as I shift uncomfortably in the hard seat.

Christ, I’m in trouble...

Not only had I torpedoed my own rules like a bull in a china shop, but I've decided that it'd be a great fuckin’ idea to fall for a girl who lives literally on the other side of the world, and who I have no chance of ever seeing again.

Because the social season is starting in a few short days, and it’s going to eat up literally all of my time. In part because the season’s a mess of high-profile public engagements across disparate venues around the country, and in part because Chris is now the Heir Apparent and that means that I’m going to have to be even more on the ball when it comes to security arrangements.

So, there’s no way in hell that — even if I want to — I’m going to be able to hop back over the Pond and find Gale, much less spend any kind of meaningful time with her.

And I want to. Desperately. Beyond the fact that I have an incurable itch in my pants from having failed to close the deal.

Because no girl has ever had such a lightning bolt effect on me. And I can’t ignore the lodestone-like attraction that went beyond anything I've ever felt before.

But life obviously has a malicious sense of humour when it comes to throwing curve balls, because short of giving Bast — and Chris — the finger and resigning, I literally have no cards to play.

And I’m not gonna leave my brother or my commanding officer (who’s also my uncle in all but name) in the lurch during one of the busiest periods of the royal calendar, just so I can chase after a girl who may or may not actually want to see me again.

Especially after the way I walked out on her earlier...

I shake my head morosely as we begin our descent onto the hotel roof.

There’s no two ways about it. Because regardless of what’s happened — and didn't — I’m going to have to accept that I've been dealt a shit hand and the only available option is to cut my losses and fold.

Because me and her? Not gonna happen. On any level.

So, if I’m to have any hope of extricating myself from this irrational infatuation that I've inadvertently thrown myself into, I know that I’m just gonna have to pretend that the past two nights never happened...

...and maybe that way I can salvage some semblance of sanity before I lose my mind completely.

The chopper touches down.

Yanking my headset and seatbelt off, I immediately set about throwing the door open and helping Chris and Hayley disembark.

Because if there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that I have two options for pulling myself out of my ass: getting physical, or getting shit-faced drunk. And since alcohol’s not a possibility right now — at least not until Chris is safely back in his hotel room and the door has been locked for the night — I’m going to have to keep moving and keep myself busy.

"Get her inside," I shout to Chris. "I'll be over in a sec."

With a nod, he wraps his arm around Hayley to help shield her from the worst of the down draft as he begins leading her towards the hotel-access door on the other side of the roof.

Turning back towards the chopper, I yell up O'Sullivan, "Thanks for the assist!"

"Any time, Lieutenant," he winks back at me as I shrug out of the loaner jacket. "You Cordonians sure know how to make a guy's night interesting!"

"Yeah," I scoff, tossing the heavy leather up to him. "A little too interesting..."

"Beats sitting at a desk all night," he grins, deftly snapping the jacket out of the air... until his expression changes as he clocks the added weight. "You leave your Tic-Tac's in here, or something, Walker?"

"Nope," I reply. "That lil' keepsake's for you, Deputy Inspector."

O'Sullivan frowns as he reaches into the inner-left pocket... and blanches as he pulls out the signal jammer. "You've got to be shitting me!"

I catch his eye with a level look. “Told you I'd make this trip worth your while..."

"Yeah, when you said that, I thought you were talking about a case of Bud, or something," he admits dryly, inspecting the jammer. Looking back up, he adds, "You realise this isn't some rookie tech off Amazon, right?"

I nod. "It's why I figured you'd want it off the streets."

Leo'd probably filched it from the Guard armoury, the sneaky bastard. Which means it’s military-grade and has no place in a civilian setting.

O'Sullivan chuckles. "You figured right. This bad boy could've landed your Prince Charming with a hefty fine... or some serious jail time if he'd been caught with it."

"Trust me, I know," I grunt. "But at least this way you have a plausible story for commandeering the chopper."

"Not to mention a shit load of paperwork," he grumbles with a sour look. But I can see that he's not that begrudging of the situation.

"Yeah, well," I shrug, "no pain, no gain, O'Sullivan. And speaking of, I should get going before Chris blows up all our hard work by disappearing again."

"No sweat, Walker," grins O'Sullivan. "Like I said, it's been interesting."

"Glad to’ve been of service," I smirk in reply as I yank the chopper door closed again.

From behind the cockpit window, O'Sullivan lifts two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute before turning back Hendricks.

As the rotors start to pick up speed again, I quickly vacate the landing circle. Loping across the roof, I catch up with Chris and Hayley just before the stairwell door slams shut behind them.

"Everything alright?" queries Chris as the motion-sensitive lights flicker on overhead in the tight space.

"Yup," I confirm, quickly moving to the front. I’m not expecting any nasty surprises on our way down, but you can never be too careful. "Just had to square a few lose ends."

"What happened to your shirt?" exclaims Hayley, suddenly catching sight of my bare chest.

"Functional breakdown," I mutter, yanking the wayward front panels together as I start making my way down the steps.

"He means it ripped," clarifies Chris wryly in response to Hayley's confused silence.

"Yeah, I can see that, but—"

"It ain't important," I cut in gruffly, picking up the pace.

It’s bad enough that I can’t get Gale out of my head. I don’t need the remnants of my unfulfilled night with her turning into a conversation piece.

Because the last thing I feel like doing — after everything that’s gone wrong tonight — is talking. About any of it. As it sure as hell isn’t gonna change anything, and it’s definitely not anyone’s business but mine and Gale's.

Reaching the landing, I divert towards the nondescript door that’s our gateway back into the hotel proper. Cracking it open, I do a quick visual sweep for potential threats before opening it more fully to let Chris and Hayley through as well.

Hayley frowns as she surveys our surroundings. "You brought us to... a gym?"

"It's the fastest way to the elevators," I tell her, striding past the glass-encased room that houses the top-of-the-line fitness equipment. "Unless you want to tackle a dozen flight of stairs in those heels?"

"No, thanks."

"Yeah. Didn't think so."

"Is he always so grumpy?" whispers Hayley to Chris... loud enough for me to hear.

"Only on Thursdays and Fridays," replies Chris in equally (un)hushed tones.

Hayley snorts in response.

I feel my jaw clench.

But we’re two yards from the elevators and the end of this fucked up night.

So, I don't let myself rise to the needling, and focus instead on the task at hand, which is making sure that Chris got back to his room without incident.

Arriving at the metal doors, I press the button to call the lift. One arrives almost instantaneously and we file in, Chris and Hayley trying and failing to hide their conspiratorial sniggers as they cast me sidelong glances.

I roll my eyes, but otherwise remain silent.

Just have to drop Chris off, and then escort Hayley down to the lobby and into a cab.

Then I’m done.

Luckily, the well-greased elevator ride is mercifully short, and we arrive on our booked-out floor within seconds.

The doors ping open.

I open my mouth...

...but Chris is faster.

"Could I tempt you with a nightcap?" he asks Hayley, extending his hand hopefully down towards the end of the hallway. "My room has quite an impressive selection of refreshments."

"Sounds like being a diplomat comes with perks," she observes with a smile.

"Absolutely," agrees Chris, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her towards his room. “Especially when you have a beautiful companion to share them with.”

I slam my mouth shut as I step out of the lift after them.

So much for that plan...

Chris obviously isn’t ready to call it a night. But who can blame him? He has a hot girl hanging on his every word and gesture, who just agreed to come back to his hotel room. He'd be a fool not to take full advantage of the opportunity.

And honestly? With the way they’re looking at each other, I'll be surprised if they even made it to the mini bar (let alone to the bed) before they jump each other like a pair of horny jackrabbits...

...Christ knew Gale and I hadn't.

I shake my head. 

Put a sock in it, Walker!

Yanking my phone out of my pocket to distract myself from the relentlessly graphic memories, I send a quick sit-rep to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it safely back to the hotel, and everyone can finally unclench their sphincters.

That said, I have no idea what Leo, Max and Tariq are up to… or where the hell they even are. But they’re not my priority. If they got themselves lost, locked up, or killed, that’s their problem. Not mine.

I've had enough of running around the greater New York metropolitan area for one night, praying and hoping while chasing down partial leads and best-guesses. And I’m not gettin' paid to stress about nobody but Chris, so everyone else can fall down an open man-hole and break their neck for all I care.

I’m fuckin' done with this night.

"Care to join us?"

Chris’ voice jars me from my thoughts. Glancing up, I can see him standing in the doorway of the Carnegie Suite, looking at me expectantly.

"Huh?"

"For a drink," he clarifies, no doubt catching the dumbass expression on my face. "Seeing as I ended up pulling you away from... whatever you were doing—" his gaze flicks pointedly to the ripped buttons of my shirt, "—I feel I should offer you at least some recompense. Even if it is just a late-night libation."

"Nah," I say with a shake of my head, slotting my phone away. "I'm beat. I'm calling it a night."

"Well, if you change your mind..."

I scoff. "Trust me, I won't. You don't need me crashing that particular party."

I nod my chin towards the inside of the room where Hayley is already in the process of shrugging out of her sparkly jacket as she stands silhouetted by the glow emanating from the Manhattan nightscape behind her.

Chris glances briefly over his shoulder with a wry grin. "No, I suppose not. Rain check?"

"Rain check," I agree, bumping my fist against his. "On the condition your ass stays in that room 'til departure time. And you don’t take or share any photos with her. Including the ones from the ferry. Otherwise you'll be owing me a helluva lot more than a fancy, overpriced drink.”

Chris cracks a laugh as he pulls the door around. "Duly noted! 'Night, mate! I owe you one!”

"Damn right you do!”I reply with a smirk, pulling my own keycard out. "Play safe."

"I always do," winks Chris, reaching around to slip the 'Do Not Disturb' placard onto the door handle.

A low exhale escapes me as the door — at last — clicks softly closed.

Christ, what a clusterfuck...!

Had I known that this day’s going to devolve into a never-abating conflagration of wildfires, I'd've probably got myself hammered before breakfast.

Because getting though the past 24 hours even partially sober has tested every one of my nerves. And given the fact that I've gotten basically no sleep the night before, I’m near about past going.

Which is probably why I can’t think one straight thought without tripping over Gale.

I clench my eyes shut. Definitely time to clock out...

Opening my eye, I slide the keycard into the reader with a chirp. Pushing the door handle down, I step into the darkened room.

Not bothering with the lights — given that the curtains were still open and the background glare of the nearby buildings provided plenty of illumination — I punt the door shut behind me, and head straight for the mini bar.

I may have turned down Chris's offer for a late-night drink, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna crash out sober. If anything, after the way this trip has snowballed into the definition of 'fucked up beyond all recognition', I’m in half a mind to straight up kill my liver...

...I just don’t want to do it while playing awkward third-wheel in the other room.

Arriving at the fridge, I yank the door open and survey the cop-out offerings of water, soda, beer and champagne.

I heave a breath. Well, ain’t nobody getting drunk off of this shit...

Still. It’s better than nothing.

Grabbing two bottles of beer out — because no way am I touching the champagne... even if it's Krug; the last thing I need right now on top of everything else is a motherfuckin' migraine — I pop the cap off one and take a hard swallow.

The cool malt hits the back of my throat, and I chug the rest of it down greedily, suddenly realising how parched I am.

Dropping the empty bottle back on the bar top, I’m reaching for the second when I catch sight of my reflection in the large mirror sitting behind the shelving in front of me.

Sweet Jesus, I look like death warmed up...

My hair looks like it's been chewed up and spat out by a yak, my skin’s ashen, my eyes tired and bloodshot, and I have a large, blueish welt on my jaw from where Tattoos had decked me, in addition to the claw marks that the asshole’s girlfriend left on my face.

I pull a face as I untwist the second cap.

I haven’t looked this much like buzzard bait since the literal beating I received during — and after — the one and only polo match I ever subjected myself to.

And it was clear that — just like then — I’m in desperate need of a shower.

Draining the second beer, I quickly draw the curtains before resignedly turning back the way I'd come.

Dropping my keycard into the holder on the wall to turn the lights on, I kick my boots off by the door and trudge into the bathroom.

Grabbing some towels, I throw them onto the floor and shove the faucet of the glass-panelled shower onto the hottest setting.

While waiting for the water to warm up, I bend down to pull off the ankle holsters that held the Sig P365 and tactical knife that I never go anywhere without.

Placing them carefully on the vanity, so they remained within reach, I proceed to strip off the rest of my clothes. The ruined shirt ends up on the floor, followed by the clang of my belt buckle as my jeans and boxers hit the ground.

Pulling my socks off and throwing them on top of the pile, I step into the now rapidly rising steam. A low hiss escapes me as the scalding water hits my chest. But rather than flinching away, or turning the temperature down, I lean into the spray, letting the hot water beat down onto me, like a hammer on an anvil, working the tension out of my muscles.

I have no clue how long I stand there for, head hanging down, hands braced against the wall, just soaking.

But eventually, I force myself to blink my eyes open. Because the hour’s already late, and even though I can probably stay under the spray all night, I know I need to catch some shut eye before the inevitable morning scramble to get everyone back home in time for the Masquerade Ball.

So, reaching for the travel-sized bottle of three-in-one wash that I brought with me, I proceed to lather myself from head to toe. Once done, I rinse myself off, letting the water pummel me for a few more minutes before reluctantly turning the spray off.

Unfurling one of the towels, I drop it on the marble floor so I can step out of the shower without breaking my neck. Grabbing the other towel, I run it over myself to get the worst of the moisture off before wrapping it around my waist.

Moving over to the vanity, I lift a hand to wipe the condensation off the oversized mirror and note that the hot soak has managed to bring some colour back to my face... albeit at the expense of my bruise, which has grown more pronounced as a result of the prolonged heat treatment.

Oh, well. Shit happens...

It's not like I’m a stranger to bruises. Growing up, I collected plenty of them from all the stupid shit I got up to, climbing up rickety ladders, falling out of trees, off my bike, not to mention off horses that were unquestionably too big for me.

And the hits only intensified as I got older and tried my hand at pretty much every type of sport imaginable — most of them in the contact category. Soccer, basketball, rugby, water polo, judo... I've done it all. Including American football, which Dad had begun indoctrinating me into since before I could even walk, and which I actually got a chance to play at uni as a running back.

So, a black-and-blue shiner on my face isn’t gonna faze me.

Badge of a battle well-fought, Dad always used to say.

Plus it's not like I’m reliant on my looks to get me through life. I’m not constantly in the limelight, being forced to present some kind of idealised image to the world. That’s Chris' lot. Not mine.

Thank fuck...

Though if I actually want to be able to eat anything tomorrow that’s more substantial than a milkshake, I probably should ice the bastarding thing down.

I feel a wry smirk pull at my mouth as I reach for my wash bag. 

That bottle of Krug might get a lease on life, after all...

Quickly brushing and flossing my teeth — wincing a bit at the growing tightness in my jaw — I gather up my discarded clothes (as well as my holsters) and make my way back into the room.

Placing the weapons on the bedside table — contrary to what pop culture may have you believe, it ain't a good idea to sleep with a loaded gun beneath your pillow — along with my phone and wallet, I set about sorting out my threads.

A quick once-over reveals that after all the literal running around I ended up doing, the jeans probably could do with a wash. But I only brought the one pair, so they’re going to have to do for tomorrow. The socks and boxers are unquestionably dead, so I roll them up to stow away in my duffle.

That leaves the shirt.

Grabbing either end of the split yolk, I bring the busted button-down up to eye-level to determine it's fate.

All in all, four buttons are missing, so the damage isn’t as bad as I—

From beneath the lingering hum of stale sweat, old leather and jet fuel, I suddenly catch a whiff of her honey-camomile scent, soft and sweet, like a half-remembered dream... and I nearly choke.

Goddammit...

I launch the cotton across the room with a growl of frustration.

As much as I like the shirt — it’s one of the few dressier ones that I own — there’s no way I’m gonna be able to salvage it.

Because even if it hadn't still smelled like her, the mere sight of it had been enough to throw me back into that cramped apartment... and the litany of missed opportunities that had preceded it.

And, even if I do fix it back up, I'll never be able to wear the damn thing without a stark reminder of the cold, hard fact that that's all Gale is now — a memory.

So, the sooner I burn it, the better.

Along with the shirt.

But, since I don’t have a blowtorch with me — and, in any event, setting fire to the highly flammable material in the hotel room would definitely cause a building-wide evacuation — I’m going to have to make do with simply stuffing the rag in the trash.

Heaving a beleaguered breath, I force myself to march around to the other side of the bed and pick up the shirt again. Balling it up, I dump it in the bin next to the desk.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Dropping the towel from my waist, I shuffle over to my duffle to stow my dirty clothes away and grab a fresh pair of boxers out.

Pulling the underwear on, I do a final sweep of the room before hitting the lights, grabbing the Krug to serve as an impromptu ice pack, and crawl beneath the cool sheets.

But instead of passing out as soon as my head hits the pillow, I find myself lying awake, staring into the darkness.

...fuck's sake.

The story continues in Chapter 10 - Darkfall

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fangirling12566 @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @choicesficwriterscreations @aprilchallenge

Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits

Staten Island Terminal - Shower - Drake - Statue of Liberty - Hayley & Chris - NYPD - Helicopter - Night

[allthingsfangirl101]

AFS Chapter 3: The Meeting

Masterlist

"I don't get why I have to do this," Joe complained for the fifteenth time since they got in the car.

"Because," Andrew sighed, "Evelyn Jones and her manager, Jane, have agreed to help."

"I don't need help," Joe scoffed. "And I certainly don't see how the Princess of Hollywood is going to help."

They pulled up to the restaurant and Andrew turned to Joe, stopping him from getting out.

"Joe," he said as seriously as he could, "I need you to behave."

"Geez," Joe laughed. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is," Andrew cut him off. "I'm serious. This is the last resort, alright? If you screw this up, you won't land another job."

"And Princess Hollywood is supposed to help me?"

"First of all," Andrews sighed, "please don't call her that. Especially to her face. And second of all, everyone loves Evelyn. She can get any job she wants. Directors even ask her to be in their movies. Being connected to her will help your reputation."

"Or it'll make her look like a saint because she's turning a bad boy good," Joe scoffed.

"Evelyn isn't the one who needs to be seen as a saint, Joe," Andrew said plainly. Joe just scoffed before getting out of the car.

"This isn't going to go well," Andrew mumbled as he got out and caught up to Joe.

* * * * *

The men waited in the restaurant. Andrew checked his phone and let out a sigh of relief.

"Where the hell is she?" Joe grumbled. "I thought you said we were meeting at 5:30."

"That's what I told you," Andrew said. "I told Jane and Evelyn to meet us at 6."

"Why?"

"Just in case."

"In case of what?" Joe sighed, his anger building.

"In case you got drunk after work. Or in case you were high. Or in case you were late. Or in case. . ."

"Okay!" Joe cut him off. "I get it."

"I beg of you, Joe," Andrew sighed, "please behave tonight. She's here to help."

"Help herself," Joe mumbled as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Help you, dumbass!" Andrew corrected.

Andrew cleared his throat and smiled when he saw Jane and Evelyn walking into the restaurant. He stood up and glared at Joe, gesturing for him to stand up. Joe rolled his eyes and Andrew turned toward the girls.

"Jane," Andrew smiled. Joe scoffed at how sweet Andrew sounded. Evelyn noticed and raised her eyebrows.

"And you must be the amazing Evelyn Jones," Andrew smiled, making Evelyn turn away from Joe.

"This is Andrew Harper," Jane introduced. "We went to college together."

"It's nice to meet you," Evelyn greeted as sweetly as would be expected.

"And this," Andrew paused when he turned and saw Joe still sitting. He cleared his throat, making Joe finally stand up.

"This," Andrew continued, "is Joe Keery. Joe, this is Evelyn Jones and her manager, Jane Baxter."

Joe just nodded and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Andrew glanced at Jane and Evelyn, studying their expressions. Jane had a warning look on her face while Evelyn acted like she knew this would happen.

"Why don't we sit down and order something?" Andrew asked, still trying. "It's on us, of course."

Joe scoffed and mumbled something under his breath. Andrew hit Joe's arm before sending Jane an apologetic look to which she sent a disapproving one back. Evelyn sighed before sitting down.

She grabbed her napkin and draped it across her lap. Joe was the first to sit down while the managers hesitated.

"So," Evelyn said as soon as the others sat down. "There was something you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," Andrew said, clearing his throat. "But why don't we eat first?"

Joe scoffed again so Andrew coughed, trying to cover it up. Evelyn and Jane shared a look.

"If you don't mind," Jane said using her work voice, "there's no reason to beat around the bush, Andrew."

"You're right," Andrew sighed as he put the menu down. "Evelyn, you are loved by practically everyone who meets you and everyone who sees one of your movies."

"Andrew," Jane cut him off. "Get to the point."

"He was hoping you'd date me to fix my image," Joe said in a disrespectful tone. Andrew glared at him. Jane raised her eyebrows. Evelyn was the only one who didn't react.

"I see," Evelyn sighed.

"You're not surprised?" Joe scoffed.

"It's not hard to figure out," she shrugged. "We've both been in the press a lot."

"For different reasons," Jane said, not trying to hide it.

"We're not asking for you to actually date Joe," Andrew quickly explained. "Just be seen with him a few times, maybe go to lunch or dinner with him. Nothing too big or scandalous just. . . "

"Just enough to show that he can be a decent guy?" Evelyn asked.

"You know I'm right here, right?" Joe scoffed.

"Then say something," Evelyn said simply. "What are your thoughts about this?"

"My thoughts?" He mimicked. "Well, Princess, my thoughts are that I don't need you. Simply being seen with you is not going to magically fix my reputation. If anything, it's going to destroy yours. Do you want that, Princess? Do you want to ruin your perfect little reputation being affiliated with me?"

"You really think you could destroy my reputation," Evelyn said, sounding more like a statement than a question. "Listen as carefully as you can, Joe. I've worked hard for my career. So hard that some actor throwing an obvious temper tantrum is not going to ruin it. You keep calling a me "Princess" so you know what the press calls me. Do you know what they call you?"

Joe scoffed but Evelyn knew that he didn't know. Or he acted like he didn't care.

"They call you, Hollywood's Asshole. A guy like you can't not know that." Evelyn sighed as she slightly leaned forward. "Doesn't that bother you? When people talk about you, they only say horrible and negative things. I know they say "all press is good press", but that's not true. You can't look me in the eyes and say that you're honestly okay with how they talk about you. No one who finally makes it, is okay with bad press, Joe."

"How would you know?" Joe scoffed. Andrew clenched his fist as he saw Joe's anger building. "You're little Miss Perfect. You're Evelyn Jones! Everyone knows who you are and everyone loves you. If anyone ever spoke something a little negative about you, all your beloved Evelynites would instantly back you up."

"You could have that too," Evelyn said calmly.

"Bullshit," Joe scoffed. "You're at the top of the Hollywood food chain, Princess. No one would even believe you'd go for a screw-off like me. Everyone would know exactly what we were up to."

"So?" Evelyn asked. "It could still work. Even if people knew it was a publicity stunt. Lots of actors pull those and, most of the time, they work. Why wouldn't this?"

Joe clenched his jaw, unbelievably angry. He had no reason to be, he knew that. Evelyn was willing to help him. But he did what he did best. Overreact.

He stood up and glared down at Evelyn. "Listen as carefully as you can, Evelyn," he mocked what she said earlier. "I don't need your help, Princess. And I sure as shit don't want it."

Evelyn sent a knowing look to Jane as Joe stormed out of the restaurant. She grabbed her unused napkin and nicely folded it.

"Lovely client you have," she sighed, placing her napkin on the table in front of her. "As much as I would like to help him, I'm not going to enter a fake relationship with someone who acts like a child. I don't think being associated with Joe will ruin my career. That's not why I'm saying this. The reason I'm saying this is because it's pretty obvious Joe doesn't want to fix his reputation. "

"Wait," Andrew stuttered when Evelyn stood up. She held her hand up, stopping him.

"You don't need to convince me that he needs help, Mr.Harper," Evelyn said. "Call me when you convince Joe."

[secondgenerationnerd]

This is gonna be so fucking sad but I'm curious ... How did Lian find out about her parents' death, who told her, how did she take it (I know she was sad but like did she break down or what)

…I wrote a fic about this a few years ago…but I wanted to redo it so….suffer.

I cried writing this as a heads up.

——————————

Nothing like target practice to take the edge off finals. Walking to the living area, Lian checks her phone. Dad had said he’d be back in a few days, but she hadn’t heard from him. Probably nothing, just Dad getting distracted by the job. She shoots him a quick text before shoving the phone into her pocket.

As she enters the living area, something’s…off. Her teammates can’t take their eyes off the uninvited guests—Jason Todd and Donna Troy. Lian’s godparents, her dad’s exes. Sure, she more than anyone knows how scary the two can be, but to her? They’re as normal as the quiver on her back. So why does everyone look sick?

“Uncle Jay? Aunt Donna?” The moment they face her, the moment she sees their expressions, her stomach sinks. How many times did she give a civilian that same look? “Who died?”

“Lian.” Her aunt takes a steady breath, “We should speak privately—“

“Who. Died.” Lian barely hears herself over her pounding heart. But seeing the others flinch at her tone, at least it’s not showing. She might not have Irey’s sweet face or Mar’i’/Milagro’s diplomatic skills, but she’s a performer. She knows how to use her voice. “Jason. Peter. Todd. Who. Died.”

Wait. Why are they here and not—

“Your parents.” Jason’s rumble of a voice freezes time.

“…That’s not funny.”

“Lian—“

The young archer steps back, yanking her phone free, “That’s not fucking funny!”

With shaking hands, she dials her father’s number. Please, Dad, pick up.

This is Roy Harper. If I missed your call, probably my daughter’s fault. (Dad!) leave a message and I’ll hit you back.

“Baby Doll,” A large hand rests on her shoulder, “He’s not going to pick up—“

“Yes. He. Will!” Breathe, Baby doll, her mother’s voice soothes, you have to breathe. Mom. Lian dials the ‘emergencies only’ number. Mom always picked up. Always showed up when Lian called this number. The one thing she can always count o—

I’m sorry the mailbox has not been set up. Please try your call again later.

“Lian,” Donna moves closer, “There was a fire.”

Lian tries to ignore them. Dialing the number over and over.

I’m sorry the mailbox has not been set up. Please try your call again later.

Jason’s rumble again, “Your mom was being chased. They caught up with her.”

I’m sorry the mailbox has not been set up. Please try your call again later.

“Your dad went back inside to save her—“

“You’re LYING!” Phone dropping to the floor, Lian shoves Jason backwards. Despite his bigger build, Jason still staggers back. “YOU’RE LYING! HE AND MOM ARE FINE!”

“We confirmed with DNA.”

“SHUT! UP!” Lian covers her ears. It’s not true. They’re playing some horrible joke on her. Mom and Dad are going to come into the room any second. Acting like nothing can touch them. Nothing can-

Mar’i’s soft, understanding voice that breaks her, “Li.”

The tears come fast, blurring her world as she falls to the ground. Someone catches her. Someone holds her close as she screams and screams and screams. Wordless, thoughtless pain burning her throat. This can’t be real. It’s not real. It can’t be.

But it is.

The thought brings a fresh wave of pain, fresh screams and tears and pleas for her parents. They can’t be gone. They’re still young, long lives ahead of them. Lian still needs them. She needs more nights with Dad, goofing around as they cook dinner. Needs to tell Mom she didn’t hate her. Why did those have to be her last words to—

Last words.

Because she’d never talk to her parents again. Never smell Dad’s aftershave again. Never see Mom’s Chesire Cat grin, exactly like her own. Never hug them again. Never tell them she’s engaged or pregnant or any of the other life shit she thought didn’t matter. Now it does and they’re gone.

It’s not the screams that worry the others.

It’s the moment they stop. Lian laying motionless in Jason’s arms. Dark eyes a thousand miles away. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of her shoulders, they would know if she was alive…

…Even if they can see she doesn’t want to be.

[woahajimes]

the batfamily is stupid as hell and they're self isolating because SOMEBODY got covid (steph) and then SOMEBODY (cass-- who also has covid bc uh stephcass) sneezed on tim who drank from jason's cup without knowing it was jason's cup and anyways everyone in the manor got covid so ✨self isolation for 2 weeks✨

ANYHOW they were all bored out of their minds and jason was about to throw damian out the window bc siblings right

SO BASICALLY cass came up with the big brain idea of a competition (prize being complete immunization of sibling interaction UNLESS they ask for it-- eg. "hey can you open this for me")

teams were made (just two people per team-- duke/damian, jason/cass, steph/harper, dick/tim)

there were "rounds" and these consisted of

round 1: person a has to feed person b a whole jar of peanut butter and they could switch places ONCE (team to finish last was disqualified)

round 2: they had to recreate this picture and had ten minutes to do so, at the end every team compared pictures and alfred decided whose was the worst and that team was out

round 3: they had to run five laps around the manor with their team member on their back, first person to get through the finish line (for the fifth time, there was a picture taken each time they crossed it) won.

simple, right?

WELL NO

first round basically went like this:

jason: NO FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID PEANUT BUTTER cass: jason: okay okay ill go first

tim went first, harper went first, and duke went first (duke didn't want to go first but he lost to rock paper scissors so)

tim puked in the first two minutes but alfred had forgotten to clarify that if you puke you're out so basically he kept eating

cass and jason were the first ones to switch

dick and tim switched immediately after (they were waiting for someone else to switch)

steph and harper fucking DIED

"im never eating peanut butter after this"

"by GOD EAT FASTER ITS NOT EVEN A SOLID"

"CAN YOU NOT SHOVE THAT SPOON DOWN MY THROAT"

"IM NOT GOING TO LOSE IN THE FIRST ROUND FUCK YOU"

duke and damian finished first and when ppl asked how (they're the youngest ones, people were sure they couldn't handle it) damian was like "i simply moved all my internal organs to the side" and duke was like "tf you literally ate two spoons and a half"

STEPH AND HARPER LOST and tim laughed (his team got to the next round by literally a second) so harper and steph both threw him the containers and spoons

second round:

tim thought he had a big brain for calling dibs on being on the pool mat but nOOO (duke was on the pool mat, damian was the lightest so yeah--- jason was on the pool mat solely because cass called dibs on jumping and crushing him-- imagine all the chaos)

literally they(jason/cass) took 14 pictures total and all of them were fucked up because of jason (his hands weren’t in the right place, both his legs were picked up)

duke and damian couldn’t do it skjdfhskfh they were D Y I N G (every two minutes you heard a really loud scream/groan with a sudden splat and yeah)

steph and harper had never laughed harder

cass was so done with jason she literally shoved him off the pool mat

tim was literally dead they had taken the shot around 20 times and none of them looked good it was horrible (dick didnt even apologize for crushing tim 90934757894 times -- not every shot was decent so they deleted around 40)

when the timer went off, alfred carefully took all the phones (jason’s phone was somehow at the bottom of the pool and jason was tired(tm) so he asked cass to get the phone pls and cass just got in the pool and shoved the pool mat over (and then got out)

after around 20 minutes of alfred going through the pictures, he decided that the best ones were dick and tim’s (how i have zero idea but)

and then the worst ones were duke and damian’s (so jason and cass made it to the third round)

cass asked alfred why theirs weren’t the best, and alfred said “well master jason’s arm looks very off and he looks genuinely scared” and cass was like “GODDAMNIT JASON” and lost her shit 

LAST ROUND: 

so they did think this through and basically cass on jason’s back and tim on dick’s back

jason: HA! YOU’RE NOT FASTER THAN I AM! dick: i don’t need to be??? you’ve got CASS on your back. you know what that means? jason: .... you wouldn’t.. tim, on dick’s back: *snorts* YEAH OKAY

cass: what are they talking about?  jason: NO NOTHING jason: you might want earbuds or something to like... block the sounds... they’re gonna be wanting to distract you cass: yeah well. I’m not distracted easily

the timer goes off, tim on dick’s back, and they’re pretty even for the first two laps, but then tim’s shoe falls off and tim’s like “WAIT MY SHOE” and dick goes “WHAT THE FUCK” 

and tim is like “whoa youre right KEEP RUNNING” 

cass on jason’s back: HEY STEPH CAN YOU PASS ME THE PRETZELS

update: cass does get pretzels and gives jason a few  jason: CASS THATS MY NOSE cass: OH OOPS LOL

dick: tim i think its time to pull out our secret weapon tim: yeah you’re right tim: tim: HEY CASS *starts humming to ‘levitating’ by dua lipa* tim: 🎶 if you wanna run away with me-  🎶

jason: NO  jason: NOOO CASS COVER YOUR EARS DONT LISTEN TO THEM cass:  🎶 IF YOU WANNA RUN AWAY WITH ME I KNOW A GALAXY WHERE I COULD TAKE YOU FOR A RIDE  🎶

(you may ask how this distracts jason but it just DOES)

dick takes this as a head start and runs faster (theyre on their third lap now- both)

tim gets a bit too excited and leans too much and makes them both fall over (they were abt half a lap ahead)

tim: GET UP GET UP dick: THIS IS YOUR FAULT TF YOU MEAN 

cass:  🎶 YOU WANT ME  🎶 jason:  🎶 I WANT YOU BABY  🎶  *runs past them*  dick: HOW jason: JUST DONT FIGHT IT 

karma’s a bitch (and dick paid steph) and jason slipped, causing them to fall almost the exact way that tim and dick fell

dick and tim have now caught up to them, as jason and cass pick themselves up

jason: we should switch cass: yeah alright do you want me to momentarily kill you so we can distract the others and then you wake up and we run jason: ...no cass:  jason: ... maybe

*two seconds later*

cass: HE’S DEAD! MY POOR BROTHER HE’S DEAD! steph: YEAH WE KNOW YOU MOMENTARILY KILLED HIM GET UP cass: ok jason lets go stand up 

they keep going and dick stops for a second (theyre ahead)  dick: hey its your turn now tim:  dick: yeah i know you cant cmon climb on

COMEPLETE HEADCANON jason and cass won anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

[smolla-than-a-bug]

you’re definitely flirting with me

—jason todd x villain!reader

second and final part to are you flirting with me. can be read as a stand-alone tho

navi | bat boys m.list | are you flirting with me

content — language, blood, mentions of harassment, mildly suggestive (use of the word ‘daddy’ but ironically)

notes — i know that its literally been years and that i formerly posted a part two to are you flirting with me, but looking back, i didn't like how it turned out. i did find a fun drabble in my drafts with villain!reader as well, so i decided to rewrite it and use it as a continuation. i actually deleted the old parts personally, i prefer this version of the end!

"I'm in."

"Hot. You should be able to see–"

"Nothing?"

Silence.

"Is this your way of telling me you're visually impaired?"

"I will scoop your eyes out in your sleep."

"Please use an ice cream scooper. My eyeballs would fit so well, it would be so satisfying–"

"Harper."

"Okay, okay. What do you mean nothing?"

"By nothing I mean nothing, ball sack. The warehouse is fucking empty."

Frantic rustling of papers and violent knocking of objects could be heard on Roy's end of the line. Jason sighed, going to pinch the bridge of his nose before realizing he had a helmet on. 

The whole situation was throwing him off his rhythm — that much was evident. The intel they had collected on the gang of criminals seemed too obvious, too predictable. Jason had his suspicions, but Roy was quick to shut him down. 'Dude, trust me,' he said. Famous last words.

A crackle of static sounded in his earpiece. Roy's voice urgent and choppy before completely dying out. Jason could only attempt to call out to his partner in the hopes of a full response, but his efforts brought no avail. That's another thing that went wrong today.

"Hey, sexy."

What in the fuck.

"Your ass looks great from this angle. The party you're looking for is in a bar on the other side of the city, by the way."

You couldn't actually see him, but he doesn't need to know that. It's just your thing to mess with him, and by the sounds of him cussing you out for hacking into his means of communication, it was working. It was amusing. He kept you entertained.

That was all you had to say to him for now though, so you bid him goodbye. The roaring of his motorcycle over his colorful language directed at you was the last thing you heard before you cut off and allowed his partner to get back on the line.

"Jaybird? You there?"

"Ah, you're back. I'm never trusting you with getting intel again."

"Whatever. Anyway, was that...?"

"Yeah. Y/v/n."

"Hm. I don't know what she's on, but you have no ass like–"

"And yet I have more ass than you, so shut the fuck up, paddle board."

“That... That was a bit harsh, bro.”

Soft gushes of wind blew against your masked face. You shut your eyes, feeling the breeze and relishing in your little moment of peace. Lazily pacing, you hummed a random tune.

Your mischief and cunningness is something your alias was known for. Most often, it's a convenient trait to be able to slip around with ease and get the job done in a snap, but sometimes you get bored. It can be such a drag when nobody tries a confrontation with you. That's why you're so fond of the Red Hood. It's a shame that it's been a while since you've seen him around, so imagine your delight when you feel a familiar presence behind you.

You took a seat at the edge of the building. To anyone, you would've looked like you were having your main character moment, peacefully looking over the city if not for the small pile of bodies rotting away not too far from you. The dried blood on your attire and your fingers no longer irked you in the slightest. It's something you've gotten used to, which lead to your habit of picking the blood under your nails. Red gets annoyed when you do this — all the more reason to entertain your habit in front of him.

You let your legs dangle over the edge without a care. You didn't bother to greet the vigilante, who currently had a gun aimed at your back. Sigh.

“Oh, I do hate the sight of blood.”

“Well then, maybe — just maybe — you shouldn’t kill for a living.”

That got you to turn your head to face him. You cock an eyebrow — doesn’t he kill for a living too? Sure, his victims are usually criminals and thugs while yours are people you’re paid to target, usually business owners and the occasional politician, but you digress. Details. The point is, he kills people too.

A few seconds of staring and prolonging the tension passed, and Jason weighed his options before eventually putting down his gun. He then opted to join you on the ledge.

“So,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

Funny.

“Sweetheart, if you thought you’d be able to keep me entertained with small talk... I think I’d rather you shot me.”

You stood up from your spot on the ledge and leaned over the rooftop to examine your altitude. You grin to yourself.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. You want to see something. Instead you turn your body to face Jason and mockingly salute him before leaping off the building, though not before you heard him call out your alias’ name and yell a panicked ‘Wait!’

Immediately after you, Jason followed. You chuckled when you saw him get closer. You enjoyed fooling him around almost as much as you enjoyed fooling around with him.

With no time to waste, he pulled out his grappling hook, yanked your body by the waist, and zipped to the rooftop of the nearest building — one different from the last one you were on.

Jason‘s heaving chest radiated distress.

“You’re fucking insane! You could have died!”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed and your stance relaxed. Nobody would’ve suspected that you literally jumped off a building just a few seconds ago. Aw, you pout, he cares about me.

“Would’ve made your job easier. You know, you heroes are supposed to get rid of the bad guys.”There’s humor in your eyes. Jason knows you’re enjoying this. He hates how much you enjoy this. “So, why’d you save me?”

“Why’d you help me with my mission last time?”

He’s deflecting. Cute.

“Hey, I asked you a question first.” You know he won’t budge til you give him an answer. He’s probably been asking himself that question since it happened. You mentally pout, aww he thinks of me. Sigh. Okay, fine.

“The gang you were after just so happened to have given me a job a little while ago.” You recall some of the gang members attempting to grope you. Some unpleasant memories you’d rather live without. “Pissed me off. Now your turn.”

Why’d you save me?

A pause. He shifted to look to the side. Oh, this is interesting.

“You could have died.” Ah, this again.

“Well, you’ve died,” you remind him. “Not that it really stuck.”

He says your name — your real name. You wonder when he discovered your identity, but then again, you’re not all that surprised. It’s him after all.

He can see your growing smile the longer he refuses to answer your question. He knows you’re already thinking of something, and still opts to ignore your question, allowing you to further indulge in your thoughts. He dreads you enlightening him; he knows it’s coming. Jason could not fathom how one woman could frustrate him so much.

“You like me.” There it is, he thinks. There’s your stupid smirk and your dumb air of arrogance.

“Come on, just admit it, hot shot. You can’t live without me.” Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch (just a bit), but you stand by it nonetheless.

You grin wide as you approach him. Leaning slightly forward to grab Jason by the collar and pull him down to meet your eyes, you repeat yourself.

“You like me.” Stated with more emphasis, like a significant fact that you try to drill into your head when studying for an exam.

“I’ll shoot you.”

“Please, daddy.”

© smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs are appreciated!

tags — @iwriteaboutstuff @comicsgirlimagines @httpfandxms

[ragingbookdragon]

Each Word Gets Lost In The Echo PT. 1

Roy Harper x Batbrother!Reader

Word Count: 2.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I had way too much fun with this but PT. 2 is going to be angsty and y'all are gonna hate me for it. >:) Enjoy! -Thorne

********************************************************************************

So, are you planning on getting us together soon?

He hummed in response, pulling out the pan and spatula. “I dunno. With Gutierrez’s wife giving birth, I want Esmeralda to have some time with her daughter before we pull out again. I know her Samantha wants her home.”

Understood, but…what’s happening in Syria…it’s not going to get better on its own.

“I know it won’t, Nadeen. But until we get a mission from somebody overseas, we can’t exactly go out.” He pulled a few eggs from the refrigerator, cracking them on the rim of the pan, watching the yellow yolks fall in. “Besides, it’s the first week of a three-month leave.” He smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re already bored.”

Are you kidding me? Um and Ab have grounded me from flying. I’m stuck here, (Y/N).

“How is your family by the way? Wasn’t your sister attending the Cairo University?” he asked.

Yeah, and Um is so proud of her.

(Y/N) chuckled, whisking the eggs in the pan. “Someone’s jealous.”

Well, I can’t exactly tell my parents I work for an illegal black ops squad. Kinda puts dampers in relationships.

“Nadeen, we’re not an illegal squad. We’re government sanctioned.”

The fuck we are. They just don’t bother us because they know they can’t kill us all.

Grabbing the pepper, he ground some into the pan. “Jesus, take a vacation, Nadeen. Go to France or something.”

Fuck France. I’ll go to Saint Petersburg first. Oh shit, speaking of SP, have you spoken to Vitsina yet?

(Y/N) frowned, setting down the pepper grinder. “Why? Is something wrong?”

What? No. I was just wondering if you had. She really needs to get a hobby. Hey, maybe I can get her and Walker to come hang out with me at home.

“You’re not going to get Walker out of his flat, Nadeen. You know how he is when he gets on leave.”

And what about Nakamoto?

“You know they’re both paranoid. Remember to—” something clanged down the hallway and he stopped, mid-sentence, going silent.

Hello? (Y/N)? Captain, you alright?

He frowned and turned off the stove, opening a drawer at the far end of the counter. Pulling out the Glock, he cocked it and murmured, “Asghar, lemme call you back.”

Ten-four, Captain. Be careful.

The line went dead, and he crept to the edge of the doorway and paused, inhaling sharply before he peeked around the corner, gun ready. Nothing. (Y/N)’s frown only deepened as he moved down the hallway, quiet and breathless. He got to the first room in the hall, his study and he shifted against the wall, listening for movement. When he heard nothing, he moved slightly, gun pointed into the door as he swept the room. Empty.

Exhaling deeply, he started to move when he heard the noise again and he peeked out the door to his bedroom. There. (Y/N) crept along the wall again until he was at the doorway and he leaned against the frame, listening carefully. Something was in there. Something or someone, he didn’t know what, but he did know.

(Y/N) waited until the noise got closer then turned the doorway and moved in. Someone’s hand shot out, grabbing the gun and he grunted, throwing up his elbow into their jaw. The intruder cried and with their free hand, grabbed (Y/N)’s shirt and yanked; they went tumbling to the ground, the gun falling away, but he didn’t waste his chance, scrambling atop the stranger as he went for the Strider he had in his back pocket.

He flicked it out and brought it down when the person beneath him grabbed it with one hand, the other ripping off the hood he wore. “(Y/N)! It’s me!”

“Roy?”

The archer sighed and went slack beneath him. “God, yes, it’s me!”

(Y/N) relaxed and tossed the knife to the side, hanging his head down. “Jesus Fuck Roy, I thought you were an assassin.”

“Get those often?” he shot back and (Y/N) glowered at him.

“Yeah, I do actually.” He rolled off Roy and got to his feet, holding out his hand for him to take.

“God, remind me not to sneak up on you again.” He let himself be tugged up and rubbed his jaw. “I thought you dislocated my jaw for a second.”

(Y/N) shoved a finger in his face. “You’re lucky you managed to grab the gun because I almost shot your ass.” He bent down and picked up his Glock and knife, putting the latter back in his pocket after he’d flicked it shut. “Are you some kind of idiot? Why the fuck didn’t you just knock on the door? What possibly justified sneaking into a mercenary’s bedroom through the window?”

Roy shrugged. “I thought you weren’t home yet.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then shut it and nodded. “Alright, that’s actually not a terrible excuse.” Sighing, he shoved past Roy and walked down the hall into the kitchen, the archer following him. “But don’t do it again.”

“Why? Worried you were gonna shoot your boyfriend?” Roy teased, wrapping his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah, I was.” He put the gun back in the drawer and lugged the archer towards the stove where he flicked the burner back on. “Next time just text me and ask if I’m home.”

Roy hummed, pressing a kiss just above the mercenary’s collar. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well,surprise me you did,” (Y/N) griped. “I seriously thought I was about to have a firefight in my own damn apartment.” He paused, seeming to remember something and said, “I live in a penthouse.” Glancing at Roy, he questioned, “How the fuck did you get up here?”

“I’ve got skills, babe,” Roy grinned, waggling his brows and (Y/N) rolled his eyes before tapping the Bluetooth headset at his ear.

“Call Nadeen.” It pinged for a few moments.

Captain, you’re back. Everything good?

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Roy was in the apartment.”

You live in a penthouse? How’d he get up there?

“His ‘skills’ apparently.”

Nice. He still going around with your brother?

(Y/N) nodded forgetting she wasn’t in front of him and reclined into Roy as the eggs started cooking. “Yeah. Got a new gig as Red Hood and Arsenal.”

Roy blinked. “Wait, does your squad know…about you know…”

He waved and (Y/N) completed, “That my family and friends are vigilantes? Yeah. Why?”

“Isn’t that a breach of security?”

He snorted. “You act like my squad is friends with every government in the world, baby.” He shook his head. “I trust my team with everything. And in return they trust me with theirs.”

Aww, Captain you do care.

“Does your dad know that they know?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Probably. But he doesn’t tell me how to live my life and I don’t tell him how to live his.” He scrambled the eggs. “Nadeen, go hang out with Vitsina for a week or two if you’re really that bored.”

She’s back in Russia right now, isn’t she?

“I think so. Said she had a loose end to tie up with Antonovich.”

Oh shit, she’s gonna fucking kill that guy. She might need air support then.

“Hence why I said go hang out with her.”

Wanna come along? You could bring your boy-toy?

“Did she just call me a boy-toy?” Roy blurted. “Excuse you, I am not a boy-toy. I am a boy-man.”

Well, from the pictures Captain’s showed us, you are in fact a boy-toy, Roy.

He blinked and looked at (Y/N). “What pictures did you show them?”

“Nothing,” he coughed. “Nadeen, shut up.”

The ones with the red lace and matching heels.

“You didn’t.” Roy breathed. “You showed them the pin-up photos?!”

(Y/N)’s mouth fell open and closed as he vaguely gestured around. “I didn’t directly show them. Nakamoto hacked my phone like the nosy asshole he is and found ‘em.”

“So that means you still showed them because you apparently didn’t stop them from seeing!”

Oh, look at that, Captain, Ab is calling me. Talk later!

She hung up on him and (Y/N) huffed a laugh, pulling the device from his ear. He set it aside and shrugged out of Roy’s arms, pulling two plates out of the cabinet beside them. He plated the food, smirking at the flush across Roy’s cheeks. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, baby?”

“You showed my nudes to your black ops squad. It’s hot. Ridiculously hot. But also embarrassing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, they were very impressed with them.”

Roy tried and failed horribly to hide the grin coming over his lips. “…They were?”

(Y/N) set down the plates and got up in Roy’s personal space and flirted, “Oh absolutely baby. They were so stunned at how pretty you looked all dolled up in that red teddy, your lips painted crimson.” He gripped Roy’s hips and pulled them flush together, and while Roy was about five-eleven, (Y/N) had a couple inches on him. He smirked when he felt the definition in Roy’s jeans. “Wanna know what my favorite picture is?”

Roy swallowed thickly, one hand coming to grab at the island behind him, the other grabbing (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Which—which one?”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of the archer’s jaw, trailing his lips to his ear where he breathed, “The one where you’re bent down on the bed…” he reached up behind Roy’s back and tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Your ass is up in the air and...”

“Uh huh, what else?” Roy begged, hips canting forward.

“God, you’ve got that pretty red flush across your cheeks.” (Y/N) whispered. “You looked incredibly ravishing.” He breathed in Roy’s ear. “We were on that mission in Kazakhstan for two whole months and all I could think about was getting back home and drilling you into the mattress until you couldn’t walk.”

“(Y/N)…” the archer groaned shamelessly. “Babe, please.”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to Roy’s cheek. “I didn’t show them that one though,” he said, pulling away without a second thought, picking up the plates. “I kept that one to myself. It’s still in my wallet if you wanna go check. I look at it a lot.”

(Y/N) wandered towards the living room and plopped down on the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table. He snorted when he heard Roy’s moan of frustration followed by the man stomping into the living room with the other plate in his hand, the free one adjusting the front of his jeans.

“I hate you.” He scowled, sitting on the other end of the couch. “I hate you so fucking much it’s not funny.”

(Y/N) shrugged and picked up the remote, switching the channels until he found a football game to watch. “You snuck into my penthouse and almost made me shoot you point blank.” He shot Roy a grin. “I guess we’re both doing things to each other we don’t like.”

“I thought you weren’t home!”

“Mhm. Punishment is still a punishment, baby.” He turned up the volume and dug into his eggs. “Jason know you’re in Gotham City?”

Roy swallowed the food in his mouth, answering, “Told him I was in the area.”

“You know he’s gonna wanna see you.” (Y/N) replied. “If not to hang out, to make sure you’re not into trouble.”

“Are you saying I’m trouble, babe?” Roy retorted and he chuckled.

“You’re my kind of trouble.”

The archer went silent, and his cheeks flushed. “…That was a low blow.”

(Y/N) winked. “Uh huh.” His side vibrated and he reached down, pulling his phone out.

“Who is it?” Roy asked.

“Alfred.” He slid his thumb along the bottom and put it to his ear. “Hello, you’ve reached the answering machine of your favorite grandson. How may I assist you today, grandpa?”

You’re absolutely hysterical, Master (Y/N). You should go into comedy.

“I would but it doesn’t pay that well unlike merc missions.”

Hmm…how are you today, Master (Y/N)?

He smiled. “Not too bad Alfie. Could’ve eaten a perfect parfait with fresh fruit and granola, but beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

You did miss an excellent breakfast if I do say so myself. Nevertheless, it is Sunday morning. Shall I expect you later tonight for dinner?

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Alfie.” (Y/N) agreed.

Wonderful. I shall set out an extra plate in case you decide to invite Master Harper. Have a good day. Until tonight, sir.

The line clicked and (Y/N) pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it in confusion. “Babe? What’s wrong?” Roy questioned.

He shook his head. “Alfred knew you were here.”

“What? He did?”

He looked up at Roy. “Yeah…said he was going to set out an extra plate for you tonight at dinner in case you wanted to come.”

“I get to come to the Wayne Family Sunday Night Dinner? Really?” he seemed awfully excited.

“Dude, it’s just dinner.”

“That you guys do every Sunday night and don’t allow anybody to tread on,” Roy retorted with a glare. “This is special.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you that eager to be introduced to the family?” he dodged the pillow Roy threw at him. “But…if you wanna come, you’re free to.”

“Really?” Roy doubted. “You want me to come over? I thought you wanted to keep this quiet?”

He sighed and pulled his legs from the table, setting the plate on it. “It’s not that I want it to stay a secret. It’s just…I worry about it.”

Roy set his plate down on the coffee table and scooted close. “What about?”

“I don’t know, Roy. I’m just worried that the more people that know about us the more danger I put you in.”

“Babe…” Roy started, placing a hand on the other side of (Y/N)’s cheek so he could turn his face to the archer’s. “We both live dangerous lives. There’s always going to be danger surrounding us.”

“I know,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning into Roy’s hand. “I still worry though. About you…about us.” He met those evergreen eyes. “I’m just worried that every time I leave, it’s going to be the last time we see each other.”

Roy chuckled. “Afraid I’m going to get offed?”

“No,” he murmured, turning his lips into Roy’s palm. “That I will.”

The archer gaped at him. “(Y/N)…why haven’t you told me about this?”

“Because I’m a super soldier who was trained to keep my emotions under control by an anal retentive, over glorified kitchen scale of a father.” (Y/N) deadpanned, then heaved an even bigger sigh and rested his forehead against Roy’s shoulder. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Yeah, Jaybird keeps me pretty busy with missions.”

He chuckled. “Gonna have to tell my little brother to let my boyfriend have a break.”

“Break smeak.” Roy quipped, pressing a kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Listen to me, you’re a strong man, (Y/N). You’re probably the best out of your family. Smart and skilled off the charts.” He ran his calloused fingers down his lover’s neck. “If anyone is going to get out alive on a mission, it’ll always be you. Always.”

He sighed, turning his nose into Roy’s neck as he whispered. “You think so?”

Roy smiled, gripping his chin lightly to pull his head up. “I don’t think so, babe. I know so.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s. “I love you,” he murmured against the soldier’s lips. “So much.”

(Y/N) hummed and pressed a hand to Roy’s chest, shoving him backwards onto the couch and he crawled atop him. “I love you more,” he replied and pulled his shirt off his body before pressing his hand to Roy’s chest, except the archer hissed and he let up. “What’s wrong?” he worried, and he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Roy.” He warned, cocking a brow. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, pressing the same spot again.

“Ow! Stop that!” Roy grunted. “It’s tender.”

“What’s tender?” (Y/N) inquired and Roy sighed.

“I got a new tattoo.”

He narrowed his eyes and gazed down at him. “Of?”

“Nothing.” The archer muttered, though pink was coming across his cheeks and he sighed.

“C’mon Roy. Talk or I’ll tease it out of you.” He shot him a glare. “And you know I will.”

They stared one another down for a minute then Roy sighed and pulled his shirt off and (Y/N) peeled away the bandage. His eyes went wide when he saw the silver spartan helmet atop the black shield, the gold lettering underneath.

“Is this…”

“Your squad designation?” Roy offered. “Yeah…thought it seemed right.”

(Y/N) traced the raised flesh, eyes flashing to Roy’s when he shivered from the calloused touch. “I can’t believe you got my squads symbol tattooed on your chest.”

“You don’t like it?” he sounded hurt.

“I love it,” (Y/N) huffed, gesturing to his own tattoo on his ribs. “We match now…though you forgot to put your name inside the shield.”

“Well, I’m not technically a Spectre, (Y/N).” Roy said.

“Maybe not, but that’s still where your name goes.” He retorted and smiled. “It’s awesome, baby.”

Roy’s thumb brushed his hipbone. “So does the tattoo get me out of punishment for sneaking in?”

(Y/N) smirked down at him. “It just might.” He reached down and tugged the front of Roy’s pants. “Why don’t you show me how sorry you are for it? I just might decide to forgive you before subjecting you to dinner with my family.”

A multitude of emotions flashed through Roy’s eyes. Arousal, desire, need, and then surprise. “Oh shit, I forgot about dinner.”

“Seriously?” (Y/N) blinked, unsurprised. “God you’re such a man.” He crawled out of Roy’s lap much to the archer’s dismay and groaning.

“Where are you going?”

He paused and looked back at him. “I’m not fucking you on my couch, Roy.” He started towards his bedroom. “Hurry up or I’ll start without you.”

Roy rolled off the couch and to his feet as fast as he could.

[moldisgoodforyou]

nice (iii)

warnings: mentions of sexual content, cursing, hella flirting, these two cannot get enough of each other

wordcount: 7.2k

_______

The rest of the drive was easy - Sophie fell asleep three times, Rafe flicked her to wake her up and entertain him twice, and they stopped to take pictures along the coast when they got lunch in Montpellier, fumbling their way through “bonjour” and “merci” and pointing at the sandwiches in the display case that they wanted. When they finally made it to Nice, Rafe was ready to stretch and take a nap while Sophie was ready to jump into the ocean. So they compromised and went to the beach after dragging their suitcases to their hotel room, towels in hand.

Sophie let him nap for a solid fifteen minutes before she got bored and came out of the water, trying to convince him to come swim. Her method of choice consisted of sprawling on top of him with her hair and swimsuit still soaking wet, effectively jerking him out of his sleep - he just groaned and wrapped his arms around her to bring her tighter. “No.”

“Yes. Come play.” She nuzzled her head into his neck, then nipped at his skin.

“No, Soph, sleepin’.” He protested, a little grumpy, and kept his eyes shut.

“No you’re not, you’re awake now.” She grinned. “Come on, we can go to bed early tonight. You can’t still be jetlagged, that’s impossible.”

“I’m tired, I had to drive the whole way.”

“I would have driven.” She protested, scratching her nails lightly down his chest.

“Yeah, driven us off a cliff. Five more minutes.” He hummed, still not opening his eyes.

“No. Come swim now.” She urged, nudging her head a little higher so her wet hair dragged over his face. He startled, then lifted his head, scowling. “You’re being a brat.”

Sophie only smirked in response. “I can be worse. Come onnnnn, sleep later.”

He sat up a little, sighing. “You promise to actually let me sleep tonight?”

“I swear on my life. I’ll stick to my side of the bed and everything.” She nodded solemnly, rolling off him so he could stand.

“Alright.” He nodded, knowing she wouldn’t keep her promise, and hauled himself up, then offered his hand to drag her up too. She jumped up with an eager grin and he rolled his eyes. “You’re cute.”

“I know. Race you!” She started sprinting toward the water - he strolled leisurely behind her, taking his time to stride in once she jumped off the dock. He swam up underwater and grabbed her around the waist, making her squeal and shove at him. He was laughing as he bobbed up and started swimming, going with her out past the crest of the waves.

After a while of swimming and Sophie trying to float on her back without Rafe snatching her down from under the water, she reached out for him. “I’m tired. Carry me.”

“Wonder why, it’s not like you slept on the entire drive here.” He stretched out his hands toward her to pull her in.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” She asked him, swimming closer. He raised his eyebrows. “In France? Dunno, I always figured I’d visit Paris one day.”

“No, no.” She swam close enough to bump into him and grinned when he reached down and pulled her legs around his waist, so he was treading for both of them. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He smiled and bumped his nose against hers, beaming. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like...us.”

“Gonna have to elaborate more for me, Soph.”

She rested her arms around his neck and brought one hand up to play with the ends of his hair, getting longer by the day. “If you’d told me in high school, or even the start of junior year, that we’d be in love and on vacation together in France, just us - I’d say you were insane.”

“Hm.” He nodded, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It might have seemed a little out there, but.”

“But?” She prompted, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of his nose.

Rafe wrinkled his nose in response with a smile, then leaned forward and did the same to her. “I don’t know. I always kind of figured we might end up dating, at some point. Or at least we’d try something between us for a little bit. Didn’t you?”

She tugged on his hair, grinning. “Rafe Cameron, you presumptuous bastard.”

“Answer the question.”

Sophie shook her head. “Honestly, no. I thought you were just flirting with me to be mean, a lot of the time.”

He laughed, shrugging. “What can I say. We’re like magnets, Soph, it’s undeniable.”

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes and let go of him, pushing off to swim back to shore.

“What! It’s romantic!” He protested, swimming after her and grabbing her ankle to tug her back. She yelped, kicking in his grip until he let go. “You’re embarrassing!”

“You love me!” He was faster and able to keep up by her side as she swam back leisurely. She giggled, surfacing for air after a long stroke underwater. “I never said I didn’t.”

The two made it back to shore quickly and he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close as they walked back to their towels. They hadn’t let go of each other since they’d reunited - she held his hand, or he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, or she’d teasingly hook her ankle around his under the dinner table, sliding it up his calf until he shot her a warning glare. He reluctantly let go just to lay out the towels with a flourish, smoothing hers out for her. “Madame.”

“Monsieur.” She replied, grinning. He flopped down next to her and pulled his sunglasses on to nap again in the sun, while she pulled out a book and started reading. When he began to stir after a half hour of sleep, she glanced over at him. “Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever had sex on a beach?”

He was suddenly wide awake, whipping his head over to look at her. “Have I ever had what?” He repeated, sure he was going a little delusional. “What on earth are you reading?”

Suddenly she remembered the story that Brooklyn had told her when they first met, about the Bahamas, and shook her head. “No, actually, never mind.”

“No, no, wait, was that a suggestion or a question?” He prompted.

She shrugged, noncommittal, but she felt a familiar unease settle in her stomach. “Don’t really think I want to get arrested in France.”

He reached over and curled his hand around her ankle, tugging a little with a grin. “Who says we’ll get caught? It’s Nice, baby, half the people here are already topless. And you’re not, I should add, which is basically a crime of its own.”

She scowled, swatting at his hand when he teasingly pulled at the bikini string tied at her hip. “No, Rafe, it’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked.” She couldn’t stop thinking of Brooklyn’s smug smile when Sophie had nearly choked on her wine after she called it “making love.” It irritated her to no end knowing that for nearly every first she’d have with Rafe, he had already had it with someone else.

“Hey.” He frowned, sensing her discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

She huffed a little, keeping her eyes trained on her book. “You did it with her. Right?”

“Her?”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Your ex.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re upset?” He slid her hand up her leg, trying to be reassuring. “We didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“Have sex.” He paused, wincing as he corrected himself. “On the beach, I mean.”

“Oh.” She sat back a little. “Have you ever? On the beach?”

“Not on the beach.” He gave her a sly grin. “Not sure if I’d want sand in certain places, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

She set her book aside, rolling over on the towel to look him in the eye. “Was she your first?”

“Um. No.”

“Well?” She prompted.

He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a second to answer. “You remember Alexandra Harper?”

Sophie gasped, completely caught off guard. Of course she remembered Alexandra Harper - she’d gotten in a fight with her at school, in the locker rooms, when she was talking about how easy Rafe would be to hook up. “Her? Seriously?”

He shrugged, growing a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Senior year, some party at Top’s house.”

“Gross.” She shuddered, absorbing the information for a moment. “Okay, so how many?”

“How many...?” He repeated, unsure if he even wanted to venture into that territory.

“Yes. How many girls have you slept with? Or hooked up with?”

He paused, feeling like he was being set up for a trap. “What do you consider hooking up?”

Her nose wrinkled and she crossed her arms. “If she had your dick in her mouth. Or vice versa.” She paused, thinking. She wasn’t quite sure why she was pushing for this information, honestly, maybe it was just another test of trust - though that certainly wasn’t something she needed to test with Rafe, of all people. “I suppose fingers count too.”

“Do you really need to know?” He hedged, reaching for her hand to try and relax her a little, but she only budged away stubbornly. “Like, does it really matter if at the end of the day, I’m dating you?”

“Well, I suppose not, but. I’d like to know. Mine’s five.”

“Five!” He balked, not expecting as high a number. “I thought you said you’d only hooked up with one guy before me!”

“All the way, just two. Five if we’re going by my definition. Obviously you’re included in both.” She clarified primly, looking down her nose at him. “Go ahead. Your turn.”

“Fine, mine’s four. How many dicks have you sucked?” He frowned, growing more jealous by the second.

She blushed at his vulgarity and didn’t answer, just pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose and picked up her book to read again.

He abandoned his towel and crawled on top of her, ignoring her noise of protest as he plucked the book out of her hands and set it aside. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.” He repeated, grazing his fingers up her side. She giggled, squirming under him. “Rafe, no!”

He grinned, repeating the action, and nipped at her collarbone, only regretting it a little as he tasted sunscreen. She tried shoving his head away, laughing as she hissed, “Quit, we’re in public!”

“Just tell me!”

“No! You’ll get a big head.” She argued, knowing she’d given herself away.

He paused, grinning. “It’s just me?”

She just shrugged and nudged at his shoulder, trying to get him off.

“Sophie.”

“Yes, it’s just you, happy?” She rolled her eyes as he puffed up a little in pride. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because.” She blushed again, grabbing the book to cover her face. “I didn’t want you to think, like, oh, that makes sense.”

He laughed, reaching out and pushing her book down so he could see her. “You’re not serious?”

“I am! It’s a real concern, it’s like, scary when you’re face to face with one for the first time.” She insisted, laughing. “Especially yours, it’s bigger than I’ve seen -”

“You mean it?” He practically glowed, a little too proud of himself, and she kicked at his leg, rolling her eyes.

“Shut it. I just didn’t want to seem like I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“No, please, go on about how big my dick is.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, swatting him with the book again. “You’re supposed to say you couldn’t tell that I was clueless.”

“Trust me, baby. There was absolutely no issue there.” He grinned, leaning back onto his own towel with his hands tucked behind his head.

She hummed, satisfied. “You said yours is four?”

He made a noncommittal grunt, pulling his sunglasses back on.

“Do I know them all?”

“You’ve met Alexandra, and Brooklyn, and this smoking hot girl from back home...” He started, trying to hide the grin threatening to tug at his lips.

She frowned, setting her book down again - at this rate, she’d read five pages. “Who? Did she go to my school?”

“She did.” He confirmed with a nod, still not looking at her. “Super cute. Can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“Do you have another descriptor besides just smoking hot? Where’d she go to college?” She scowled, wracking her brain to think of who else had dated him in high school - and why the hell was he describing anyone but her as smoking hot, after all these years -

“Ohio State.”

“Rafe Cameron!” She smacked him with the book, making him yelp. “Jesus, woman, watch it, I’ll bruise!”

“You asshole.” She accused, not meaning it in the slightest. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” He grinned, grabbing her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “The fourth was a touron, summer after freshman year of college. That’s all.”

“Oh, I hooked up with a touron once -” She started, and he held his hand out, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t need to know.”

“But you just told me.”

“Because you wanted to know. The last thing I want to hear about is you with other guys.” He insisted, stealing her book away and tucking it back into her tote bag. In all honesty, he was kind of dying to know, but more so he could find all the boys and have a pointed conversation with them and figure out why the hell Sophie was so hesitant to commit to anything, ever, and what they’d done, but that was a topic for another day. “C’mon, let’s swim again. You’re looking red.”

“I should put sunscreen on again, probably.” She reached for her bag and he shook his head, standing and offering his hand. “Come swim. You’ll be fine.”

“Says you, looking like a tan Hercules out here, some fucking Greek god.” She scowled, accepting his hand and letting him drag her up. “It’s seriously unfair that you look like this.”

He grinned, chest puffed up proudly. “Go on.”

“C’mere,” she murmured, reaching up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed back for merely a second before lifting her up abruptly and hauling her over his shoulder, starting to run toward the ocean. She squealed, pounding on his back. “Rafe Cameron, if you don’t -”

The rest of her protests were abruptly cut off as he tossed her off the dock into the water, following with a graceful dive. He surfaced next to her, laughing as she came up sputtering. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Fucker.” She scowled, pushing her hair back into place.

He grinned and smacked a kiss to her cheek. “I have one question. Just one.”

“I feel like I’m not gonna like this.” She reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it how she wanted.

“I’m the best, out of all five. Right?”

“The best boyfriend? Yeah, no doubt. I only dated two others of the five anyways.”

“No, not that.” He wrinkled his nose, feeling the little green monster of jealousy rise up again. “Like...sexually.”

“Oh.” She pretended to think for a long pause, longer than he expected, and he frowned. “Sophie.”

“Hold on, still deciding.”

“Sophieeee.” He whined, reaching out and circling his arms around her waist. “Tell me.”

“Well, there’s lots of factors, you see -” He finally caught the hint of a smirk on her lips and groaned, snapping her bikini string. “Stop, just say it.”

She leaned closer and brushed her lips against his ear as she spoke. “It’s you, dummy. It’s always going to be you.”

“Even if you sleep with Liam Hemsworth?” He grumbled. She made him watch the Hunger Games series once and he refused to watch it again, not wanting to hear her commentary again on how hot he was.

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, loving how he automatically tipped his head back for more. “I don’t think that’ll be happening, baby.”

“Better not be.” He squeezed her butt under the water and made a small hum of appreciation when she pressed another quick kiss to the column of his throat.

“Someone’s desperate.” She teased and pushed away from him a little, making sure the water was deep enough to tread.

He raised his eyebrows. “You were asking how thin the hotel walls were earlier. I don’t think you have any room to talk.”

Sophie gave him a mischievous grin and glanced around the water, noting it was pretty sparse of a crowd. “Do you have pockets in your swim trunks?” She swam out a little further away and pulled slowly at the string tied loosely around her neck, holding up her top.

“Yeah, why -” His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as she let the bikini fall from her neck and untied the string on the back too, then swam close and handed it to him. “Here. I don’t want to lose it.”

“Sophie.” He uttered, a little strangled.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” He mumbled, not taking her eyes off her for a second. “Who are you?”

She frowned, swimming back toward him and crossed her arms over her chest, losing her faith in her bold idea by the second. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this, the leather jacket, speaking a new language...” He struggled to explain it, thinking. “It’s like I’ve never seen you so confident before.”

“Oh.” She brightened, giving him a small, shy smile and a shrug. “It’s okay?”

“I love it.” He declared, giving her a grin in return. “I love seeing you like this, so sure of yourself.”

She wasn’t, not nearly at all, but his perception of her made her beam. “I’m trying.”

“You’re killing it. I’m proud of you.” Rafe held up the bikini top with a grin. “What happens if I lose this?”

Sophie fixed him with a glare. “If you lose it, I’m making you take off your shorts in solidarity. You’ll get a sunburn on your dick.”

He laughed loud, shoving her top in his pocket. “A sunburn on my dick, really? I think it’d be tan. Really complete the look.”

“No. I don’t want anyone else getting to see it.” She argued, swimming close enough to shove his shoulder lightly.

“Okay, so should you put your bikini back on?” He countered, trying his best to keep his eyes trained on hers and not anything lower.

“You just said you liked it -”

“I like your confidence, not necessarily other guys looking at you -”

“Well it’s not your boobs to decide about -”

“Alright, well it’s not your dick -” Rafe started and she raised her eyebrows, reaching down and palming him under the water. “We sure about that?”

He nearly groaned at the contact, pulling his hips back. “You cannot do that to me when you’re topless and we’re surrounded by people. You really can’t.”

“I’ll put the bikini back on before I get out of the water.” She offered, smirking at how easy he was to turn on.

“Deal. That thing you said earlier, about sex on the beach?”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head in question.

“I bet we could find a private spot…” He grinned as she rolled her eyes, almost immediately. “Oh my god, Rafe, I was just asking. If you’re that desperate I’ll fuck you before dinner -”

“Jesus Christ, Sophie, you can’t just say things like that.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for an ounce of strength.

“Why not? I will. We can try the shower, it looked big enough for both of us. The bed was comfy too, though I don’t think I could get the automated curtains to close in front of the window - but hey, if you’re into that -”

“Fucking tease.” He bit out. “You’re being mean.”

“No, baby, being mean would be touching you and then not letting you finish.” She countered, trying her best to hold back a grin. “I’m never mean.”

“You are. You’re a brat sometimes.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her in, kissing her forehead. “But I love it.”

“Careful what you say, you’ll only encourage me.” She grinned and tipped her head up, catching his lips in a kiss.

______

As much as Sophie insisted they had to make the most of every minute of their vacation, she couldn’t deny that his argument of “I promise I’ll bring you back here” was compelling.

After a long afternoon out at the beach, they returned to their hotel to take a nap and get ready for dinner. His eyes widened when she stepped into the hotel lobby, finally out of the sun. “Um, Soph?”

“Yeah?” She felt a little queasy, and unreasonably hot still for being in the air conditioning.

He gently pressed his hand to her shoulder, surprised when she didn’t flinch away. “Does that hurt at all?”

“Not really. Why -” She cut herself off as she extended her arm, realizing it was on its way to turning red. “Oh my god.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Rafe reassured her quickly, but looked a little worried. “We’ll go run you a cold shower - well, maybe a bath - and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to reapply sunscreen - didn’t I tell you to remind me?” She lamented, sighing. He shook his head and gave her a small smile of regret. “No, but we know now. We’re doing your architecture tour tomorrow anyways, you’ll have just enough time to recover for our next beach day. Promise.”

He was full of promises, she’d learned, and he always kept them. Every single time. Sophie wondered sometimes if it was his way of compensating for failed relationships, like how his dad had always promised he’d be at his next basketball game, or he’d take him out on the golf course or come up for the next parent’s weekend. She leaned against him in the elevator, realizing she felt a little faint.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby.” He murmured, setting his arm around her shoulders and squeezing a little too hard, and she winced. “Ow, Rafe.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He carefully removed his arm and took the bag from her shoulder, deciding not to comment on the angry mark it left behind from burnt skin. He was glad he’d switched them from the hostel - as much as she had wanted to fight the idea, he was right that the luxury of their own shower and bathroom was worth it.

When they got into their hotel room, he instructed her to lie down, pop some ibuprofen, and then ran her a cold bath. Her eyes widened as she saw the marks left behind as she untied her bathing suit. “Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay! It’ll be fine. You stay here, and I’ll be back in - oh, twenty minutes. That’s all.” He nodded and kissed her forehead, letting her slip into the bath alone. He grabbed his wallet and phone before heading back downstairs, and he practically begged the front desk to buy a bottle of aloe lotion after-hours and the whole box of their complimentary black tea, then paid the janitor to give him a roll of paper towels. He made it back to the room in fifteen, knocking twice before letting himself into the room.

“Rafe?” Sophie called out, tentatively.

“Just me!” He called back, busying himself with heating up water to make the tea.

“I feel really shaky.” She confessed and he frowned, rushing into the bathroom. He placed his hand to the back of her forehead then dipped his finger in the water, nearly ice-cold as she’d turned up the temperature. “You might have sun poisoning.”

“You’re not serious?” She frowned, but grabbed onto his arm like it was difficult to sit up.

“Do you feel like you might throw up?”

“...No.” The hesitation in front of her answer was enough to tell him otherwise.

“Okay. Let’s dry you off and then we’ll see how you feel.” He held out the towel and helped her out, carefully wrapping it around her as she shivered. “S’okay, I got you. Sarah had this once, but I have a trick and you’ll be better tomorrow.”

“It’s unfair that you’re fine.” She grumbled, reaching up and pressing a finger into his muscled chest. He was a little pink, but that was all.

“I think I’ve been burnt enough that I’m used to it.” He reasoned, guiding her back into the room and had her sit down on the end of the bed while the tea was steeping in the fridge. “Can you pull on your underwear so you’re a little more comfortable?”

“Seeing me naked doesn’t do it for you anymore?” She quipped.

He rolled his eyes - if she paid more attention, she could see him half-hard in his loose shorts. “Not when you’re about to be sick.”

“Not gonna be sick.” She muttered stubbornly as she carefully pulled on a pair of underwear from her suitcase, then lied down on her stomach on the bed.

“Hope not.” Once the tea was strong enough, he pulled a decorative bowl from their nightstand table and dumped out the fake seashells, rinsed it, then poured in the tea. He started soaking paper towels in it then carefully wrung them out and laid them across her back, so they covered every inch of burnt skin.

“Where’d you learn that?” She asked, resting her head on her arms.

“My mom used to do it if we got burnt when we were little. It helps a lot.” He replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when he finished and laid next to her so she didn’t have to crane her neck up to see him. “I’ll change them when they dry.”

“You haven’t told me much about your mom.” She told him hesitantly after a moment of silence.

He shrugged. “Not much to say. What’s your mom think of all this?”

She was a little disappointed he didn’t open up more, but got the hint - and she felt like she might throw up at any second, so maybe it wasn’t the time for a serious conversation. “All this?”

“Of our trip.”

“Ah. I think she’s jealous.” She grinned teasingly at him. “Always tells me how you’re the ideal match, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Her grin faded a little. “I’m sure your dad thinks the opposite.”

“I don’t care what my dad thinks.” He told her, firmly, but all she could hear was the fact that he didn’t deny it. She nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You know, I think your dad and I really got along. When I was home, at least.” He told her a little shyly, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

She nodded, smiling. “He likes you. Thinks you’re cool.”

Her dad had said much more than that - he’d told Sophie that Rafe was a good kid, really respectful, a hard worker and he deserved this internship. He’d also asked, with a little too much eagerness to his voice, if Rafe would like to come home with her for Labor Day weekend, when they had their first little break in school, and would he like to come golf with him and Sophie? Also, if he and her mom came up for a football game, would Rafe like to hang out with them again?

She wasn’t quite sure if Rafe was ready for the “my dad wants to be your best friend” talk so she left it at “he thinks you’re cool.”

Rafe nodded with an eager grin. “That’s cool. He’s cool too, I mean. I like hanging out with him.”

“I’m glad.” She reached out her hand for him, locking her fingers with his. “I love you.”

“I know, angel. I love you too.” He beamed, the way he always did when she told him those three simple words.

“I’m happy my family likes you.” She told him, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Good for our future...our future us.”

He held back a smile but gave her an amused glance. “Our future us?”

“You know what I mean.” She scowled at him and he reached out and smoothed his thumb over the bridge of her nose, making her relax. “I don’t. Will you tell me?”

“I just mean, like, in the future. After college, what we’ll look like, you know? I’m just glad my family likes having you around.” She struggled to form a complete sentence, not sure how much she wanted to tell him - that she’d thought about being married to him and living with him, and just the little domestic things of sharing the day together.

He beamed, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Future us…you mean getting married?”

She shrugged, trying to seem cool about it. “Yeah. I can see it.”

“I can see it too.” He grinned, wide. “Sophie Cameron.”

She blushed, biting her lip. “Okay, okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He laughed, unable to shake the bright smile on his face. “Are you feeling any better? You need water.”

“A little, yeah, I think the bath helped.”

Rafe got up and refilled her water bottle, handing it to her so she could take a few sips. “I got aloe from downstairs too, so I can help you put that on once the towels dry. I promise, your burn should basically be gone by tomorrow.”

“You’re too good to me.” She murmured, glancing up at him.

“Nah, you deserve it.” He grinned and pushed the water bottle at her again. “Do you need me to go find takeout somewhere? I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I can probably convince someone. If you’re not feeling up to going to get dinner.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine -” She pushed herself to sit up and suddenly squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a wave of nausea pass, curling into herself. He frowned and gently pressed her back down to the bed, then pulled the top layer of sheets over her where the paper towels weren’t. “I’ll go find something. Will you be okay here or do you think you might be sick? I can figure out delivery - well, maybe, I don’t speak any French -”

“Rafe. I’ll be okay, I can go.”

“No you can’t. Stay here, I’ll have my phone, call me if you feel like you might throw up and I’ll be back before you can blink.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No. You need to take care of yourself.” He set the water bottle by her side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I want that empty when I’m back.”

“Okay, Mom.” She grumbled, but made no protest. Rafe nodded and left, not without another backwards glance to make sure she’d be okay.

He returned thirty minutes later with a pizza box in hand and a bottle of rosé tucked under his arm. “Success!”

“Impressive.” Sophie was upright now, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts that she’d stolen at the beginning of the summer. The color had returned to her face - the only part she’d remembered to reapply sunscreen on - and she’d chugged a bottle and a half of her water.

“You look like you’re feeling better. Doing okay?” He set the pizza box on the bed, despite her protest, and greeted her with a gentle kiss.

“Yeah, much better. I’ll need you to put aloe on me before bed though.”

“That can be arranged.” Rafe grinned and presented her with the wine. “Look. Only the finest for m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him with a grin. “Europe is making you a sap.”

“Nah, I just missed out on you this summer, so I gotta lay it on thick.” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig, then passed it to her. “Drink up. Not too much though, you’re still dehydrated.”

“How much was it?” She took a careful sip, then nodded, impressed.

“Only about fifteen euros.”

Sophie flicked open the pizza box and inhaled, grinning. “Excellent choice.” After a couple seconds on her phone, Rafe got a notification on his from Venmo. She’d sent him half for their dinner, like they’d talked about long before he was even in Europe.

“Soph.” He frowned. “What the fuck is this.”

She picked up a slice and raised her eyebrows, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Huh?”

“Trying to pay me for half?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “Yes, that’s what we agreed on, months ago.” (They hadn’t agreed, not in the slightest. She’d insisted she was paying for her own everything, he’d immediately said no, and the debate lasted about five minutes before she was taking her top off to end the conversation. She’d called him with other ideas in mind, anyways.)

“We didn’t agree, we left the argument unfinished because you were trying to distract me by getting naked on FaceTime.”

She smirked. “Yeah, and it worked, didn’t it?”

It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t kidding, that he was actually a little upset. “Sophie. I’m serious. I said I wanted to cover meals on this trip.”

She bristled, setting her pizza down. “And I said I wanted to split it. I’ve saved up for this, Rafe, let it go.”

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for you.” Despite his annoyance, he took a seat next to her on the bed and pressed his thigh to hers, always needing to be close.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” She muttered, not making eye contact.

“So explain it to me.”

She took a deep breath, knowing they were venturing into dangerous territory. “I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting. Just having a conversation.” He retorted back, with a little too much of an edge to it.

She hummed in affirmation, though she looked skeptical. “I’ve worked my ass off for this entire summer since I was eighteen. My freshman year, one time, I was about to break my budget just by buying a pack of Oreos at the store. So the fact that I’m even able to pay for this extra trip after my study abroad scholarship means a lot to me.”

“I know you work hard, I’m not discrediting that at all. I just -“ He let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know why you won’t let me take care of you.”

“First off, I can take care of myself -”

“I know that, but I can still help you -”

She sent him a pointed look and he took a breath, letting her talk. “You just took care of me, with my sunburn and getting me dinner. That’s more than enough. I don’t need - or want - financial help.”

He mulled it over for a second, frowning. “But I have the money, Sophie, just let me help so you don’t have to stress.”

“I don’t want your dad’s money!”

A short silence hung in the air between them as they stared at each other, both a little in shock at her outburst. She blushed a little, embarrassed. “Rafe, I…”

“It’s a trust from both my parents that I just got when I turned 21. Does that make a difference?” He asked evenly, trying to keep calm.

“Not really.” She murmured, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

“So the problem is my dad.”

Sophie grabbed the bottle of wine and took a sip, then handed it to him. “Is that really a surprise to you?”

He took a considerably large swig, then passed it back. “No. I’ve tried, you know that?”

She went to re-cork the bottle and he stopped her, taking the bottle back but handed over her water bottle. She gave him a grateful smile and took a few drinks, then nodded. “Yeah. I know you’ve tried, I saw how you tried at your Christmas party.”

“It’s just.” He leaned into her side, frowning. “He’s insistent that this is a fling, he forgets your name on purpose, he keeps talking about when I’m with someone more suitable and when I’m taking over the family business -" Rafe felt his throat getting tight and his voice growing shaky as he got more and more frustrated. “All I want is you. He doesn’t care that you make me happy.”

As much as she didn’t want to hear all of that, she knew it all already. “Hey, shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, combing her fingers through her hair. “I know you’re trying your best with him. He’s just not willing to listen.”

“I’m not going to let you go just so I can make him satisfied.” He was fully cuddled into her now, his hand wrapped protectively around her thigh and his head on her hip. “I’m not trying to pay for things to show off, you know -“

“I know, I know.” She affirmed, stroking her hand down his back. “I never thought that.”

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment in bliss as she rubbed his back, then flipped onto his back to look up at her. “I’m just thinking, when we live together -“

She nearly choked on her water bottle and set it down, raising her eyebrows. “When?”

“I mean… yeah. I have that job offer with my internship for after graduation and you’re staying in Columbus for grad school, I kind of just assumed…” He trailed off, offering her a cheeky grin.

Sophie paused, considering. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Oh. You haven’t?”

“No, I, um.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I kinda thought you were going to work for your dad and we’d have to do long distance again. I mean, you’d just always said that was the plan…”

“Right, that was the plan, but then you told me to try for the internship and I really liked it. Apart from, well, y’know.” He smiled up at her. “I actually think I could do more.”

She smiled back, proud. “Of course you can. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. You want to live together?”

“Course I do. Don’t you?” He heard her stomach rumble and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt dinner. Hungry?”

“S’okay. I’m kind of starving, though, can we eat and talk?”

He nodded, sitting up and took a slice from the box. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She took her own half-eaten slice, taking a bite before responding. “I think I’d like to live together, yeah. It makes sense.” She paused, scowling. “My mom might kill me, but I bet my dad could convince her.”

“Your mom doesn’t like me?”

“No! No, not that.” Sophie excused quickly. “She likes you, a lot, but she grew up with super strict parents and I think she thinks we’re in separate beds this whole trip.” She smirked, nudging her knee against his. “It’s scandalous.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded, already going for another piece of pizza. “So...would we need to stick to your budget or mine?”

“We can split rent, something reasonable. When I get my real job, I’ll have a decent amount of money, just. Being a TA doesn’t pay too much. My parents help me a little with rent at school.” She considered. “If we need a little more for a better place, I can pick up another job or something.”

Rafe frowned, elbowing her. “I’m not going to make you work overtime when I can help us out.”

“We’ll come to that when we need to start looking for places in spring.” She dismissed and he grinned, glad she was fully on board. “Sounds good to me.”

“Baby?”

He beamed, loving the pet name. “Yeah, angel?”

“I don’t know if I want to know this, but. Do you know, roughly, how much you have in the trust?” She bit the inside of her cheek, hesitant.

He paused, mulling over his answer before responding. “Um, let’s put it this way. I could get away with not having a job.”

“Like...for a few years?”

“Um. No.”

“Oh.” She mumbled. “So you could get away with not having a job...ever.”

He nodded, offering her the wine bottle. “Yeah. But that’s why I’d like to spend a little bit more on you sometimes, because I will have a job. Obviously some of it is invested, and I’ll set aside a college fund for my kids eventually, but. I like treating you to things.”

She took a long swig from the bottle, grimacing after. “I know you do - fuck, that’s getting to me.”

Rafe laughed, taking it back. “I can tell, your face is getting a little red.”

“Shut up, is not.”

“Is too. C’mon, eat one more slice at least and then I’ll put the aloe on you, crispy.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, taking her third slice of pizza. “You gonna give me a massage?”

“Depends, do I get one too?”

“Only if yours is good enough.” She teased, kicking at him.

“Does mine come with a happy ending?” He grinned, laughing when she flipped him off. “I think if you touched my shoulders they might peel off completely.”

“Your mouth would be sufficient,” he quipped under his breath and she rolled her eyes, tossing her crust in the box and tossed the empty box toward the trash can on the floor. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re more.”

“Jerkface.”

He grinned. “Hot stuff.”

“Slam piece.”

“Smokeshow.”

“Sugar tits.” She giggled when his jaw dropped in protest. “I don’t even have -”

“Yes you do! You have a great rack. It’s hot, don’t worry.” She assured him, poking at his chest.

“Take off your shirt.” He reached over, tugging at the hem of it.

She rolled her eyes. “Rafe, I am not comparing the size of our -”

“No, dummy, I have to put on the aloe.” He rolled his eyes and held up the bottle. “Calling me a slam piece, honestly. You’re a brat.”

Sophie grinned and pulled off her shirt, trying to go slowly and be seductive but winced when it hurt to raise her arms. “Ow! Fuck, help.”

“Yeah, that’s what you get.” He teased, but smacked a kiss to her forehead anyways before helping her wrestle off her shirt. “You don’t feel sick, right?” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then got behind her to smooth the cool lotion over her shoulders.

“No, I feel way better.”

“Good.” He grinned, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Hey. Guess what.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head back, trying to catch his lips.

“You’re my favorite.” He slid his hands down her arms, then tapped his finger against her ring. “Don’t forget it.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[creativeashproductions]

Reluctant Vacation // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: The niece of the infamous Kenny Ortega had its advantages and disadvantages, you received insight on his projects but felt guilty saying no. Kenny seeing the exhaustion pulling you down invites to the set of Julie and the Phantoms where you rediscover your love with the field.

Warning: Swearing and fluff.

 Words 2.2k

A/N: I do take requests. It may take a bit to get to them but I’ll post some.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

Masterlist

The sigh came from deep in your chest wanting to drop to the floor for an exhaustion induced nap, but an airport wasn’t the best place. Large sunglasses obscured people from seeing the deep bags under your eyes on the way to the film lot. It was coming full circle, the change different from the frantic schedule you had had recently. When Kenny called you hadn’t hesitated in packing and buying a ticket.

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice pulled you from your thoughts as a man holding a card with your name displayed. He was of Puerto Rican descendent with a young girl beside him with similar features, “I’m Ricardo. This is my daughter Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m-“

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Madison supplied with a beaming grin on her face having recognized you from your role as Sabrina in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina along with movies.

All you could do was send a fragile smile in response after a long sleepless flight to Canada.

Madison’s eyes saddened at the exhaustion you carried, “I can fangirl later. You looked really tired.”

“Kenny saw and asked me to come over the guise of help, but he knows I need a break. He’s lucky I don’t need to be on set for a few weeks.” You replied, covering a yawn as you found yourself at a car, the walk a blur.

Unintentionally you found yourself asleep in the backseat the moment you settled back there for the drive. You had filmed in Vancouver before, so it wasn’t a huge deal, and the Reyes’ duo didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

“We’re here,” Madison whispered with the back-car door opened. Your eyelids fluttering at her voice, giving Madison a closer look at your face.

Walking on set, you saw Kenny giving one of his pep talks before he cut himself off at the sight of you. The actors surrounding him furrowed their brows as the legendary director power walked to a person concealed behind Mads.

“Sweetheart.” Kenny beamed, pulling his niece in for a hug before leaning back to scan her features, “You need a nap.”

“I need to meet your new cast.” You snickered stepping around the man to the three actors he had abandoned to see you. You found amusement in their widening eyes at the sight of the Y/N walking to them.

“Oh, my shit.” Owen gasped freaking out as the actress co-starring in the new Spider-Man trilogy came closer.

Last night Owen, Charlie and Jeremy had hosted a movie night in the rented apartment the first two rented. They had quickly made their way through Captain America: Civil War before watching the following movies with Spider-Man. You had a cameo in Captain America: Civil War before becoming a star in Homecoming and Far From Home.

“We manifested her.” Charlie hissed frantically fixing his set costume growing a blush at the smile you wore. He could feel the hair stylist on standby glaring at his tousled locks.

The girl in question came to a stop before the three guys portraying the phantoms of the show in the second season. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions each one of them had.

“Hello.” You greeted flattered when the tall blonde one turned a blossom pink at the voice of an angel. Charlie and Owen had developed celebrity crushes on you.

In revenge, Tori, a returning choreographer and background character, saw Charlie’s expression along with a familiar girl. After filming season one ended the previous year you had stopped by during the filming process of CAOS to catch up with Kenny. Tori had been there and you two became friends.

“Hey!” Tori grinned, pulling you into a hug, “These three binged your MCU movies last night, and Charlie’s wallpaper is you.”

“Tori!”

“This is what you get for telling Booboo about the poster!” Tori called to the Canadian boy jogging out his area. Charlie’s cheek darkened more than Owen’s as your smile grew bigger.

“No worries Ghost. Luke definitely my favourite character and gotta say you should have been on Charmed more than two episodes.” You supplied walking backwards to Kenny once more yearning for a night’s rest after the flight.

“Holy shit.” Charlie choked smacking Jeremy’s arm repeatedly, “She knows me. Oh, oh, OH. She’s seen me-“

 “-Getting it on for a scene.” Jeremy snickered as his friend grew more and more flustered, “That was tame compared to her and Tom going at it.”

Charlie’s face dropped being reminded of the explicit scene you had done with Tom Holland in the movie that came out near the end of 2020. The Devil All the Time was the only film out of the MCU you had done with Tom. You had played the promiscuous daughter of a devout, loyal churchgoer and close friend of the preacher.

“Didn’t they date for a few months?” Owen questioned thinking back to the media mayhem during the virtual press for the film.

Owen was correct with the chemistry between you and Tom it was natural you would do interviews together via shared video chats. Charlie watched every single one that came out with interest. He hadn’t even expected the film to do so dark and explicit, but you had a natural talent.

“English, handsome, actor-“ Charlie started to list off on the English actor with a far more extensive list of credits. Charlie felt like a Canadian child in the city of Los Angeles compared to your leading man.

“-runs a charity with his family.” Jeremy continued raising one eyebrow, “At least he isn’t tall. You’d be fully screwed.”

Charlie shoved his teasing friends away with a smirk of his own as the trio continued on to the film. Charlie put his feelings on the back burner to focus on the storyline and emotions of the scene.

“Spider-Man Three baby!” The English accent shouted from the phone with only an ocean separating the two actors. Tom hadn’t even greeted you before screaming at the news you both received; despite the scripts from a few weeks prior the sequel had fully been greenlighted

Your head tossed back at the childlike glee on the older adult, clearly displaying the two years really mean he was two years old. After meeting on the set of Civil War along with Harrison, you had become friends. Followed with the following MCU appearances, it had been a surprise to be cast in Devil All the Time.

“Insane.” You started making your way through the set to where Kenny had texted you from. It was closing to the end of your vacation.

In the few weeks, you had reconnected with Tori on her breaks along with becoming good friends with the cast members. Something clicked between you and the core four of the show even if Madison sometimes still got starstruck.

“Did you read the script?” Tom questioned quirking his infamous eyebrow his fans wholly adored. You found it amusing, to be honest, that every character he portrayed had the same eyebrow.

“Not fully. I’m surrounded by people, and unlike you, I prefer not to jeopardize my career with marvel.” You teased glancing up as Charlie and Owen made their way over, “I’ll be flying out in a few days for filming.”

Tom nodded his head, “I got get back. Jacob and Haz are visiting. Remember to film the announcement! Bye Love!”

You gave a thumbs up before Tom ended the facetime glancing up at the duo who each raised their eyebrows. Charlie’s mask nearly breaking at Tom’s goodbye. Charlie could feel the cover of his feelings falling more and more each day.

“Announcement?” Owen questioned, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders having changed from his Alex outfit.

“Nothing.” You waved it off, starting to walk backwards with a smile that Charlie thought made your eyes shine brighter than stars.

The boys followed behind on the walk to the house Jeremy and Carolynn had decided to rent during filming. You had been crashing there as Jeremy didn’t want Carolynn to be alone with his filming schedule. It also gave the perfect place for your plan. Last few nights you had binged the marvel movies again ending with Far From Home.

The living room was decked out by Carolynn with your help from earlier as she was the only know that knew. Everyone settled in the living room with Mr Reyes there as well who had quickly become a father figure to you.

“So, I wanted everyone here for a reason. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been reading a script and I have something to open.” You started thanking Jeremy as he brought in the package, he had no clue of the contents, “Now nobody says any spoilers for season two.”

You turned on the camera Paul Becker had supplied with a small smile having already filmed the opening sequence. You sat on the floor in the camera shot, opening the big box to hand out the smaller boxes to your friends. Charlie, Owen, Jeremy, Madison, Savannah, Booboo and every else glanced at the non-descript red box.

“Open them.” You urged grinning as the room went silent except for the tape ripping off the packages.

In each individual box was marvel themed candy, a plushie of Spider-Man along with signed cards from the Avengers actors and the MCU Spider-Man cast. At the very bottom, all it said was to look up at you. Instead of facing them with their looks of shock, you addressed the camera.

“Tom and I are so incredibly happy to announce that Spider-Man 3 is in the beginning process of filming.” You beamed at the camera listening to the intense noise of your friends screaming, “we can’t reveal anything else about the film, but the script is immaculate as usual. You’ll get to see Harper on the screen once more.”

“WHAT!” The collective scream behind you came as you waited a second before ending the video. You’d have to replay it before sending to marvel for the finishing touches with Tom’s version and then you could post it on Instagram.

“Surprise!” You spoke to the group behind you all in states of excitement, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to tell you guys! I got the script a few days before I came.”

“Holy shit.” Owen spoke, laughing at he shook his head, “You managed to get autographs from fucking Iron Man himself.”

“I got connections.” You snorted meeting the gaze of Charlie, “Nah, Downey’s kids came for a visit, and I kept them company. Downey offered to do anything, and I took the favour.”

The surprise wore off as the group mingled, but Charlie’s eyes stayed pinned to your form as you sent a message to Tom. Locking your phone to noticed his eyes.

“Hey Charlie.” You smiled, sitting on the couch next to him. His expressive eyes showing a silver screen of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to the way his name rolled off your tongue, sending his heart stuttering. A cold sweat appearing when you grasped his hand in yours in a confident manner.

“So, you leave soon?” Charlie murmured moving closer to hear you among the chatter of the group. Your lips turned down for a split second as you felt the sadness of leaving.

It was refreshing to be on set without the demands of makeup, costumes, filming and choreography. To see the action and magic but not be part of it was a definite change you had needed desperately. But to leave Charlie hurt.

“My call time is in three days. Need to get ready to bring Harper Osbourne back to the big screen.” You replied, loosening your grip on his hand, “I don’t really want to go back. I’m gonna miss you…and everyone else of course.”

Unaware to the eyes watching in anticipation you and Charlie conversed further on the upcoming months. To the great disappointment of the house began to clear out, Owen for an early call time. Savannah was meeting with her brother, and Mr Reyes was taking Madison home.

It left Jeremy and Carolynn to retire to their bedroom while you stayed on the couch with Charlie for longer. The emotions building from the prior weeks, bubbling to the surface. Hearts thudding in their chest Charlie leaned in glancing at your lips; yours glancing at his.

Who moved first couldn’t be known, but as your lips brushed together just barely you felt grounded and peaceful. If he leaned closer, you wonder what the kiss would make you feel.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Charlie murmured startled at the confidence he had gained, “But before I do. Do you have something with Tom?”

“Other than onscreen chemistry? Absolutely nothing.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper to the boy that had become so much more than some actor.

He was Charlie. The goofy boy that put a smile on anyone’s face with an impromptu concert in the middle of a crowded street. He lived life to the fullest without any regrets. He was passionate about his work, music and the environment.

Those thoughts evaporated when lips met another pair of lips in what might be described as the best kiss ever. No fireworks felt as Wattpad would say, but instead, it was the heady warmth of hot chocolate on a cold day; a warm shower after a long stressful day. It was home and perfect.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15​ @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ 

[perriewinklenerdie]

Waiting (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 2,4 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 5 added scene. Ethan and Tobias talk as they wait for the surgery to be over. ft. cute moments between Ethan and Claire

Warnings: None

A/N: Tobias and Ethan friendship will happen. If PB won’t let me make this happen (they will but still), then Imma make it happen myself.

Tobias took a deep breath as the air of the early autumn ruffled his hair. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light on his face. He dug his hands into the pockets of his white coat, closing his eyes for a moment. A slight smirk tugged on the corners of his lips at the memory of the meeting he just got out of. He’s always enjoyed teasing Ethan and at some point, that teasing escalated to arguing and one-upping him – he enjoyed the latter even more.

A surprised shriek pulled him out of his wonder, prompting his eyes to open. The sound was filled to the brim with happiness, not raising the alert in his mind, so he calmly looked around in search of the source. And found it rather quickly.

His eyes fell onto a couple, standing in the middle of the garden near the hospital. The man had his arm wrapped tightly around the woman, keeping her close to him. His shoulders shook slightly as he laughed at something she said, then their lips met in a kiss so intense that it made Tobias want to look away. But he didn’t.

Because it might have been the very first time he’s ever seen Ethan Ramsey this relaxed around someone. This happy. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, but upon blinking a couple of times, he was sure – it was Claire and Ethan.

They pulled apart slightly, enough for Tobias to see a wide grin on Ethan’s face as he said something to her, staring into her eyes. He dove towards her right after, caressing the side of her neck tenderly, his other hand gripping the fabric of her white coat at her back.

Their lips meet again, softer this time, gentler, like he was savoring the taste and the feel of her by his side. Come to think of it, he probably was – Tobias himself knew that these two had their fair share of experiences, so it wasn’t all that surprising that Ethan would behave like this, even if it wasn’t what Tobias came to expect from him.

The same intensity, coupled with softness, could easily be found in the way Claire’s arms wrapped around Ethan’s neck, pulling him downwards so they were at a similar height. That made him laugh, breaking the kiss for a second before he adjusted his grip, pulling her upwards, the tips of her shoes barely touching the ground.

When they eventually separated for good, Tobias could very clearly notice their heavy breathing and how they held onto one another despite the fact that the intense moment was behind them. What was left was the tenderness in their smiles and the gentleness of Ethan’s touch when he traced the corner of Claire’s lips with his thumb.

Tobias didn’t need to observe the pair any longer, feeling not like he was invading their privacy – they were making out in the middle of the public garden, for god’s sake – but like he’s seen enough. He’d tease his old friend about this later. With one final look at the pair, he turned back around and went into the hospital.

~

Ethan walked back to the table in the office, balancing three cups of coffee in his hold. They’ve been waiting for two hours already, with no news regarding Francis. He stopped by Claire’s side, letting her take two cups out of his hands before he turned to Tobias, handing him the third one. His old friend eyed the coffee, then looked up at him with surprise in his eyes and hesitation in every move he did and didn’t make. A short while later, he accepted the cup with a nod, watching Ethan as he walked back to his seat.

Knowingly to both men or not, Claire seated herself between them for a reason. If they were supposed to spend the next couple of hours in that office, they needed to not kill one another in the meantime. If she had to be a buffer, then so be it.

Sitting down, Ethan took his coffee from his girlfriend, her inviting smile eliciting one of his own. The rich flavor helped his tired body wake up a bit, caffeine speeding up his heartbeat a little. He heard a soft hum of appreciation and approval from Claire, his lips curling upwards at the sound.

None of them said a word for the next couple of minutes, finishing their drinks in silence. It allowed Ethan to finally sit down and process what happened that day.

He’s working with Tobias again.

Not even in his wildest dreams would he have come up with such an idea. Nightmares, sure, though he didn’t let such ridiculous notions occupy his mind. Tobias would be the last person he’d consider for a spot on his team, considering both their professional turmoil and the personal one. If they couldn’t hold a civilized conversation outside of work, how the hell were they supposed to put everything that’s happened aside to work together as a team?

He should have known that Bloom would pull something like this – he’s never trusted the man. He wouldn’t trust him with his coffee order, not to mention something as integral as the choice of the member of the team. Every time his new boss inserted himself into their work, despite not knowing a damn thing about it, he wanted to shove a piece of paper down his throat. But he couldn’t – and Claire wouldn’t let him, no matter how much she agreed with him that Bloom deserved that and so much more.

But he didn’t have any choice in that matter now. Tobias was the member of the team. Whether he liked it or not, they would be seeing each other every day and they would have to put their differences aside. If not for the sake of their sanities, then for the sake of their patients.

Perhaps it was time to finally sit down and have a mature conversation about everything that went down all those years ago, like he wanted to do before. They will never go back to what their friendship used to be, too many things have happened. What they could do was resolve the past and try to move forward – Claire’s advice rang in his ears at that idea.

All that would have to wait, however, because in that moment, they had bigger issues than their personal problems. Francis was lying on the table in the OR as Harper raced against the time, and all they could do was wait – he always loathed that part.

His attention has been stolen by the subtle movement near his hand. Claire took his empty cup out of his hand, standing up to take Tobias’s too to get rid of them. Ethan’s eyes followed her as she deposited them on the tray by the coffee machine and walked back to her seat. As soon as she was within his reach, he took her hand into his, tangling their fingers together and giving them a gentle squeeze. She smiled at him, turning her body towards him wordlessly. Her thumb traced the line of his bones, the motion soothing him.

“I can’t decide if I’m tired or restless.” Tobias breathed out deeply, drumming his fingers on the table. The break of silence was welcomed by his other two companions – they were all getting tired of the quiet tension that filled the room to the brim, getting thicker by the minute, making it harder to breathe.

“I’m stressing out, but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.” Claire concluded, letting her head fall onto Ethan’s shoulder softly. He wrapped his arm around her pulling her into his embrace, a hint of a helpless grin stretching his features.

“You just drank coffee.” He argued, turning his head to look at her. She glanced up at him, scrunching her nose adorably.

“That’s the best way to have a powernap. Scientifically proven.”

“By who?” Tobias asked, smirking suspiciously at the younger woman. She retorted without missing a beat, turning around and leaning out of her seat to look at him.

“By me. Works wonders.” Having finished her line, she fell back into Ethan’s waiting arms, nesting herself into her boyfriend’s embrace once more. He nudged her head with his nose as he mused under his breath.

“If you say so.”

Not much later, her breathing evened out and she fell into a light slumber, burying her face into his neck. Ethan looked down at her with adoration sparkling in his eyes, closing his own eyes for a moment. It didn’t last long, though.

“If you told me years ago that we’d both be on the Diagnostic Team together, I’d call you an idiot.” Tobias started speaking, seemingly innocently, but there was something to his tone that indicated that it was only the beginning.

“If you told me I’d have to work with you despite everything you’ve done, I would have called you an idiot too. Or perhaps something else, more suitable for the occasion.”

“Hey now, E, there’s no need to be so dramatic. If we’re going to be seeing each other every day, we need to be friendly.” He grinned brightly, his eyes falling onto the woman in Ethan’s arms. “Look at Herondale and I, we can be very friendly.”

Ethan scoffed at him, trying to ignore the pang he felt at the last words. He adjusted his grip on her, hugging her just a tiny bit tighter, more securely.

“We have to be civil long enough to get our work done, but don’t think that you walking in here, smiling, will erase the stunts you’ve been pulling all those years. It doesn’t work like that.”

Silence hung between them as their stares tried one another, daring the other to break first. For what must have been the first time, Tobias relented, looking away with tension in his eyes.

“I am aware of that.”

Ethan, convinced that it was the end of the conversation, twisted his frame the slightest bit, allowing Claire to get more comfortable in her sleep. He gazed at their joined hands, her grip secure despite not being aware of that. Her closeness relaxed him like nothing else, his exchange with Tobias suddenly a thousand miles away from his mind. With a private smile, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, letting out a deep breath.

Tobias watched the pair silently – not for the first time. But it was the first time that he got to see them from such a close proximity. Even in a situation as tense as the one they all were in right now, they somehow managed to find peace in each other. He’s known Ethan for over a decade and he’s never met a person that was able to lead him away from seeing red with just one look. It’s like she somehow put a spell on him, and to Tobias, it seemed that Ethan was well aware of that – and did nothing to change it. He welcomed it with open arms. “She really got you good, huh?”

Ethan slowly turned his head to face him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, come on. Ethan Ramsey, the notorious workaholic, going home after work on time every single day? Walking around the hospital with a grin on his face?” he started pointing out everything he’s noticed during only his first day of working on the team, as well as things he’s heard from the nurses. Ethan remained silent, unsure where this was going.

“Making out with his girlfriend when he thinks no one’s looking?” at that, Ethan’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of a blush climbing onto his cheeks. “Yeah, we all saw your little escapade yesterday. Very charming scenery, red roses suit her.” Tobias nodded towards Claire, then looked at his old friend again. “Not you, though. Red is not exactly your color – I would know, since that’s exactly the color of your cheeks right now.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you.”

“We both know that I am, E.”

They shared a look and for a moment, they were back at university, thick as thieves. Two friends who could talk about everything. Then the reality caught up to them and Tobias cleared his throat, falling quiet immediately after. The next time the silence was broken, it was Ethan who did it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you.” his voice was deep and low, overcame by emotions of unknown to Tobias origin.

“For what?”

“For saving her.”

Both men looked at Claire, sleeping, blissfully unaware of the conversation that was happening right over her head. Ethan’s eyes softened at the sight of her, safe and sound in his arms.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I lost her.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Tobias responded, his hand rising on its own to pat Ethan’s shoulder, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he offered a timid smile that was accepted and eventually mirrored.

“Just… do yourself a favor – hold onto her. And hold on tight.” He continued, saying all the things Ethan already knew. “She’s an amazing woman and, god help her, she sure wants you.”

“Believe me, I don’t know what I did to get this lucky either.” Blue-eyed attending sighed thoughtfully, choosing to ignore the obvious dig directed at him, staring at his girlfriend with a look of wonder in his eyes instead. The new doctor in the team gave him a moment to himself, focusing on the wall in front of him.

And then, in true Tobias Carrick fashion, he threw in a line to break the tension. “She could make any man feel like he’s on top of the world, so I’d watch out if I were you.”

“You’re no competition for me.” Ethan countered, grinning at his old friend, letting the wave of nostalgia wash other them both. Tobias punched his shoulder lightly, faking offense at the words. For hours, they would wait for Harper to emerge from the OR, talking quietly about old and new times as the youngest member of the team lied in her boyfriend’s arms, having heard every word since she closed her eyes.

Notes

The trick actually works wonders, I would know, it saved my ass more times than I care to admit. Well, it works 9 out of 10 times. My girl C landed herself in that 10%. Good for her, some delicious subjects were discussed :D

Tagging separately

[firstdegreefangirl]

56 and 60 from the most recent prompt list said by Tim to Lucy please?

What a way to break back into actual writing, not the mad-dash outline I’ve been plodding my way through. Thanks for the request, this was so much fun! Also, hey look! Fluff!

--

Tim has no idea how long he’s been sitting in roll call, but it feels like forever. He’d never be able to repeat a word of what Sergeant Grey is saying, though, because truth be told, he’s been distracted since the moment he sat down next to Harper.  

Lucy is sitting in front of him, across the aisle where she always is in the mornings. Or, rather, Lucy is slumped in front of him, shoulders drawn in and spine arched so far forward that she can’t be comfortable.

Even her ponytail looks less perky than usual.

And Tim has no idea why.

He’d dropped her off last night, after what he had thought was a pretty good date. When he pulled up out front, she’d leaned across the center of his truck and kissed him, whispered against his mouth that she’d invite him up, but Jackson is home and they haven’t told anyone they’re dating yet. She’d squeezed his hand before she slid out of the truck, and texted him good night not long after he got home.  

But sometime between now and then, something had obviously happened. Even when she’s dead-on-her-feet exhausted, Lucy looks more cheerful than she does right now. But whatever it is can’t have been serious enough for her to call out, or she wouldn’t be here. And if things were that bad, surely she’d have texted or called Tim.

Right?

Still, he can’t stop watching her out the corner of his eye, looking for any indication that she’s coming around on the day. She’s not leaning over to chat with Jackson or John, hardly writing anything down in her notebook - which means she’s definitely not doodling, not nodding along like she normally does as Grey recaps the overnight calls and suggests follow up points for today’s officers.  

The morning briefing is winding down, he can tell, and before long, Grey is reminding everyone to stay safe and the officers around Tim start migrating toward the armory and the garage.

Lucy stands up too, a moment after everyone else, but hesitates before she takes a step. She looks around, like she’s trying to orient herself, then hides a yawn in the side of her fist.  

The meeting room is almost empty now, so Tim takes the risk that he might look like a training officer who cares about his rookie after her training ends and strides across the room.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stopping just close enough that he can rest his hand on Lucy’s shoulder without drawing too much attention. “You OK?”  

“Hmm?” Lucy doesn’t startle, but looks up at him. Confusion and surprise are written across her face. “Yeah, fine.”  

“Nope,” Tim shakes his head. “I know you better than that, Boot. If you were really ‘fine,’ you’d say you were ‘great’ or ‘incredible’ or ‘amazing.’ All of which, by the way, are true. But what’s going on?” Lucy doesn’t say anything, so Tim tries again. “C’mon, tell me what’s wrong.”  

Lucy sighs, swaying slightly closer to Tim, like she’s being drawn into his orbit.  

“I don’t know,” She crosses her arms, toying with the edge of her shirtsleeve. Tim can tell she’s not done explaining yet, gives her a moment to gather her thoughts without his interruption. “It was just a bad morning, I think.

“My phone didn’t go off, so the alarm clock woke me up, 10 minutes late. Then there wasn’t enough hot water for my shower, so I had to rinse my hair after it went all icy. And I poured my coffee, but there wasn’t enough of the good creamer for my entire cup. I found some crappy freebie single to make it drinkable, but it wasn’t as good, and I was already running late. I couldn’t find matching socks, my keys got lost in the couch cushions, it was just …” she trails off and sighs again. “It’s been a really long day, and it’s not even 9 a.m.”

Lucy shifts her footing, pitches herself sideways until her shoulder is resting against the front of Tim’s uniform. From most angles, it’d be hard to tell exactly how close they’re standing, and there are only a couple officers still lingering, so Tim lets her lean for a moment, brings his own hand up to rest on her waist, right above her duty belt.  

“I’m sorry,” he says into the mere inches of space between them. It’s not good enough, not even close to everything he wants to say. But it’s the closest he can come at work, far more IA-appropriate than come over and use my shower. I’ll wake you up, and make your coffee, and find your socks, and drive us both to work so your keys won’t matter.

When Lucy stands upright again, she trails behind Tim to the armory, signs for her duty bag and nods when Officer Ramirez tells her Jackson already checked out their shop keys for the day. She follows him again after, doesn’t seem to notice that he’s not walking toward the garage. He turns into the copy room, tiny and windowless, far enough from the bullpen that they’re more likely to escape notice, and Lucy almost walks into him before she realizes he’s stopped.

“Tim?” Lucy sidesteps until she’s facing him, and he nudges his foot forward to knock their toes together.

“You look like you could use a hug,” he glances around the room. “I thought this might be better than calling it out in front of our coworkers, but you look like you could use a hug.”

He opens his arms and Lucy’s bag drops to the floor with a solid thump before she drops herself into his chest. Tim’s arms find purchase around her waist, and even through his vest he can feel the way her fingers are twisting into the back of his shirt.  

They won’t have long here, he knows. They can only make excuses for so long, say there was a line for the bathroom or they had to wait around for car keys. But with every passing second, he can feel the tension melting out of Lucy’s shoulders and vows to hold her for just a moment longer.  

And he makes a note in the back of his mind to talk to her when she’s a little less stressed, tell her everything that’s running through his mind right now.  

Maybe next time, he won’t have to hide to hug her.