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call-me-strega · 2 months ago

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How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: ch.4/5 of p.2

First, prev, next, lore, ao3,

I've already said it but thank you for all your wonderful comments and for engaging with my story. It really motivated me to finish up this chapter. I hope you all enjoy and Happy (early) Halloween! As a bonus I'm also releasing some memes for this chapter here.

This chapter a heat wave overtakes Gotham and causes some trouble, but at least Jason gets a title upgrade.

~~~

"Uggh! How is summer in Gotham so miserable that I'm still sweating buckets in the rec center? It has AC?!" John complained, setting down the box he was holding. He stopped, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and tying his hair up in a circle man-bun. "I swear I can feel my hair sweating!"

"Hah! Sucks to suck whiteboy! Maybe if you chopped off that mop, you'd be less sweaty!" Irene taunted, hoisting a box onto her shoulder.

"Well, we can't all just decide to shave it off the second we get bored of our braids, now can we Irene!" Johnny fought back, lifting his box with new vigor. "Some of us had to work for this kinda hair growth!"

"Like I said, 'sucks to suck'! Get good whiteboy!"

She stuck out her tongue as she trotted past him.

Jason sighed as he dragged two of his own boxes out of the truck and followed behind.

"Would you two quit yer yapping? Yer hot cause we've been moving in and out, carrying boxes in the middle of a recorded breaking heatwave during a Gotham summer. And, might I add, that I'd like to finish moving this shipment in on schedule, ya know before my skin melts off? So that I can actually enjoy the industrial-strength air conditioner we installed in this place? Plus, you know Fern won't be happy if they find out that all the equipment for the new kitchens and cooking classes didn't get set up 'cause you two were too busy trying to goad each other into a rumble."

The pair stiffened.

Fern was 152 pounds of rage, spite, and mischief, condensed into a 5'2" package, decorated with kitties, glitter, and spikes.

Neither of them wanted to see Fern mad.

They promptly stopped their bickering and rushed toward the kitchens, mumbling complaints under their breaths.

"Who even says rumble anymore," John muttered. "S.E. Hinton much."

Jason rolled his eyes, gently bumping the door with his hip to keep it open. He walked over to the table where they had piled the rest of the boxes, setting them down with a soft grunt. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt, using it to wipe his brow as the three of them took a brief pause in the kitchens to catch their breath.

That's when a ringtone went off.

"Huh? Whose phone was that?" Irene questioned glancing between Jason and John. "Did one of you change your ringtones?"

Jason knew exactly who it was.

He flushed slightly as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, hoping in vain that neither would notice his embarrassment. Irene sidled up to him with a smirk.

"Who's that? Your hot neighbor-dad crush?" she teased with a cheshire grin. "Did you set a special ringtone for him lover-boy!?"

Jason defensively tried to hide his phone.

"Maybe? And what if I did!? Now back off and let me pick up!"

He shoved the smug girl off him as he picked up the phone.

"Hey neighbor," Jason gave his customary greeting, fully expecting Danny to give it back. Instead, he was met with panicked breaths and an anxious little girl's voice.

"Mr. Jason? That's you, right?"

Jason's hackles instantly rose.

"Yes, it's me, Ellie, it's Mr. Jason. Is something wrong sweetie? Where's your dad? Why do you have his phone?"

"You like to help us right? Daddy said you told him we could come to you for help. You'll help, right?"

"Yes, Ellie I did say that. I promise I'll help, but you need to tell me where your dad is, okay? Can you take a deep breath for me sweetheart? What's going on munchkin?"

John and Irene exchanged nervous glances, responding to the way Jason tensed up. They watched on apprehensively, the mood quickly growing somber. This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that one of them picked up a call and had to ask questions like these.

"Huuup-haaah, - um well, Daddy took me to the park, the one with the purple swings, because I really wanted to play today, and Sasha said they were doing soccer today and I really wanted to go. And, and I made Daddy run around with me even though he was getting tired. And then Daddy said he was getting too hot, so he was gonna rest, b-but he fell before he got to the bench and he- he's not getting up."

The young girl explained, fighting back tears.

"Hey- hey, Ellie, Ellie! I want you to listen to me, okay? First things first, I'm proud of you for reaching out to me when you knew you needed help, okay. That's a very responsible and big girl move. Next, I need you to understand that this isn't your fault, okay? Sometimes the hot weather can make people sick just like cold weather can."

"Mmm-hmm," she sniffled.

"Great. Next, I need you to find an adult at the park you can trust. Is your friend Sasha's mom nearby?"

"Yes."

"Good. Here's what you're gonna do: When I'm done talking, you're gonna go up to Sasha's mom and tell her your dad needs help. Tell her that she needs to call the VPA, okay? The V-P-A. Try to cool your dad off, maybe get him some water. If he can't drink it's fine to pour it on him since it'll still help cool off. I'm going to come get you so I can help. Stay with your dad and Sasha's mom until I get there, alright?"

"Alright, Mr. Jason."

"Good girl, can you repeat back to me what I said?"

"I need to go to Sasha's mom and tell her Daddy needs help. I need to tell her to call the VeePeeAay. I should try to cool Daddy off and stay with Sasha's mom till you come to help us."

"That's right. Good job, Elle! You're such a big, strong girl! I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Jason. Please hurry."

"I will sweetie. Promise."

Jason hung up the call.

"I'm sorry guys, but I gotta ditch. It's an emergency. Neighbor's daughter called saying he passed out after playing with her at the park. It's probably heat exhaustion. Hopefully, the Volunteer Paramedics Association will have sent someone by the time I get there."

He promptly had a pair of car keys shoved into his chest. He made eye contact with John to see him giving him a serious look.

"Take my car, Jay. From the sounds of it, it'll probably serve you better than your bike. Don't worry about returning it. I know you'll have Hood get it back to me when you can."

Jason gave him a look of appreciation. "Thanks, Johnny," he said, turning to leave. He looked back at Irene, who nodded at him in determination.

"Get outta here! We'll cover for ya. We can handle the rest of the delivery ourselves. Now go help your lover boy, lover-boy!"

He nodded in thanks before rushing out the door. He hopped in turning the AC on full blast and taking off.

Jason tore through traffic as fast as he could, breaking several minor traffic laws along the way. He hastily parked and rushed through the park looking for the Nightingales.

She said the park with purple swings. Ellie was playing soccer, so they'll be near the field.

He scanned the area as he approached. Suddenly he felt like his blood froze as he locked onto a small crowd formed near a tree. He assessed the crowd: a few parents, a couple of kids, two people in paramedic uniforms, and them.

Jason marched over, pushing through the crowd with one single-minded purpose echoing in his head: Help them.

He could see that the paramedics had laid Danny down and elevated his feet on a balled-up picnic blanket. His face was sweaty and red, his eyes barely open as one of the paramedics helped a pleading Ellie coax him into taking a few sips from a bottle of water. Another used a small hand fan borrowed from a parent in the crowd to cool him.

He pushed forward, reaching out a hand to call to Ellie, only to be stopped by a hand hastily pressing against his chest. A small portion of him grew enraged as he turned to see who stopped him.

'Who dares stop us from getting to our people!'

A tall, lean woman in a t-shirt and athletic pants. Judging by the age lines on her face she was likely in her late-30s, maybe early-40s. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and her face was just as severe, promising pain if she deemed it necessary. She spoke first.

"I don't know who you are, but you can't go over there. Don't get in the way."

"Tch! Let me through. I'm here for them." he growled out.

The woman tensed.

"Look I don't know what you want from them, but that man is in no position to give you whatever you're after." Her face grew more dangerous. "And don't even think about getting near the girl."

That's when Jason belatedly realized he had had his mission face on the entire time. This woman mistook him for some sort of collector or enforcer. She was trying to protect them. He felt himself warm up to her a bit, releasing some of the tension from his body. He had to explain to her why he was actually here.

"Look ma'am it's not like tha-"

"YOU'RE HERE!" a small voice interrupted.

Ellie promptly attached herself to Jason's leg. Jason bent down wrapping his arms around her. He stroked her hair, trying to reassure her.

"I promised I would be, didn't I?"

"Ahem," the woman glanced between him and Ellie with a slightly reproachful glint in her eyes. She addressed Ellie first.

"Ellie dear, do you know this man?" 'And are you safe with him?' her eyes asked. Ellie nodded in response.

"This is Uncle Jason. He lives in the same building as us, near me and Dad. He came to help us b'cause I asked him too. He's the one who told me to ask you for help."

Jason expertly masked any surprise he felt over the new title Ellie had given him, which implied a level of trust and familiarity he wasn't 100% convinced he'd earned just yet. He simply nodded in agreement, waiting for the woman to confirm his theories on her identity.

"I am Katrina Malone; my daughter Sasha is friends with Ellie. We all live in the same building apparently. You can call me Trina." She addressed him this time, holding out her hand. Jason shook it, nodding at her once.

"Jason. Ellie called me in a panic, and I got over here as fast as I could." He returned. She simply nodded in acknowledgment.

That's when one of the paramedics approached them. Jason recognized them as one of the kids that apprenticed with Dr. Thompkins, Emilio something-or-other.

"Ah, Jason! I'd say it's nice to see you but, well..." He glanced back at Danny. "If I overheard correctly, you're here for the patient?"

"Yes, I am."

"Ah-well, it's a pretty bad case of heat exhaustion. My guess is that he hasn't been sleeping right or enough. We've cooled him about as much as we can, but it would be ideal if we could get him indoors, preferably somewhere with air conditioning. That is assuming you don't want to take him to the hospital."

Jason nodded along. "I brought a car with me. I can take them home; we live next door to each other, and I definitely have AC. I can accommodate them just fine."

"Great. We've already administered some first aid, but keep in mind for once you get back that he should be kept in a cool environment. Try to elevate his feet if you can and have him drink something with electrolytes. Handle him gently when helping him move. He didn't hurt anything much when he fainted, but his head and side may be a bit tender."

Jason stood up and walked over to Danny, Ellie trailing behind him. His face was considerably less red, but he was still barely conscious. Danny cracked his eyes open and looked up at him with through his eyelashes. He managed to mutter out a weak "Hey" before trailing off, unable to remain fully cognizant.

"Easy does it, your highness," Jason whispered as he went to pick up Danny.

He slid an arm under his knees, the other supporting his back and hefted him up off the ground, holding him close to his chest. He dismissed the paramedics and said a quick goodbye to Trina before turning to Ellie.

"Come on princess, let's get you dad home."

He led her to the car, carefully buckling into the two most precious pieces of cargo Jason had ever transported. And then they were off.

Jason gently placed Danny down on his bed, taking great care to make sure he was comfortable. Ellie, in an attempt to be helpful, shoved a cushion under her dad's feet. Jason couldn't help but give her a slight smile at the cute gesture. He reached over and gently ruffled her hair, before moving around the room.

First, he double checked that his AC was working, even setting it to a lower than he normally used. Then, he dragged out some folding chairs he kept in his closet for the sake of convenience. One for him and one for Ellie. He set them up next to the bed and gestured to Ellie to go ahead and sit. Finally, he went to his kitchen.

'He needs something simple and easy to eat that will help rehydrate and cool him off ', he thought.

Jason ended up going with some simple orange slices with a sprinkle of sea salt and the light blue Gatorade (he refused to call it "frost glacier freeze". It was light blue, goddammit!). He set them on a tray with some pretzels, hummus, and carrots that he cut up into little sticks for Ellie.

He walked back into the bedroom, placing the tray on the side table.

"Come on munchkin, you've had a lot of excitement huh? Come have a snack. I'll watch your dad."

She looked up hesitantly, glancing between Jason and her dad.

"He'll be alright sweetheart. He just needs some rest."

Eventually, Jason managed to coax her into eating while he attempted to get Danny to drink some of the Gatorade. Danny managed to pull himself into consciousness long enough to drink a fourth of the bottle and stomach a few orange slices. Before he went out again, he managed enough energy to reassure Ellie he'd be better after a nap, and lock eyes with Jason briefly saying "thanks" and then he was out again.

Ellie finished her snack and hopped up onto the bed, laying down next to her dad. She left some space between them but reached out to hold his hand as he slept. She looked at him from her place on the bed and murmured a small voice, "Thank you 'ncle Jas'n."

Jason felt his heart clench. He wanted to ask her why she had called him that. To ask if she really trusted him that much. Could he really say he deserved the opportunity to become such an important figure in her life?

"You're welcome sweetheart," he whispered back instead, letting her rest with her dad.

Jason decided to step out of the room at that point. He went to sit in the living room for a bit to try to get his thoughts in order. He updates John and Irene on the situation, thanking John again for the use of his car, then heads to the kitchen to whip up a quick lunch. Something the Nightingales could eat when they woke up. He ended up making some fruit salad, ham and cheese roll-ups, and using some left-over grilled chicken to make chicken pesto sandwiches with tomato and mozzarella. The rhythmic motions of his knife calmed him as he mulled over the day's events.

'Her actions were calculated. She wanted to express her trust in me so that her friend's mom would ease up and let me help,' he analyzed. 'But... but there was no hesitation or unease. She knew what she was doing and did it anyway. I- I want to make the most of her actions. I'll prove I deserve the trust she placed in me. '

Once he was finished, Jason carefully stored the food in his fridge before going to check on the father-daughter duo.

Jason cracked the door open, peaking in at the pair sleeping soundly on his bed. He walked over to one of the chairs he'd set up earlier, quiet as an assassin. He sat as softly as he could and observed the pair.

Danny's complexion had greatly improved, beginning to return to his normal color. His chest slowly moved up and down and his calm face was at peace. Likewise, once Ellie had fallen asleep her worry melted off her face, leaving a calm expression so different from her usual boundless energy. She looked so much like her father it was almost uncanny.

Sitting there looking at the two, absolutely relaxed and trusting nothing would happen as they lay in his bed, Jason came to a realization. One he honestly should have expected sooner or later what with his Big Realization, last week. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

'I want to protect them.' he thought. 'When Ellie called me, I was so scared something was wrong. But the two of them are safe with me. In my apartment. In my bed. I don't want to lose this trust. I don't want to lose them.

Jason woke up with a crick in his neck.

He groaned, straightening himself out and cursing himself for falling asleep sitting. Couldn't he have at least fallen asleep on the couch? He stands up from the chair, stretching out his back. 'It's nearly 5', he thinks as he checks the time. They've all been asleep for around 3 hours. 'Oh well, at least I'll be rested for patrol later’ he thinks, heading to the kitchen to go eat something, never mind the fact that it won't be dark for a few more hours.

He pulls out the lunch he made earlier, serving himself a portion. It's closer to dinner now but he'd be damned if he let food go to waste. As he was eating, he heard the sound of light groans and shifting coming from his room. Abandoning his plate Jason gets up and goes to check on the Nightingales.

He opens the door to see the pair sitting up in his bed, both rubbing the tiredness out of their eyes in the same way.

Like father, like daughter, huh?

"Feeling better your highness?" He says leaning up against the wall.

In unison, the two stare at him with wide, innocent eyes before smiling those smiles that never fail to make Jason's heart melt.

"I'm feeling much better. Thank you so much for taking care of us Jason. I'm sorry to have worried you," Danny began, a finger coming up to scratch his cheek as if trying to dust his embarrassed blush away like a few stray crumbs. "I've had some health issues in the past which make me more susceptible to the heat. I really should have planned better, even if it did get hotter than I thought it would. I must have given you and Ellie a big scare, huh?"

He turned to his daughter pulling her into his chest. She hugged him back for a few seconds before abruptly pulling away. Danny stared at her in shock only to find her pouting. Ellie scrambled off the bed and made her way to Jason. She indicated for him to pick her up. He obliged. Once she was in his arms, she reached up awkwardly hugging his face to show her dad and gave him an ultimatum.

"You scared us both, daddy! If you don't take care of yourself and scare us again like that, then me'n Uncle Jason will just move in together until you learn to take care of yourself! So, if you don't wanna be lonely, you better not scare us again!"

'What is she saying!?’ Jason sweat-dropped, nervously staring at Danny's shocked expression.

"Is that right, Uncle Jason?" Danny asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Fuck what am I supposed to do now!?'

"Uuuh- uh, yeah! Me and munchkin here will just stay together if you don't take care of yourself!" He wondered what the hell he was thinking as he doubled down on her words.

"So, please," he continued genuinely pleading, "We care about you, try to take better care of yourself."

Or at least let me help.

Danny gave a bemused chuckle, getting off the bed. He sauntered over to Ellie and Jason, wrapping his arms around both of them. His face slid into the gap between Jason and Ellie's, fitting in easily as a puzzle piece. Jason couldn't see his face anymore, but he could practically feel the affection rolling of the man in waves. Danny squeezed them tight before speaking.

"Alright. I promise to take better care of myself. I don't want to worry either of you."

"Pinky promise daddy?"

Danny pulled back and extended his pinkie out to his daughter.

"Pinky promise, Ell."

His pinkie was larger than hers, wrapping her own finger like a hug. Keeping their hands in place, Ellie turned her unwavering gaze to Jason.

"You too, Uncle Jason."

Jason agreed, giving her a slight smile.

"Alright, me too."

Jason brought up the hand that wasn't supporting Ellie's weight and wrapped his own finger around Danny and Ellie's. His finger was bigger, thicker, rougher, and covered them nearly perfectly. He almost felt like he was acting as a protective barrier, which he felt wasn't an unappealing thing to be.

Eventually, they all had to let go. Jason, remembering that they hadn't eaten properly, led them to the kitchen. The three managed to easily fall into a comforting and familiar atmosphere.

Once the Nightingales finished eating with Jason they returned to their own apartment. They stood in Jason's doorway stretching out their goodbyes.

"I really can't thank you enough for all your help, Jason. Is there anything I can do to pay you back for this? I'm just so thankful for all your help."

"Hey now, I already told you there's no need. Really, I was happy to help."

"Oh, but I insist."

"Look, it really wasn't that big a deal but if you really insist, I'll accept some more of that fudge you gave me," Jason joked.

"Deal. I'll make a special batch just for you," Danny replied with a light blush dusting his nose.

He leaned over, giving Jason a brief hug.

"Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Danny."

"Me too!"

Both of them looked down at Ellie before glancing at each other. In unison, they bent down and took her in their arms.

"Good night, Ellie," Jason spoke softly. Her small hand tightened its grip.

"Good night, Uncle Jason."

With that, Danny and Ellie went back to their apartment. Jason closed his door, sitting on the floor with his back against it, his head cradled in his hands, and pondered these newfound desires swirling in his chest.

'What do I do now?'

~~~

Okay y'all that's all for this chapter. I hope it was enjoyable. Let me know if you think the flow and pacing is going well. As always, I'm open to constructive criticism. Also, I'm thinking about adding an extra to the series where I go over my visions for some of the side character OCs so if you are interested in more info on them or to see anyone in particular, let me know.

#long post #hbsd #HBSD #How to Become a Step-Dad #How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps #ao3 #ao3 link #dead on main #danny fenton x jason todd #de aged ellie #congrats on arriving to the sicfic portion of the story!#Danny passed out from heat exhaustion partially due to his ice core #finally putting my first aid certification to use lol #those are all (mostly) accurate steps to deal with heat exhaustion #some big steps were taken here

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leviathans-watching · 1 year ago

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Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!”

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is.

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles.

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team.

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever.

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all.

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition.

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy.

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole.

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game.

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night.

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period.

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else.

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down.

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off.

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line.

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be.

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious.

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?”

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.”

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action.

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour.

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season.

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh.

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received.

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away.

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like.

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear.

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?”

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.”

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.”

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.”

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back.

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that. If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time.

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.”

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.”

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over.

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos.

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side.

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze, you lean over to Diavolo.

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man.

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?”

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.”

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once.

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with.

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.”

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!”

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…”

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished.

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks.

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.”

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully.

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?”

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.”

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.”

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.”

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.”

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs.

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.”

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!”

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.”

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously.

“I think it was.”

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win.

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.”

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication.

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.”

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh.

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet.

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together.

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day.

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.”

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?”

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options.

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.”

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.”

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story.

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up.

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved?

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous.

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you.

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you.

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread.

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol.

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it.

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room.

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit.

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car.

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.”

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.”

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare.

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.”

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car.

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.”

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.”

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.”

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.”

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?”

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.”

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.”

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.”

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich.

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.”

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.”

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile.

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward.

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground.

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet.

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have.

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating.

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course.

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills.

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board.

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?”

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh.

“Way awesomer than the Chols.”

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?”

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at.

“Of course I did.”

“Was it impressive?”

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice.

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs.

“I barely even got to talk to you!”

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…”

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off.

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool.

“Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest.

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.”

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up.

“Sweet talker.”

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.”

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows.

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?”

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.”

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins.

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.”

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.”

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?”

“Play hockey.”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.”

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close.

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.”

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.”

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.”

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.”

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?”

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.”

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.”

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him.

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table.

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles.

“Good. I want to treat you.”

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.”

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?”

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.”

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car.

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch.

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.”

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.”

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head.

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.”

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building.

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.”

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face.

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.”

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.”

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win.

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.”

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong.

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?”

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.”

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself.

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward.

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away.

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back.

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar.

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it.

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.”

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold.

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows.

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!”

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.”

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.”

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him.

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look.

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.”

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest.

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily.

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on.

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Not threatening, just informing.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.”

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile.

“Anything.”

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings.

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding.

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.”

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up.

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?”

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.”

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup.

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.”

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs.

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder.

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet.

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.”

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo.

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“What?”

“Team merch, really?”

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.”

You can only shake your head.

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos.

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.”

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?”

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.”

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.”

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation.

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice.

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now.

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them.

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief.

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her.

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.”

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister.

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?”

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.”

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.”

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.”

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.”

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?”

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.”

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.”

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?”

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better.

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in.

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!”

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?”

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing.

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.”

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?”

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.”

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate.

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod.

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new.

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner.

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.”

“You’ve been watching?”

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.”

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.”

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had.

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting.

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena.

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure.

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around.

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols.

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on.

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back.

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city.

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder.

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game.

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild.

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long.

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed.

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him.

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy.

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling.

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly.

“I know.”

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 25 days ago

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A Tale of Love, Death and Maggots, part 24-G

Parts 1-15, 16-G, 17-G, 18-G, 19-G, 20-G, 21-G, 22-G, 23-G

I coughed up thick worm-ridden phlegm, kicking my legs in a twisted facsimile of that time I'd tried and failed to swim in the lake, and crawled. My progress made the movement of a snail seem lighting-fast; the maggots resisted me at every turn, contracting simultaneously like a sphincter.

But still I was stronger, and soon I found my nose free of the swarm. Miraculously, my insides were un-maggot-infested- had it all been a hallucination? A ploy by Not-Athena to make me break my own promise? It sounded like something she would do.

She released a furious cry as I gasped for air. “You are mine, mortal! You sacrificed yourself to me. Don't you dare deny me now,” she snarled.

Mrin let go of my hands. “He's ours, Lurker, fair and square. He has paid his debt with a whole-hearted sacrifice, and refused to back down. He, my two friends, and I are all free to go. Or are you going to cause a fuss?” The deadly gleam in her eye gave even me pause. “You know who the forces of nature will side with here, Lurker. Scram.”

Not-Athena puffed herself up angrily, but spat me out. “Do not think I do this because I fear you, little witch. Keep your not-coward, he was hardly worth it. And those two children were practically all skin and bones anyways.” She paused for a moment to look at our Athena. The maggots whispered something that I could not catch, something that sounded like an offer. One last ploy to catch us, one last worm of a string to reel up her dinner.

For a fleeting moment, desire came over Athena's face, a yearning that I'd never seen before. This was it, I thought. After everything we did, we were gonna die because that damned girl never learnt the meaning of self control. I closed my eyes and flexed my wonderfully free fingers one last time.

“No,” she said suddenly. “I’m sorry, but I can't accept that. You should leave, worm bitch. Don't let me catch you hanging around here again.” She puffed up her chest in a vague facsimile of Mrin, staring down the monster coldly.

Not-Athena let out a final hiss, then evaporated. Hundreds of thousands of larvae burst into flies simultaneously, scattering faster than I could catch them. Within seconds, we stood in an empty hall, safe from cultists and monsters and all the other nasties. Just me and my family.

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @abiteofhoney

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3, @bookwormclover

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#Yes we're almost done with the G route. I've finished writing it <33 #creative writing #writers #writing #writeblr #my writing #writerscommunity #writing community #spilled ink #fantasy #short story #Horror

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rogueddie · 2 years ago

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Mermaid / Siren Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🐬

Shrike, My Lovely Shrike

Curse_of_Cain

Five times Eddie meets a siren in the water, and one time where he wakes up with one in his bed.

Words : 12,213 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Down by the Water

Pluttskutt

A powerful storm with mighty waves brought up trash from the fathoms below. It's the most powerful one they had in decades and locals have been warned not to go to the wrecked pier and beach until they can be certain it's safe. Eddie, however, has never been one to listen and takes his usual morning stroll along the beach, trash bag in hand to clean up what he can.

But when he pulls at a fishing line, it appears the storm brought up more than trash from the mysterious fathoms below.

Words : 2,514 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Siren Song and Captain Cry

rocknrollrebelwalnut

Up close the Captain has even more golden dottings of freckles and moles across his skin, with two large ones across his cheek, and another two on his neck. Only the gash across his cheek breaks them up, still weeping across his skin. His eyelashes stretch and curl, casting shadows across the rich hazel that stares right back at the Siren, his lips parted in a gentle smile.

"It's you," The Captain manages in a whisper, weakly reaching to push a lock of hair behind the Siren's flicking ears, the Siren still holding himself above the Captain. The man's smile grows wider as he notices the faint red across the Siren's cheeks, a breathy laugh ghosting the Siren's face before the Captain's eyelids grow heavy once again.

Words : 7,051 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

tired of all this candy on the dry land

margosfairyeye (Skittery)

Eddie sees a mermaid--sorry, merman--in one of the tanks at the aquarium and can't stop staring. Steve wants to know who the stalker guy watching him every day at work is.

Words : 5,203 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

sweet siren of the lake

john1513

Eddie rescues a strange man from the Russians after discovering him unexpectedly while trapped an attempting to escape. However, there is more to this boy than meets the eye.

Words : 3,231 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Night Swim

Mocha_dragonart

Now, the last thing Steve had expected when he had gone to lovers late to swim was a large creature to brush by his leg. It was a freshwater lake in the middle of Indiana for fucks sake.

Words : 1,513 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I. antrostomus

buttered_toasty

Eddie doesn’t see shiny things often down here. He’s tuned to the strobe of bioluminescence and the twinkle of stars, but anything outside of cold silvers, blues, and greens is strange and eye-catching in its rarity.

Shiny things make Eddie stupid.

Words : 4,848 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec

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tswaney17 · 1 year ago

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 43

It's aliveeeeeee!!! 🙌 I can't even begin to describe how off my game I've been trying to write. I've had the entirety of IDBTWY written for months, but I honestly hated my writing, and editing was such a chore. I'm still not completely in love, but we need to push past so we can finally close this beast. I am slowly working through my creative drought, and hope to have some consistent content coming soon!

Also, credit to @123moiaussi for the "superseed" comment. 😉

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 6,187

Elain was sitting in the waiting room of the OBGYN office, knee bouncing nervously. This was her first-trimester check-up and she just wanted to make sure that everything was okay. Her nausea had been pretty awful over the last few weeks and she had grown excessively tired—to the point that she had to talk with Thesan about reducing her surgical procedures so she could keep a clear head.

She hated having to do that, not wanting to disappoint her boss just after she reached her attending level earlier that year. But Thesan took it in stride, helping to arrange her schedule to fit what she was comfortable doing and ensuring she had time to take proper meal breaks and rest when she needed it. He rearranged schedules and let her take on leading the resident interns full-time, allowing her to take some of the stress off by guiding them through procedures and running the ER.

He had come into her hospital room after she collapsed to check on her, and she knew she couldn’t keep it from him after what had happened in the operating room. Her boss had been ecstatic, congratulating them both.

It had been about a month since they found out they were pregnant, and she was now sitting at around seven and a half weeks along. She and Azriel decided to keep the news to themselves until she reached week twelve, just to play it safe, and Elain wished she could say they had been successful in their endeavors. But, her boss knew, and Viviane knew. The Moonbeam twins found out two weeks ago when she and Fenrys had exited the elevator of their building and Connall’s breakfast sandwich sent her hurdling for the nearest trashcan. Fen had been quick to slide her hair back, holding it above her head as she heaved. Stepping off the elevator a few minutes later, a startled and confused Azriel took in the sight of Connall and then heard her retching. He instantly was at her side, taking her hair from Fenrys, and running his hand down her back.

“What is in that sandwich,” he demanded.

Blind-sighted, Con rambled out ingredients. “Bacon, cheese, spinach, and egg.”

Elain gagged at the word egg, her stomach violently rolling from the name. “Get rid of it,” she moaned, still leaning into the disgusting garbage.

The dark-haired twin had swallowed the remains of his meal in three large bites.

It took effort to push herself off the trash bin, falling into the comforting embrace of Az’s strong arms that he wrapped around her.

He cupped the side of her face, tucking her under his chin, and let her thumb swoop over the apple of her cheek, the touch gentle and soothing. “Do you want your tea,” he murmured, lips pressing into her hair.

Unable to voice it answer, she dipped her chin.

Fenrys was already on the ground before them, pulling her coffee mug from her bag that she dropped and handing it to Azriel.

Her husband brought the mug up to her lips and allowed her to sip, the peppermint hitting her stomach and calming the raging sea. His hazel eyes glanced at her, a question simmering in them, and read the answer she didn’t even need to speak. “Elain’s pregnant,” he told the twins. “It’s still very early and we’re trying to keep it close to the chest for now, but please don’t bring eggs anywhere near her.”

Her body shuddered at that damn word again, but she managed to gain enough strength to pull herself from Azriel’s arms as she faced the Moonbeam brothers. “Sorry about that,” she said and felt her husband tense as she apologized for being sick. He’d been wildly adamant that she not apologize for the nausea, the cravings, or anything else she needed of him or anyone else. Not after having a meltdown because he went and got her something she asked for, only to start craving something else when he was out and feeling utterly ridiculous about it.

Connall seemed to snap from his shock first. “Congratulations to you both. And I apologize for the sandwich. I won’t bring anything around that has—”

“Please don’t say the word or I might hurl again,” she interrupted, fingertips touching her mouth like she’d hold it back. Fuck, even just the name of it sent her body quaking from the queasiness.

Fen chuckled. “Noted. Is there anything else that sets you off we should be made aware of?”

She shook her head no. “Nothing else that I know of yet.”

He nodded, a charming smile spreading his lips. “Let us know if anything changes. And congratulations on the pregnancy. I’m so happy for you both.”

And she could see it, the joy radiating on both of their faces. It made her heart swell with love for the two men who would likely become Uncle Fen and Uncle Con to their child.

The door opening caught her attention, pulling her from her reverie, and she met the gaze of the nurse who’d come to collect her. Elain glanced back at the elevator, waiting for her husband to show up. He was running late—something that was so very unlike him, which only added to her anxiety. She returned her attention to the nurse. “Can you give him another couple of minutes?”

It wasn’t the first time she asked to delay her appointment and knew it couldn’t continue much longer.

The nurse—Maria as her name badge read—gave her a sad smile. “We really can’t delay much longer. There are a few appointments behind you.”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Elain practically begged.

Maria hedged, shuffling from foot to foot, uncomfortable by the request, but was saved from having to deny her by the elevator door sliding open and Azriel rushing out.

He was at her side instantly, taking her arm to help her stand as if she couldn’t do it herself. Elain had to remind him on occasion that she was not yet showing and could still move about the house without his assistance. “I’m so sorry I’m late. There was an accident downtown and I got caught right in the middle of traffic. I’ll leave a half hour earlier next time.” He leaned down to brush his lips to her cheek.

His presence immediately calmed her and she leaned into his touch.

Azriel, always in tune with her feelings, didn’t miss how she settled into him as they followed the nurse back, his arm slinking around her waist so he could touch his mouth to her ear. “Are you all right?” he asked her. Nothing ever got by him.

She nodded but knew he hadn’t bought it. Still, he let it slide, caressing her arm in a soothing gesture. The nurse took all her vitals and then handed her a gown to change into before the doctor arrived. Az helped her slip it on, tying the strings together for her before assisting her onto the table.

“You’re nervous,” he commented now that they were alone.

Elain blew out a breath. “A bit.”

He swept his thumb over her cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know to be honest. Just want to make sure everything is growing healthy in there,” she said, patting her still-flat stomach. “No surprises.”

Az chuckled, kissing her temple. “I have no doubts that we have a healthy baby, love. Try not to fret.” His words seemed to calm her as she relaxed back onto the table.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of her doctor and she took a moment to introduce herself to her husband, shaking his hand.

“Okay, let’s get started. Elain, if you wouldn’t mind putting your feet into the stirrups.”

She took out the ultrasound wand, spreading lube on the tip, and Elain couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s confused face.

“All right, my dear. You should feel a little pressure,” her doctor said.

“I’m sorry, but I thought she was getting an ultrasound. What is that?” Azriel questioned.

Elain snorted lightly. “Az, it’s a transvaginal ultrasound. It goes inside, not on my belly.”

His eyes widened. “Well, the three baby books I’ve read didn’t discuss the differences in ultrasound types.”

Doctor Chen raised her brows. “You’ve read three baby books already?”

He shrugged. “I just like to be prepared.”

“You’re going to be a great father.”

The comment seemed to startle her husband. “Just because I’ve read a few books?”

Chen’s lips turned up at the corner. “Mr. Archeron-Knight, I can barely get most fathers to read one, let alone three. And before she’s even through the first trimester. Believe me when I say that I can tell who’s going to be well-adjusted to handling fatherhood.” Giving him a wink, she slipped the wand inside, making Elain’s grip on Azriel’s hand tighten slightly.

“All right, here we are,” Doctor Chen said, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard to bring up the monitor. A pitter-patter sound filled the air as she located the baby’s heartbeat.

Tears sprung into her eyes as that beautiful, perfect, innocent noise washed over her and she glanced up at her husband to see him sharing the same look as her. He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, the special moment between them growing with the touch of his mouth against hers.

“And here is your baby,” Chen announced, pointing to a little blip on the screen.

Elain’s dark gaze stared at that spot on the screen, feeling like her heart was about to burst with happiness. But when her eyes slid to her doctor, seeing the furrow in her brow, that joy dropped like a rock in her stomach.

Her doctor let out a small noise of contemplation, enough to catch Azriel’s attention. “What is it?” he asked, voice laced with demand and worry.

A few clicks on her keyboard had the screen adjusting, zooming out just slightly. She repositioned the wand inside of her, making her body tense. “Well, I think we should discuss multiple births. Because that right there,” she said, pointing to another blip on the screen, “is a second fetus.” She clicked a button again and two very distinct heartbeats surrounded them. Chen turned to look at them with a smile. “You’re having twins.”

If Elain thought her heart was racing before, it was absolutely pounding now, the sound rushing in her ears. Because there was just no way, no way, right? Twins? Twins! Her head swiveled to look up at her husband. “You and your fucking superseed!” she snarled.

“Elain!” Azriel chastised, looking torn between being guilty of impregnating her with two kids and amused about her foul language in front of the doctor. Mostly the latter.

Chen just laughed. “I’ve told many expecting parents they’re having twins over the years, but that was, by far, the best reaction I’ve ever seen.”

She had the decency to at least look embarrassed as she apologized to her doctor for her outburst, but she just waved her off.

After snapping a few pictures, she pulled the wand out, cleaned her up, and set the printed sonogram photos on the counter for them. “Everything looks good, Elain. You’re growing at an optimum level. I’ll go ahead and prescribe you some anti-nausea medicine that you can take in the morning and before bed for as long as you need it. Unless there are any concerns, you’re free to get dressed. The nurse at the front will schedule you for your next appointment.”

The door clicked shut softly behind her as she left and Elain felt the silence between her and Azriel like a weight on her chest.

He helped her sit up, but before she could slide off the table, he stepped in front of her, finger hooking under her chin to force her gaze to his. “Hey,” he said softly like he was afraid anything louder might startle her. “El, love, I know this is scary, but we can do this.”

“Twins, Azriel. Two kids. As in one whole being more than we even were planning for.”

His mouth quirked up at her zealous explanation. “I’m well aware of how twins work, baby.”

She glared at him for the comment.

But he ignored it, leaning down to capture her mouth in a sweet kiss. “Twins mean two beautiful children of our own. Twins mean twice the amount of love we will have. Twice the amount of joy they will be bringing into our lives. If there is anyone who can take on the challenge of having twins, it’s us. Don’t ever doubt that.”

His words settled inside of her, soothing the jagged worries of her heart into something perfectly beautiful. His confidence, his strength…it was exactly what she needed at that moment and he knew it.

Elain let out a heavy breath. “You’re changing all the diapers.”

He barked out a laugh, folding her into his arms. “I’m okay with that.”

~~~

They decided to wait until she reached the fifteen-week mark before they told their family the news. Azriel was ready to burst at week nine, but she managed to hold him off until now with just a little bit of persuasion.

A surprise to both of them was when Elain didn’t have her head in the toilet, she was horny as fuck. Azriel was running hard to keep up with her impressive sex drive. And that was saying something.

He reached out and took her hand across the center console, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Are you nervous?” he asked, bringing the back of her palm to his lips.

She glanced at him, a soft smile pulling at her mouth. “No. I’m excited. I want to tell everyone about them.” Her hand rubbed over her swollen belly. Swollen was probably the best way to describe her appearance. Truthfully, she looked like she indulged in a very large, carb-based meal of pasta and was extremely bloated from it. Which, to be fair, with Azriel’s amazing skills in the kitchen, it was a fair assessment.

Elain opened her purse and slipped out the sonogram she had a few days before. The one that told them what they were having. Her eyes welled up with tears as her fingers stroked the black-and-white image. She was so blissfully happy. “I’m glad that they’re healthy. That was all I cared about.”

Az kissed the backside of her palm again. “Me too. And I’m happy they’ll be close to Sutton’s age so they can grow up together.”

“Do you think Feyre and Rhys will start thinking about having kids?” she asked, curious if he thought their other siblings might be feeling a touch of the baby fever.

He shrugged. “If they weren’t talking about it before, I’d say they will be now. Rhys has been wanting kids since practically in high school. He always wanted to be a father; better than his, though he wasn’t anything compared to mine.” The words hung between them for a minute before he asked her, “Do you have concerns about me becoming my father?” His voice dropped to a near whisper. Almost as if he were afraid of her answer.

Elain looked at him in shock. “Azriel, gods no. I know exactly the kind of father you’ll be, and it will not even remotely look like what you were given.”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “Yeah? And what kind of a father do you think I’ll be?”

She twisted in her seat to face him better. “You’re going to be the most devoted father because you’re already the most devoted husband. You’ll dote on those kids until they never have a wish or dream unfulfilled. You will love them fiercely—I mean, you already do and they’re still in my stomach,” she giggled lightly, rubbing her belly. “They are going to be the most spoiled children.”

At that, he laughed. “I can’t say you’re wrong. I don’t think I will be able to say ‘no’ to them at all.”

“Azriel, you can’t even tell me no,” she deadpanned.

“It’s just not in my vocabulary when it comes to you.”

Elain shook her head, eyes rolling as she twisted back in her seat to face forward again. She could see the restaurant down the street where they were meeting their siblings for lunch to tell them the news. “Well, I’m not going to take on the mean parent role just because you can’t say no.” She fiddled with her purse, sliding the image back inside. “We may need to find an alternative—” Screeching tires caught her attention and then she screamed, “Azriel! Watch out!”

The car lurched, sending her head sideways to slam against the side window. The last thing she heard was shattering glass as another car collided with them before everything went dark.

~~~~~

Azriel’s eyes blinked open, ears ringing loud enough to make him wince. His body ached across his chest and waist from the seat belt and as he shifted himself, he could tell nothing was seriously injured. Thankfully. He looked over at his wife, fear locking his heart in a deadly force. “Elain,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Her head lay against the back of the seat, lulled to the side. She had a gash on her forehead, blood dribbling down her temple, and most of her right arm was scratched up from the shattered glass.

He tried to unbuckle his belt, but the damn thing was stuck. Pulling the knife Ruhn had gotten him from his pocket, he cut the fabric, releasing him, then reached over and did the same to Elain’s belt. A scarred hand slid to her cheek, cupping it gently, and then moved down to her throat, searching for his worst nightmare.

The relief he felt when her heartbeat pattered against his fingertips was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. “Elain,” he tried again, moving his palm back to her face. “Elain, sweetheart, open your eyes for me.” His tone took on a desperate sound as he willed her to wake.

Movement caught his eye, the sound of tires crunching on glass flooded him and he looked out the window to see the car that hit them, pulling back and fleeing. “Motherfucker,” he cursed, realizing that this was an intended accident. He had managed to jerk the wheel so Elain didn’t take the brunt of the impact, but it still slammed into the back door, shattering all the windows on her side.

A burning rage built in his gut, one that could not—would not—be stifled without blood. Whoever ordered this hit…

They were as good as dead.

Azriel refocused on his wife, fingers sweeping over her skin. He shoved that wrath building inside of him down until it was a flickering ember, something for him to let rage once he knew she was okay. “Elain, come on. Open your eyes for me.” He gently tapped her cheek, trying to get her to look at him. “Please, love. I need you to open your eyes. Elain.”

A groan passed through her lips, sending tears of relief cascading over his cheeks as her eyelids began fluttering.

“El, baby,” he cried, swooping his thumb across her smooth skin. He collected the soft sounds coming from her parted lips like precious gems, thanking every god for each one.

“Az.” Her voice cracked on his name. “What happened?” she asked, still coming into consciousness.

He shuffled closer, leaning over the center console to kiss her temple with a gentleness he reserved only for her. “We were in an accident, love. I need you to stay still until help gets here.” He felt her pulse kick up under his palm.

Elain’s breathing turned short. “Azriel…” her voice shook in fear. “Az, the babies.”

His heart wrenched, hoping and praying that everything was all right. After all that they had been through, he didn’t think he could handle the world taking something else away from her. From them. But despite his fear, he remained calm, knowing she needed to as well. “Everything is going to be okay,” he promised. “I hear the sirens, love. Help is almost here.”

The words didn’t seem to abate her as she continued to shake. “Please,” she cried, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks. “Check if I’m bleeding.”

Azriel knew she needed to know—would not breathe steadily until she did. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh, sliding up until he reached her panties. Feeling her for any sort of wetness. Any stickiness that would confirm to him there was blood.

She was dry.

There weren’t words to describe how thankful he felt for that confirmation. “No blood,” he told her, pulling his hand out from underneath her dress to show her his clean fingers.

Elain released a sob, her tense body relaxing slightly.

He shushed her, kissing her temple again. “You’re okay,” he murmured, wanting to do everything in his power to reassure her. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Two firetrucks pulling up snagged his attention, as he continued to stroke her cheek soothingly.

“Sir, are you both okay?” one of the responders asked as he approached his side of the car.

He glanced at the man. “We’re conscious but she needs to be looked at.”

The guy rapped his knuckles on the top of the car. “We’ll get you out in a second—”

“Her first,” he told him in a tone that brooked no room for argument.

Another firefighter moved towards his wife’s window. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” she asked.

“Elain,” his wife answered.

“Are you in any pain?”

“My head hurts a bit.” Those doe eyes looked at the other woman. “I’m pregnant.”

She turned her head and yelled, “Get me the jaws!” Looking back at Elain, she reached in and wrapped a C-collar around her neck. “How far along are you?”

“Fifteen weeks.”

A nod. “All right, Elain. We’ll have you out in a jiffy and get you over to the hospital to have your baby checked out.”

Neither of them bothered to correct her on the number of babies. It wasn’t relevant, only that they needed to get her out. Once the door was opened, they began moving her onto a backboard. Azriel wrenched the driver’s side open, wanting to get to her as quickly as possible.

“Sir! You need to be checked by the paramedic,” somebody called out but he ignored them, rounding the vehicle to where Elain was being placed on a stretcher. Just before he reached her, another voice called his name—one he couldn’t ignore. He turned, finding Cassian running over to him, flashing a badge to one of the firefighters to get past him. Rhys, Feyre, and Nesta stood just beyond the scene at their cars, all watching his wife being checked out.

“What the hell happened?” Cassian demanded, eyes flitting over to where Elain was being hauled towards an ambulance.

“Hit and run. Fucker took off after T-boning us,” he snarled, tone murderous. They would not get away with this. Not with his pregnant wife in the car with him. Az glanced up and saw the street cameras, angled just right to have caught the entire accident. “Cash, get me the film from that camera,” he indicated with a nod of his head before swiveling on his feet and prowling toward his wife.

Cassian kept stride with him, took in the responders on the scene, and lowered his voice to not be overheard. “Az, the police will investigate. Just let them do their job.”

Azriel whirled on his brother. “You either get me that tape, Cassian, or I’ll get it my way. Either option, I will find out who did this to her.” There was no arguing when he stepped into this role. This wasn’t a brother asking for a favor. This was the head of the Velaris Mob Boss demanding it.

His voice turned deadly, taking on the dangerous threat he used to get what he wanted.

When it looked like his brother was about to argue, the female firefighter shouted, “Victim is fifteen weeks pregnant. She needs to be checked out by a doctor.”

Elain called Az’s name and he turned, striding towards her but not before he caught how Cassian’s face paled. Or the shocked looks from their siblings. Well, that’s one way to find out, he thought to himself as he reached his wife’s side and took her hand.

She clutched his fingers, her face still scrunched with worry. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, placing a kiss on her forehead before they loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Az climbed in after, sitting down on the bench and gripping her hand once more. He glanced back out the door and found Cassian standing there.

“I’ll get you that tape,” he said quietly; fierce determination blazed in his hazel eyes to help his brother wreak havoc over the person who went after his pregnant wife. Only Cassian could understand the fear of something like this, having already gone through a pregnancy with Nesta. Without another word, he shut the doors to the ambulance.

Elain looked up at him, his name falling from her lips. He brushed a thumb over her forehead. “Everything is going to be fine, love. Just try to relax.” It was empty words, they knew that. Knew neither of them would settle until they heard both of those heartbeats on a monitor.

He just hoped he was holding it together enough for her until they could confirm she was still pregnant.

And may God have mercy on the fucker who caused this, if she wasn’t.

~~~

They ushered Elain into a private room, hooking her up to a fetal monitor. The doctor moved quickly, shoving her dress up to reveal her bare stomach while a nurse covered her hips with a blanket.

She flinched slightly when the cold gel was applied to her skin and Azriel brought her fingers to his lips, kissing her across the backside of her knuckles.

It was like the world held its breath as they searched for those two heartbeats.

“Baby number one looks good,” the doctor said, clicking a button and sending the hummingbird’s wing pattern of a heartbeat into the room.

Elain squeezed his hand, a soft sound passing between her lips in relief.

The wand moved on her belly, searching for their other little one. “And, there they are. Hiding behind their sibling.”

When the second heartbeat reached their ears, Elain twisted, sobbing into Az’s chest with utter joy. He wasn’t very far behind her, letting tears of relief slip from his eyes as he cradled her against his torso. His hand rubbed her shoulder, lips pressing to the crown of her head, offering comfort to her through his presence and touch.

The doctor cleaned her off, smiling at the two of them. “Everything looks good on the monitor,” she started after giving them a moment. “We’ll keep you here for another hour or so just to be safe before we discharge you. If you have any bleeding in the next few days, come in right away.”

Elain seemed unable to answer, so he did it for her. “We will, thank you, doctor.”

“There also appears to be a group of people waiting for you guys in the lobby. Would you like me to send them in or give them a message?”

He crouched, putting himself at her eye level, wanting Elain to make the decision. Az cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears under her eyes. “Love, do you want to see the family now?” he asked, voice low.

She sniffed, eyes still flooded with silver. The subtle shake of her head told him she wasn’t quite ready for the company yet.

Azriel rose, perching himself on the edge of her bed, and tucked her back into his chest. “Can you tell them that we’re okay, and I’ll come to get them when we’re ready for visitors?”

“Of course. Page the nurse if you need anything.” Without another word, she slipped from the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Elain fisted his shirt, taking in his cedar and mist scent deep into her lungs. He gave her whatever time she needed, letting her get herself together. “I was so scared,” she whispered, burying her face further into his embrace.

Azriel was grateful that she seemed to find comfort in him, in his touch, his scent. He held her tighter against him, murmuring, “Me too.”

She held onto him for a few more precious moments before pulling back to look up at his face. “I didn’t see the other car when they pulled me out.” Her brows furrowed as she tried to put the pieces together. “Were we in a hit and run?”

“Yes,” he said, brushing his thumb back and forth over her cheek.

Her eyes flicked between his. “Do you think we were targeted?”

He wouldn’t lie to her—refused to, but also didn’t want her to be even more frightened than she already was. “I do.” Az saw that kid look directly at him, his eyes widening in understanding that he was, in fact, not dead, before taking off from the scene. He didn’t recognize him, but if he had to place a bet, he’d say it was one of Frankie’s lower levels who crossed to Elias’s side.

Az didn’t think either of his brothers would call a hit like that. Middle of the day, busy street. It wasn’t their style. But Elias was careless, greedy, and a poor decision-maker. He sighed, brushing his lips to her forehead. “The kid looked me dead in the eye before leaving. He was scared that I was still alive.”

“How old do you think he was?” Elain asked.

“I’d say we have at least a decade on him. Seventeen, maybe eighteen.”

“So, just a kid then.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You say that like it’s excusable.”

She shook her head. “I’m not excusing what he did, but we both know how young kids are trapped into joining those gangs. Through manipulation and fear. There’s a reason you won’t allow anyone that young to be brought in, Az, and you know it. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to question if it was his idea or he was put up to it.”

His lips quirked up as she spoke like a true Mob queen. “If you had to guess who would put him up to it—”

“Elias, no doubt. We both know he’s been itching to strike at us since he showed up at the hospital. And you said he was trying to recruit kids from Frankie. Perhaps he offered this kid a way out from under Illyrian rule.”

“There is only one way out from Frankie’s Mob,” he told her, letting the words hang heavily between them.

Elain let out a deep breath. “I know. Either way, he’s dead. Elias is likely to kill him for failing, or Frankie and Nick will for attempting to leave.”

It floored him to just how similar her train of thought was to his. She observed and listened and picked up on every single thread laid down. Understood all of the connections and bloodshed as if she’d been a part of it her whole life. He couldn’t say that the revelation was thrilling, but it also made his chest ache. Az never wanted her to be so in tune with his world. Didn’t want her to have to think about the worst-case scenarios and determine ways around them. But here she was, doing just that and not shying away from it.

To think he couldn’t love her any more than he already did.

“I have to agree with your assessment. Elias will not get away with this; with what he’s done to you.”

She didn’t balk at the threat in his tone, simply took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Despite what he’s done, is going after him the best idea? Things could escalate.”

“We can’t let this go without repercussions, love. Others will hear about this and wait to see how I respond. If it’s not a show of force, they’ll think I’ve gone lax and more will come. I need to be aggressive with my actions.”

It looked like she wanted to argue some more, but decided against it, bringing his hand up to her mouth to kiss his scars. “Do you want to go get the others now? I’m ready to see them.”

He smiled down at her, cupping her cheek one more time. “I’ll be right back.” Az pressed his lips to her forehead before he slipped from the room, knowing that that conversation was far from over. But he’d let it go for now. She had been through enough today without him pushing her on it. But this was one thing he would not, could not budge on. Not if he didn’t want to keep her safe. Especially now with their growing family.

Azriel wasn’t even to the edge of the lobby when Nesta shot out of her chair.

“Is she all right?” his sister asked, face drawn with worry.

His eyes glanced to Cassian behind her, cradling a sleeping Sutton in his large arm, Feyre and Rhys next to him. “She’s fine,” he told them, sensing their relief. “They want to keep her here another hour or so, just to be safe, but you guys are welcome to come back with me if you’d like.”

“Does she want company?” Feyre asked, edging to her eldest sister’s side. “We don’t want to intrude—”

“She asked for you all. No intrusion,” Az interrupted her.

Cassian swallowed, his eyes looking down at the small thing in the crook of his elbow. “You know we all heard the firefighter…is the baby okay?”

He had a feeling one of them would ask, but he wanted to make sure Elain was present for it. So, he said instead, “Everyone is fine. We can talk more in her room.” Turning on his heel, he headed back toward Elain’s private room, knowing they’d follow him closely.

Opening the door, he caught Elain looking intently out the window, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. “Love,” he called out to her, making her snap out of her reverie and turn to face him. “Our siblings are here.”

Her smile lit up his entire chest, despite the current circumstances. Gods, she was radiant when she smiled at him like that.

He held the door open, letting their family shuffle in. Nesta and Feyre made a beeline right to either side of her, gripping her in a firm hug.

“Are you all right?” Nesta asked again, cupping her cheeks in her palms.

Elain laughed slightly. “Yes, I’m fine.” Her eyes landed on his at the foot of her bed and he nodded at her, answering her silent question. One small hand swept down over the slight swell of her belly. “We’re all fine,” she added, a bit more shyly.

“I can’t believe you two are pregnant already,” Rhys stated, resting a palm on her lower leg.

Az laughed. “Strong swimmers,” he boasted.

“Asshole,” Cassian muttered. It wasn’t a secret that he and Nesta had struggled a bit to get pregnant. His wife was, apparently, just incredibly fertile.

Elain just shook her head, eyes rolling at the exchange.

“How far along are you?” Feyre asked, interrupting what she knew was going to be another ridiculous argument.

“Fifteen weeks. Or just over,” she answered.

Nesta blinked in surprise. “Do you know what you’re having?”

Her lips quirked up in the corner as she eyed him. “A boy.”

Their family erupted into congratulatory shouts for them both, grabbing them into hugs. Az waited until they quieted down before announcing, “And a girl.”

All four heads swiveled to him.

Silence descended upon their family for a few tense moments before Rhys finally demanded, “Explain!”

“We’re having a boy and a girl.”

He could see the lightbulbs going off above their heads. It was rather humorous to watch them connect the dots.

“You’re having twins?” Cassian breathed, eyes wide as saucers.

Elain chuckled at their expense. “Yes, my husband infested me with his superseed for two babies.”

Azriel barked out a laugh. “You’re one to talk miss fertile as fuck.”

Their family erupted into a fit of hysterics at the exchange and that brought the largest smile to his face. Elain caught his grin, offering him one of her own. Fuck, he loved her so damn much and he couldn’t wait to have his two little ones welcomed into such a loving family.

He still had to handle Elias, still needed to confirm who else was involved in the hit on them, but he pushed that aside and focused on this moment with his pregnant wife and their siblings. Az would get his revenge…just not today.

~~~~~

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sequinsmile-x · 5 days ago

Text

Burn Forever : Chapter Four - Love

She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment before she turns around, entirely overwhelmed by how her day had started in comparison to how it had ended. How she’d gone from waking up next to a man who she’d fallen out of love with several months ago to standing in the bathroom of the man she’d loved for years.

It's been months since they've spoken, but when Emily calls him, Aaron answers, and they spend December together as she picks up the pieces of her life.

A Young Hotchniss AU

Chapter 4/4

-x-

Hi besties,

Thank you so much for the love on this fic. AU's always make me even more anxious, so your comments etc mean the world.

I can't believe I ever tried to convince myself this could be one part!! This chapter is long, but I wanted to keep it in one piece.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

List of tags are on the master list

Words: 8.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was everything she’d wanted to hear for years and for a moment she sinks into it. Let it all wash over her like a gentle wave, the warmth of it lapping at her ankles before she gets pulled under, anxiety and fear overwhelming everything else as she takes a step back from him.

“Aaron…”

She didn’t want to run, she didn’t want anything other than him, but she’d never been able to keep hold of good things for very long. She was still trying to piece herself back together after what Ian had done to her. She was only just able to bend down to pick up the pieces he’d shattered without it hurting, without pain lancing through her every time she even considered trying to remember who she used to be.

She didn’t want Aaron to get cut on her sharp edges as she tried to slot them all back into place.

He smiles at her as she trails off, and he stays in place, his palms almost itching to reach out for her, “Emily, let’s sit down okay?”

She nods, sinking onto the couch without second thought, her legs numb and her cheeks burning red as the last few minutes start to catch up with her, “I’m sorry,” she says, swallowing thickly to try and push everything back down her throat, “I know…I know blind panic isn’t an ideal reaction to a love confession.”

He laughs, surprising them both, and he sits next to her, making sure he leaves space between them, “Em, I haven’t told you because I expect us to run off and get married tomorrow or any time soon,” he says, his smile getting wider when hers does. It loosens something in his chest, the last bit of doubt he’d had that this was the right thing to do turning to dust, pushed away by her smile and the soft look in her eyes, “I said it because I want you to know, and when you’re ready I’ll be right here. And I’ll be right here until then too.”

She laughs breathlessly and nods, “I…I hope you know that I…” She can’t say it, the words stuck in her throat, and she shakes her head at herself, her laugh turning bitter at her own cowardice, “Damn it.”

He reaches out for her, his hand linking through hers as he squeezes, gently encouraging her to look up at her, “I know.”

The relief is palpable, and the honesty in his eyes makes her vision blur. She tucks her legs up against her chest, desperately trying to make herself as small as possible, finding safety in it as she exposes more to him than she thought she would when she woke up that morning. Waking up in his arms was one thing, playing pretend that this was her life all the time - even though he was offering it to her - was one thing, but telling him just how broken she felt was another.

“The last couple of years with Ian…it’s like I’ve been dying slowly,” she says, hugging her knees to her chest, “Bit by bit I lost who I am, who I was. It was all chipped away by him,” she shakes her head and wipes away a stray tear and she blows out a shaky breath that catches on all of her ribs, “I need to figure out who I am again. And I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you whilst I do that. You deserve more than that.”

It breaks his heart that she thinks that’s true, that she feels so broken down by a man who had never deserved her that she thinks there is anything she could do to make him not love her. Familiar anger aimed at Ian licks at his insides, makes him consider cashing in a favour one of the correctional officers at the jail owed him to just have five minutes with him, but he shakes it off. Emily didn’t need, or want, his anger. She needed his love, and more importantly, his friendship, and that was what he was going to give her in abundance.

“Em,” he says, scooting towards her, warmth spreading through him when she leans against him, tucking herself against his chest as he wraps his arms around her, “Isn’t it up to me what I deserve?” He hooks his thumb under her chin and makes her look up at him, “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, nothing would ever change that. And like I said, I’ll wait. For however long you need.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and nods, “I…”

I love you too.

“I know,” he says, his smile soft as he tucks some hair behind her ear, “I know sweet…I know, Em.”

She smiles and rests her forehead against his shoulder, shifting as close as she can until she’s all but in his lap. She knows she has to give him something, that she can’t just leave this as him telling her that he loves her and her unable to say it back even though she does. She smiles as he trips over the nickname he’d already used on her, how it made her feel safe and warm in a way Ian’s use of ‘love’ never had. With him, it had always felt like she was a possession, something he had on display for everyone to see, but this felt different. Like Aaron revered her, like every moment he spent in her presence was a gift he wanted to earn.

She curls into him, her side pressed against his chest, and she blows out a slow breath, “I like it when you call me that.”

He furrows his brow for a moment before he smiles, “Sweetheart?”

She nods, warmth spreading through her again, “Yeah. I like it,” she smiles up at him, “So don’t stop yourself from doing it.”

He smiles and nods, “Okay, I won’t.”

It was a stepping stone, the first bit of dry land she felt like she’d been on in months, slipped under her feet by him as he let her take the first step alone. It wasn’t where she wanted to be. She wanted to kiss him and tell him she loved him back, but she wasn’t ready quite yet, and didn’t know when she would be. For now, this would be enough as she slowly put her life back together with his support.

She sniffs as she pulls back, wiping her cheeks as she smiles up at him, “How about those cookies? They should be cool enough to eat now.”

He nods, his grip on her loosening ever so slightly, knowing he had to let her go so she could come back to him.

“Sounds good, sweetheart.”

___

It’s a relief when nothing between them seems to change. Their relationship was as it always had been, but with a shiner edge to it now, the promise of one day and soon hanging in between them at any given moment. Polished bit by bit until she was ready to truly bask in its beauty.

She’s cleaning whilst he’s at work because she has to do something. The weeks of not doing anything other than healing her bruised body were starting to wear on her, threatening to make her short tempered with the one person who’d helped through it all. So she cleans. She takes everything off of every surface and wipes them down. She dusts. She vacuums up loose needles from the tree before they can be walked throughout the apartment, tiny little bits of what had started to represent hope to her trodden into the carpet.

He’d called to say that he was on the way home and that he’d pick up a pizza for dinner. She was excited to see him, to snuggle up against him on the couch and steal bits and pieces of his affection for her to store away for another day. She smiles as she thinks about it, as she idly wonders what Christmas movie she could talk him into watching again, and she’s momentarily distracted. Her fingers slip past a small pirate statue he’d had for as long as she’d known him, something she knew to have been a gift from Haley years ago, something she’d bought him that referred to an inside joke Emily had heard about more than once. She tries to catch it, but misses, and it hits the floor, slipping from the kitchen counter where she’d put it so she could clean and onto the tiles, smashing into several pieces in front of her.

Her reaction is instant. The air gets pulled out of the room and her lungs as her hands start to shake, and she falls to the ground, hearing, not feeling, the dull thud of her kneecaps against the hard floor. She reaches out for the broken shards of the statue and tries to slot them together, a sharp sting spreading out from the palm of her hand to her heart as she still struggles to breathe. Panic prickles at her skin as a voice echoes around her head, a voice that sounded exactly like Ian’s, telling her that she’d done it now. She’d finally messed up.

Idiot.

Clumsy bitch.

She hears the key in the door and she sucks in a breath, but it doesn’t go anywhere, it catches in her throat as she shakes her head at herself.

“No, not now,” she says to herself, desperately trying to scrape up the broken statue, a part of his past that she’d smashed to pieces, with her bare hands.

“Em, I got the pizza, I also got you that cookie dough…” Aaron trails off, abandoning his briefcase and the pizza on the kitchen counter when he sees her, when he hears the ragged breaths she’s desperately trying to suck in. He sits next to her on the floor, all of his focus on her. He reaches out for her, his hand on her shoulder, “Em-”

She flinches, she caves in on herself as she tries to scoot away, her knee catching on a sharp edge of the ceramic on the ground, and she holds her knees to her chest, all the while muttering something he can’t quite hear. Her eyes are wild, unseeing, and he swallows down any pain or sorrow at her flinching away from him, well aware that this has nothing to do with him.

“Emily,” he says, trying again, keeping his hands to himself this time, making sure there is distance between them as he puts himself in her line of sight, “It’s me. It’s Aaron.”

She gasps, her chest tight as she tries to breathe, his face morphing into Ian’s every time she blinks, “Aaron?”

“That’s right,” he says, “I need you to breathe for me, okay?”

She wraps her arms even tighter around her knees and she shakes her head, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“Sweetheart,” he says, cutting her off, “Nothing matters except you breathing right now, can you do that for me?” He reaches out for her hand and she doesn’t flinch this time, and he takes a sign to continue. He presses her palm against his chest and exaggerates his breathing, purposely holding onto the inhale for a couple of seconds so she’ll feel it before he breathes back out again. He holds his hand over hers, keeps it pressed against his chest, and in minutes that feel like hours she slowly starts to breathe properly herself. Her hand shakes where it’s caught between his and his solid chest. “Okay, that’s better,” he says, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, “You’re doing great.”

She chuckles hysterically and shakes her head, “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I was just trying to help by cleaning up and-”

He furrows his brow, “You didn’t mean to break what, Em?”

She reaches for a piece of the statue on the ground with the hand not still linked through his, “It was an accident, I know it’s important to you.”

He doesn’t even really register that what she’s holding is part of a ceramic pirate he’d had for years, instead, all he can see is the cut on her palm, and the matching one on her knee where a broken piece had cut through her leggings.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, carefully taking the broken ceramic from her and placing it on the ground, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Aaron, I’m telling you I broke something that’s important to you,” she laughs humourlessly. She wonders why she’s pushing it as she says it, why she’s almost asking for him to be mad at her. He keeps hold of her good hand and helps her up, his other hand on her back as he guides her away from the sharp pieces on the ground so she doesn’t stand on any of them.

“Accidents happen, Em,” he says, squeezing her hand as he leads her towards the bathroom, “And nothing is as important to me as you are.”

She’s dumbfounded by it, his gentle kindness that she still wasn’t entirely used to draped over her like a warm blanket as he encourages her to sit down on the closed toilet lid, “I…,” she clears her throat and shakes her head, “I’m sorry.”

He furrows his brow as he kneels on the ground in front of her, first aid kit in hand, “Em, you can stop apologising, these things happen-”

“Not for that,” she says, cutting him off, scrunching her nose up as guilt and shame fill her lungs, “Not just for that,” she corrects, wincing as he wipes antiseptic over her knee, the sting chased by an apology from him, “I’m sorry I reacted like that.”

He presses a bandaid over the cut on her knee and then he stamps a kiss against it, smiling when she frowns at him in confusion, “Kissing it better is an essential step,” he says as he reaches for her hand, “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

She swallows thickly as he wipes the palm of her hand, and she presses her lips together, everything she wants to say to him, the three words she so desperately felt, trapped beneath the rubble of everything else. She knew she had to start somewhere, that she had to start clearing away the remains of the relationship she’d before, had to pull the pieces of it away from around her heart so she could let him in.

“Ian had this…ugly rugby trophy,” she says, her eyes fixed on her hand and his as he wrapped a bandage around it, sure if she looked at his face, if their eyes met, that she’d lose her nerve, “I hated it and never made any secrets about that, but one day I accidentally knocked it over. It really was an accident…” she trails off as her voice starts to shake, “But he didn’t believe me. That was the first time he slapped me.”

His grip on her hand tightens ever so briefly before he forces himself to calm down, purposely making sure he’s as gentle as possible as he folds the bandage around her hand under itself. As soon as he found her in the middle of a panic attack he knew it would be because of something like this, another part of what she’d endured that he wasn’t privy to. It would usually make him furious, but he feels overwhelmed by sadness instead. He pushes it away, clears his throat as he looks up at her, unsurprised to find tears shining in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

She shrugs as if it didn’t mean anything, and she presses her lips together, “You didn’t kiss it better.”

The change in conversation confuses him, “What?”

“My hand,” she says, “Kissing it better is an essential step.”

He smiles and does as he’s told, stamping a kiss to the heel of her hand, his lips catching skin and the edge of the bandage, and he stands up, encouraging her to do the same. She immediately sinks against him, her cheek against his chest as she breathes him in, the scent of his cologne dousing out the last sparks of panic under her skin. She doesn’t know how long they stand there, but she doesn’t pull away, sure that she’d be happy to sink into his embrace for the rest of her life.

“The pizza will have gone cold,” she says eventually, and he kisses the top of her head as he runs his hand up and down her back.

“I’ll order in another one,” he replies simply, smiling encouragingly at her as he pulls back, “Like I said, nothing is as important as you.”

___

“It’s freezing.”

Aaron chuckles and squeezes her hand before he drags it into his pocket, “This is why you should have worn gloves.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her smile taking the edge off of it, “And then how would I ever have convinced you to hold my hand?”

He squeezes her hand again, lets his thumb rub back and forth over the heel of it as they continue to walk, “I never need convincing to do that.”

She blushes, the warmth of her skin stinging against the cold winter air, and she wondered how he always managed to make her feel like she was a young thing who didn’t know that love could hurt. It was a power of his, something he did without thinking or trying, and she loved him for it. Loved that he could make her forget everything that had happened, that she felt more and more herself with every passing day.

“Let’s get a hot cider,” she says, dragging him towards one of the many vendors surrounding them, “Then maybe some doughnuts.” She suggests, and he nods and watches her as they walk, her beauty outshining all the Christmas lights around them, the sparkle in her smile brighter than anything he’d ever seen. She narrows her eyes as she catches him staring, her dimples carved out deep in her cheeks as she tries and fails to hide her smile. “What?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing,” he says, looking at their surroundings, pretending he hadn’t been caught staring at her, “I like it here.”

She smiles at him, “Dupont Circle?” She replies, and he nods, “I’ve thought about buying somewhere here.”

“To live?”

She chuckles, “No, to display my collection of modern art,” she quips, raising her eyebrow at him as she squeezes his hand again, “Yes, to live. I’ve always liked it here. It would be nice to put down roots,” she feels anxiety spark low in her gut and she stops walking, her arm tugging on his as he comes to a stop too, “Is that okay?”

He tilts his head in curiosity and puts his hand on her waist as he directs her out of the way of other people walking around the markets, “Why wouldn’t that be okay?”

She feels a flash of frustration, his constant understanding almost grating, and she swallows it back because she knows he doesn’t deserve it, “Well. Even if we are going to be…” she trails off, oddly embarrassed at saying it out loud, “Together,” she smiles when he does, “I need to have my own place,” she wishes she’d had this conversation with him at home, that she hadn’t started it in the middle of the fucking Christmas markets, “I’m grateful for everything, and for you letting me stay with you, but we can’t jump straight into being together and living together. I need to figure out-”

“Em,” he says, cutting her off gently before she can spiral any further, “I understand.”

She stares at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open, and then she clears her throat, “You do?”

“I do,” he assures her, cupping her cheek, the warmth of his palm almost scalding against her cold skin, “You’ve never had roots, not really. And I know how important it is to you to find them. And even if, when, we are together,” he says, smiling when his correction makes her smile, “You are still your own person, sweetheart. We’ll figure it all out. Step by step.”

She has to press her lips together to stop herself from kissing him there and then. She wanted it to be just theirs, something they could look back on and not also have the memories of grumpy Christmas shoppers around them grumbling about them being in the way.

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing his hand, “We’ll figure it out.”

___

“Dinner is almost ready.”

He smiles at her from the couch, “I wish you’d let me help.”

“No,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “You’ve cooked every other Sunday so far, it’s my turn.”

She had a plan. They’d have dinner, they’d light the candle, and she’d kiss him. She’d finally take that next step. It had been a week since his admission of love, since things had started to shift between them. It felt like a lifetime and no time at all, like every day that had passed had been a decade and a second all at once. She felt like a coward sometimes, half convinced that she should have told him she felt the same way immediately, but he was so sure she wasn’t, so convinced that she was the bravest person he knew that she believed him.

And it was time to be that brave person he saw whenever he looked at her.

“It smells amazing,” he says as he stands up, his hand ghosting her back as he slips past her in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” she replies, looking over her shoulder, “What are you doing?”

“Setting the table,” he says, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“You never can just sit still can you?”

“No, I can’t,” he replies throwing her a wink as he gathers the plates and carries them over to the dining table, “But neither can you.”

She chuckles as she pulls the casserole out of the oven, “True,” she replies, “Doing nothing these last few weeks has been driving me insane.”

“You haven’t been doing nothing, sweetheart,” he says, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses, “You’ve been recovering.”

She smiles shyly as she puts the casserole down on the table, “Yeah,” she replies, pressing her lips together to try and contain her smile as she sits down, “I have been.”

They eat and talk and drink the wine, and she imagines a life where this was what she did every day. It’s no longer a grainy, out of focus picture that felt like a pipe dream, but it’s bright and beautiful. Gorgeous techicolour that felt like a promise rather than wasted hope.

He insists on doing the dishes, something she can’t argue with because that’s exactly what she’s done the past few weekends, and she sits on the couch, her eyes fixed on the Advent wreath on the mantle. She thinks about the last few weeks, how she’d slowly gained everything it represented - hope, peace and joy all things she thought she’d lost a long time ago. She stares at the final candle, the one purple one that hasn’t been lit yet, and she swallows thickly.

Love.

Love was something he’d shown in abundance. It was in the purchase of the wreath in the first place, his desire to give her something to hang on to when it felt like she’d lost everything. He’d loved her by being her friend, by answering her call after months of silence because he never considered doing anything else.

He loved her in the way she could allow him to and that, she thought, was the most precious kind of love she’d ever had.

“Ready to light the candle?”

She smiles as she turns to look at him and she stands up, leaning into him when he wraps his arm around her shoulder, his affection for her always free and in abundance. She picks up the lighter and lights the first three, and she flicks the lighter off, passing it to him and smiling when he looks confused.

“You should light it this week,” she says, nerves, good nerves, sparking in her gut as his fingers skim across hers as he takes the lighter, “The theme this week-”

“Is love,” he says for her, swallowing so thickly that she can see it from where she’s standing.

“Yeah,” she replies, watching intently as he lights the candle, “It’s love.”

She still can’t say it, not yet, but she hopes he knows what she’s trying to say. They fall into silence as he places the lighter back down on the mantle, both of them staring at the candles, both too nervous to look away. He breaks first and turns to look at her, his voice caught in his throat.

“Em-”

She cuts him off, her hand on his cheek as she presses her lips against his. He responds immediately, as if he’d somehow anticipated this was what she was going to do. He cups the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, his touch somehow gentle but purposeful all at once. A perfect example of the contradictions that made him up - his softness hidden behind a hard surface that he’d cultivated his whole life.

When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against his, her lips pressed together as she chases the taste of him against her skin, “I still need-”

“I know,” he replies, kissing her cheek and then the corner of her lips, smiling as she turns her head to kiss him properly, entirely unable to stop herself now she’d started, “One step at a time, right?”

She nods, her forehead knocking against his as she wraps her arms around his waist, “One step at a time.”

___

Emily sighs contentedly as she sinks onto the couch, pulling the cashmere blanket she’d bought Aaron years ago over her lap. She smiles at the sound of him singing in the shower, the low tone of his voice audible over the rush of the water, the warmth of it wrapping around her as it flows through the closed bathroom door and down the hallway towards her.

Her phone rings from where she’d dumped it on the couch, and she picks it up, groaning when she sees her mother’s number on the screen. She contemplates not answering, but she knows from experience that wasn’t a good idea, that in the long run, it was easier to just answer no matter how much she didn’t want to.

“Mom,” she says as she answers, “How are you?”

“Emily, I’ve been trying you on your house phone - why didn’t you pick up?”

She rolls her eyes even though Elizabeth can’t see her, and she sinks further into the couch, pulling the blanket all the way up her chest, “I’m fine thanks, Mom.”

“Emily.”

She sighs, and she knows she has to answer and tell her at least some of what she’d been hoping to put off until the new year. She barely spoke to her parents as it was, but their dislike of Ian and his dislike of them made it even less common. She hadn’t spoken to them in almost a year, and despite everything, she missed them.

“Ian and I…we broke up. I’m not at my place. I’m staying with Aaron for now.”

“Aaron?” Elizabeth tuts, a sound that takes Emily back right to her childhood, “Why aren’t you staying at your place? It’s your name on the lease.”

She closes her eyes, “It’s complicated Mom. Ian was…he got arrested. He’s in jail for assault.”

“Well, who did he…” Elizabeth drifts off, and Emily can hear when the penny drops, her mother’s sharp inhale echoing down the line, “Emily.”

“I’m okay,” she says, even though she isn’t entirely sure that she is, “I’m trying to be okay. Aaron’s helping.”

“You should have called me.”

Emily sighs and swallows thickly, pushing down every awful truth she wishes she could say. She wanted to remind her mother that their relationship wasn’t like that, that she’d never been the first person she’d call if she was in trouble and she never would be. Elizabeth’s help had never come without condition and neither had her love, and when she was at her lowest the only person she would have wanted to call was the one person she had.

“I called Aaron,” she says, hoping it doesn’t create more questions than it answers, and she hears Elizabeth sigh.

“Well, you’ll have to bring him along to the annual Christmas party this week,” she says, “It will create fewer questions than you coming alone.”

“The annual Christmas party?” She asks, and Elizabeth sighs again, and it takes all of Emily’s self control to not hang up.

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling. To make sure you come.”

The thought of it makes her shoulders stiffen, a tension in her that her mother could only ever create rushing through her. It’s the last thing she wants to do. She doesn’t want to stand in her parent’s house, where she always felt like a spectacle anyway, like one of the decorations they’d paid someone to hang on the tree, and that was without the still fading bruises on her face.

“Mom-”

“Emily, can you please just not make something complicated for once? The party is on Friday. I’m sure you and Aaron can show your faces for a few hours. Haley can come along too if that’s what Aaron wants.”

She sinks her teeth into the inside of her cheek, “Aaron and Haley aren’t together anymore either.”

“Oh, well that makes it easier,” Elizabeth says casually, “You have to come.”

She covers her eyes with her hand and blows out a slow breath, only looking up again when she hears the door to the bathroom open and she sees Aaron standing in the doorway with a towel hanging low on his hips and a questioning look on his face. She shakes her head at him and he walks towards the bedroom to get dressed.

“Okay,” she replies, resting her head against the back of the couch, “We’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” Elizabeth says, having expected to get her way anyway, “We’ll see you then.” She pauses and swallows thickly, her voice changing completely, “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

There’s an edge of a maternal tone to her words, and it makes Emily ache. Makes her wish this was their relationship all the time, that it wasn’t just flashes of light in amongst the darkness.

“I’m okay,” she assures her, “I promise.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And that you’re not with him anymore.”

She hums, “You did always say you didn’t like him,” she says, chuckling humourlessly, “I appreciate you not saying I told you so.”

“I would never say that,” Elizabeth insists, clearing her throat when Emily lets out a scoff, “About this anyway.”

Emily smiles as Aaron walks into the room, shifting her legs so he can sit down and then placing them back over his lap, “Thanks, Mom.”

Aaron squeezes her knee, and the reassuring look on his face lets her know that he already knows who she is speaking to.

“We’ll see you and Aaron on Friday.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling tightly at Aaron, “We’ll see you on Friday.” She blows out a slow breath as she hangs up and lets her phone drop down to her lap. She smiles tightly as she looks up at Aaron, “So, we’re going to my parent’s annual Christmas party on Friday.”

He squeezes her knee again, “We were invited?”

She hums, “Invited implies we had a choice,” she says, shifting so she’s against him, both of her arms looping around one of his, “I’d say demanded we attend is more accurate.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead, and then her temple, “I don’t mind going. I have been before.”

She groans, “As my friend. But never as…” she drifts off, careful to not put a label on it. Nothing she could come up with felt like it was good enough, “She’ll know right away, you know.”

“Know what?” He asks, cupping her cheek to encourage her to look at him.

“That we’re together,” she says, scrunching her nose up in distaste, “She has a sixth sense for this kind of thing.”

“Is it…a bad thing she’ll know?” He asks, careful as he chooses his words, and she shakes her head.

“No, not at all. It’s just, we haven’t even been on a date. We haven't…” she trails off, her cheek burning with embarrassment as she clears her throat. They hadn’t gone any further than kissing, hadn’t taken the step she wasn’t sure she was ready to take yet. Aaron was, as he always was, endlessly patient with her and she worried that one day, he’d dig into that part of himself where he kept all of his patience for her and come up empty.

“I doubt she’s going to ask about any of that,” he replies, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “We’ll go, we’ll hold hands and drink champagne, and then we’ll come back here.”

She smiles and presses her lips against his, her hand on his cheek as she holds him in place, “I like the sound of that,” she kisses him again before she pulls back, “I need to go to my place and get something to wear,” She says, her arms tight around one of his, “I’ve only got sweats and jeans here and I think my mom’s head would explode if I showed up wearing that.”

He hears what she hasn’t said, what she won’t ask, pride and embarrassment in equal measure stopping her from asking for the help she wants and needs, “Do you want me to come with you?”

The relief is palpable as she kisses his shoulder and then his cheek, warm and welcoming and as soft as the blanket she had wrapped around herself, “Yes, I’d like that.”

___

It doesn’t feel like home.

It’s the first thing she thinks as she walks through the door, the smell of bleach and whatever cleaner the people she’d paid to come in once the police were done hanging in the air. It’s clinical. Cold. The walls permeated with it and Ian’s cruelty.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

She nods, even though she isn’t, and she turns to look at Aaron. He’s standing behind her, giving her the space he thinks she wants and she offers him a hand, encouraging him closer without saying anything. He’s by her side in a second, his hand the only warm thing in the apartment as he wraps it around hers.

“Let’s just get what I need, okay?”

He leans in and kisses her cheek, “Of course.”

She makes quick work of packing a bag, just about remembering to pack something that will cover her neck, the bruises and scratches there still visible. She’s thinking about jewellery, wondering what she needs to pack, when she jumps at the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

“Fuck,” she mutters, shaking her head at herself, “When is that going to stop?”

Aaron kisses her cheek, “Want me to go answer it?”

She shakes her head, “No, it’s okay,” she replies, kissing him, her lips catching the corner of his, “Can you pack me some more underwear?” She says, smiling when his eyes go wide as she pats his chest, “You made good choices last time.”

She gets a kick out of the look on his face as she walks away, and she tries to tell herself that the fact it was all so easy was because it was supposed to be, not because it was too good to be true. She pulls the door open and smiles when she finds exactly who she thought she’d find on the other side.

“Dave,” she says, standing back to let him in, “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, kiddo,” he replies, trying not to look at the almost faded bruises on her cheek, “You look good.”

She chuckles and opens the door wider to let him in, “You’re a liar old man. But thanks.”

He smiles as he steps into the apartment, “I met a friend of yours a few days ago.”

She rolls her eyes at the look in his eyes, “Dave-”

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, holding his hands up, “He seems like a good guy. You deserve a good guy.”

She hears what he hasn’t said, sees the concern in his eyes, and smiles at him. He was a good friend, an unlikely friend, but a good one, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to thank him for calling the cops when he did.

“Dave, listen-”

“If you’re about to thank me, there’s no need,” he says, “I just wish I’d done it earlier.”

She nods and hugs him, her arms tight around him for a moment before she pulls back, “I’m going to find somewhere new to live,” she says, “We should keep in touch.”

She turns as she hears Aaron walking through the apartment, her bag over his shoulder, and she doesn’t miss the delighted look on Dave’s face when she turns back to look at him.

“I got everything,” Aaron says, smiling politely at Dave as he offers out his hand, “Dave, nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you again too,” Dave says, his smile turning into a smirk as he looks back and forth between the two of them, “I hope you’re still looking after our girl.”

Emily rolls her eyes, “I don’t need looking after.”

“She really doesn’t,” Aaron says, “If anything, she looks after me.”

She only realises she’s staring at him when Dave clears his throat, and she glares at him, something that only seems to encourage him, “We should get going.”

“Of course,” Dave replies, “Have a good Christmas.”

“You too, Dave.”

___

“Are you okay?”

She smiles as she turns to look at Aaron and she sips her champagne, “I think if we took a shot every time you’ve asked me that question this month we’d both get very drunk,” her smile gets wider, “Or maybe even alcohol poisoning.”

He clears his throat and he blushes, “Sorry.”

She shakes her head and leans in, pressing a kiss against his cheek before she pulls back, “Please don’t apologise. It’s sweet,” she looks around the room, blowing out a shaky breath when she looks at her mother, “And I’m okay. Mostly.”

“We can always leave if you want,” he offers, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she hums and shakes her head again.

“It’s easier to stay,” she replies, “Plus, at least I’m not here alone.”

“Never,” he says, smiling when she tries to repress a smile, and he kisses her. When he pulls back he sees her mother walking towards them, a determination in her step, “Incoming.”

She groans and briefly rests her forehead against his shoulder before she pulls back, “If you want to run - run now.”

He winks at her, “Never.”

“Aaron, Emily,” Elizabeth says, her smile never faltering as she approaches them, “It’s lovely to see you both.”

“You too, Mom,” she says as she leans in to kiss her cheek, “Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, he’s off mingling somewhere,” she replies, waving her hand behind her. She looks at Emily’s face a beat too long, her eyes lingering over bruises that were barely there anymore, the remnants of them covered by her make-up. Elizabeth clears her throat, “I have someone who wants to meet you.”

Emily furrows her brow, the conversation having gone in a different direction than how she expected, “Who?” She asks, and she looks past her mom to see a man she knew was the son of one of her friends standing behind them. Anger and irritation roll in her gut, mixing together until she feels nauseous and she looks back up at her mother so quickly it pulls at her neck, “Seriously?”

“Well, you’re no longer with Ian,” Elizabeth says, “I thought-”

“I told you that my boyfriend assaulted me, and you’re trying to set me up with someone,” she replies, louder than she intended to. Her anger is only stoked when Elizabeth looks embarrassed, her eyes wide as she looks around to check if anyone has overheard.

“Emily-”

“Does that embarrass you, Mom?” She asks, undeterred by Aaron’s gentle hand on her back. If anything, it spurs her on, makes her feel safe as she finally says what she hasn’t said for weeks out loud, “Well if that embarrasses you, I’m sure you’ll be mortified to know it was happening for months.”

Aaron wraps his arm around her, his hand on her hip now, “Em-”

“No,” she says, turning to look at him for a moment, her dark eyes shining, the Christmas lights making them sparkle, “She should know,” she looks back at her mother, her anger intensified by the blank look on her face, the expression she knew was a mask to cover what she was feeling underneath, “So no, I don’t want you to set me up with some guy because I’m no longer with Ian. I’m still putting myself back together. And the only person I want there for any of that is Aaron.”

Elizabeth furrows her brow and looks between the two of them, “You two?”

Emily scoffs, “Yes, Mom. Us two. Why is that the part that got a reaction out of you?”

Elizabeth sighs, and she opens her mouth to say something, but she looks over her shoulder and stops herself, her shoulders visibly straightening as she slips her mask back into place, “I don’t think you’re being particularly fair.”

She presses her lips together, finally remembering where she was as she looks around, the din of the crowd lower than it had been earlier, the Christmas music more audible now everyone was trying to pretend they weren’t listening.

“Right,” she says, “We should go,” she turns to look at Aaron, “Please?”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, placing his glass of champagne down, “We can go.”

Emily nods, barely giving her mom another glance before she walks past her, “I’ll wait for you by the car.”

Aaron watches her go and sighs as he meets Elizabeth’s eyes, “I should go.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth says, smiling tightly at him as he steps past her, but she stops him, her hand on his arm, “You’ll look after her, right?”

He nods, even though he knows Emily would kill him for it, “I always do.”

Elizabeth smiles, the first real one he’d seen all evening, “I always hoped she’d figure out how she feels about you.”

He furrows his brow, “What?”

She chuckles dryly and shakes her head, “Come on, Aaron. The only two people who didn’t know that you two love each other were the two of you.”

He’s still thinking about it when he meets her at the car, her mother’s unintentional repetition of what his ex-girlfriend had told him still ringing in his head when he unlocks the car.

“Em-”

“Please don’t ask me if I’m okay,” she says, her arms tight over her chest, “Can we please just go home?”

He nods, and climbs into the car, his hands tight around the steering wheel in an attempt to stop himself from reaching out for her. They drive back to his in silence. She makes a point of looking out of the car window the entire time, everything she’d spoken to her mother about thick in the air around them. She sighs as he stops the car outside his apartment building, and she bites her cuticle, anxiety rolling in her stomach as she thinks of all the better ways she could have handled tonight. Of all the better ways she would have handled it before Ian tore up her sense of self like it was made of paper.

“Hey,” he says, reaching over for her hand and tugging it away from her mouth, “Don’t do that.”

She smiles tightly and finally looks at him, her heart heavy in her chest as she shakes her head at herself, “I know she was trying to help,” she scoffs and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “I know that in some fucked up, waspy, way she thought she was helping but…”

“You don’t have to feel bad about what happened, Em,” he says, smiling softly when she sighs and shrugs, “Your mom has always been hard work.”

She hums and presses her fingers against her forehead, “I didn’t even say hi to my dad,” she grumbles, resting her head against the seat, “I’m going to have to call him. Apologise to Mom too,” she smiles sadly at him, “It’s easier than not apologising. Even if she was out of line,” she wipes another tear away, “I told her that my ex-boyfriend had been hitting me for months and she…didn’t react. If my kid ever told me something like that I’d…” she laughs humourlessly, “Well I think you’d have to bail me out of jail.”

He squeezes her hand, every unkind thing he’d ever thought about her mother threatening to spill out of him, but he stops himself, “I’ll always bail you out.”

She chuckles, and nods, “I’ll always bail you out too.”

They stare at each other for a moment and he squeezes her hand, “We should go inside, maybe have some hot chocolate or something.”

She smiles, “Put some brandy in mine and you’ve got a deal.”

They walk into his apartment hand in hand, smiling politely at his neighbours as they go, and she checks her watch as he closes the door behind them. She hums, “We were there longer than I thought,” she says, shrugging her coat off, “It’s already gone midnight.”

He takes her coat from her and hangs it up, “Merry Christmas Eve.”

She chuckles and stamps her lips against his cheek, “Merry Christmas Eve,” she says, kissing him when he turns his head, her hand on his jaw as she holds him in place, “Shall we cheat and light the candle now?”

He looks over at the wreath and then back at her, and sees the nervousness in her eyes, the desperate need to remember something good from her childhood after her argument with her mother, and he nods.

“Do you want to do the candle first, or the hot chocolates?”

She smiles and sinks her teeth into her lower lip as she feels a familiar warmth spread through her, “The candle.”

He wraps his arm around her waist and leads her over to the mantle, “I’ll have to make sure I keep the wreath somewhere safe for next year,” he says, “I assume we’ll have to get new candles.”

She nods and reaches for the lighter, the thought of spending next Christmas with him undoing all the tension her crossed words with her mother had created, “Yeah,” she replies, casting a glance at him when she lights the first candle, “We’ll need to get new ones.”

She does the same as she has every week, she thinks of the candles and their meaning as she lights them, and what they’d started to represent for her in the month that had passed since she’d called the man standing next to her.

She knew that hope wasn’t silly, nor the stuff of books she pretended she didn’t like, but essential to moving forward, the sparkling beauty of it now pressed into every piece of herself she’d picked back up.

She knew that peace wasn’t a destination, but was something that could be found in the smallest of places, a sanctuary she had found in cups of hot chocolate and the embrace of a man she’d loved longer than she cared to admit.

She knew joy wasn’t something that she had to earn, and it wasn’t only saved for the good days. It was something that was possible on even the worst of days, a flash of happiness that could be found in the dark.

And love. She knew love was something she’d had in abundance all along, even if she hadn’t let herself feel it.

She lights the Christmas Even candle and puts the lighter back down, stepping back into Aaron’s arms as they both look at the candles, the flickering flames in the otherwise low light of his apartment drawing them both in, the magic of the season and everything that came with it settling over them both.

Later, she’d know that’s exactly what makes her say it.

“I love you.”

She surprises herself almost as much as she surprises him, her words only registering as his grip on her tightens, but she doesn’t regret it, doesn’t want to take it back even for a moment. She turns in his arms and smiles nervously at the look on his face, the pleasant surprise still shining in his eyes, and she cups his cheek to hold him in place, as if there was anywhere else he’d rather be.

“I mean it,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I may still have a lot to figure out, and I know I’m a mess and-”

“Em.” He says as he shakes his head, his forehead knocking against hers gently with a chastisement she knows has no real weight behind it.

“I love you,” she repeats and this time her voice doesn’t shake, “I have for a really long time.”

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her quickly before he wraps his arms around her, holding her against his chest, “I love you so much.”

She rests her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, taking a moment to breathe everything in, “We should have those hot chocolates.”

“In a minute,” he says, and the chuckle he chokes on is wet. She looks up and sees tears shining in his eyes, and she catches one with her thumb before it even lands on his cheek, “In a minute.”

He wanted to remember this moment forever. To be able to recall it to the finest detail down to the smell of her hair and the slight crackle of the wicks on the candles. He wanted to be able to one day tell this story to their kids, a watered-down, soft version where she’d never been hurt by anyone and nothing bad had ever happened to either of them.

She understands and nods, resting her cheek against his chest again, letting him take whatever he needs because he’s given her so much.

“Okay, honey,” she says, kissing his chest, her smile pressed against him when he holds her impossibly tighter when the nickname registers, “We can stay here as long as you want. We have plenty of time.”

#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss

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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

Text

Gone {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pre-Outbreak life, Baby Sarah, Postpartum depression, Postpartum psychosis, thoughts of self harming, thoughts of hurting a child, thought of shaking a baby, anguish.

Comments: Life isn't what you thought it would be. You have the home, the man, the baby. You find yourself struggling and believing that you don't deserve it.

A/N: PPD/PPP is a very real issue for many woman following childbirth and is often stigmatized. Many feel unable to reach out for help.

~ I felt the need to break my own heart this morning and work through some of the things that I faced with PPD through this. With the ambiguous background with Sarah's mother, I felt it was a good theory for why she left.

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You want to cry, scream, throw things. You want to hurt her. That scares you most of all. The urge to pick her up and just shake her until she doesn’t cry anymore. How does one tiny little body make so much noise? Incessantly screaming to the point where she’s barely breathing, sucking in air just to expel it out at top volume, the sound ringing in your ears.

Sitting in the corner, you crouch down, hands over your ears as you try to drown it out. Failing, always failing, never being able to take care of her. To do the right thing. Feeling the control that you are barely hanging onto slip with every fucking second that ticks by. Your nails digging into the side of your head are the only thing keeping you grounded. Keeping you from hurting her. From running into the room and snatching her out of the crib to make her stop. Or from hurting yourself.

It was supposed to be easy. People do it everyday. It was supposed to be natural. Maybe that’s the problem. It’s you. You’re not natural. You’re failing.

The screams continue, making you whimper. The clock on the bedside table still reads 3:25pm. It’s only been twenty minutes since she started crying and still you can’t stand to hear it. To listen to her cry when nothing you do will help. She doesn’t want you. Another thirty minutes and he will be home.

You’ve failed. You’re not a good mother. You’re not a good wife. You see it. You see it in the soft sighs he thinks you don’t catch. The way that his shoulders slump slightly when he comes into the military assigned housing and takes the fucking stupid little hat off his head and puts it on the rack near the door. Shucking his cammie blouse and taking over. Succeeding where you are failing.

You were supposed to be the one he came home to after a day at work. Another day defending your country and providing for you. Giving you the chance to stay home with Sarah and bond with her. Telling you that you don’t have to go back to work until you're ready, but now you’re just another burden. Not his respite but his responsibility.

He comes home and cooks, cleans. He bathes Sarah, he feeds her and soothes her the way you can't. Changes the diapers and tuts over the diaper rash that has spread. Making you feel even more guilty because you forgot to put the butt cream on when you changed her hours before. Another thing you failed at. You can’t even change your daughter right.

Joel doesn’t yell at you. He doesn’t call you names or even make fun of you. That hurts worst of all. He doesn’t care. All he says is that you need to make an appointment, that he will take you. He doesn’t understand. You can’t be fixed.

No, that’s not right. He does care. He does. He tells you to go take a break, relax in a bath or run to the coffee shop that opened up down the street and take your book with you. It’s confusing why people keep saying that he doesn’t care and you feel like you’re losing your mind.

They talk to you. All of them. All the time. Right when he is there holding Sarah. Telling you that they both hate you, and Joel never argues with them. He never corrects them or tells them to get the fuck out of his house. He pretends not to hear them when they mock or taunt you and when you start to cry, scream for them to go away, he looks hurt. Retreating with Sarah to another part of the house to leave you to talk to these people alone.

The screaming stops. Making you pause, the tremors in your body making it hard to pull your hands away from your ears. Cautiously listening for a moment, until another squawk rings out, making you flinch and grit your teeth.

What prompts you, you don’t know. One second you are huddling in a corner, the next you are ripping through your closet. Tearing clothes off hangers and shoving them into the gym bag you had dumped all Joel’s PT clothes out of. Crying yourself in time to the wails coming from the bedroom next door. You can’t do this.

****

Joel sighs, his keys in his hand as he steps up to the front door. He can hear Sarah screaming, the panicked, angry howls telling him that she’s been at it for awhile. Probably spit up on herself while screaming in frustration at the inattention.

There’s something wrong with you and he doesn’t know how to help. It hurts, it rips his fucking heart out when you seemingly shut down. Refusing to talk to him, to talk to anyone unless you are screaming at him to go away.

Since Sarah was born, you’ve changed. He’s tried to help. He’s come home and taken over as much as he can without getting in trouble. He’s even delayed going out to the field the last two times because you need him here, Sarah needs him.

The chaplin said that it might be time to have you brought in for care. Against your will. He’s struggled with that because he knows it will hurt you and he doesn’t want to do that. He wants you to get better, for yourself, for him, for Sarah. He knows you will hate him for it, especially if they keep you there.

The door opens and he frowns. You aren’t downstairs and the baby is obviously crying from her room. Calling your name, he closes the door and quickly strips off his blouse and hand, boots still on his feet and quickly moves towards the stairs.

Later, much later, he won’t be able to explain why, but he knew something was wrong. There was a feeling that had settled over the house. Making him rush up the stairs, skipping every second one in his haste.

Bursting through the door to find the baby’s room empty except for the screaming, wriggling four month old in the crib. Her onesie is soaked and her tiny face is scrunched up and dark for screaming herself hoarse.

“Shushhhhh, shuuuuushhh, baby girl.” Joel is all eyes on her, immediately bending down and crooning to his daughter as he picks her up and cups her to his chest. Spit and slobber, spit up and tears all soaking the army green undershirt of his uniform but he doesn’t care as he bounces her soothingly. “It’s okay, daddy’s gotcha. It’s okay, baby girl.” His hand that isn’t under her wet butt starts patting her back, the screams of anger starting to immediately soften now that she knows someone is there.

“Baby?” Joel frowns, shaking his head as he moves out of the baby’s room. “Baby, where are you?”

He knows things have been difficult for you, but you’ve never just left Sarah like this. Dread building in his guilt as he pushes open the half closed bedroom door. “Babe, you in here? What’s going on?”

The covers on the bed are tossed around, but that’s not unusual. The clothes Joel had picked up were still in the basket, but there are new ones strewn out everywhere. Making him frown even more. “Babe?”

The note sits on the dresser, beckoning him. Mocking him. Making the bare hope that you were just huddled in the bathroom, overwhelmed, plummet. Sarah hiccups against his pounding heart as he reaches for the note. Picking up the hastily ripped out notebook paper and flipping it open.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

Six words. Six words are all he gets. All the explanations he will ever get. You’re gone.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #hbo tlou

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that-one-odd-shipper · 6 months ago

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🍉 . Fic Post . 🍉

This is a previously written fic! Right now I'm promoting my old fics just to let y'all know they exist.

🪭- A little Dazai fic! This is my first bsd agere fic I put out there, and I am pretty proud of it 🥺

🍄- This fic is inspired by the lovely Playrough's agency little fic! In which Dazai has a nap time set up for him by the agency since he tends to get cranky and fussy without sleep, but a meeting ends up making him miss it for the day. What Dazai didn't expect is how used to the naps his body had gotten.

🥀- Dazai is really small in all of my upcoming fics and this one, not even one year when he's regressed. Kunikida and Chuuya are co-caregivers to Dazai and it is mentioned how Dazai doesn't particularly like the concept of being little. This fic is pure fluff, a tiny bit of stress comes from the baby but not enough to be considered angst. It's a nice story to fall asleep to :)

❤- Now, I'll attach the first few paragraphs bellow for you to get a feel of the fic. Link to my ao3 and the fic itself will be at the end! Please enjoy, comment and like!

Ever since Kunikida and the Agency have found out about Dazai's regression, they've been pushing nap times. Something about him getting "Cranky, tired, and less productive" after a certain time in the day

Dazai kicked his legs under the table, trying to stay focused. There had been an important joint Mafia and Agency meeting today, which just so happened to fall at an inconvenient time.

...Stupid, he knows. Besides, Dazai is never productive so what difference would it make?!

These naps normally happen late at lunch. It's not like he could just slip out of the Agency to go home early, either! To ensure he got this nap in every day the Agency and the stupid slug, decided to pair up for this.

If he tried to escape and head home, Chuuya's stupid camera door sensor would catch it. Of course that was set up for him...the slug can't mind his business! He didn't even do anything before it was set up, the executive just assumed he would try! Rude...

And so, the little one had to accept that he would be caught either way. It was either walking around in the stuffy outdoors for the rest of the day every single day or taking a nap. His pride said the first option, but it's obvious what the best choice was.

'But Dazai, you're a genius! Why didn't you just deactivate the system or use another entrance?' Well, it's pretty hard to think clearly enough to sneakily turn off a system when you're admittedly very fuzzy and droopy.

From working so hard of course. Nothing else, totally.

He doesn't need an assigned nap! Not to mention, a person to watch over him. He knows when he needs to take a break... Totally. This is why in the first place he didn't want the agency to figure it out, but that all went down the drain...

Have they been nothing but accepting of him? Yes, that's the issue! They shouldn't be condoning this behavior, let alone enforcing it! Dazai doesn't deserve to act like a literal baby, "A healthy coping mechanism" be damned. He doesn't need one of those either.

Protesting that mindset to them only made it worse, however. That doesn't mean he wouldn't still attempt to be bratty and refuse, but it gets hard when all you feel is comfort and security in a Member's (or Chu's) arms.

How these naps played out was always the same. He would get fed a bottle of warm milk about 30 minutes before his nap, fed because he got the privilege of being able to feed himself taken away...

He only dropped it on his head like, once! It doesn't matter if it caused him to start crying, he can still do it like anyone else can feed themselves! He shouldn't have started crying anyway, it was a tiny little bump. God, why did little him have to be so sensitive?

When it was time for the nap, there were two main locations. With anyone besides Kunikida, Chuuya, Yosano, or Fukuzawa he was to be laid down on the couch smothered in blankets.

But when Kunikida had a chance, he would always volunteer to watch him first. It's like he has some attachment, the idealistic man always looks anxious when he's away from the embarrassing baby side.

With Kunikida, he was either laid on a tiny futon that was unrolled from the closet next to Kunikida's desk but rarely. Most of the time he's on someone's lap being rocked to sleep since motion puts him out like a light.

Others that were offered were Atsushi, Ranpo, Naomi, Junichiro, and with supervision of another adult, Kenji. However, with Ranpo and Atsushi, it gets... Complicated.

Atsushi and Ranpo are also little, but they are at least big kids! Most of the time, at least. They don't need naps or bottles, but they are also set off easily in the presence of another little.

That was learned the hard way when Kunikida ended up with 3 giggly and squeamish littles after coming back from break. From that day on all three of them couldn't be alone caring together, unless there was time for some sort of play date after nap time.

Dazai would rather live than have to regress more times than needed, so he's never had a play date with the two, though he's heard they do it decently often.

And of course, there was Chuuya. Sometimes, when he was free during lunch break he would come to pick Dazai up for his nap. Normally he'd get taken home, but occasionally he was taken to Chu's office where he got to sit on the rolly chairs!

However he always preferred going home because of the risk of someone walking into him, the genius Dazai Osamu...giggling as Chuuya Nakahara bounces him on his lap or gently spins the rolling chair around. Yea no.

Originally the nap thing was set to every other day, or just not required every day. Dazai ruined that for himself though very easily. Once he had gotten used to the napping, apparently his body went 'oo! Time for sleep!!!? ;?! ' around the scheduled time automatically now.

He ended up struggling to stay awake as he did work with Kunikida one day and got nothing done, per usual. Dazai eventually drifted off on his shoulder from the exhaust, not very grown-ass 22-year-old of him.

But back to the current situation, it's the dreaded nap time. Well, way past nap time. Currently, there is a meeting going on between the Agency and the port mafia, that's all fine. The fine part was that the meeting had gone at least an hour off schedule.

It was planned so as not to bump into the time he gets put down, but stupid Mori couldn't agree on the originally proposed terms, so now they've been stuck!

______________________________________

Another thing is that Dazai hadn't quite realized how his body had gotten used to the nap times. Now that's come to bite him in the ass because he can't stop rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The work is called Cranky Baby! Here's the preview, Links to the full story and my ao3 page bellow.

Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56113351

My ao3 acc: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Odd_Shipper/pseuds/That_One_Odd_Shipper

#agere blog #sfw agere #agere community #age regression #age regressor #bungou stray dogs #bsd #anime #fanfiction #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs dazai #kunikida doppo #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #agere caregiver

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causticcauses · 9 months ago

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Study Session Sunshine

cross-posted on Ao3

Pairing: Oliver Quick x Felix Catton

Summary: Felix Catton is not a good study buddy. He makes up for it in other ways.

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, university.

Warnings: One very mild suggestive comment.

Wordcount: 1.8K

A/N: A cute fic based on a request post I saw on Tumblr but lost!

He's always aware of Felix. From the moment the man steps into a room to the second he saunters out – and sometimes longer than that – Oliver can feel that magnetic resonance through his chest. Most times he reacts to it. Orients his body to be a little more in line with Felix, shoulders shifted, knees turned, chin tucked just a bit further in his direction. It's automatic and easy and paying attention to Felix, even at a subconscious level, is comforting to Oliver. A flower shifting to the sun.

Things become more complicated when the sun is burning him for attention and he's got other things to do.

Felix's fingers tap along his thigh, almost like they're composing some kind of symphony or figuring out Morse code, but when Oliver glances his way, the man's eyes are on his own textbook. For a second Oliver really can't tell if it's purposeful, but then Felix can't hold it in and a pleased curve at the corner of his mouth gives up the game. It's a breezy little smirk that makes Ollie want to lean over and kiss him.

Or maybe smack him upside the head. This exam is important.

A compromise of sorts, catching the long, elegant fingers and stilling them. Felix makes a half-hearted attempt to escape, shifting in the chair that's jammed close enough that they can share the one-person desk, but when Oliver lightly tightens his grip, he gives up. Leaving his hand in Oliver's, resting together on Oliver's thigh.

For a few minutes that solves the problem. With the warmth of Felix's skin against his palm, Oliver can mostly go back to concentrating on The Second Coming by Yeats and artists' and scholars' discussions of societal collapse.

On a Wednesday afternoon, Felix's room is quiet, no people booking it up and down the dorm halls outside. The sunlight is drifting lazily through the window, and it's hot but not the unbearable temperatures of last week. The books strewn haphazardly over Felix's bed, desk and the floor speak to the several hours they've already put in to studying.

Just a few more – or more like ten – and Oliver might actually be ready for the exam tomorrow.

If he isn't booked for murder some time today, that is.

The eraser – one of those cutesy pink things in the vague shape of a bunny – comes hopping across his textbook, blocking the words. When Ollie glances up with mingled frustration and amusement, its mover is grinning unrepentantly, the afternoon sun spilling over his face like honey. In that golden light his features are blurred, softened, but still so achingly familiar. It's totally unfair that Oliver's breath catches in his throat at the brilliance of Felix's smile; how the hell is he supposed to scold him if he can barely breathe?

"You wanna hop over to the dining hall for a break?" Felix asks, and he's kinda trying to be clever but mostly he sounds like a hopeful kid.

A second of focus brings his breath somewhat under control, and Oliver sighs. "Aw, Felix, we gotta keep on. Dinner's not for..." He checks the clock and can barely keep from wincing. "We got a couple hours yet."

"Mate, we've been at this for hours," Felix complains, the lolly making a popping sound as he pulls it out of his mouth. "I can't read any more shit about urns or albatrosses or bloody abbeys, I really can't."

It’s a little unfortunate that Felix is probably close to telling the truth. Whereas Oliver can concentrate on things for hours at a time, powering through feverish cram sessions to get some measure of a handle on his studies, the man next to him isn’t like that. Not even when he wants to be, and he doesn’t want to be very often. Even during this session, where Oliver knows Felix has been genuinely trying, he’s still been messing around on and off. Playing on his Nintendo DS, making rubber band slingshots, texting with friends, drawing scribbles up and down the pages of his notes. Probably been through like ten lollypops at this point.

Felix can probably get away with it, but Ollie can’t. He needs this mark to keep his scholarship.

“Just an hour more, okay? We can piss off and do something else in a bit.”

With a loud groan, Felix throws his head back, glares up at the ceiling. He stays in that position, sulking and avoiding eye contact. Oliver would be more concerned, more guilty, but he knows his boyfriend isn’t seriously annoyed. If he was, he would have yanked his hand away, maybe flipped his textbook closed and flung himself on his bed in a fit of pique. In a few minutes he’ll relax, find something to do, and Ollie can get this done.

Unless the thing that Felix chooses to do is stare at him. Which is exactly what he does.

Oliver becomes aware of the weight of his gaze after a few moments. It makes his skin prickle in a thrilling way, just a little bit abashed, just a little bit elated. He risks a glance and sure enough, Felix is watching him with those rich brown eyes, the lollypop idle in his hand as he chews on his lip. There's something provoking about the look, but Oliver can't address it right now, he can't.

Though he shifts his eyes back to his textbook, Oliver isn't really seeing the words. The same sentence passes through his head five or six times without comment, and still Felix doesn't stop staring.

He shouldn't encourage the man, but – "What?"

"What?" Felix replies, innocence saturating his deep baritone. When Oliver exhales sharply, Felix makes a vague gesture with the lolly, like he's conducting the annoyance away.

"I like the way you look when you're studying, Ollie. You're so focused, and you get this little scrunch, right..." He reaches out, trails his thumb over the skin between Oliver's eyebrows, almost like he's smoothing out the strain there. "It's cute."

The scowl Oliver adopts feels very put on. "It'll be less cute when I kill you."

Felix laughs, the sound rolling out easy and luxurious. He thumbs at the spot on Oliver's forehead, and Oliver realizes he's scrunching there again. "See? Cute."

"Felix..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, mate. Studying." And with a roll of his eyes that isn't too mocking, Felix takes his hand away, turns back to his own textbook.

And for another thirty minutes or so, there's peace.

Oliver does his best to focus. He really does. But in truth, and it's actually not Felix's fault, he's finding it hard. Yeah, he can concentrate for a long time, but this is going on their sixth hour with just a break for scarfed snacks shoved somewhere in there. His head is starting to ache, eyes sore, and the lines of text blur frustratingly from his reaching mind. The feeling that he's not understanding the content makes his stress spike, which in turn makes it harder to focus, which –

Felix gets up from the chair next to Ollie. Oliver assumes his boyfriend is hitting the bathroom or maybe caving to another session of distraction, and in the midst of his frustration and stress he’s aware of where Felix is but not what he’s doing. However, a moment later and Felix's tall form is almost draped over Oliver from behind, bent practically double to engulf him in a hug within the chair. He presses a light kiss to Oliver's ear before mumbling, "Come on, mate. It's time for a break, yeah?"

"I've gotta –"

"It's gonna be here when you get back, Ollie. Look, I know you're smarter than me, but it's kinda dumb to keep pushing yourself like this. I've heard you sigh like ten times now. A break will help."

Hands tense on the desk, not able to take as much comfort in Felix's embrace as he should, Oliver mutters, "It's this damn poem. 'A vision out of Spiritus Mundi'? What the hell is that? I mean, the rest is fine, but that –"

"Which poem is it?" Felix interrupts, not letting him go into a spiralling rant. "One of Blake's?"

"No, The Second Coming. Yeats."

Low and reverberating, Felix's scoff rumbles from his chest and through Ollie's back, right to his heart. "You know enough about second comings already, Ollie. And three times, too."

Despite himself, Oliver has to laugh at that. Low and tired and fading out too quickly, but he laughs. "Guess we should both be experts."

"Now you're catching on, mate. Now..." Felix's arms tighten, so secure around Oliver's shoulders. "You're going to stop ignoring your expert boyfriend, and we're going to get something to eat. We'll relax and then I swear – I swear – you'll have enough time to study later."

It's not something new, but Oliver feels a flicker of resentment at Felix's confidence. Of course Felix – with his connections, his name, his wealth, his everything – can speak so easily about "enough time". He'll have enough time to do anything for his entire life and if he doesn't he'll just buy it or get someone to lend it to him. But Oliver isn’t so lucky. He has to do well on this exam, and the next, and the next, and –

"Ollie," Felix pleads, sincere and lively, his breath warm on Oliver's skin. His big hands reach out to grab Oliver's textbook, half threatening to close the hefty tome, but he doesn't go all the way. Felix waits, his chest pressed to Oliver's back, and Oliver can feel the vibrating impatience in the other man. But he waits.

Inexplicably, the sun has oriented itself to one flower in particular, maybe just as much as the flower has oriented itself to the sun’s brilliant glow. And Oliver might not have money or influence or enough hours of sleep to be getting on with, but he has Felix. Even in the midst of looming exams and assignments and the muggy slog of exhaustion, having Felix makes everything feel so much lighter. Brighter.

With a low sigh, a releasing of the tension and the frustration, Oliver tilts his head back to rest against Felix’s shoulder. “You’re such a brat.”

A chuckle that rolls easily to Oliver’s ears. “Venetia would agree.” Felix takes Oliver’s relaxation for the permission it is and flips the textbook shut. Then he’s nuzzling into the crook of Oliver’s neck, several quick, tender kisses that scour the fatigue away. At least a little.

And as Felix urges – pesters – Oliver out of the chair, away from his books, away from the mountain of stress, Oliver can’t help but feel that he’s angled in exactly the right way.

#cattonquick #felix catton #oliver quick #saltburn #my fic

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themculibrary · 4 months ago

Text

Rich!Tony Masterlist

Black AmEx (ao3) - copperbadge G, 4k

Summary: Bruce isn't sure he wants to use a credit card Tony gave him. Steve isn't sure he even knows how.

Brooklyn Cats (ao3) - SushiOwl steve/tony E, 29k

Summary: (No Powers AU)

Steve Rogers is an art student who is comfortable being depressed and alone. Tony Stark comes along and messes that all up.

buy the brooklyn bridge (ao3) - plingo_kat steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: It’s a whole new world, and Steve finds himself fitting in pretty well. Especially with Tony Stark as a guide.

Can’t Stop Us RoboDads (ao3) - justanotherpipedream, rebelmeg T, 13k

Summary: The story of how a genius rich kid from New York and a poor military-bound kid from South Philly meet, get into shenanigans, birth a few bots, and forge a life-long friendship.

Discretionary Spending (ao3) - midgetnazgul G, 7k

Summary: Fill for a prompt on the Avengers kinkmeme.

Original prompt: Tony really enjoys buying/building the other Avengers things they mention wanting or needing. Natasha mentions this obscure brand of expensive chocolates she once enjoyed on a mission and can't seem to find? Tony orders some in bulk. Bruce misses a certain tea, or mentions in passing that he wants a piece of lab equipment? Already bought it, and here I made adjustments so the equipment is even better than it was! Steve wants a really old film that's only on VHS and is really hard to find? Oh, I just had it in storage… Clint likes perching up high, but lacks enough places to do so in comfort? Was just about to remodel the place anyway. Thor mentions some obscure Nordic food that he misses? Tony knows just the place…

Point being, they eventually catch on to the fact that Tony notices things, and proceeds to do what needs to be done to get those things for them. No matter how often he stays in his lab for three days in a row, or how much he throws sarcastic comments, or acts just plain rude, he cares a lot. This leads to the entire team being nicer as a whole to Tony.

Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend (ao3) - camichats wanda/tony E, 14k

Summary: Wanda ends up as Tony Stark’s sugar baby to help get her through college. Getting into that relationship was the last thing she expected and falling in love came as a surprise to both of them.

Down On The Farm (ao3) - tellxmebby steve/tony E, 7k

Summary: Tony laughs, throwing an old rag at the blond man, who bats it away in the air. "Fuck you."

"Mm," Steve rolls back under the car with a newly fitted socket, "maybe later."

Steve grins up at the chrome above him at the lack of response. It must take Tony a minute to recover, but when he does Steve hears him huff.

Faithless (ao3) - TheZev mary jane watson/tony E, 7k

Summary: While living in Stark Tower, Mary Jane decides she’s had enough of being Peter Parker’s broke wife. Now she’d rather be Tony Stark’s rich sugar baby.

Living ain’t cheap (ao3) - Strength_in_pain N/R, 2k

Summary: “I thought our utility bill would be lower. Shit shit shit.” May cried, running a hand through her hair. Or Peter is worried about May because their financial struggles have gotten worse and he ends up needing Tony Stark.

people like you must be the world’s loneliest creatures (ao3) - avienexjel bucky/tony N/R, 96k (WIP)

Summary: Tony Stark is rich, popular, and an arrogant asshole. In other words: his IQ rivals Einstein’s, he’s slept with most of his friends at least once, and he’s so fucking lonely that sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night in the dark and cries into the cold sheets on the other side of the bed.

It’s no different at his new boarding school called SHIELD, at first. Half of the students love him to death, the other half want to murder him, nothing new. That is, until Tony accidentally breaks James Barnes’s prosthetic arm and he finds the most vulnerable pieces of himself crawling their ways to the surface whether he wants them to or not.

peter’s stars (ao3) - IronPengu, parkrstark steve/tony T, 175k

Summary: Steve and Peter lose their apartment and are kicked out on the streets. Steve has to juggle between jobs to earn whatever money he can, take care of his son while resfusing to let him realize how much they’re trouble in, and keep them warm and safe on the city streets in winter.

So, he really doesn’t have time to date the billionaire that flirts with him everyday as he buys his cup of coffee. Even if he did, he can’t let himself fall for the man. Because if he knew that he lived from a backpack and showered in a public bathroom there’s no way he’d still want him…right?

Rich Man, Poor Man (ao3) - sassyfangs13 steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve grew up in a time when sharing what little you had was the norm so when Tony starts buying him rediculous gifts he doesn't really know what to say.

the weight of water (ao3) - citsiurtlanu steve/tony M, 31k

Summary: Tony Stark is a rich socialite who’s reached a dead end in his life. Steve Rogers is a poor artist who works from job to job. Both of them are passengers on the biggest ship in the world. Yup, it’s a Titanic AU.

To Destroy a Legacy, to Ruin a Legend. (ao3) - AniAuthor N/R, 1k

Summary: Tony Stark doesn't need his armor or even to fight Steve Roger's team to destroy them. He just needs what he always had: his empire that he and his father built, his wealth, and control over the media. After all, you don't take a multi-million empire and turn it into a multi-billion empire by letting others walk all over you. Read to find out how Tony Stark destroys Team Captain America without even fighting after T'Challa uses his influence to pardon them in the States.

Trophy of a One Night Stand (ao3) - BurdenedWithPointlessPurpose tony/stephen E, 35k

Summary: Becoming a professor had never been on Tony’s dream list. As a single parent with a child though he is hoping it will provide everything they need in their life. Stability. Structure. Satisfaction. It all sounds plausible in theory, at least until he really gets there and an Alpha uproots his plans. Although it’s actually debatable in the best way. He may have not sought his son’s birth Alpha out, but apparently life has its own plans after all.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #tony stark #masterlists #rich!tony #rich!tony masterlist #rich #richpoor #au #ceo!tony

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corrodedseraphine · 2 years ago

Text

perfectly wrong | #2 I wish I hadn't saved you

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: Since your last meeting, Steve can't stop thinking about you and your situation. When one day Robin tells him that she is worried about your behavior he decides to check it out.

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, bruises, death, suicide, drugs

The story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

Then...

You all agreed to celebrate Lucas's birthday by going to roller skating rink and then having a delicious big pizza. Although you weren't in the mood to go out one bit, you didn't want to make him unhappy. You were standing in front of the mirror applying makeup when a drunk Travis walked into the house.

"And where the hell are you going?" he asked leaning against the door. He could barely catch his balance, the stink of alcohol and cigarettes was making you sick.

"I'm going to meet Robin." you said. In theory it wasn't a lie, because Robin would be there too, but you didn't want to mention the rest, not knowing why your boyfriend was never happy about the fact that you were friends with a bunch of teenagers.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I didn't have time to make anything, you'll have to make it yourself." You replied digging into your makeup bag in search of lip gloss. Completely unsuspecting, you shrieked in surprise when you felt his firm grip on your elbow and pull you toward the wall. The cosmetics spilled all over the floor, and you were now standing trapped between the wall and Travis who was looking at you with a fury in his eyes, still tightening his hand around your arm with all his strength.

"This has to be the last time, do you understand?" he asked. You nodded your head. He yanked you even harder. "I asked if you understand!"

"Y-yes." you replied horrified. You noticed that he had been drinking more and more lately, and you suspected that he was using more than just alcohol, but you didn't want to bring up the subject without proof. His behavior was becoming more and more aggressive towards you, so far limited to verbal abuse, but today was the first time he caused you pain by leaving a mark of his strong grip on your hand. After a while you were alone in the house again, Travis left slamming the door. With shaking hands you picked up the cosmetics from the floor, trying to ignore the sense of fear that was building up in you. Wanting to avoid questions about the bruise on your arm, you quickly changed into a long-sleeved blouse and left the house.

There weren't many people at the roller skating rink, seeing Max and Lucas sitting at a table you forced yourself to smile and approached them saying hello. Within fifteen minutes you were joined by the rest of the team including Steve and some new girl. He introduced her as his date, her name was Madison.

At first everything was fine until Steve stopped hiding his displeasure at your presence. Criticizing everything you said, he always put up a counter to you. When you tried to say something during a group conversation, he would purposely start talking louder to drown you out and not let you get a word in which annoyed you even more. Eventually your patience ran out and you started playing his own game. You, Robin, he and Madison were sitting at a table and the younger rest of the crew was still skating. There was a silence between the four of you that you decided to break.

"Hey, Alice would you pass me a bottle of water?" you turned to Harrington's companion. The mistaken names were intentional.

"Sure, but, uhm, my name is not Alice…" she replied quietly. You immediately felt Steve's gaze on you.

"Oh, sorry! Silly me!" you laughed. "Mindy? Michelle? I am so sorry, but Steve has already introduced us to so many girls that it's hard to keep up." you replied with a wide grin. You knew that if Steve's eyesight could kill, you would have been lying dead a long time ago.

A moment later, Madison got up from the table, explaining that something had come up and she had to go. As soon as she left the table you sent Steve a look full of satisfaction, which workedfuse

like lighting the fuse of a bomb.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked, slapping his hand on the table. "Why did she bother you?"

"She didn't bother me, she's a very nice girl! It's you and your hopeless behavior that bothered me." you replied. "I can see that King Steve still can't accept defeat,"

"You grumpy bitch!" he replied. "I don't care how pathetic and miserable you are, you have what you deserve, but damn it, stop passing it on to others! Just because your life is shitty doesn't mean you should destroy the lives of the people around you, your presence makes me fucking sick!"

"If my presence hurts you so much what are you still doing here, huh?"

"I'm here because Robin and these kids are like family to me, do you even know that word? Family? You definitely don't belong here, the worst part is that you are here now solely because of me, if I had let that monster devour you back then I would have had peace of mind a long time ago!"

"I didn't ask you to save me, asshole!"

"And now I regret it! I wish I hadn't saved you! Trauma is the only thing that connects you to us, you're not part of this group, you never will be!"

"Go to fucking hell Steve." you replied while getting up from the table.

"For the love of God can you stop? Even on Lucas' birthday you can't make an exception and have to argue like children? Those shitheads act more mature than you!" Robin burst out, unable to stand listening to your argument anymore. "I agree, what y/n did with Madison was not right, but goddamn it Steve, where do you get this bullshit? She is our friend, she is also part of the group whether you like it or not! The truth is that both of you can go to hell."

Steve snorted hearing her last sentence. "I've been there, and I'd honestly rather go back there than torture myself with her." he replied without taking his eyes off you. "I should have left you to die."

You didn't flinch to let him see how much those words hurt you. You knew that he hated you, you actually hated him too, but this hatred on your part was not so great that you would immediately wish him dead. However, it didn't hurt you that much, the real blow was to find out that you were not part of it all. The family. As he put it. Trauma is the only thing that connects you to us. You were terrified by how true his words could be.

"Y/n where are you going?" asked Robin as you started to walk away from the table.

"To live my shitty and miserable life, alone." you replied without even turning towards them.

Now...

It's been three weeks since you last saw Steve. Three weeks since he accidentally discovered, the mess that was now your life and since then, day after day, he couldn't stop thinking about it. You still avoided any contact with others, the only exception was Robin, with whom you worked at Family Video, but whenever she tried to talk to you about more serious topics you immediately fled to the other end of the room. You weren't sure if Steve had told her everything, you didn't see why he should keep it a secret, after all, he didn't care about you, everyone might as well have already known, but you still weren't sure. If Robin knew she would have told you, right? The uncertainty stressed you out even more, and stress lately was the only thing you felt.

When Travis found out about the pregnancy he started drinking even more, not to mention drugs. You weren't able to remember the day when you last saw him sober. Your house was slowly becoming a den, his raggedy friends treated it like a hotel, completely ignoring your presence. The worst part was that you couldn't say a word, because that would provoke another argument and that would mean even more bruises on your body. More than once, in their company, he slapped you for the mess in the house, which you barely managed to clean up. None of his pals even moved. In their sick minds, being a witness to domestic violence was a form of entertainment.

You knew that raising a child under such conditions was not an option. You couldn't escape either, because you had nowhere to go. Here, once again, Steve's venom-soaked words turned out to be true. You had no family, no one to take you in, so moving away from Travis equaled living on the streets, since your poor paycheck wouldn't cover the cost of renting an apartment and living with a child. However, you had a plan. A plan that was your only hope of escaping the hell you found yourself in. A plan that was destroyed even before you tried to achieve it.

"And what are you thinking about?" asked Steve. Taking advantage of his day off today, he visited Robin at Family Video bringing her lunch.

"Nothing that would interest you." she replied with a sigh.

"Come in, Robin, you know very well you can tell me anything."

"I know, but it's about y/n and I'm not going to hear once again that I shouldn't care about her. You can say what you want Steve, but she's my friend, even if you don't like it."

Hearing your name, he felt a strange surge of nerves. You hadn't left his thoughts for three weeks, and he was sure that after what he'd heard from Robin you wouldn't do so for quite some time.

"You can still tell me y'know." he said quietly. Just a few weeks ago he would have been ready to make a speech about how she shouldn't care about you because you apparently weren't interested in a friendship with her anymore, not sparing a few nasty expressions about you. But now that he knew the truth, every time he recalled everything he had said about you he felt a wave of remorse flood over him, if he had wanted to he could have drowned in it.

"When I came here it was already open, which was strange because lately he has been constantly late for the morning shift." she began to say while looking at a single point on the counter. "Later I heard some sound in the bathroom, Steve was crying, crying like a child in there. I quickly opened the door because I was scared that something bad had happened. It's been a long time since I've seen her so shaken…"

"Did she say what happened?" he asked clearly worried.

"No, when I asked what was going on she quickly wiped away her tears and began to tell me that she was just having a bad day and pretended to be fine until the end. I am worried about her Steve, what if she is in trouble? What if she actually started taking drugs together with that asshole?"

"Where did you get the idea about drugs?" he asked surprised. You were probably not crazy enough to take drugs while pregnant?

"Before she left here she asked if I didn't know to what degree the police had searched Eddie's trailer, if they were sure they had found everything there. And if they are still patrolling that area," she said, sending him a meaningful look.

"I mean, after all, half of the trailers is ruined, the Trailer Park is now the most abandoned and haunted place in Hawkins."

"I know, it doesn't make sense." Robin hid her face in her hands. "I wish I could help her but I have no idea how, she won't tell me what's going on at all."

"Do you know where she went?" he asked. The morning shift was supposed to end in just two hours.

"She said she felt sick and left to go home faster. She was really pale," she said.

The sense of anxiety grew in him with each passing moment. He wanted to believe that you were not so irresponsible, however, something in the back of his head remained alarmed by the situation. That is why when he said goodbye to Robin instead of going home he drove straight to the previously mentioned place.

Demolished trailers, rusted metal parts, some of them already overgrown with moss or entwined with some kind of plants looked like the perfect place to film a horror movie. The silence that surrounded the place was creepy to a certain extent. When he found the old Munson's trailer, he tried to go inside as quietly as possible. The walls were covered in cobwebs, the dusty floor with shards of glass pounding on it and broken furniture that had been damaged when the ground tore in half. The place where Chrissy died, a place where he could still feel a strange connection to the world beneath Hawkins.

Looking around, he finally spotted you. You were sitting on the floor of Eddie's old room. One board from the floor had been pulled out and was lying next to the hole. There was also a small box there. Hearing the sound of footsteps you frightenedly looked in his direction, your eyes were big, you looked like a deer in the headlights. In your hand you held several small pills, far too many for one person. Such a dose could kill you, not even the bravest drug addict in the world would take so many at once.

Oh no.

Then it all came to him. You were not addicted to drugs at all. In fact, you were going to take them, take them once and properly. I wish you hadn't saved me. Your words came back to him with redoubled force and the realization of what could have happened if he hadn't come here now almost knocked him off his feet. Within seconds he was kneeling beside you holding your wrist. "Don't even think about it." he said. Seeing the scowl on your face, he looked at the spot he was holding. A purple bruise was spilling around your wrist, looking fresh. Walking with his eyes higher he noticed that it was not the only one on your body. His blood boiled at the thought that Travis had once again raised his hand at you.

"Why do you care what I do?" you asked trying to break free. "I thought that's what you wanted. You would finally have peace of mind."

"Stop it." he tried to be calm, but his voice was trembling. "Why do you want to do it?"

"Why do you care?" you repeated your earlier question. With all your might, you tried to keep a strong attitude. Not to let him see you suffer, but your body turned out to be the biggest traitor. Accelerated breathing, shaking hands and tears streaming into your eyes did not escape his attention.

"Why do you want to do this?" he did not let up. He spoke now through clenched teeth still holding your wrist. Your stubbornness irritated him, but when he saw the first tears dripping down your cheeks he immediately softened. Your lower lip was trembling, once again he saw you in a vulnerable, lost state, this time, explaining to himself that it was instinctive, he hugged you. As you were pulled, the pills from your hand spilled out onto the floor, and hidden in his arms you cried harder and harder. You broke into pieces and he tried to hold them all in one place. The closeness and warmth you felt was overwhelming and unfamiliar. So foreign that you didn't realize how much you missed it.

"Why?" he asked again, his voice was gentle, soothing even, probably never used towards you in his life.

You heard it many times when he helped Robin with panic attacks, or comforted one of the kids. But you never thought there would come a day when he would use it to help you.

"He took them." you muttered into his shirt between sobs. "He took all my money. I had a plan. I had a plan to fix it all, but he destroyed it. He found the money and took it. Everything." Your crying became more and more hysterical, you could barely catch your breath. Steve shifted his position nimbly so that he was seated behind you. His arms wrapped around you from behind, and you leaned your back against his chest, letting him hold you.

"I've got you." he said quietly pressing his cheek against your head. Again, the same tone that made your heart flutter even more. "What plan?" he continued.

"I've saved a lot of money…Enough." you said. "I was supposed to go to the clinic and then get as far away from him as possible, but it's over now, he took everything and drank it all away. He lost all my money on alcohol and drugs, it's over, it's too late! Even if I had money it's too late!" you were distraught, you didn't know how to deal with the fact that your last hope had just been extinguished.

When he heard the word clinic he froze. He understood that you wanted to escape, but why couldn't you do it with the baby? Abortion seemed like a terrible solution to him, but he couldn't judge you. He wasn't in your situation, he himself didn't know exactly what he would do if he found himself in one like this.

"I won't let you give up." he said pressing you even tighter against him. He didn't know where those words came from, but at that moment he didn't have time to think about it.

On the other hand, the whole situation had come to you. As soon as you heard them you woke up from the intoxication caused by the sudden closeness and jumped away from him as if you were burned.

"I don't need your help." you said suddenly taking your defensive posture. He looked at you in shock at how quickly you changed your attitude.

"Let me help you, if not me then at least tell someone else about what's going on, Robin will for sure do everything she can, or Hopper and Joyce."

"I don't need your help, I don't need your pity!" you shouted. You still couldn't control your emotions.

"Why?!" he exclaimed. "Why the hell do you have to be so stubborn and not let me help you?!"

"Because I know you Steve! Because I know that at the first better opportunity you will use it against me!"

He didn't expect those words. He didn't expect how much they would hit him. You were right. He knew you were right, he always did this. He always turned various situations against you at every possible opportunity. The fact that you thought he would do the same now made him feel disgusted with himself. Over time, he became so blinded by your hostile relationship that he didn't even notice how awful a person he was able to become at that time.

Wanting to escape his presence as quickly as possible, you ran out of the trailer embarrassed by what had just happened. You knew that the moment of weakness you allowed yourself there would cost you a lot. What's worse, Steve Harrington saved your life once again that day, and you hated that fact even more.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather @lma1986 @scarletwitchwhore @freezaz123

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