#desperately trying to write the next chapter and keep getting distracted

[burning-thistles-bt]

woah i just realized there's technically only 8 chapters left of BT's main arc and then it's done. and then it's 20+ chapters of the extra SkyClan arc

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 13

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: I’m back!!! Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this update! It’s been a long time coming and I’m glad to be settled to the point where I can start writing again!

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Not many things in your life have been as hard as having to leave Seattle the morning after Valentine’s Day. You and Javy had stayed up all night, walking around the Seattle center after the Space Needle, and eventually heading back to his hotel room. Despite your initial nerves, the two of you had sat on his couch and simply talked until Josie knocked on the door to let you know it was time to go. You’d felt the physical heartache as you forced yourself to walk through his door and you know it must have been showing on your face because Javy simply grabbed his jacket and tagged along in the Uber to the airport, keeping an arm around you without another word. Despite that extra half hour together you still held him tight as the Uber lingered for Reuben and Javy at the deserted drop-off area.

While you’re extremely thankful to Josie for the Valentine’s Day surprise, it’s made the rest of your week unbearable, and you could barely do anything but watch the clock, waiting for Friday. Things have gotten even harder now that you know that Javy’s back in town. He’s just on the other side of town and you can barely hold yourself back. You still have a day of work and Javy’s probably exhausted from the road trip. You tell yourself that he’s at home, asleep, and you shouldn’t bother him, that you shouldn’t be so desperate, and yet you’re aching to text him and ask if he wants to grab dinner because you’re not sure you can wait until your plans tomorrow to see him.

You’ve resorted to turning your phone off and banishing it to the bottom of your deepest desk drawer and throwing yourself into your teaching to try and keep your mind off him. It was working, for the most part at least, but now that your students have been dropped off in the cafeteria for lunch and you’re faced with your empty classroom, your thoughts run wild in the space. Josie’s not even here to keep you company. She took the kids off-campus for lunch to meet up with Reuben. You have no idea how Josie’s done this for ten years, and you’re even more impressed with how adaptable the Fitch kids are. You’ve always known it must be hard, not having their dad around so much, but now that you’re right there alongside them in the trenches, you feel their pain acutely.

You drum your fingers on your desk as you debate releasing your phone from its prison if only just to distract yourself from the silence in the room contrasting with the loudness of your mind. Your fingers itch for the distraction, and you’re so in your own head that you almost miss the knock on your door. Head whipping up from where you were scrutinizing the wood grain of your desk, your heart leaps into your throat as you meet the pair of dark brown eyes peering through the window into your classroom. Your body moves before your brain, tripping over your own feet and your chair as you scramble towards the door as it swings open. Your legs give up their struggle with the chair and you go tumbling into Javy’s arms as he runs over to catch you and you let out a screech of surprise.

“Hi,” you breathe out on an exhale as you stare up at him where you’re crumpled awkwardly as he holds you up.

“Hi,” he says fondly as he smiles down at you and you bask in the warmth of his expression as he helps you find your footing.

“What are you doing here?” You can’t keep the wonder out of your voice as you’re tempted to reach out and touch his face to make sure he’s really here. He chuckles as he leans down and bumps your foreheads together.

“I missed you,” he says like it’s nothing but it sends your heart racing and you swear he can feel it pounding through your skin.

“I missed you too,” you feel your cheeks heat at the admission, at speaking the words that have been echoing in your head all week and you’re heart stops as his face brightens into a boyish smile at your words. You can’t stop yourself from kissing the smile off his face and he leans into your touch, reciprocating in kind. Kissing Javy feels like making up for lost time, it fills you up in a way that feels like bottling up sunshine, reenergizing you like you run on the solar energy that comes from simply being in his presence.

When you break apart, you can’t tear yourself far, hovering close to him and he seems to feel the same way until he pauses like something’s just occurred to him and he turns behind him and you follow him with your eyes as he scoops up a brown paper bag that’s fallen onto the floor and comes back over to you. “I brought lunch,” he explains and you’re glowing all over again as he leads you over to your desk and hands you the sandwiches he got from a place near his apartment. The food tastes spectacular but you’re pretty sure that has more to do with the company than the food itself.

Javy asks about your week and you ask him about his. You’ve had at least some idea of what he's been up to since you spent Thursday evening at the Fitch’s to watch the Colorado game together. He leans into you conspiratorially when you ask how Denver was and you try to ignore the way the proximity makes your heart skip. “I think Bradley almost proposed,” he whispers and your eyes widen in surprise. You don’t know Bradley as well as you know Zam, now that you’ve been welcomed into a group chat with the other girls since your art show, but you know from Zam that she and Bradley are particularly close.

“Didn’t they just get together a few months ago?!” You squawk indignantly and Javy laughs as he nods.

“They even broke up for a bit in December, but that’s Bradley.” Javy shrugs.

“Wait how do you know? Did he tell you?” You ask and Javy barks out a laugh.

“Bradley’s a locked vault, Meep, and only Zam has that key. But according to her, next time they go out for pizza in Denver, the team has to come because a certain someone has no self-control.” He shrugs nonchalantly but you can see conspiratorial mirth dancing in his eyes and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you. The two of you sink into a comfortable silence as you eat, content just to be in each other’s presence after the time apart before Javy breaks it.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask,” you arch an eyebrow silently as you chew, “do you think you’d be able to come to our away game in Dallas next month? It’s on a Saturday so you’d be back in time for school on Monday, and I’d take care of the tickets, but it could be fun.”

“I’d have to look at the exact date, but I should be free, yeah.” You say, smiling shyly at the fact that he’s inviting you to an away game. Somehow it feels different than going to a home game. “Of course, I’d love to come,” your heart thuds at the ease that those four letters fall off your tongue. The relief on his face is apparent and you’re confused by how it contrasts the excitement dancing in his eyes. Your head cocks in suspicion but where you’d normally bury the feeling and wallow as your anxiety sows the seeds of distrust, you feel the urge to confront Javy. Maybe it’s because he’s always been painfully honest with you. No matter how well he seems to think he is at hiding his secrets and emotions, he wears his heart on his sleeve. Maybe you can learn to do the same. “There’s more, what aren’t you telling me?” His eyes widen in surprise and you feel your heart thunder in your ears at his confirmation that he’s hiding something. It makes your stomach turn sour even as your brain screams for you to hear him out before you pull away, retreating into the hermit-crab shell in your mind.

“I…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not that I’m hiding it, I just…” he shakes his head. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you, especially when you’re still at work, and I didn’t want you thinking that I was making assumptions or moving things too fast.” He’s still walking around the truth, treading carefully as he tries to slow you down and grab your metaphorical hand before you can run for the hills.

“And?” You hate how small your voice sounds. You’re supposed to be getting better. Javy’s brought you out of your shelf over the past month along with all your new friends, but it seems old habits die hard. You see something you can’t read pass through his eyes at the tone of your voice.

“My mom wants to meet you,” he says with a resigned sigh, and your brow furrows in confusion. You’d expected a lot of things, but not this. “Well my sisters too, but my mom specifically. I told her about you, about us,” you watch his hand twitch like he’s holding back from reaching for yours. “And she said she wants to meet you. The whole family usually comes up to Dallas for our away games there and she asked me to bring you.” He pauses before adding, “If you want to obviously, she didn’t ask me to kidnap you or anything.” The last addition makes a small laugh bubble up in your throat and you let it slip out to watch Javy’s shoulders relax at the sound.

You nod after a pause. “Sure, Javy, I’d love to meet your family,” your heart squeezes gently as you watch the nerves holding Javy stiff release him from their grip and you wonder if that’s what you always look like to him. “Thanks for telling me,” you murmur, a mirror of what you tell your students when you successfully get them to open up. He nods, but you can tell something’s still bothering him so you reach over and take his hand in yours, rubbing reassuring circles on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean to lie to you, I mean it.” You give him a gentle smile but he’s not looking at you, instead, his eyes are focused on your joined hands. You reach your other hand to guide his chin up to look at you, trying not to get distracted by the feel of his smooth, warm skin under your fingertips.

“It’s okay, Javy. I mean it. I didn’t like you trying to keep it from me, but I understand why you did, and you apologized and I accept that apology. You’re okay. We’re okay.” You reassure him and you watch his deep brown eyes search yours before the uneasiness slowly creeps out of them. His fingers close around yours in his lap and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingers still on his chin.

“Thank you,” His voice is soft like he’s still a little unsure, but then he shakes his head like he’s fighting to keep words inside his mouth. “Are we still on for tomorrow, Meep?” You can’t stop the way your face blossoms into a smile at the mention of tomorrow and you nod enthusiastically.

“Are you going to tell me what you have planned?” You ask, trying to hide how desperate you’re becoming. Javy’s promised that he has top-secret plans for your belated Valentine’s Day plans but he’s been annoyingly vague about them since he asked you to save the day for him.

“And ruin the surprise?” He raises a cocky eyebrow that makes you scowl. He brushes another kiss to your fingers. “Not a chance.” You pout at him and he looks like he’s fighting a grin. “So impatient,” he mocks and you roll your eyes, removing your hand from his chin with a scoff that lacks any real strength. Your attention is caught by the beginnings of movement outside the classroom and your heart aches subtly at the realization that he’ll have to leave in a moment and you’ll have to return to your work like he didn’t just blow through the door and lift your mood exponentially. Once again you feel the urge to ask him if he has dinner plans but your anxiety holds you back from possibly overstepping. He’s already taken time out of his precious day off to come and bring you lunch, you don’t want it to feel like you’re smothering him. Javy’s eyes dart to the window in your door, clocking the motion outside as well and you’re convinced that you see his shoulders slump slightly, but it’s likely your own delusion. “Guess I should get out of your hair,” he says, before coming back to look at you. Normally, you’d feel uncomfortable, being the subject of a person’s undivided attention but you don’t with Javy. His eyes rove over you like he’s recommitting your features to memory and you feel your cheeks heat as you take advantage of his distractedness to do the same. You can see the exhaustion from the past week lingering under his eyes and your heart aches slightly at the idea of how exhausted he must be as guilt twists your stomach. He should be home, asleep, or at the very least getting some rest.

“Get some rest, Javy,” you implore softly and he smiles gently in response.

“Don’t you worry about me, Meep, you just have a good day.” Your brows pinch together indignantly.

“I mean it, Javy.” Your voice is sharper, your teacher voice slipping through.

Javy chuckles. “Yes, Ms. Roadie,” he sing-songs, imitating your students and you roll your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Your brow relaxes and you nod.

“I’ll be there,” you assure him before adding, “That is as long as you tell me where we’re going.” You give him a pointed look.

He gives you a mysterious smile, “All good things to those who wait, Meep.” You’re about to protest again but the sounds outside your classroom rise in volume and you know your time together is almost up. Anxiety at the idea of Javy leaving knaws at your stomach and before you can stop yourself, you’ve reached out, arms wrapping around Javy in a tight hug. His body starts with surprise under you but he reciprocates before you can draw away and second-guess your decision. “I’m tired of waiting,” you know you sound petulant as you grumble the words into his chest, but his chuckle in your ear reassures you that he knows your words go deeper than your plans tomorrow and he feels the same.

“I’m tired of waiting, too, Meep.” He reassures you and you heave out a sigh, relishing the feeling of being in his arms for a moment longer.

***

Your knee bounces particularly hard and slams into the steering wheel as you drum your fingers on it, waiting for the light to turn green. You’ve spent the last week brainstorming ideas of what Javy’s grand plans for today would entail but instead, he surprised you by texting you last night to meet him at the arena, which seems odd since he has the day off, but you didn’t question it, knowing he probably has something in mind. He told you to dress warm but the anxiety gnawing at your gut has your brain convinced that the sleeves of your sweater are itchy. You scratch your arm for what seems like the hundredth time as you gaze at Hard Deck Arena looming ahead of you as the light finally turns green.

As expected, the private parking garage is almost empty but you spot Javy’s Land Rover and you park next to it. A quick peer inside the neighboring car confirms that Javy’s not there. You’ve been to the arena a few times now but you still can’t shake the feeling that you’re intruding as you step out of the car, wiping your sweaty palms off on your jeans before you make your way to the door and swiping the guest pass Zam hooked you up with a few weeks back.

The hallways are eerily quiet with the day off and the normally raucous atmosphere of the players and staff being absent. You pause, halfway down a dimly lit hallway, fishing your phone out of your pocket before you call Javy. You don’t hear a phone ring in your vicinity and you can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. Did he stand you up? Even worse, are the lights about to come on and reveal a hidden camera? Is this all a prank? A familiar sense of unease twists your stomach and your heartbeat is so loud in your ears that you miss the click of the line picking up.

“Meep, are you here?” Javy’s voice in your ear makes you jump and you spin around like you’re expecting him to appear behind you.

“Javy?” You question the shadows around you. He chuckles in your ear.

“Hold on, Meep, I’m coming to get you. Hang tight.” His voice stops but the line doesn’t cut, a quiet reminder that you’re not alone except for the sounds of his muffled footsteps on the other side of the line as you do your best to ignore the dimly lit hallway around you as you await his arrival.

Contrary to his explicit instructions to you, Javy’s wearing a fitted t-shirt, arms bare and glowing under the dim LEDs as he jogs down the hallway towards you, grinning boyishly. He takes you by surprise when he doesn’t stop, barreling into you and sweeping you into his arms as you let out a squeal of surprise, arms instinctively reaching for his neck to hold on tight as your feet leave the ground. “Hi,” his voice is breathless with giddiness as he greets you, dark eyes boring into your own, mouth spread in a wide grin as he holds your body against his, the heat radiating off him a comfortable aura that you’re shamelessly drawn to.

“Hi,” you breathe back as the air comes back into your lungs and you gaze at him, lips slightly parted in surprise. Your mind goes back to yesterday and you nervously let the words on your tongue escape, heart fluttering at the vulnerable honestly. “I missed you.” His face is like the sun as he beams at you, surely a mirror of yours yesterday when he let the same admission slip. He rubs his nose against yours affectionately, the warmth rolling off his skin in waves meeting the shy heat of yours.

“I missed you too, Meep.” Your body relaxes instantly, reassured the moment he reciprocates. He puts you down then, but even once your feet are safe on the ground again, he keeps you caged in his arms, pressed tightly against him. He doesn’t seem keen on inviting space between your bodies and you’re hard-pressed to argue.

“So,” your curiosity bubbles to the surface from where it’s been percolating all week. “What are we doing here?” You ask, and you watch boyish mirth dance in Javy’s eyes as his lips quirk into a ghost of a smirk.

“So impatient,” he teases, leaning down to peck your cheek as your skin tightens beneath his lips as you scowl at him, no anger behind the twist of your lips. He chuckles as he pecks your pouted lips, effectively sending your brain into a tizzy. It’s still getting used to all this casual attention after years spent lacking it. “Alright then, my little roadrunner, let’s go,” your body instantly bemoans the loss of contact he pulls away but he makes up for it, sliding his hand unto yours and lacing your fingers together like he too can’t bear to not be touching.

He leads you down the dimly lit hallway with a familiarity you envy. Your feet almost stumble as you reach a slight incline and then you catch sight of light at the top. When you emerge into the arena, the contrast of the blindingly bright LEDs compared to the dimness your eyes have adjusted to makes you blink rapidly, struggling to adjust quickly to get your bearings. The cooler air confirms your suspicion until your eyes adjust to the blinding sight of the lights bouncing off the white of the ice rink. Javy waits patiently next to you as your eyes adjust and your frown of discomfort shifts into one of confusion. He clocks the difference and leads you through a clear door into the bench area. You’ve seen it through the glass before but you’ve never been in here. It seems laughably small considering that it’s meant to house several dozen men in bulky gear. You make your way to the boards that you’ve watched the boys swing over effortlessly, eyes widening as you see where it falls in comparison to your body, realizing exactly how much upper body strength it must take. You’re not sure you could do it, let alone piled under the extra pounds of hockey gear. You shake your head in disbelief before turning to where Javy’s watching you, seated on the bench.

“This is amazing,” he grins at your words.

“Just wait until we get out there, Meep.” He says, grin widening as your stomach drops and the puzzle pieces start falling into place.

“Out. There?” You squeak even as your brain has already descended into chaos as you glance from Javy’s smiling face to the white ice stretching out ahead of you. Anxiety rises up and claws up your throat as you realize exactly what Javy has planned. “Oh,” the word is a soft exhale and it must betray your fear because Javy reaches for your hands, pulling you closer and turning you to face him. “I can’t skate.” The words flood past your lips, splattering into the floor between you, laced with nerves and fear and you watch Javy’s eyes soften. He rubs circles into the flesh of your hands where they’ve started to tremble in his hold.

“I know, Meep,” he says and it doesn’t reassure you. “Nat told me, so I figured maybe I could teach you.” Your eyes widen in surprise as you slowly put things together. You look away from his gentle gaze back to the rink, the bright expanse daunting as it glows back at you. You swallow, fear sticking in your throat. Javy lets go of one of your hands, reaching to turn your chin back towards him, cupping your cheek, and sweeping his thumb across your trembling skin. “It’s okay,” he soothes gently. “I won’t let you fall.” The words are like hot water, thawing the ice of the nerves encasing your heart. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You believe him.

His smile turns rueful as he squeezes the hand still holding yours. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, though.” Your heart squeezes painfully. “We can get out of here, forget it ever happened. We’ll go get some dinner and then we can eat at my place.” He keeps up the gentle strokes of fingers against your skin. Your nerves are still present, deep in your stomach, licking painfully at your gut but your heart glows at Javy’s words. “Don't worry about it, either. This day is for you. If you’re not comfortable, it’s not worth it.” The aching of your heart is overwhelming, drowning out the twisting of your stomach and you shake your head.

“No, I want to.” Your voice doesn’t sound convincing so you clear your throat, squeezing his hand in yours. “I’ll be okay. I want to try at least.” He smiles, soft, as he scans your face, looking for any signs that your words aren’t genuine. When he’s convinced you aren’t doing this for him, he tugs your hand, gently, standing and switching places, carefully guiding you to sit on the bench as he stands in front of you.

“Sit tight,” he says and you nod as he steps over the bench to fuss with something behind you. While you wait, you nervously bring your gaze back to the ice rink. It looks cold and unforgiving. A thought pops into your mind as you wait for Javy.

“Javy, I don’t have skates,” the words die on your lips as he steps back in front of you, and your eyes fall on the box he’s holding in his hands. It’s clumsily wrapped in pink patterned paper with a bow awkwardly perched on top and he hands you it, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Sorry, it’s not the neatest job. I probably should have just gone with a bag, but I’d already committed to the paper, and I figured since it was just a box it couldn’t be that hard.” Your eyes soften as he blubbers in front of you and you take his hand in yours, squeezing gently.

“I love it.” You reassure him and you watch the nerves seep out of his body, shoulders slumping in relief. You let go of his hand so you can unwrap the box on your lap, being careful not to tear the paper too much. You know you’re going to want to keep it. Maybe you’ll try your hand at a mixed-media piece and you can find a way to incorporate it. Adding some of his work into yours. The box inside is nondescript and you open it, breath catching in surprise as you unfold the tissue paper inside to reveal its contents.

The blades of the skates sparkle under the bright lights and you reach a curious finger out to run along the surface. The skates are simple but beautiful. As you reach to pull one out to examine it better, the paper falls away and your heart clenches as a simple detail catches your eye. Along the ankle portion of the skate is a custom patch depicting the Looney Tunes Roadrunner. A surprised laugh bubbles up your throat as you run a revenant finger along the patch. When you lift the skate, you see a matching patch of Wile E. Coyote on the other skate. Your lips quirk into a smile as you look up at Javy where he’s watching you.

“They’re perfect,” you assure him and his smile widens. “I love them, thank you Javy,” you reach for him awkwardly, trying not to drop the box on your lap and he closes the gap so you can give him a hug. When he pulls away, he drops to one knee in front of you, easing the skate box off your lap and placing it on the floor by your feet he holds out a hand, and you flush as you offer him your leg, feeling silly as you watch him carefully remove your shoe and guides the skate onto your socked foot, lacing up the skate, glancing up to make sure he hasn’t pulled it too tight.

When he finishes, he takes a seat next to you, lacing his skates up with a practiced speed. Then he stands, and you gawk, looking down to see how he’s standing balanced on the blades, your nerves quickly resurfacing at the idea of having to do the same. He clocks your expression and gives you a gentle smile as he steps over to you, holding out his hands. “I told you, Meep. I won’t let you fall.” You swallow, hard, before placing your trembling fingers in his. Javy’s brow furrows and he bends down, rummaging through the box at your feet, before he produces a pair of gloves and guides them into your shaking hands. Then he laces your fingers together again. “Ready?” You nod and he squeezes your linked hands and pulls, gently helping you ease off the bench. You’re surprised when balancing isn’t as hard as you expected.

Javy carefully leads you across the rubber flooring to the small door in the boards, slipping through and holding it open with his hip and you stare at the ice. “Whenever you’re ready, take your time,” Javy says comfortingly, waiting patiently for you. You swallow before raising a trembling leg and placing your skate on the ice. You feel the blade slide through the ice and gasp. Javy’s hand tightens on yours and you look up from the ice to meet his eyes. “I’ve got you,” he reassures you and you squeeze his other hand and carefully step your other foot onto the ice. Your footing is much less sure now, and your legs tremble like a baby deer as your wide eyes go from the ice to Javy’s. “There you go, look at you, Meep. You’re doing it.” His pride is a little premature, you know that, but your chest still swells under his praise. “You ready to move?” You swallow, throat feeling dry, but you manage to nod anyway. He carefully pushes off, still holding tightly to your hand and he skates backward, effortlessly, slowly pulling you after him.

“Javy!” The surprise of how easily he moves and the strange feeling of gliding behind him forces the cry out of your mouth. Your weight feels unbalanced and your feet not having a proper grip on the ground is disorienting.

Javy slows to a stop, pulling you in so you’re close to him. Your hands grip his forearms tightly. “Easy, Meep, I’ve got you. Okay so to balance you’re going to want to bring your center of gravity lower, kind of reach for your knees. I’m going to let you go and-”

“NO!” You shout, fear gripping your heart at the idea of having to let go of Javy.

“Hey, hey,” Javy placates gently as your wild eyes find his. He’s calm and you force yourself to focus on him, to even your breathing. “Even if I let go, I’m right here, okay? I won’t let you fall. The moment you need me, I’ll be right here.” You swallow, hard. You’re scared which you know is ridiculous. The worst thing that can happen to you is that you fall and Javy’s reassured you that he’ll catch you if you do. You need to trust him. You do trust him. Despite the racing of your heart, you nod weakly.

“Okay,” you hate how small your voice sounds. “Okay, I can try.” Javy beams down at you.

“That’s my girl,” he praises and you feel your entire body go hot. His words echo in your ears with your heartbeat and you feel stronger. “Okay, I’m going to let go, okay? Just reach for your knees, you won’t fall.” Your heart thunders as Javy’s fingers slip from yours and you feel yourself start to wobble. “Reach for your knees,” Javy’s voice breaks through your panic and you feel your center of gravity shift as you alter your stance, the wobbling evening out. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“I did it!” You cry, grinning giddily up at Javy and he grins back.

“You did it!” He reassures you and then skates back a few feet, holding his hand out. “Now try to move. See if you can come over to me. Just remember, it’s not like walking. Think about how you used to skid around in your socks as a kid.” You decide against pointing out that you still do that now. “You’re going to move with your knees and push.” He skates over to you slowly and your brows furrow in concentration as you watch his motions, committing them to memory so you can try and replicate them. “Here,” he skates over to stand beside you, “just copy me, and if you start to slip, I’ll grab you.” You watch his leg and follow with your own. Your attention is glued to his legs and replicating his movements. “There you go, you’re doing it!” Javy’s cheers snap your attention from his legs and you realize how far across the rink you’ve moved. Your eyes widen and you forget to move your feet. Unfortunately, unlike on the floor, when you stop moving your feet, you don’t stop moving and you continue to glide forward. You squawk in surprise as you realize you have no idea how to stop.

“Javy! Javy, I don’t know how to stop!” You shout and Javy’s quick to skate in front of you.

“Okay, easy now,” Javy says as your panic rises. “You’re going to bring the tips of your skates in, like the point of an arrow, and keep your weight in the center.” You fight the doubts warring in your mind and try to trust Javy’s instructions, moving your feet slowly, and to your surprise, you slow to a stop right in front of Javy. You gape at your skates attached to feet that don’t feel like yours before looking at Javy who’s wearing a proud grin. “Attagirl! You did it!” He cheers, wrapping you in his arms and you sink into his before realizing that’s probably a bad idea as your combined weights are unbalanced. Javy shifts his weight almost instinctively, keeping the two of you from bowling over. “What did I say, I won’t let you fall, pretty girl.” You feel your cheeks heat as you relish being in his arms. “You did so well, Meep, I’m proud of you.” His pride warms you from head to toe and makes you feel confident. “You all skated out, or do you want to try some more?” He’s giving you an out and your new-found confidence has you shaking your head.

“I think I want to try some more,” you see pride and joy sparkle in his eyes and he helps you rearrange your weight so you can stand on your own again.

“Well then, let’s see what you’ve got, Roadrunner,” he grins at you. “You think this Coyote can catch you?” You know he could without breaking a sweat but you play along.

“We’ll just have to see,” you tease as you carefully start moving across the ice again and Javy follows right behind, sticking close.

***

An hour later, you’re exhausted and your legs are trembling from that rather than nerves as you and Javy sit side by side on the bench, unlacing your skates and trading them for your shoes. Strands of your hair stick to your forehead that’s somehow managed to get a little sweaty despite the chilly air.

“So, did you have fun?” Javy asks as he scoops up his skates, offering you his free hand to help you back to your feet. You nod, a giddy grin still on your face. You weren’t anywhere close to his level of skill but by the end, you were a lot more confident moving across the ice. And Javy had kept his promise, you hadn’t fallen once.

“Thanks for this, Javy, really. I loved it.” He pulls you into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It was perfect,” he agrees before he pulls away so he can see your face as he asks, “What do you say to doing this again next weekend, maybe with some more company?” You cock your head, confused before he explains. “Next weekend is Family Day, where all the guys bring their girls and their families to the rink. We all just hang out and skate. There’s a potluck after and it’s just a team bonding event. I’ve been meaning to ask you to come but I knew you didn’t know how to skate and I didn’t want you to have to feel pressured to learn in front of a bunch of strangers. So I planned this, and I’d say you’re more than good enough to come if that’s something you want to do.”

Your heart pounds even as it aches at Javy’s concern for your comfort. You nod without a second thought. “I’d love to come, Javy.” You squeeze his hand in yours. “And thanks for looking out for me, I really appreciate it.” He smiles, the relief on his face is like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds and you smile back. “I can’t wait.” You assure him, snuggling against his side and he wraps you in his arms.

“Me neither,” he says and you can’t help but feel that despite the nerves and jitters, today has been perfect. You’re glad you didn’t let your nerves and anxiety ruin this perfect day, and you’re even more thankful to Javy for making you feel safe enough to have this much fun. You wouldn’t have been able to do it without him.

A/N: And with that, the Valentine’s Day festivities come to an end! But there’s plenty more to look forward to on the horizon! Which are you most excited for?

[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 10

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Summary: Tensions rise as two of your friends are found in a suspicious position.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, angst

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m sorry if this sucks…writing this chapter sucked the life out of me.

Sitting in the ambulance doesn’t feel right.

You don’t think you deserve to be here, getting taken care of; while the rest of the gang goes on searching for clues. You lean against the van door, struggling to keep your eyes open.

You can’t bear to watch as the police lift Ethan’s body and wheel him into their black van.

You’re so tired that you can’t even cry.

You turn and bury yourself in the crook of Tara’s neck, trying to distract yourself with her warmth, her smell, her. She hasn’t left your side for a second since the paramedics arrived, and she doesn’t seem to mind you clinging desperately onto her either.

It might be how exhausted you are, or the fact that her comfort makes you feel so safe, it lulls you to sleep quickly.

It feels like a blink of an eye before you’re getting woken up to the sound of Sam interrogating Anika and Mindy.

“Found them just a couple minutes ago, they were knocked out,” Tara whispers to you, reading your face in the blink of an eye and knowing exactly what you were going to ask.

You inspect the pair carefully. They look like they’ve been through it.

Along with red marks all over her arms, Mindy has a little scrape of peeled skin at the top of her head.

Anika’s looks even worse.

There’s a huge purple-ish green-ish bump just right above her eyebrow. It’s in the shape of a perfect rectangle like someone had tried to knock her out with a brick.

“Where have you guys been?” Sam’s asking, sort of calm but sort of rough at the same time. There’s no doubt there is an underlying tone of suspicion in her voice.

Mindy sighs heavily, seeing right through the fake calm facade Sam’s putting on.

“Sam, we swear we do not know anything.” She’s saying, eyes wide. “We saw Ghostface coming, we ran! And the next thing you know we both got knocked out. I mean, look at the wound Sam. I know Ghostfaces have done this before, the whole hurt yourself thing. But I swear. Please, Sam.”

She looks put-together, all things considered. But Mindy’s always been one of those people, she goes through life swiftly; with nothing on her mind except for obscure indie horror films and her girlfriend.

She doesn’t sound like she’s lying, you’ll give her that.

“So you just left Danny alone?” Sam asks, clearly not as persuaded as you are.

Anika breathes loud, a sound of growing impatience.

“We were being chased. I’m sorry Sam but if it was between Mindy and Danny there’s no way I’m picking your boyfriend.” She explains, waving her hands wildly. “And we don’t even know if he’s Ghostface.” She ends, the last statement said in nothing but a hushed whisper.

Sam can’t say much about that. She breathes heavily, very much resembling the look of an angry dragon as she stands; towering.

You snuggle into Tara, deciding that you in fact do not want to be a part of this conversation.

She looks down at you and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Then she’s wrapping her arms around you and slipping a hand in your back pocket.

She wiggles around in there a moment before you feel her fish something out and shift away from you slightly, smiling.

“Now what’s this?” She’s whispering teasingly, quiet laughter shaking her body.

You crane your neck to look at it, but all you see is a backside of a tiny piece of paper, all yellow and old looking.

Paper? You don’t remember having paper in there.

Tara stills as she reads it, her heartbeat under you quickening at a rapid pace.

“What is it, babe?” You question, tightening your grip around her waist.

She tilts her whole body to show you what’s written on the paper.

Scribbled crazily on the note in thick red liquid, are five words.

NITEHALK CINEMA - TONIGHT. BE THERE.

You stare at it for a long time, like if you looked at it hard enough it’ll dissolve into thin air. The words look almost anthropomorphic, threatening to jump out and grab you by the neck.

“Huh.” You state, turning to blankly stare at Tara. She blinks back at you, obviously also taken aback.

You guys have a silent conversation until Tara carefully untangles herself from you and makes her way toward the older Carpenter.

You see her hand Sam the paper, all eyebrows furrowed and soft voices. Sam snatches it from her, but your view gets blocked off when a paramedic comes to stand in front of you.

You eye her a little wearily, confused as to why she’s standing there.

“Hey, hon.” She says, eyes crinkling at the sides when she smiles. She has some age, you can tell, but she still looks youthful and full of life.

You relax, almost melting at her term of endearment.

You were always a sucker for one of those. Especially if they were coming from an attractive middle-aged woman.

You quirk an eyebrow, signaling that she can keep speaking.

“So, I had a quick look at the wound on your stomach there. You’ve got an infection, sweetheart. It’s nothing to worry about if you get to the hospital immediately.” She tells you, sternly.

An infection?

You open your mouth to answer her, tell her that there’s no way in hell you have enough time to do that, but Tara’s heading back before you can say a thing; and you mumble a quick, “Don’t tell her anything.”

Because the last thing you need is Tara fussing over you when there should be Ghostface hunting to do.

“So what happened?” You ask your girlfriend, grabbing and positioning her so she’s standing in between your legs.

She doesn’t say a thing about it, but you see the blush start forming.

“We’re going to the damn theater together, and we’ll end the motherfucker. Once and for all.” Tara says and then tilts her head to the side, eyes flirting between you and the paramedic as if she’s just realizing she’s here. “Everything okay?”

You cut in quickly, shooting the paramedic a look and wrapping an arm around her waist for reassurance.

“Everything’s great.” You smile.

-

“Aren’t we rushing into this kind of fast? Like..why are we going to a random place Ghostface clearly wants us to go to?” Chad asks, his voice betraying his fear for the whole plan.

You’ll admit, it was a sort of sudden decision, even for you.

As soon as Tara showed Sam that paper, Sam turned into an animal. Asking for papers from the medical staff still around and gathering all of you to listen to her new plan; excluding Anika and Mindy.

“Seriously?” Anika’s saying, right after Sam informed her that they weren’t invited to listen in.

Sam doesn’t relent, just stares her down with those fiery eyes she only has reserved for situations like these.

“If you want me to believe you, you’ll have no problem staying out of this,” Sam says, nodding matter-of-factly.

“Well, I don’t want to be kept out of the loop and die.” Anika mumbles, but backs down nevertheless; walking back to join Mindy dejectedly on the sidewalk.

Now, you guys are stuffed into Sam’s van, ready to take on the weirdo in the white mask once again.

Funny, this is giving me déjà vu.

But after Sam’s monologue last night, where the older carpenter had talked about sacrificing herself, it seemed to ignite a fire deep in you; one that still wanted to fight.

You know you’re not the only one who’s feeling this way.

One quick glance at the gang and you can tell everyone’s feeling motivated. You can only hope it lasts so long.

Well, everyone except Chad.

You contemplate reaching over and gripping his hand for support, but wonder if it’ll be weird because you haven’t exactly had the best relationship with him, but decide fuck it, we’re friends, and do it anyway. He sends you a nervous but supportive smile back.

Sitting still hurts. Any kind of movement only worsens the pain. It’s like the conversation with the paramedic opened your eyes because you can feel every little thing bothering you now.

By the time you guys get to the theater, your anxiety’s at an all-time high.

Beads of perfectly shaped droplets fall from your forehead at a rapid pace, and your heart feels like it’s up in your throat.

You push open the doors and try to quell your fears by acting brave. The facade disappears immediately when you see what’s in the theater.

You pale.

It’s a shrine. A goddamn shrine of Ghostface.

“Well isn’t this nice? Ghostface has a fan.” Tara mumbles, pushing past you to see further in.

Everyone slowly files in and looks around curiously, murmuring soundlessly between pairs.

You sway as you walk further in, head whirling. You stumble and hit a glass box, and you have to grip it to steady yourself.

You stare at Sam unloading the big black bag shed packed full of weapons from just last night, getting prepared.

It doesn’t help with the haziness. You need to get your mind off this shit…you need something. Your head drops to peer inside the glass box.

You think your heart literally stops when you see the collection of pictures, paintings, a summarized biography, and a bloody knife. A familiar photo makes your breath hitch.

Stu Macher : The Second Ever Ghostface

You blink. Try and steady your heartbeat by closing your eyes and sucking in a deep breath.

Just when you feel like you’re about to pass out, Tara steps up beside you, putting a hand on your back to help steady you.

“You okay?” She whispers, a concerned expression painting her features.

You look down at her, flash her a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah.” You try and say with as much positivity as you can muster.

She sees right through it, frowning so big you’d think you’d just told her you were Ghostface.

“I know when you lie to me.” She says pointedly, pouting.

You sigh, it’s no use to lie.

“No, I’m not doing great currently, but that’s not our top priority here Tar.” You murmur softly.

She punches you in the arm, with all the power of a marshmallow bouncing off you and crosses her arms.

“It’s a priority to me.” She huffs.

You raise an eyebrow. Tara wasn’t one to give you words of affirmation, but whenever she would, she’d get adorably shy.

She’s not this time. She’s standing tall and sure of herself, staring at you like if she lets her eyes off you for even a second you’ll run away.

You contemplate telling her about what the paramedic said.

You should, you know that, but you don’t want to worry her more than she already is.

She’s tired too, you can tell. It shows through the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her hair is just a little more ruffled than usual.

Tomorrow I will, you think. After all this is over.

You settle for wrapping your arms around her and whispering an I love you in her ear.

Tara stills, obviously surprised at your confession. It surprises you too. You guys had never really said it before, even though you’re sure the both of you felt it.

“Um..I’m sorry. It just sort of came out, you don’t need to say it back. I understand.” You say quickly, sheepishly.

Tara quells your fears with a kiss, full of passion and urgency.

It feels like it always does, so goddamn dreamy. Her and her kisses never fail to send you straight into cloud 9.

When you pull back, you’re a little dazed.

“Well…okay.” You say, smiling goofily.

Her expression matches yours, albeit a little more composed. Her red cheeks and neck don’t fool you though.

“I love you too….idiot.” She says, adding the last bit to help put her racing heart at ease.

You snicker and shake your head. Your eyes drop down to the box again, but you don’t feel nearly as bad anymore.

“Man, I’m related to that guy? He looks like an alien dog.” You whine, only sort of half joking.

Tara chuckles heartedly and pats your back softly.

“He kinda does.” She murmurs.

“What does that mean…are you saying I look like that too?” You question, eyes wide and piercing, trying to look intimidating. To Tara, you look like a lost puppy.

“I never said that.” She quips, smirking. She’s teasing you.

“Yeah, but you didn’t rebut me so I’m led to believe you agree.” You press, forming your lips into a pout.

She reaches out to try and wipe it away, but you tilt your head; trying to fight for some semblance of control here.

She tries again, leaning to grab your face and kiss you, but you swerve as quickly as possible, a small part of you a little sad at the act.

The part that wants you to win this “argument” is bigger though. And it takes control once again.

“Nuh-uh. No kisses until you admit I don’t look like an alien dog and that I’m actually mighty gorgeous.” You say, proud smile; sure you’ve won.

“Oh really?” Tara smirks, leaning back until her back is pressed against the box and your hands on both sides of her waist.

She calls your bluff. “I don’t think you’d be able to take it; not kissing me.”

You have to bite back a gulp at her boldness.

God this girl was going to be the death of you.

You challenge her, happy to have your beloved banter with your girlfriend back.

“Funny…I vaguely remember you being the one who couldn’t keep her hands

to herself for a second. And who was the one that was so impatient the first time we had sex she tripped over and landed face first into the mat?” You tease, watching Tara’s cheeks heat up.

“Hey! We promised not to talk about that.” She grumbles, disregarding her bet from 5 seconds ago and tilting up to meet your lips.

You smile against her lips, victorious.

When she sees it, she huffs slightly, mouth still connected to yours.

“Whatever.” She says, pulling back.

“Guys!” Sam’s voice booms through the theater, echoing a couple of times before fading out.

Creepy.

“Get over here! Safety in numbers, remember? Who knows where Ghostface is? For all we know, he’s already in here watching us.” She continues to yell, watching as you and Tara saunter over; hand in hand.

Her words send chills down your body, and you’re suddenly aware again of your beating heart.

You look behind Sam, seeing multiple Ghostface mannequins standing tall. It’s scary how much eeriness some pieces of fabric can create.

“Well, isn’t this a dainty place to be having our conversation?” You chuckle nervously, turning your head to the left, then the right; where you see nothing but all 9 Ghostface mannequins from the Stab franchise, or in this nightmare reality, real life.

“Can you just shut-“ Sam begins, obviously done with your bullshit attempts at lightening the mood.

The lights turn off in the theater all at once, leaving you guys in complete darkness; all stunned.

“Up.” Sam finishes, and you can already hear her feet start to shuffle as she looks and grabs around.

You feel her rough hands as she grabs at your wrist and pulls, too hard for your liking.

“Sam- Could you be a little gentler please?” You huff, trying to weasel your way out her grip.

“What are you talking about?” Sam voices, but it feels kind of far away from you. The grip around your hand suddenly feels weighted. “I’m not touching you Y/N.”

Before you can react, the hand is coming up to your mouth and pressing hard, muffling any sounds that’ll come out.

“YN? Baby? What’s going on?” Tara asks, worry seeping through her words.

You try and scream, or say anything, but the sound dies in your throat when you realize there’s something pressed against your nose.

It’s a cloth: a smelly one at that. You realize what it is immediately, all those true crime documentaries finally coming in handy. Chloroform.

The fumes are practically shoved up your nose, and you feel your knees buck underneath you.

Fuck, Tara.

You wiggle and thrash around, but nothing works, the chemical’s doing its job, because in the next second; you’re gone.

[jarofstyles]

Reaper 11

Hellloooo! Sorry it’s taken a few weeks to update. So here we are with a cute chapter (enjoy while It lasts) and sort of domestic reaper. 

WC-10.4k

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warnings: a light chapter, sexy conversations, reaper in his element (the soft kind), cute couple things ---------------------------

“Wow, that was easy.” Bunny spoke under her breath as they approached the lounge. She was still blown away by how the club had managed to get away with this, how they totally passed through security in a blink. “Why aren’t we sitting—“

Her words were cut off by the automatic doors that opened up to a lounge for the airline's members. Massage chairs, complimentary snacks, TVs, Charging stations. All in private.

“Have a seat anywhere, baby.” Harry cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and letting her explore the area before he himself went to get them some snacks for the journey. He wanted to distract her, he promised this trip he would focus on nothing but her. It’s what she deserved.

He felt himself unwinding with every moment that passed, he knew there was virtually no way that this guy could have tracked them here. Of course, he could never be 100% sure.

He had grabbed a few different snacks, his tendencies wanting to hoard them all in his duffle to bring with them but trying to be chill about it as he chose what he knew they liked and brought them over to the little table and chair she had chosen.

Their new phones were something she was still setting up. Their old ones still sat in the clubhouse and would be brought out every so often but sitting dormant would be better and no one had these numbers but Viper, Wiz and her mother. Thankfully she was now the priority to guard.

Being the wife of a member? She knew not to ask questions when people said they were being guarded. Y/N had begged to keep most of this from her in case the stalker got desperate and went to her instead, which they’d all hesitantly agreed to. Besides, she didn’t seem like a target anyways. They’d keep it that way.

“They’ve got those mini powdered donuts.” He murmured. “And the charged lemonades.. with caffeine. Some chips. The lemon cookies y’love.” He placed them one by one on the table. “But you can go n’look at the snacks if you want something different. There’s some fruit cups but I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything like that.” He didn’t want to waste fresh fruit.

Considering Harry used to not know where or when meals would come from as a child, he had a complicated relationship with food. He never wasted it. Cleaned his plate. He got panicky about it sometimes but that was something no one else knew. Bunny would, eventually. Maybe he would tell her in London.

There was a lot she needed to know.

Bunny looked at this assortment of snacks, feeling a smile creep on her face as she noticed how soft he seemed in that moment. Harry was fully back with her and she could see his body become less tense as he sat down next to her once again.

“Thank you,” She spoke softly, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. She didn’t have the heart to tell him all this sugar would likely have her bouncing in the plane, but she’d definitely knew she’d end up sleeping for some of the nearly 10 hour journey.

“Are you gonna eat anything?” Bunny wanted to make sure he had something in his stomach. They didn’t get to eat lunch and he was definitely drained from the intense waves of emotion he’d gone through today. Without another word she opened the bag of powdered donuts and fed him one, not giving him a moment to decline.

It was then that the ring on his finger caught her eye, remembering she’d had one on too. Married they were supposed to be. She wondered if Harry had ever pictured himself getting married or if it’s something he ever wanted. Something told her the answer had been no.

Harry chewed the donut, brow raised as she had basically force fed him. Somehow, he didn’t mind. He was going to eat but he wanted to make sure she was taken care of first, however it seemed like they both had similar mindsets.

He caught her glance at the faux wedding band on his finger, smiling to himself before wiping the powdered sugar that was surely on the corners of his lips. It was going to be a relief to be away from the whole scenario, yes, but he was excited to play pretend for a bit. To be someone else who potentially never had to worry about stalkers or cartel or trafficking or addictions. They could pretend to be people who’s biggest worries were what color white to paint their new home’s foyer.

“Know they aren’t the gourmet things you make, but those packets of powdered donuts are good.” He mumbled, leaning back in the seat and spreading his thighs as he stretched out. The lack of sleep and tense muscles were starting to have effects and it was annoying, but he would worry about that once they were on the plane. He’d probably pass out the moment they were off, knowing she would be tucked safely in the space next to him.

“I grabbed a few packets for crisps for myself and the ride. A few bottles to drink. They’ve got that fancy water. Swiped a few of those, though I kind of think they’re full of shit for sayin’ there’s all these extra benefits. How do they even know?”

Bunny was so endeared by him, the way his habits continued to shine through even in moments where he thought he was playing the part. It seemed he visibly relaxed as they began boarding the plane, insisting that she sat in the window seat to protect her from any possible dangers. Even in the privacy of first class, Harry knew he could never be sure.

Anytime he let his guard down it seemed to be when they creep made his moves. He wouldn’t let it happen again. No.

“You cold?” He asked softly, setting their backpacks in the overhead compartment but not before pulling out a hoodie for her to wear. The seats were roomy, it pissed him off that there was a massive space between them where the armrest was, but he figured once they were in the air she could find a place to rest on top of him. That would be much better.

“Thank you, baby.” Bunny cooed, slipping into the oversized hoodie. It smelled just like him, she relaxed immediately.

Harry liked seeing her like that. Curled up in her seat with his hoodie on her body, fingers curling around the cuff of the sleeve. Being able to experience this sort of thing made him feel a mix of happiness and guilt.

He still felt stupidly guilty about the fact that he had found the clubhouse. Granted, he knew logically it wasn’t his fault. The guy was a freak, a stalker, a psychopath. He was going to do shit if he wanted to do it. That still didn’t mean Harry was okay with how shit went.

Now that they were in the plane, though, and he had a pretty good feeling that she was safe, he allowed himself to smile slightly. Enjoying the sight of her, the idea of London after being away for a while, letting her see London and hopefully not have to worry for a few days.

“Didn’t know first class would mean y’can’t sit close to me.” He grumbled slightly, feeling needy. It was so foreign for him. He almost cringed at his own actions. Since when had he become someone who craved physical touch? Wanting to pull her body and feel the weight of it rest on top of him? He didn’t have a damn clue. It just happened with her.

“I didn’t think so either,” Bunny pouted, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek. “We have to be here for a while, I’m sure once we are in the air I can sit with you.” She smiled and leaned in to steal a kiss quickly before settling back in her seat.

It was big and comfortable, she was able to fully recline and sleep if she wanted to. A TV for each of them. She felt very fancy, especially when the flight attendant came to hand them some mimosas to start their journey. It’s been a while since Bunny had been able to drink, she was too preoccupied with staying safe. It felt nice to indulge even if it was from a plastic cup on a plane.

“You want mine as well?” Harry asked, raising a brow. He was thinking it would help her relax a bit, maybe enough to fall asleep.

“No, you have to drink yours too. It’s part of a trip, come on!” She giggled, moving to tap her cup against his.

“Cheers to the Davison’s”

“Course. My wife.” He gave her a little wink, a weird throbbing ebbing in his chest. The phrase itself was an odd thing to think about but he knew internally he would be milking it this whole trip. Her fake ring glittered in the artificial light making him wonder.

What kind of ring would she actually want?

He was broken from the thought when she called his name again. It was a habit he had been getting annoyed with lately. Falling into his own thoughts about her, accidentally zoning out. Imagining things. It was disgusting.

“Hm?” He looked at her with suddenly alert eyes. “M’sorry. What did you say, darling?” His thumb stroked over her wrist, gingerly moving back and forth over the pulse point.

“I said, please try and get some sleep on this flight.” Bunny spoke a bit concerned. He had been flighty all week, clearly sleeping at the clubhouse was starting to get to him. The darkness under his eyes paired with heavy eyelids masking his irritated eyes. She wished she could make this easier on him, but she knew a mental battle was always more difficult to fight.

“I’m going to try to as well. Don’t want to drive myself crazy on this plane for 10 hours.” She had a feeling her own anxiety wouldn’t let her properly shut her eyes. It’s been ages since she’d been on a plane, let alone for this long. The movies would help distract her, but having to stay this far from Harry wasn’t ideal.

“I’m actually really excited to explore London, you know?“ Bunny had an idea of what the place was like in her head, but she knew Harry would give her the most authentic experience. “Think of all the food! I mean, British food isn’t exactly the most gourmet but it’s part of the experience. Gotta take me to get tea and fish and chips and stuff.”

“Oi.” He squeezed her fingers. “Don’t knock it till y’try it. Brat. Insulting our food already, haven’t even tried it yet.” The audacity this girl had made him smile. He needed that. Needed someone to be calm and joke around with.

He knew that he was going to have difficulty sleeping. Even up in the air he felt a bit unnerved, not wanting to let her out of his sight. It was a bit of a helpless feeling, not wanting to chance her being taken the second he looked away. Realistically he knew it would be fine here. It was secure and safe and there was no way the man knew where they were with how many false trails they threw out for him.

Still, though, the paranoia hit him deep. He finally had someone he actually gave a fuck about, a girl he adored, and she was in danger. He wanted to keep her safe the best he possibly could.

“I’ll try t’sleep but I make no promises.” His sleepy face showed he may not have much of a choice in the actual thing though. Y/N could have cooed at the visual. His sleepy face was precious, however she did wish he was well rested.

“Well, I’m safe.” She muttered. “Nothing will happen to me here. You are ok to sleep. You’ve been protecting me for so long. You can rest now.”

It only took a few hours until Harry lost his battle against sleep. The lights had been turned down on the plane, snack cart long gone, nothing but the sound of white noise and shuffling from the seats around them.

Bunny wasn’t sure what it was that woke her up from her own slumber, but as she looked over to Harry’s seat she couldn’t have felt more relief. Never had she had the opportunity to watch him sleep, he was always up before her and always waited until she fell asleep before he let himself relax. If he even slept.

He looked so soft like his. His lips parted slightly, chest slowly rising and falling, his cheek pressed up against the pillow the airline provided. Bunny couldn’t help but feel warm, allowing herself to pull the blanket over him a bit more. He was deep in sleep.

Just like that she sat there and watched him, thinking about how important he was to her and how deeply she wished he could be free from the shackles of his mind. For once his brows weren’t furrowed, his jaw wasn’t tense, he was just… being.

Carefully, Bunny reached out to push some hair away from his face. She didn’t want to wake him, but he seemed to stir only slightly, leaning into her gentle touch as she began to play with his hair.

He was so beautiful. It was interesting to her because before she had met Harry, the word beautiful wouldn’t be really used to describe a man, but it was the best way to describe him. He had rough and humble hands, scars in a lot of places, but his face was angelic. Godly, really, like an Apollo. A Hades. That would be a good way to describe him.

Devastating beauty. Look but don’t touch. Admire but don’t approach. Marble skin and sharp features, deep green eyes and raspberry pink lips. Tempting, like an apple in the garden of Eden. Y/N had taken a bite. Perhaps it would condemn her to a life in hell, but with Harry at her side? She wasn’t sure she could complain.

Warm skin heated her fingertips as she watched his face. No harsh scowl, no angry frown lines, gentle face with some creases still evident from how long he kept those positions. They only added to his appeal.

If she didn’t know any better, she would say he was innocent. An innocent soul just searching for sleep, counting sheep in his head. Even knowing better… she sort of did. Getting to see the sides of the man they called Reaper, she had been able to peek behind the forbidden curtains into the soft underbelly of the beast, the tenderness he reserved only for her. She was honored that he would roll over and show her, give her the perspective no one else could ever see.

“Sweet boy,” She cooed in a voice so quiet only his subconscious could hear it. Her heart couldn’t take it, leaning in to place a loving kiss to his forehead before deciding to leave him be. Besides, there were only a few more hours left of the flight and she wanted to catch some more sleep of her own despite really wanting to cuddle up on top of him.

——————

“Attention passengers, we are now beginning our decent into London Heathrow. The local time is 1 in the afternoon, expect some overcast skies with a temperature of 12 degrees. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your seats to an upright position. Please be aware all lavatories are now closed. Thank you for flying with us.”

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a yawn, looking over at the angel laying soundly asleep beside him. He knew he’d have to wake her up so she could put her seat up, but he waited till the very last minute to do so.

“Bun,” He whispered quietly, letting his warm hand cup her cheek. “We are here, gotta sit up for me.” Harry’s voice was thick with sleep, getting used to it again now that he was well rested. He felt great, would feel even better after one big stretch.

“No.” She mumbled, though her actions contradicted her as she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. Her lips were swollen from sleep, hazy and warm as he placed his cooler hands over her forehead.

“Yes. We’re in London.” He laughed, watching her eyes peel open and peep up at him as she tried to wake herself up. “Know you want to try out delicious local delicacies so… got to get chipper. Besides…” he leaned over the divider, his face leaning closer and pressing his lips to her cheek. “We’re on a pretend honeymoon, yeah? We can fake it nice. But we don’t have to fake all the parts.” Flirting with her definitely woke a part of her up- a part that was always reading to go for him.

“Hey.” She whined, holding his wrist. “Don’t tease me when you can’t do anything.” Her pout was soft, giving him sad eyes. “It’s gonna take like… a million hours to get to our hotel and you said no to the Mile High club. So… don’t be mean.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at her whining, he wondered how she could be so cute. He swore that every day it became harder and harder to say no to her. It was already difficult to start off with.

“I promise I’ll be able to make it up to you more than once on this trip if you let me, Darling.” He said as a matter of factly, bringing her hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Now come on, put your seat up and buckle up again.”

He wasn’t worried about the airport in the slightest. He’d been there a million times and every time he was able to get through customs without much of a trace. He knew he’d be able to keep her safe here, this was his turf. They could finally have a break from their worries.

“Once we get to the hotel, we need to eat something. If you wanna lay low, we can just do room service.” Harry was already thinking about laying down in a proper bed again.

“Kay.” She was properly sleepy, leaning against the divider and making a slight grabby hand for his again. Bunny, when sleepy, was very clingy and soft. She tried her best to not be a lot of the time because she didn’t want to smother Harry, but in this instance? She felt the overwhelming need to. They were finally somewhere safe. Maybe they could pretend to just be normal for once.

His heart clenched in his chest at the action. It wasn’t overly baby, but it cute and soft and she craved his touch so he gave it back to her, as long as she was seated.

He held her hand over the ledge as they landed, watching her sleepy figure stand up as he took their carry on’s from the overhead bins. Bunny’s backpack was lugged on his back while he placed the duffle on top of the rolling case, her hand taken in the other.

“It’s kinda hot when you do that stuff.” She admitted as they started to get off the plane. “When you just… kind of grab stuff for me and be a little domestic.”

Harry looked at her with a surprised gaze, brows raised as if to ask if she she meant it. Or why she said it. “What? It’s true.” She shrugged, hugging his free arm to his front. “The whole protector provider. I love when you take care of me.”

He felt a wave of smugness wash over him at her words, smirking to himself as he squeezed her hand.

“Now you quit teasing,” He moved down to whisper in her ear, “can’t do anything yet.” Harry echoed her words from earlier as they walked through the airport through customs. It already felt different, the two of them lost in a sea of people from all over the world. The anonymity was making Harry feel invincible which was a dangerous feeling for him to have. The hotel. That’s where they needed to be.

Bunny stayed close to Harry as the two of them proceeded through the electronic gates, heading off to the arrival pick up to find their designated driver. It felt so different, but oddly relaxing to be doing something other than staying in bed.

Harry scanned the whiteboards and papers looking for the name Davidson until he came across a face he hadn’t seen in years.

“You’re actually mad, you know that?” Harry couldn’t help his accent from slipping out, a wide grin on his face as he went to wrap his arms around his dear friend. TJ had grown up with Harry, the two got into all sorts of business together.

“What do you mean, bro?” The tall man patted Harry’s back with a broad smile. “My boys back in town with his misses, couldn’t miss that—” It was then that his eyes landed on Bunny.

“Bro,” TJ pulled back from Harry and reached out a hand for Bunny to take. “Pleasure to meet ya darling,” He spun her around cheering as she played along and gave him a twirl. “She’s leng, bro you’ve done incredibly well.”

“I’m TJ by the way,” The man was charming as ever. He was likely the only man Harry would ever trust around Bunny like this. Harry’s relationship with TJ felt like it stood frozen in time. The one true friend he had besides Sterling. This man was like blood. Of course he’d be the one escorting them.

It was surprising for Bunny not to see Harry snarling at the sight of a man touching her, but it seemed this was someone extremely important. Though Harry couldn’t be a hundred percent honest with him just yet for their own safety, he quickly informed the group they should get a move on before they spoke any further.

In an untapped car. Safe.

Bunny was watching as they spoke, keeping quietly to herself as Harry had his arm thrown over her shoulder in the backseat. He wasn’t going to abandon her for the front seat and TJ knew that, a bit surprised by the eagerness the man had to get back to her.

Harry was pretty much a lone wolf for as long as he’d known him. Seeing him all glittery eyed and soft for a woman was by far the last thing he ever expected. The same man who used to laugh at the idea of bringing a girl anywhere but a hotel or the bathrooms, was here protecting a girl who had snugly tucked herself under his arm as she played with his necklace.

“Can’t believe you’ve finally got a bird. I never thought I’d see the day.” He muttered, eyes going to Bunny. “You’re magic, Darlin’. Tamed the untamable. I’m happy someone finally got him though. You keep him in line?”

“Absolutely.” Bunny laughed, knowing that to a degree it was true. She just didn’t know how true it was under the surface.

“Good. This one’s a bit cranky as you know, but I know him to be a softy when he wants to be.” TJ loved to tease Harry. There was not much the man could hide from him considering he’d seen him at his lowest many times. Never in his life had he seen him actually commit to a woman. To show her the gentleness that came with his true platonic and now romantic love.

“Now, I don’t know much about why you’re here. I was told not to ask so I’ll respect the wishes. I do know you’re keeping it on the down low so don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re here.” TJ continued, glancing at the two of them through rear view mirror. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“How’d you two meet then?” TJ missed his friend terribly but knew this was the life they both lead. They couldn’t stay in contact all the time without getting found out, so it made every moment together precious.

Bunny looked up at him, expecting to hear it from his perspective. Wanted to hear how he was going to explain it to his friend. How honest he’d be with her right beside him.

“She’s uh… she’s Sterling’s sister.” He said quietly. He knew that was somewhat scandalous, considering it was a very normal and expected thing to stay far, far away from your mate’s sister. Harry never was good with rules.

“No Fuckin’ way.” TJ muttered. “Does he know?” His eyes widened, looking in the mirror with shock on his face. He couldn’t imagine Sterling being okay with this.

“No.” Harry clenched his jaw. “He went off the grid when his father passed and his girl left him. I’m sure he’ll turn up again soon but…. He left me in charge.”

“So you shag his little sister?” TJ barked out a laugh. “That isn’t what he meant by take care of her.”

“Watch it.” Harry’s warning was lighthearted because he knew TJ. He wasn’t a dickhead who was rude to women. He was taking the piss, but it was aimed solely at Harry. “S’not just… it’s not hooking up and shit. It’s fine.” He felt a bit uncomfortable saying that out loud for the first time. He hadn’t even said it was more than that to Bunny yet. But it was the truth.

Bunny was half paying attention when she heard the words vibrate through his chest. They took her by surprise, not from the idea but from the fact he had dared to speak his thoughts about her out loud. He was right, it wasn’t just hooking up, he felt it all too.

“Woah, man…” TJ shook his head in disbelief, “That changes a lot.” He was still smiling to himself. He had never met Sterling but had spoken in the phone to him many times. He didn’t seem like the type of man to be irrational, but he knows how protective he was of Bunny.

“I’ve only see the two of you for a few hours and I already see you lot got chemistry.” He really hadn’t seen the man so relaxed in his life. If he didn’t know that they were here essentially in hiding, he’d think he really was just bringing his girl over to his stomping grounds.

“Brace yourself, mate. A Brother’s wrath is something else.”

“Trust me, I know.” He murmured.

Sterling was indeed going to beat his ass. He was going to be bruised and he was going to let him hit him because he understood. In a fight, Harry would win every time, but Sterling would die trying so he would let him get a hit in. It would be worth it. It would be worth every single black eye and sleepless night. She was.

—-

“So are we going to hit the pubs? Drinks on you, since you can afford a swanky fucking nest.” The man punched Harry’s shoulder before he helped them load their bags onto the luggage trolley. The hotel was posh, something Harry wouldn’t have chosen for himself- but it was definitely what Bunny deserved. Thank god Wiz was aware of that sort of thing.

“Sure, mate. Later though. I’ll text you myself but I think we’re just going to relax tonight. Jet lag is a bitch.”

“It’s calm, you’ve been traveling for ages. You stay safe yeah? You know where to find me if you need.” TJ shut the boot of his car and went to give the pair some parting hugs before heading off.

It felt so surreal for Bunny to meet a friend of Harry’s who wasn’t her brother. It’s this version of him that she fell in love with, he was still there. Always had been with her. Viper was right to choose to bring them here, Harry had never felt more at home.

The two walked through the revolving doors with their trolleys being wheeled behind them. Only the best service for one of the most luxurious of hotels in London.

“Davidson, Ryder.” Harry gave the man at the front desk the name when asked. It was funny to hear him say it, it sounded so unnatural but the man was buying it.

“Ah wonderful, the honeymoon suite. The lift is just on the right. Here are your key cards and a folder of all the things you may need.“ The man looked at the two delighted. It was an expensive package they were on, he wanted to make the best impression.

“Honeymoon?” Bunny chirped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Ooooh. You spoil me.” It was fun to her, playing this role. Her ‘husband’ splurging to get the honeymoon suite and an expensive package. It was easy to play pretend with him.

“Course, Darling.” He turned to kiss the side of her head before taking the key cards and folded from the man, giving him a slight nod.

“Charles here will bring your luggage up with you so you stay hands free. We hope you enjoy your stay. If you need anything at all, just call to the front and ask for me. My name is Daniel.”

“Ace. Thank you.” Harry turned and headed towards the lift with Bunny’s hand in his own. The marble floor was shiny as hell. Not a scuff in sight. This was fancier than anything he had ever stayed in before, and he couldn’t help but feel happy that he was staying with Bunny for it.

Just because he had money didn’t mean he really spent it. Being without for so long meant he was a bit of a paranoid spender. He saved most of it, splurged sometimes on his bike and car, sometimes a subscription to an app here and there. But before Bunny, he didn’t have anyone to spoil. Now? He wasn’t going to hesitate.

Taking the lift up to their floor, Bunny stayed quiet. She had never been a place this lavish, she swore she saw her reflection in the floor. Even as they walked toward the end of their hallway, she was surprised at the grandiose doors and decor. She’d never think to book a place like this, but was thankful Wiz had considered their taste.

The room itself was rather dark in style, sultry if you will. Navy tiles covered the entirety of the open plan bathroom, a pair of sinks and mirrors highlighting the fact it was for a couple. She had to say, the mirrors facing the shower was a nice touch.

“Oh wow…” Bunny spoke under her breath, allowing her hand to swipe over then soft bedding. The bed was bigger than Harry’s, she didn’t understand the need for so many pillows but the gesture was appreciated. Her eyes were more focused on the terrace.

“Harry!” She gasped, immediately going to open the door towards it so she could get a better view of the city. “That’s Big Ben oh my god!” This was so cool.

“It is.” He smiled at her excitement. Harry thanked the staff member for bringing their luggage cart up, tipping him and locking the deadbolt before wheeling it into the foyer of the room.

She was quiet as she looked outside, the balcony door open as he placed his phone down on the dresser before approaching her from behind. Her hands gripped the iron of the railing, hair blowing in the wind as she looked at the view the room had left them. The air was nippy, making him shiver slightly as he walked out and placed his hand on her warm hip.

“It’s good?” He asked, leaning forward to place his face against her neck. His cold nose made her jump slightly, but she smiled to herself as he placed a chaste kiss to the cooking skin. His touchiness never seemed to get old.

“It’s perfect.” She replied, placing her hand over his. “It’s so luxurious. I’ve never stayed somewhere so fancy before. And the ‘honeymoon’ suite, no less. Do you think they’ve got lube?”

Harry barked out a laugh, the sweet moment turning comical as he pulled from his warm hiding place in her neck to gently nudge her around. “That’s your question? Little shit.” He snickered. “I doubt it. But we can get some. Why? Y’want to get kinky?”

The thought turned her gaze hot, eyes wide and full of lust. It was definitely something she’d like to explore with him. He must have some hidden side to him that he’d been holding back, she wanted to see it all.

“Maybe.” Bunny settled on that as an answer, “Later of course. Don’t want to get too worked up about it. We need sleep.” Her voice grew softer as she leaned into him feeling how chilly he’d gotten from standing out here.

“We’ll finish that conversation later.” Harry rasped lowly in her hear, hand traveling to caress the swell of her ass. He just wanted to hold her, touch her. Kiss her. She was right, the two of them needed some proper rest and food after their journey.

“Inside, yeah?” He wasn’t thinking much as he mindlessly started walking them back into the room and towards the bed. Wordlessly, he laid her down on the bed and got on his knees to tug her shoes off. Then socks.

“Can I?” He asked, soft as he wanted to make sure it was okay to be this vulnerable with her. Harry wasn’t one to do this, but he just wanted her to relax. To lay there while he got her ready for bed.

Wordlessly, she nodded. Her eyes rounded, wide as she watched his fingers ever so gently pull the socks off of her feet. He was delicate with the actions, his calloused fingers brushing the smooth skin of her ankles as he tossed the socks to the ground.

“Tired?” His voice was mirroring the sentiment, the nap on the nowhere near enough sleep for the lack of it he had been living with the last few days.

“Yeah.” She whispered. “Sleepy. Want to lay with you.” Her confession filled his chest with warmth. This was the sort of tenderness that he had been wanting more of. Secretly pining for underneath his hard shell, things Bunny just knew, somehow, to say.

“Alright. We’ll do that, my darling.” Fondness was evident in his eyes as he squeezed her foot. “But we need to get changed. Y’want one of those silk things?” She was sitting on top of the comforter but he wasn’t going to let her in the sheets with airport and plane clothes. No way.

“No. Want one of your shirts. One of the soft ones, please.”

Harry knew just the ones she was talking about. They were all so old and worn, his old band tee shirts. They had holes and faded logos but there was too many memories for him to let go of in them. It felt like a sign to him that Bunny had also grown so fond of them, as if she knew how special they were.

“Can you sit up for me for a second?” Harry approached the bed once again watching as she lazily sat herself up and watched him with sleepy eyes. “Just a second,” Harry cooed as he reached to unhook her bra and took the T-shirt off with it.

“There we go.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as the hem of his Rolling Stones shirt settled at her thighs. “Go on, under the covers you go. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She watched his retreating back towards the bathroom, her heart beating hard in her chest. Sure, Harry had been tender with her before but this… this was much different.

It was a new. The level of softness and care made her melt back into the bed, a new side to the man exposing itself to her now that they were in a new city. Perhaps it was the jet lag, but she sure as hell hoped not. She wouldn’t mind getting this sort of delicate touch, the warm words and kindness to him, the way he looked at her like he adored her. She didn’t want that to stop.

“H?” She called. He had been gone for a few minutes, her bare legs moving back and forth in the softness of the sheets as she not so patiently waited for him to return. “What are you doing? It’s cold.”

“I had to find these.” Harry spoke as he approached her with what seemed to be a bottle with micellar water and cotton pads. “Never seen you go to sleep without doing this.” He said, adjusting her so head was resting in his lap.

He’d already stripped himself down to a pair of black boxers, hair a mess. He just wanted her to feel relaxed and happy that she took care of it the night before when she woke up. Never in his life did he think he’d be so tender with her, but it just felt natural.

Adding a bit of the makeup remover to the cotton round, Harry found himself repeating the actions he’d seen her do so many times. He made an effort to use the lightest pressure he could, Harry hoped he was doing a good job.

Bunny was happy to have her eyes closed because she swore they could have teared up. No one had ever done something like this for her, something so simple but so intimate. Her heart was swelling with love for him, how could she not sleep peacefully with someone like him by her side?

The fingertips gently held her chin as the cool pad ever so delicately wiped away the makeup on her eyes. She had gone light on the makeup today considering it was a travel day, but she had forgotten completely about it in her tired state.

Harry remembering this made her fall deeper. Part of her wanted to blurt it out. To pounce on him and cover him with kisses for being so fucking sweet. He was being so tender with her, swiping gently over her eyes to get the mascara from her lashes.

“Remember you said not to drag it. Cause it’ll harm your skin.” One of the times Harry had watched her do it, she had told him that she preferred this to makeup wipes because she didn’t want to damage her skin. He disposed of the used round, going to get another and soaking it slightly too fast with the water. A bit dropped on to her chest and he sighed, shaking his head.

“M’sorry, darling. Didn’t mean to do that. Let me just finish this eye.”

Her fingers came up to run over his warm forearm, his fingers holding her chin still in its pinch. Keeping her still while he concentrated on getting the makeup from her eyes and brows, he tilted her head when he saw fit.

“You’re unreal. You know that?” Bunny whispered, feeling his hand pull away but grabbing it back. Both hands lightly gripped it and flattened his palm out, pressing a soft kiss right to the middle of it as she opened her eyes, taking him in. He was exhausted, but fucking stunning. Hair in his face and stubble growing in, she couldn’t get enough of him and his imperfections. Somehow, they made him even more attractive. The scar over his eyebrow. All of it.

One hand released his palm to grab the back of his neck, guiding him down for a needy kiss. It wasn’t filled with the promise of sex, bur rather showing her appreciation. Her affection and honestly, her love for him. A little whimper left her mouth as he pulled away, his smile not enough of a reward when his lips were better on her mouth. “Why? Come back.”

“Let me put this away first, hmm?” Harry wasn’t sure how he’d grown so focused, but his protector was fully activated. He felt a lot safer here in London, even safer in this hotel. Harry could finally do what he always wanted to do, give her his full attention.

Pecking her lips a few more times, he stood up to place the things on the counter. Bunny let out a sigh, rested her head against the pillow feeling impatient. As Harry went to check all the doors were closed and locked, Bunny took a few deep breaths and melted into the mattress. This was so much better than an airplane seat.

“I’m back now, baby.” Harry mumbled as he turned off the lights, climbing into his side of the bed. He was thankful for the bit of light shining through the window, he wanted just enough light to see her in this state.

“Good,” Bunny sighed against him as he pulled her body closer. “All I wanted to do on the plane was cuddle but there was that stupid barrier.” She could finally feel herself relaxing now that they were back in their comfort zone.

“I know.” He settled in next to her, arm tucking her up against his body while he brushed her hair from her face. He was still exhausted, still ready to fall asleep, but it was hard to waste any moment with her. “But we’ve got all the time here to cuddle so… it’s okay.” They both know Harry would have said fuck it and brought her into his lap either way but he didn’t want to risk trouble on the flight.

There was a comfortable silence between them as Harry relaxed further into the bed, her fingers ringing his necklace and twirling it around her finger, the sounds of the city leaking slightly into the room.

Bunny was thinking. She wanted to ask something and she wasn’t sure if it was weird or boundary pushing but now that she had gotten a little taste of him outside of Vegas, how his stress level had relaxed and he had been so attentive… she couldn’t help but be a bit selfish.

“Do you think…” Her words were quiet as she laid her head on his bicep, avoiding his eyes for the time being. “Do you think while we’re in London we can pretend?”

The words sat in the air for a moment, Harry shifting slightly to try and look at her in the darkness but her gaze was kept away from him. She was nervous, and he hated that. He didn’t want her to be nervous asking him about anything. “How do you mean?” He kept his voice light, fingers going back to stroke over her hair.

“Like… when we’re here, can we pretend the stuff at home isn’t happening? I’m not being stalked, you aren’t on alert… we can just be a normal couple who’s on a trip to London. You’re just my husband who’s showing me around where he grew up and we don’t have to dread going home.”

He could hear her choking up a bit, his heart cracking a bit in his chest at the fact that they had to pretend at all. He wished it was real, that they didn’t have to worry, that she didn’t harbor all this anxiety and fear in her chest and he didn’t have to panic whenever he wasn’t with her. He wasn’t going to say no to this. A welcome break.

“Hey…” He cooed, shifting to lift her face to meet his. “Hey, my darling. Of course we can.” Her teary eyes broke his heart again, making him push the anger for her stalker down because it wasn’t the time to deal with it. She needed him and his comfort. “We can do whatever you want. Anything. I’m more than happy to do that with you.”

He tried to also push down the excitement he felt from her calling him her boyfriend. That was a title they hadn’t discussed, he had wanted to ask properly, but the fact she thought of him as that already soothed a huge part of him. He didn’t deserve her, but she had somehow decided she wanted him regardless.

———————

“This isn’t what I remember this place to be.” Harry sighed, wishing that London wasn’t so ever changing. Camden Market had been a place Harry went all the time as a kid, it was touristy so no one really noticed him, the vendors gave him free food, and lost importantly? It had all the necessities.

“There are more markets you’d like more but I think it’s a good place to start.” Everyone came here when they went to visit London. Harry could see its appeal, so many musicians walked these streets, it was home to the alternative scene. “Me and TJ used to come here and hang outback, smoking spliffs and reading some porn magazines. Looks much nicer now.”

The girl frowned.

“You were a literal baby.” Her pout was sad. Harry had been failed by the adults in his life time and time again. So young to be on his own, to be smoking, to be looking at explicit material. It made her angry that his mother had been so up her own ass she didn’t even notice it.

“I know. I had some shit times, but I made it work.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t look so sad. This is a better part of my memories.”

Bunny scoffed. “Because you saw tits.” She rolled her eyes, but let it go. He was fond of hers now, so. It made sense. But still, she would worry about that later.

“I know you said you wanted to go and shop, so whatever you want. I’ll buy for you today.” He hadn’t had an excuse to spoil her properly before and now he did. While it wasn’t stupidly expensive here, it would make him feel good to be able to buy her some things. Make him feel useful.  There were plenty of stalls for her to get those cute little dresses or the jewelry with gems on them that she liked. He had one other place in mind for last.

“Oh? Am I getting a sugar daddy?” She blinked up at him, batting her lashes. Harry had always paid for their meals and things of that sort but they’d never gone shopping like this besides for the lingerie. That was the other time he got to spoil her.

“You’ve had a Daddy for a while. We’re jus’ adding the sugar on top of it. I will be expecting quite a bit later.” He reached up to squeeze her cheeks, making her lips puff out like a fish. “So be a good little girl and let me buy you some pretty things.”

The stalls were pretty overwhelming. There really was so much to choose from and so many things she thought were cool but didn’t need. However, the hidden vintage shops always caught her eye. There were so many tshirts that were soft like Harry’s, cool sweaters and jeans that were trendy and unique.

“These look cool.” Bunny pulled some cute baby tees off the rack, a striped red and black sweater she thought would go well with all the denim she had brought on their trip. “I’ve never had jeans like these, but I think they’d look cute…” She was sort of speaking out loud. Low rise was something she usually wanted to stay away from, but the way these were cut she thought they’d hug her body well. Make her look sexy.

It seemed Harry thought so as well, his hands immediately finding the softness of her tummy. “You’re picking them to drive me mad I bet. That’s alright, you’ll deal with the consequences later.” Harry was positive she wouldn’t mind, he just couldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

Bunny was also on the look out for some things for him, but it seemed that she was looking for something specific. She wanted to get him something he would genuinely get excited over.

His hands had hardly left her and it was a bit distracting, if she was being honest. Distracting in a good way. She shivered slightly as he tucked his hands under her shirt while she looked through a rack, very aware of how they looked with him attached to her like a second skin.

“We are really being ‘that couple’, aren’t we?” She laughed, turning slightly to look at him. Harry’s face showed he didn’t care in the slightest. He hadn’t been able to show this sort of soft affection with her beforehand. Why would he waste the opportunity now?

“I simply don’t give a fuck what any of the people here think.” He replied, fingers tucking slightly under the waistband of her jeans. “Gonna spend a shit ton at this store so, the owner won’t give a fuck after we check out. Do you want me to back off?” He taunted, moving his hands for a mere second before she snatched them back.

“I didn’t say that.” She grumbled. “I was just saying, it’s interesting. You’re like a puppy. A cute, deadly puppy.” That was answered with a bite on her neck, making her yelp and pinch his wrist, scowling slightly at the nip.

“Yeah, well. Puppy has teeth. So watch it.” He muttered, kissing over the mark he had made with his teeth, smiling as she melted back into him. “You’ve got a pain kink anyways. Properly just turned you on.” He spoke against her ear.

“What do you know?” Bunny asked with a raised brown. They’d never had a conversation about what the two of them liked, but they’d both had some good guesses. Their sec had always played off their natural dynamics, but they were both curious about what else hid beneath the surface.

He was right about her pain kink, a few others he’d definitely picked up on from their many encounters. Bunny felt comfortable around him, enough to let these sides of her shine through even when she thought they were hidden well.

“You having fun?” Bunny teased, noticing his hands were starting to feel restless against her body. He only ever got this way when he was needy, but she was thinking their location had something to do with the matter. They were both feeling free and relaxed in a new different country, not to mention it had been a little bit since they’ve been properly intimate. At least in a way that felt fully satisfying.

“I know plenty. I’m having lots of fun.” He said simply, knuckling over the waistband of her jeans. “I’m just thinking we have one more stop before we go back to the hotel and m’excited to show it to you.”

That peaked her interest. Another place? A place that he seemed rather excited about? Harry had been needy all day but it had progressed the later it got, his impatience shining through.

“Oh, really? Another place?” She turned in his grip to look at him properly, Harry’s little pout at the movement of positions making her grin. He was cute. He looked a bit scary to some, but to her he was a mushy, soft, warm ball of fluff. With some spikes attached, sometime.

“Yeah. Let’s check out here if you’re done. I think you’re gonna love it.” He pressed his lips against her slightly sticky ones, licking up her gloss. “S’perfect for us. Especially if we’re gonna be that couple… makes sense we would go there. So hurry it up.” His hand came down on her ass for a quick swat, making her squeak.

Bunny was quick to make her way to the check out, having selected only a few pieces as she wanted to make sure she bought things she truly couldn’t say no to. Her interest had been spiked and to think Harry was excited to go in a shop meant it was definitely worth exploring.

Being in London with Harry was already different than Vegas had ever been. Here, people didn’t stare so much they seemed to be unbothered by the two of them. There was a couple just like them around all the time. It didn’t make them unique, but it felt that way to her. Here in London, Harry seemed to shine, his charm oozed out of him and guided everyone to follow his word. It was different but welcomed.

Of course she hadn’t been able to go out much since this all started so it felt that much more exciting to be shopping at a market, but she was growing her own relationship with this city. The feeling it gave her was like no other.

“Should we go to that shop? You lead the way.” Bunny leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. She was very excited.

Harry led them back. It was all the way in the back, a large “adult’s only” sign hanging over it as the blacked out windows had clued them into what it was.

“Remember you asked so sweetly if they provided lube for us. They didn’t… but I think we should get som here.” He mumbled, kissing the side of her head as he took their tangled fingers and brought her inside.

A sex shop. Bunny looked around with wide eyes as she took in the pure amount of sex toys, outfits, bits and bobs all over the place. She wasn’t shocked, really, but she hadn’t ever been in one before. She preferred ordering online.

A warmth filled her face as she suddenly felt a bit shy, holding on to Harry’s arm as her wide eyes peeped at all of the things he seemed so comfortable around. “What… What did you want to get? Just the lube?” She asked quietly, as if afraid to speak too loudly.

“Was hoping to get a few things to try with you. Is that okay with you, Angel?” He asked. “We don’t have to get anything if you don’t want to but… you know…” He shrugged. “Figured it’s a great shop for an eager little slut.”

Bunny swallowed thickly and decided there was not much else she could do in this shop besides look around and see what peaked her interest. She was a fully grown adult, there was nothing to be shy about especially with someone like Harry here with her.

The thick dildos grabbed her interest, wondering how I’m earth they managed to get them inside. The anal beads as well, they looked more like balls than beads. Of course, all for one’s pleasure. From her own discoveries, Bunny found she was quite the fan of butt stuff. She owned a few plugs and some beads, but she knew it wouldn’t compare to the real thing.

Harry couldn’t help but notice her eyes stuck looking over the plugs on the wall, a smirk growing on his face as he leaned down to whisper in her ear once again.

“See something you like? Can always try any of this with me you know? If I’d known I would have prepared some.” Harry had an extensive collection of toys. Most of them were never used, he preferred girls to have their own for their play. The collection he had were being saved specifically for someone special, if he found them.

Harry felt like he had.

“Maybe?” She turned to him, meeting his gaze. “I’ve... experimented by myself. I think I’d like to play around with anal, maybe. It could be fun.” She admitted, making Harry’s brows raise.

He hadn’t expected her to just come out and say it, but god, was he happy she did. He would be more than willing to teach her. Harry was, for all intents and purposes,  a very sexually well rounded slut. He had done a bit of everything, orgies and anal and anything under the sun. If she was to have a teacher, he would be a good one.

“Yeah? I think that would be lovely.” He moved towards them, bringing her along. “We do need to have a proper chat about it. Limits and such. Wants and fantasies. I think it would be good for us.” The thought aroused him, though. His sweet little bunny. Becoming even more depraved and dirty just for him. “What have you played with yourself, hm? Your fingers? Any toys?” He was beyond intrigued. The main conversation would wait until they were at the hotel, but this was something he wanted to know now.

“I have two of these,” Bunny pointed out the two different plugs she owned, one was metal and the other was glass. “I remember reading online that the silicone ones could harbor bacteria and the others were easier to clean… but the silicone ones are so soft. The beads I have are silicone. I don’t use them as often.”

It was strange talking about it in public, but it was a sex store. Everyone was in there for a reason. It was then that she looked over at the vibrators and felt her eyes widen, “And this one!! This um… this feels really good. I always cum with this.” It was an average sized pink vibrating dildo, it seemed the vibration was the thing that helped her out the most.

“That’s pretty much it, if it’s not that it’s usually my fingers but… I get tired and don’t want to use them sometimes. Imagine it being someone else.” That someone else usually being Harry.

He looked at her with dark eyes as she went over the list, his cock thickening with interest. Bunny, his sweet little Bunny, plugged herself up. She fucked herself with vibrators and used beads on herself. She was filthy, and she was all his.

“Imagine someone else, hm?” He smirked. “And who were you imagining inside of your ass?” Fingers tilted her chin up again, knocking his knuckles against the underside of it to get her eyes.

“You know…” She mumbled. “Obviously I imagined you. I’ve had a crush on you for literal years.” Her face was a bit embarrassed but she could see it soothed a territorial part of his ego.

“Obviously…” He drawled. “Good to know. Think we should get one of each. Maybe a set of plugs for you. D’you think you’d wear them around for me later? Keep yourself stuffed and stretched when we go out to dinner sometime so I can have it easier when we get back to the room?”

Bunny didn’t think of that.

She’d never considered wearing them outside of the house, never had a reason to really. It was surprising to her in a way that made her heart speed up, eyes dilated with lust. She’d happily let him take her in the ass, probably the only one she wanted inside.

“Yeah…” She breathed out, squeezing his arm a bit so he knew it was his turn to pick them out. He was far more knowledgeable, she was simply there for the experience. “We can do that.”

It had her wondering about what other things he’d imagined doing to her, with her. The handcuffs were certainly something that got his attention.

“And these?” He asked, gently holding up the cuffs with his free finger. “Want to get the softer ones for you, don’t think the ones I have are good for you.”

It was then that Bunny raised a brow.

“Who said I wouldn’t like the ones you have?”

Harry smirked back at her. The real metal ones that bit into skin, they were a bit rough but he wouldn’t tell her no. They’d have to work up to it.

“Because.” He dropped them into the basket, picking up her hand and bringing her wrists up. “As much as I love leaving marks on you, I don’t want you to hurt too badly. They cut you up. And you’re too precious.” He brought his mouth to the inside of her wrist, giving it three little kisses before lowering it back down.

She could feel it in her cunt. Every little smirk, every glance at her, every time his jaw clenched from the chewing of his gum. She was hot and wet and she wanted him to fuck her, soon. He had been extremely gentle with her lately which was always appreciated, but she wanted to know more.

“You’ll really teach me stuff, won’t you?” She asked quietly, picking up a ball gag and showing it to him. “I want you to teach me all the things you like. You’ve got more experience than me but I want to be good for you.”

Harry placed a hand over her hip, gently rubbing and squeezing the clothed skin to sooth her just enough. She had an expectant look on her face, one he had grown very familiar with.

“I said anything, didn’t I?” He hummed, taking in her features. “I’ll teach you everything you wanna know baby. Just want to make sure I know your limits, wouldn’t want to over step.”

Some of Harry’s kinks were a bit extreme, at times even for him. There were certain things he could only do with certain people and it was mostly because the after effects were shocking for those who weren’t yet desensitized. Lucky for Bunny, Harry had seen and been with all types of bodies and genders. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen, but one thing is for certain. He got high on Bunny’s responses. She was the one who got him better than anyone else.

“Anything else in here grabbing your interest? We could always come back…” Harry was eager to get back to the hotel with this new information. He hadn’t expected to find out the things he had today.

“We can?” She chirped. “Well.. okay. If we can come back I think I’m good with these. We can just grab some lube and go, right?”

Her looking at him for approval also got him hard, nodding at her words and picking up the basket again to bring to the front. Harry was going to spend long, long hours teaching her exactly what he liked and let her experiment with what she did. “Right. I need to get you back.”

Or he may pull her into an alley to have his way with her. That was something he planned on doing, sure- but not till they had their talk.

[poppadom0912]

Together (IV)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, bullet wounds etc.

Summary: When Kelly finds out, things only go further downhill. 

A/N: So things go a bit awry so I apologise heavily in advance. Hope you have fun with this lil one. Writing this helped get rid of biology stress.

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

Everything happened so fast.

One second Will was saying how lucky Jay was as he groaned but let out a big sigh of relief when Will brought up a bullet in the tweezers grasp. Fortunately, Jay wouldn't bleed out and if time permitted, Will could probably stitch him up here.

Will was saying something about Jay's thigh being in decent condition before the three of you continued joking around, keeping the atmosphere light hearted despite the grim thoughts in the back of all your minds.

Then, all of a sudden, the basement door burst open with such a fury that you all flinched.

Several men came barrelling into the room, all dressed in black but only two of them looked familiar causing you to sweat in dread.

So much was happening that it was difficult to register.

In the corner of your eye, you could see several men restrain your older brothers despite their pain, holding them down tightly and not once moving as if their shouts didn't bother them.

Their shouts were desperate that it physically pained you to hear but it all of a sudden clicked that their shouts were directed towards you.

Your restrained self allowed not much movement but you tried anyways, pushing them off with your elbows and trying to wiggling your way out their hands.

You tried reasoning with them, giving empty promises, trying to bargain and even begging but it was useless.

The hate you had for the Murray brothers was increased tenfold as tears fell down your scarred face, a phone being propped out and facing you directly.

*****

Kelly was starting to get worried.

It'd been around less than half a shift since you left and according to his watch, you should've called him several hours ago.

To get out of his worrying thoughts, Kelly found himself doing his paperwork in the common room, hoping that the idiocy of firefighters would distract him.

It was beginning to work but then a notification went off and his first thought was that you were finally telling him you were still alive. Maybe his worrying was pointless afterall.

The smile on his face dropped in nanoseconds when he picked up his phone and there was no text message but a video instead. The video was of you, attempting to kick as you thrashed in two mens hold.

You were practically drenched in blood. The colour of your jeans you wore this morning and your half naked torso drowned in crimson made Kelly's heart lurch out of his chest.

Your screams of agony echoed out his phone and into the firehouse, putting everyone at a standstill. Your cries were very much audible, along with your breathless begging for them to stop; you had enough and couldn't handle it anymore.

The video ended with your screams blending in with the desperate shouts of two deep voices that Kelly couldn't help but recognise. Your pleads would forever scar your family, simply hearing it was enough to do so.

Kelly felt like being sick.

*****

Forensics were scattered all around the cabin, inside and out, leaving no rock unturned.

Time was ticking and they were soon going to lose daylight which would only make their jobs ten times harder.

Kim was jotting down a few notes on what a tech was relaying to her when her phone rang, the name not surprising her at all. "Hey Hailey, what do you have?"

"I've got Severide with me."

Hailey's words confused the brunette causing her to stand up straight and squint her eyes in confusion till she remembered that the two of you had been dating for the past two years.

"And?"

"He got sent a video four minutes ago."

Kim swallowed harshly. Such simple and vague words but she knew exactly what they meant. Looking over her shoulder, she jogged towards where the rest of the unit had huddled together after collecting all the physical evidence left behind.

"Sarge, I've got Hailey on."

"What's up?"

Before either female could reply, Kim received a notification and upon seeing what was attached, she already wanted the ground to swallow her up. She really was dreading what they were about to see.

Nothing was going to prepare her for what she saw nor what she was hearing.

Your bloodied and bruised body left no trace of your usual pale complexion. Your shouts turning into screams felt as though they vibrated through her being, her blood turning cold knowing her friend had been put through so much.

Screwing her eyes shut, she paused the video, refusing to see anymore of you in such a state. It was obviously clear as day that the rest of the unit felt the same way.

"I tracked the video and it's coming from here in Illinois, not Wisconsin." Hailey paused. "Trudy's got units on the 5 mile radius I was able to narrow down."

"Alright, we're coming back." Hank said, gesturing for everyone to get a move on. "Call us back as soon as you got something."

"You got it Sarge."

*****

Your breaths were shallow, eyes dim and body numbing further time went by.

Death sounded so sweet right about now.

Jackson and Ezra had their fun but upon announcing their hunger, they simply let you fall like a ragdoll onto the cold concrete before leaving without another word.

Before you could register their exit, you felt two pairs of hands coming to hold you up. On instinct, you began fighting them off even though it brought you immense pain and it took too much effort.

But, it was only Jay and Will. Gosh, they'd watched the entire thing unfold and they couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." You repeated under your breath, voice hoarse and sounding like you were about to lose it anytime soon.

"Y/N, hey, don't be silly." Will comforted you, sitting you up, back against the wall so he could inspect just how much more damage was inflicted. "Don't be sorry- we're sorry."

"I've literally traumatised you guys with my stupid screaming." You pointed out, your tone flat as you pointed out the most obvious. Guilt was swallowing you up whole and all you wanted to do was drown in it.

"Y/N, you're in pain, you have every right to scream and cry." Jay retorted back, also pointing out that what you did didn't need to be justified. "If you didn't, I'd be worried for you."

"I wanna go home." You whimpered, fingers curling around Jay's hand as the pain you were enveloped in increased tenfold. You must've sounded like a little child but your bed and sleep sounded so good right about now.

And your older brothers could do nothing else but agree.

Series Taglist:

@mads-weasley

@sowrongitslottie

@elite4cekalyma

@senjoritanana

@hufflepuff-blackwidow

@mrspeacem1nusone

[mitsua]

Ch. 1 | ๋ ࣭ ⭑—Peace, please

Warnings: mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, cursing.

Genre: angst Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Y/N's. . . GN! Words count: 0.47k

Series' list

Your quirk has always been a nightmare, because, who would want to be unlucky since they're 4 years old? Exactly.

You can't really blame your parents since your father had the luck power, but your mother had none.

You've been involved in all kinds of dangerous situations such as fires, demolished buildings, assaults, etc.

But since you got to highschool it seemed it somehow worsened.

Your first fifteen years of life were spent under strict restrictions for your safety and the ones around you. Now on highschool, when you're parents had sadly died in an accident which curiously you were in too, you had been getting a minimum of 3 accidents in a spawn of two days.

Your depression may have something to do with it, but you couldn't really control your feelings as hard as you've been trying going to therapies and doing everything everyone's been recomending you to do.

All you've ever wanted was peace. To do not have to worry about what could ever possible happen to you in an hour or even in thirty minutes. But as you've tried, you've failed.

Now you were infront of this disaster.

A kid had accidentaly activated their fire quirk on a fucking pile of paper inside a cellar which soon exploded. Why the fuck was a kid in a cellar? Suddenly activating their quirk? When the mother said they were the calmest creature in the world? That's what you'd like to know now wouldn't you? What were you doing in a bank?

Just trying to get the money your survived with for the rest of the month. But because of this incident you've gotten a burn in your arm and a second greeting from the new student heroes.

"Come on! Get out of here!" "This way everyone!"

You heard them shout to the scared civilians to reach out of the place. As you passed by them and grabbed a blue-haired man's hand to step firmly, they smiled calmly to show support and reassurance. It wasn't really helpful, atleast not for you.

As little comforting it was, you didn't really wanted to keep on looking at them in real life as it meant you were on trouble once again. As consequence of your power, of course.

"MOVE ALREADY!" You heard a blonde hero shout, seemingly desperate by your indifferent reaction and uncooperative behaviour. That's when you realized you've been staring at him maybe 2 minutes which was a great distraction for the speed everyone needed to be evacuating from the building.

Still, you felt you've seen him. Must have been on that bycicle incident last week? Or in the robbery at the jewelry that you just so happened to be passing by some days ago...

"Whatever". You just wanted to get home and rest.

When were you going to be able to trully rest?

Next chapter

All writings' rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua. (Credit to the respective owners of the tagged anime character.) ⌇ my navigation!

🪼: Happy birthday Bakugo!

I've been writing this for a while and thought the best date to upload it would be on his birthday, I wish you enjoy it! Hopefully when I upload the second or third chapter I'll be uploading a masterlist with a playlist as I did with Sero's series!

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 10

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: A peek into what Carol has been up to during these trying times.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 778

A/N: Officially halfway through the fic!!!!

I Tried To Write, But It’s Killing Me Inside

Carol lands her ship on the strange planet and veils it, you both get out all geared up and ready for the last minute mission. The place is hot and sandy with big rocks scattered around, it almost looks deserted.

The Captain scans the area with her eyes, "We should split up to cover more terrain," she instructs, "keep your comms on and meet back here in 15." You give her a nod and do as you're told.

Carol starts walking after she sees you leave, sensing something off about the environment. A couple of minutes go by and she hears you through her ear piece, "Carol, I think someone's here," you whisper.

"Send me your coordinates." She receives some signal but it's too choppy to understand, "Can you hear me?" Her voice growing desperate, "Angel?"

Static.

She turns around as quickly as she can to get back to you, but when she does, she finds a small army of full body armored soldiers waiting for her. They start charging at her with weapons of all sorts and she gets to work on every one of them. When she thinks she's almost done, backup shows up with even bigger weapons. It takes her more than 15 minutes to get through all of them, but when she does she flies back to your meeting point.

She arrives, but doesn't find you there, panic starts to set in her mind. She follows your footprints in the sand until they disappear somewhere down the path. She keeps going and sees a body in the distance, lying against a rock. Upon closer inspection she realizes it's you, unconscious, fully bruised, head bleeding, uniform destroyed.

"Angel?" Her voice is drowning in despair, when you don’t show a reaction she picks you up and rushes you back to the ship. She pilots it as fast as she can to get you to the compound.

"Please wake up." But the next time you did, you didn't know who she was.

Carol takes the Skrull memory device off and gets out of bed, Goose following behind her. She's wearing sweatpants and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt that she probably hasn't changed all week, there are dark circles in her eyes.

She's been off duty since her last mission and she hasn't left her Louisiana home at all in that time. Her ship is parked in the backyard, veiled and untouched.

As she gets to the kitchen her cell phone starts ringing, she doesn't even look at who's calling before she silences it. "They keep calling," she rasps to Goose, annoyed. She makes coffee and puts some takeout leftovers in the microwave.

They sit at the table with breakfast, "I shouldn't have told her to split up," she mutters into her coffee, "it's all my fault." Goose just meows in return, already having had this conversation everyday for the past few weeks, "I should have known." Carol can't seem to think about anything else, she feels crushing guilt and grief for what happened, but also can't muster the courage to face you.

She picks up a newspaper in an attempt to distract herself. She blinks a few times to get her stinging eyes to focus, but gets stuck rereading the same sentence over and over again, failing to get her brain to process the words. Another call pulls her out of her thoughts, coming through her intergalactic device, "Val," she grumbles, before turning it down. After that, she gives up on the newspaper.

When she's done eating she takes the rest of her coffee to the porch to get some fresh air, Goose sits right beside her, "I should have gotten to her faster." The memory of the mission never leaving her mind, always trying to find a way it could have gone differently, "How did I let this happen?" She’s all out of tears, traces of the past weeks still marking her cheeks.

A third call starts ringing, this time, on her landline. She runs to stop it, but she's too late, the call goes to voicemail, she's about to delete it until she hears Kamala's voice, it is sweet and caring and full of kindness.

"Hey, I know you know we've been calling, please pick up, please, so we can talk. Whatever it is you're trying to achieve, it's not working, you're hurting her a lot more by not being here. You can just come by the compound, we can set something up. You owe it to her. Okay, um, goodbye."

Before even thinking it she pulls the phone cable out of the wall, regretting it immediately, "Fuck!" she yells into the empty house.

Chapter 11

Clap if you missed Carol Danvers!

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

[sadiecoocoo]

The Shadows are Coming Chp. 2

Summary - The Batch travel further into the facility, finally finding some sign of life, though they wish they hadn't.

Word Count - 3820

Read on AO3

Read Chp. 1

Notes: ahhhh it took me so long to do it, but I finally got through that one scene I hated with all my being! so I think I've decided that for now I will post monthly, but when I finish writing each chapter it will change to weekly :) not as much gore in this chp, but still some spooky stuff! please enjoy :)

Crosshair couldn’t believe it. His brothers really might have gone insane. Whatever Hunter was hearing was making him stumble about and try desperately to get to it. And Echo had still been strangely silent, though it’s not like he could’ve justified why he decided to touch that mutilated corpse without still looking like a psycho.

Maybe Crosshair wouldn’t have minded going deeper into the facility if he didn’t keep thinking he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Whenever he turned, however, there was nothing there. It made him feel vulnerable, not being able to see whatever was haunting them.

Sometimes they all would hear something too, but Hunter would be too distracted to notice. That was probably the most worrisome. Hunter was always focused on their surroundings, always making sure no one could sneak up on them. But right now, he wasn’t, and none of them felt safe because of it.

Crosshair sped up slightly, not wanting to trail too far behind. Sometimes he hated always being in the back, but someone had to watch his brothers’ backs. He decided to fall in next to Echo, who had been trailing behind slightly. Neither of them said anything, but Crosshair picked up how tense he seemed.

Okay? He signed quickly. Echo stared at the hand signal for a moment, before shrugging. Crosshair frowned.

Don’t like this place. He signed back silently. The grammar was a little weird, but that was just how signs worked. Crosshair bumped his shoulder lightly.

Can’t imagine why. That drew a small laugh from the ARC trooper, and Crosshair took it as a small victory. The two stopped their silent conversation after that, though Crosshair stayed close to the reg. He would never admit out loud, but Echo was growing on him.

After several more minutes of walking, Crosshair started to notice several things he wished he hadn’t. He stared at the long dark streaks painting the walls as he passed. He nudged Echo, getting his attention, and jerked his head towards the wall. He heard a faint sigh form the ARC, who then shook his head and motioned for them to keep going.

He also noticed the extra set of footsteps behind them, and he knew for a fact Echo had too. Echo grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it before heading to the front of the group to inform the others. Crosshair kept his attention on the faint footsteps as Echo quickly signed to the others what the two had discovered.

Wrecker visibly tensed, and Tech got his nose out of his data pad. Hunter only glanced back confusedly, likely cursing himself for not noticing. That was why Crosshair was there, to notice the things that Hunter missed.

Echo fell back again, falling in step with Crosshair for a moment. “Hunter said he couldn’t feel him at first, but it’s definitely a trooper.” he whispered. Crosshair tightened his grip on his firepuncher. That wasn’t much consolation.

“You’re the resident reg expert.” He muttered back. Echo nodded, then slowed more until he was behind the group. They all pretended to act normal, but they all slowed as well. The footsteps sped up. Crosshair was ready to whirl around at a moment's notice and fire upon their assailant.

Echo seemed to beat him to it, catching the reg and pinning him to the ground quickly, a blaster trained on his face. The group all turned towards him, blasters at the ready in case anyone else felt lucky enough to take them on.

Echo stood over the trooper with his foot pressing down on his chest. The trooper’s arms were held up in surrender, his eyes wide. He looked crazed, and Crosshair placed his finger on the trigger of his firepuncher, just in case.

“Who are you, why were you following us?” Echo interrogated. The rest of the group let him do his magic. Echo always seemed to be best at getting answers, though Crosshair came in close second.

The trooper laughed, sounding more hysterical. He didn’t answer Echo. The ARC’s shoulders tensed and he put more pressure on where his foot was on the trooper’s chest. Crosshair saw the trooper struggle for a moment, then let himself be pressed down against the floor.

“Why is your bucket off? There’s a sickness in here.” Echo asked, forgetting about his previous questions. The trooper laughed louder. It was an uncanny sound, coming from someone who shared the same face as Echo, somehow looking just as unhealthy.

“Because it’s too late for me!” The Trooper yelled in between laughs, “and it’s too late for you!” it sounded like a pained scream, somehow filled with a sadistic joy. Echo flinched back, and Crosshair felt the sudden urge to surge forwards and bring the ARC back to the group.

“What-” Before the ARC could even finish the word, something slammed into him from the side. The two tumbled on the ground for a moment, then Echo was pinned under another trooper. His scomp arm was up and trying to push the trooper off of him, and the trooper was sinking his teeth into the metal.

Crosshair’s heart leapt into his throat as he heard a clatter. His eyes moved to see the ARC’s helmet rolling on the ground. He could only stare at it as he heard Wrecker yell and barrel into the trooper pinning down their reg.

He jerked as he broke from his shock, turning back towards the action. The other trooper had gotten up now, and was about to pounce on Echo before he had time to recover. Crosshair readied his firepuncher and shot at the trooper. He collapsed on the ground, and soon Wrecker threw the other on top of him. Tech fired at that one, killing him quickly.

Crosshair blinked at the bodies. Two troopers, attacking them out of nowhere. What the kark was going on here?

There was another set of quick footsteps, this time from where the group had been trying to go. Crosshair whirled around to see another trooper leap onto Hunter. He pulled up his firepuncher, but before he could fire, Hunter had already slit the trooper’s throat, causing a splatter of blood to cover his helmet and visor. He shot up and wiped away the crimson liquid so he could see.

Crosshair still had his firepuncher up and at the ready, this time aimed at the hallway the last trooper had come from. Peering into the dark, he spotted a surplus of movement, like bugs writhing in the dark. He took a quick step back in shock.

“We need to run, now!” he yelled urgently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tech helping Echo up. Hunter got up too, and started heading towards the rest of the group.

“Tactical retreat.” He called, and Crosshair never felt more relieved. He fired into the crowd of- of whatever the kark they were, before turning around and rushing after his brothers. When he passed the two troopers that had originally attacked him, his heart leapt into his throat. The trooper that he had shot, which he was certain he had shot in a fatal area, was getting up.

He ran as fast as he possibly could until he was with his brothers again. His heart was thudding in his chest and his eyes were wide behind his helmet. Occasionally he would throw a mirror on the wall, a way to see if they were being chased. After what felt like an eternity, he didn’t see anyone behind them.

It took the group several more minutes to deem it safe enough to stop. They were almost back at the command center by now. Crosshair couldn’t say he was proud of the fear that took over him, but it kept him alive, so he couldn’t really complain about it.

“What the hell was that?!” He asked incredulously. He gripped his firepuncher tightly, not planning on holstering it until they were far away from this facility.

“A group of troopers that seemed to have gone insane, perhaps due to the illness, perhaps for another reason.” Tech explained with a shrug. Crosshair shuddered at the same time Wrecker made a quiet whine.

“Weren’t they kinda like…” Wrecker started, pausing for a moment, “zombies?” he hissed. The group all stared at him, at first thinking it to be a ridiculous notion. Crosshair thought back on the trooper that should have been killed. Kark, we’re dealing with zombies. He thought miserably.

“Well, technically, they are not zombies.” Tech cut in, and Crosshair resisted the urge to roll his eyes dramatically. “The traditional zombie in media is depicted as people rising from the dead and being mindless husks, however those troopers clearly showed signs of intelligence with trying to corner us and further separating Echo from the group to attack him and knock his helmet off, exposing him to the… virus… that likely caused… their… insanity…” He trailed off as he seemed to come to a chilling realization.

They all stared at Echo, who still had his bucket off. It was probably somewhere in the recesses of the facility, with a horde of zombies around it. Echo blinked several times before saying anything.

“wait- so I’m going to turn into a zombie?” He asked, Crosshair wished he couldn't see the fear in the reg’s eyes, he knew that at least the others wouldn’t, though they could suspect that Echo was scared anyway. Everyone was silent for several beats. Crosshair held his breath, wishing that Tech would flat out say no, even if he was lying.

“Not unless I can concoct a cure in time.” Tech replied carefully. Crosshair could see the way Echo’s bottom lip trembled slightly. The reg stayed silent.

“Well how do we make a cure?” Hunter asked, getting the group back on track. Tech took pause for a moment, then pulled up his datapad. The green glow it emitted made Tech look ghastly, Crosshair tried not to think about that.

“I will need a well enough sample, however there is not enough of the virus condensed in the air here for me to get said sample.” Tech explained, not looking up from his ‘pad. “Maybe I could make something to slow it down, and since he is not showing symptoms yet-”

As if on cue, Echo coughed several times painfully. Crosshair watched in masked horror as Echo’s knees shook and he placed his scomp on the wall to steady himself, his other hand was clenched in a fist and covering his mouth. Wrecker placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him upright.

Echo took heaving breaths once the coughing fit slowed. He blinked several times, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

“Shit,” Crosshair mumbled, eyes wide behind his helmet.

“The remedy will take too long. If he is already showing symptoms of sickness we need to focus on the cure itself.” Tech announced, jolting out of his shock quickly. Crosshair couldn’t tear his eyes away from Echo as the reg rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was working off a headache.

“So what d’we do?” Wrecker asked, still holding onto Echo as if he would collapse the moment his hand left the reg’s shoulder. Glancing down at the reg’s still shaking knees, Crosshair thought maybe he would.

“We need to go further in. I suspect the med-bay would most likely be the best place to collect a sample.” Tech declared.

“Then that’s where we’ll go.” Hunter said firmly, “Tech, pull up the layout and find the quickest route.” He ordered quickly. Tech did as he was told almost immediately. Hunter carefully went up to Echo, then placed his hands on the ARC’s shoulders. “Can you walk?” He asked softly.

“Y-yeah- yeah, I’m good.” Echo declared, waving a dismissive hand. Anyone could tell that the reg was decidedly not good, what with the sweat collecting on his brow and the way his eyes almost seemed foggy. Crosshair frowned, wishing he could get one of his toothpicks to relieve some tension.

“Alright, “ Hunter said, “lead the way, Tech.” He gestured towards the splicer, who nodded quickly and started forward. The rest followed silently, though Hunter waited until he was in step with Crosshair.

“Keep an eye on him.” Hunter whispered. Crosshair didn’t need to know who he meant, he didn’t need to be asked either. “I’ll focus on his vitals.” He stated. Crosshair nodded silently. Hunter then picked up the pace until he was walking parallel to Tech.

Crosshair stayed near the back. This time, if they were being followed, he would take care of it. He wouldn’t let any more of his brothers get sick until he was sure that they had a cure that worked.

The sniper silently watched his eldest brother, wishing he couldn’t see every detail that seemed wrong, wishing he couldn’t see how his complexion was already slightly paler than usual.

Wrecker hated this. He hated it so, so much. He hated this creepy facility, he hated zombies, and he hated that his brother was sick. Echo was already weaker than most clones when it came to health, he didn’t need a zombie virus to deal with.

And why did it have to be zombies? Zombies were karking terrifying! They literally come back from the dead and eat living people and then those people come back from the dead and eat more people! It’s scary and the Batch doesn’t deserve to deal with it. Wrecker certainly didn’t want to deal with it.

But the Batch never really gets a say in what they deal with, and they can’t turn back now, even though he really wanted to. Echo was sick, and unless Tech could get a good enough sample, he’d stay that way.

So they all creeped down the eerie hallways, blasters armed and ready. Wrecker tried his best to ignore the crimson stains on the walls and the puddles on the floor, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

He wondered with a grimace if Hunter could smell it through his helmet’s filter. He hoped not. He felt bad for Echo, the ARC did comment on bad smells a lot. At least he wasn’t squeamish, that was something.

Though, Echo did look a little worse for wear. He had started breathing more heavily, and was coughing more often. Luckily Wrecker hadn’t needed to catch him in case he fell, but He had needed to steady him, or urge the group to take a small break. Echo would complain whenever he did, insisting he was fine. It brought a worried smile to Wrecker’s face, the ARC was still as stubborn as ever, so surely he can’t be that bad.

Wrecker repeated that like a mantra. He was okay for now. He was still walking. He was still breathing. Albeit the walking bit was filled with struggle. Wrecker had decided it’d be best to stop keeping track of how many times Echo stumbled or tripped.

“How close are we, Tech?” Hunter asked. Wrecker blinked as he heard a hint of pain in his voice. He probably still had a headache from whatever heart thing he had been talking about before.

“Not too far.” Tech answered, “we are getting close to where we made it to last time.” he continued hesitantly.

“Oh so with the horde of zombies?” Echo snarked with a huff, though it might’ve been a gasp for breath. Wrecker didn’t know how difficult it was to breathe while inhaling a deadly disease. No matter how much effort it took for Echo to say it, it still made Wrecker relieved to hear him talking.

“Still technically not zombies.” Tech repeated with a hiss. Wrecker could imagine Crosshair rolling his eyes now. “We don’t even know if they’re bites infect you or if they need to knock off our helmets.” He explained. Wrecker felt the start of a rant and prepared himself to either tell Tech to quiet down or listen miserably.

“Well, that one trooper did try to bite Echo.” Crosshair added. Tech hummed, and surprisingly did not argue.

Wrecker jumped as Echo went into another coughing fit. The group stopped instinctually as they waited for their brother to recover. Wrecker moved to place a hand on Echo’s shoulder to steady him again, but realized quickly that would not be enough.

The ARC’s legs gave out and Wrecker quickly moved to keep him from hitting the floor. Wrecker held him tightly as his body heaved with each cough. He slowly lowered him to the floor, the others having moved to crouch around Echo protectively.

Echo let out a tight wheeze and a gasp as the coughs turned to meager huffs. He shook for a moment in Wrecker’s arms, and the bruiser held him closer to his chest. Echo leaned into the embrace and stuffed his face into Wrecker’s cuirass.

“Talk to us, reg.” Crosshair urged. Wrecker looked up to the sharpshooter, then back down at Echo. there was a foggy look in the ARC’s eyes. Crosshair moved to place two fingers on Echo’s pulse point, and Wrecker fought the panic growing in his chest. Was it really getting that bad? Were they really worrying if Echo still had a pulse now?

“His heartbeat,” Hunter mumbled before Crosshair could even announce his findings, “It’s slowing.” Wrecker felt that dread in his chest boil as he realized what that meant, what it could mean in another half hour.

“‘M okay-” Echo slurred, being interrupted by another weak cough, “we need to keep- keep goin’.” Wrecker’s grip tightened, silently refusing to let the ARC go. Even Wrecker knew that he shouldn’t be walking anymore.

“Shit, reg-” Crosshair hissed, finding something else alarming. Wrecker flinched at the harsh and panicked tone, and followed Crosshair’s gaze to the ARC’s face. Echo was having a nosebleed.

The group all seemed to fall silent as their minds tried to comprehend it. Wrecker didn’t think that was a normal symptom for a fever. Wrecker stared at the small droplet of blood that trickled from Echo’s nose, over his lips, and down his chin. He gently moved to wipe it away, instead smearing it accidentally. Echo shut his eyes tightly before he seemed to relax and fall unconscious.

“We need to hurry.” Tech said, trying to rouse everyone from their shock. Wrecker blinked several times, trying to force his gaze away from the copper tint staining Echo’s face. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Echo might not have been squeamish, but when it came to his brothers, Wrecker certainly was.

“Wreck, carry him.” Hunter said, being one of the firsts to recover, as always. Wrecker flinched and looked up at Hunter, trying to not look at the red stains still on his helmet form that one trooper. Sometimes he hated whenever they had to wear their helmets. He wanted to be able to see his brothers’ faces, to know how they felt. He wasn’t good with understanding tones, and he didn’t think Echo would be in his foggy state either. Echo deserved to see his brothers worrying about him, to see how scared they were. He deserved to know that they cared.

“Yeah.” Wrecker responded once he too had gotten his head back in the game. “Yeah- you got it, Sarge.” He nodded stiffly, then got up from his crouch on the floor. He still held Echo tightly, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever let go. He hated how Echo didn’t even protest, usually the ARC would at least make a sarcastic remark. The silence seemed a million times worse than Echo being grumpy.

Wrecker suppressed another flinch as there was a loud clatter behind them. He turned swiftly with the others to investigate. His head tilted slightly in confusion as a metal pipe slowly rolled towards the group. He turned his gaze away from it and peered into the dark hallway they had come from.

If Hunter had enhanced senses, they had been taken from Wrecker before he was decanted. He couldn’t see or hear as well as his brothers, not since the explosion that gave him his scar. Even so, he swore he could see movement in the shadows, and maybe hear a bit of shuffling.

He looked quickly to Hunter, then to Crosshair. Both of them seemed tense and he knew they must have noticed something too. He took a step back as his brothers moved forwards slightly. He knew his job in this situation, he had done it a million times now. He had to protect their cargo.

He moved to conceal more of Echo’s limp form, and just as he did, a shadow jumped out at the group with a snarl. Hunter quickly threw one of his vibroblades, hitting its neck and knocking it down. Before Wrecker could even feel relieved, several more troopers leapt from the darkness and started running towards the group.

“Tech! Get Wrecker to the med-bay!” Hunter ordered quickly as he and Crosshair started firing at the horde. Wrecker heard Tech mutter a quick curse before giving Hunter an affirmative. He fell back next to Wrecker, then tugged on his shoulder to get the bruiser moving.

A million thoughts went through his head. There were so many troopers, and they were smarter than battle droids. Hunter and Crosshair could be overrun depending on how many there were. They couldn’t leave them, but they had to get Echo to safety. Wrecker realized numbly that his breathing was getting quicker. His throat was constricting with worry.

“Wrecker, we need to go.” Tech urged. It felt quiet and far away, but the words registered. Wrecker shook his head quickly, then turned and ran after Tech. He would get Echo to the med-bay then come back for his brothers. He just needed to be fast.

The sound of blaster fire usually made him excited, now it just made him want to vomit. He fought the urge as he ran quickly behind Tech. The blaster fire got quieter and quieter, but it still pounded in his head. He needed to hear it. He needed to know they were still fighting.

“We can’t leave them!” Wrecker forced out. Tech turned his head slightly, and Wrecker wished he couldn’t see the fear reflected in his eyes. He was glad he could see a bit of his brother’s face, but he wasn’t entirely stoked about the expression.

“I know, and we will come back.” Tech coaxed. “But we need to get Echo to safety first.” Sometimes Wrecker hated how logical Tech always was. He was right about nearly everything, and he was right about them needing to focus on Echo.

Wrecker didn’t answer, he continued to follow his little brother through the dark corridors. He could still see the shadows moving every time they passed a room. He could still hear muttering and shuffling. He couldn’t hear blaster fire.

End Notes: almost sorry for the cliffhanger :P hope you enjoyed and that you have a lovely day :D

Next chp.

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[harley-sunday]

Feels Like Home [05]

Summary: When an unexpected three-week break between Monza and Singapore finds Daniel back on his farm in Perth he’s desperate to use this time to clear his mind, figure out his future in Formula One, and find his way back. He didn’t expect a new neighbour, a sassy two-year old, and three alpacas would make him realise that sometimes, what you’re looking for is right in front of you.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language

Word count: 6.2k (I regret nothing)

AN: First of all, thank you for all the love on the last four chapters, it warms my cold dead heart to see your comments and reblogs and just- Thank you ♥ This next chapter is a little special to me because this is ultimately where the story started. I wrote this first (which is so unlike me because I never write out of order) and only started working on the rest of the story after. I really hope you like it as much as I do :)

Masterlist

“I’m setting the timer for fifteen minutes, ok?” 

It’s a rhetorical question from Michael and so Daniel doesn’t answer but instead closes his eyes, drops his shoulders, and straightens his back. His wrists are resting on top of his knees as he sits in a cobbler’s pose on a yoga mat in the middle of his home gym. He tries to clear his head, tries to focus on his breathing and the meditation exercise Michael wants him to do but he’s too distracted by the late winter storm that’s raging outside and he ends up counting the seconds between the thunderclaps instead. Who knows, he thinks, maybe that counts as meditation too.

It must, at some point, because when his phone starts ringing he startles, eyes flying open and his heart somewhere high in his throat. He lets out a high-pitched, “Jeepers,” he isn’t necessarily proud of before he blindly reaches behind him in search of his phone.

“Dan,” Michael says beratingly, still in his cobbler’s pose, eyes closed, back ramrod straight, as poised as ever. “You have a ‘do not disturb’ option on there, mate. Use it next time, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel replies absentmindedly, finally getting a hold of his phone. He can’t help but smile when he sees who’s calling and so he answers with an eager, “Hey,”

“Daniel, hi-”

For a moment he thinks she’s calling him to talk about what happened last night because God knows he would like a do-over so he could have kissed her but she sounds- Upset and so he’s on edge immediately, stretching out his legs so he can get up quickly if he has to. He has a feeling he might. 

“I’m sorry to bother you but I didn’t know who else to call and-”

“Hey, no,” he interrupts her, his voice more soothing now because he wants her to know he’s there for her no matter how bad it is, all the while hoping that whatever it is has nothing to do with Ellie. Or Oscar. “What’s going on?”

She lets out a heavy sigh and he can just about see her bite her lip the way he’s noticed she does whenever she’s upset, “A tree fell down over at Eagle’s Nest and it wrecked a good five metres of fence.” She lets out a shaky breath and it’s then he can hear the wind and the rain on her end of the line, “I’m trying to keep the girls inside the paddock but with the storm-”

“They’re scared,” he offers, knowing how nervous the herd is on any given calm day so he can only imagine how stressed they must be now. He hears Homer bark on the other end of the line then and he’s never been more relieved to know she’s at least got the dog with her.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice a little shaky and he hates how desperate she sounds. “I need to get the fence fixed but I can’t get them inside the shed and-”

“Say no more.” Daniel gets up and taps Michael's shoulder to get him to join him, “We’re on our way.” 

Michael eyes him suspiciously but does as he’s told when Daniel shakes his head to let him know now’s not the time to ask questions.

“Where are you?”

“You know that little creek that passes through Eagle’s Nest on the south border?”

Not even a week ago he would have had no idea what she’s talking about, would probably have gotten lost trying to find her, but now he knows exactly where she is, “Near that old gum tree?”

“Yeah.” 

“Ok. Just-” He hesitates, not in the least because Michael is staring at him like he’s suddenly grown three heads and so he turns his back to his best friend and lowers his voice, “You got this, ok? Stay with the girls, they trust you, right?” He waits until she hums in reply before he continues, “I know it’s scary but we’ll be there soon, ok? I’m not letting anything happen to you or the girls.” 

“Ok,” she whispers and his heart, oh his heart.

“Ok.” He motions for Michael to follow him downstairs. “I’m on my way.” He’s about to hang up when he hears her call his name and so he puts the phone back to his ear, “Yeah?”

“You should-” She clears her throat, “Can you check on Granddad and Ellie first? I’ve been here for a long time already and-”

“Yep. I’ll stop there on the way over, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Babe-” the term of endearment slips out almost effortlessly and he hopes he’s allowed to use it- “you got this. Homer’s with you. You got this.” It’s then he walks into the kitchen and sees Blake look up at him from where he’s working on his laptop at the kitchen table. Daniel shakes his head to the question he knows Blake was going to ask and he can see Blake shift his focus to Michael, looking at him for answers but Michael just shrugs and Daniel knows he has some explaining to do. Not now though. Now, he tells her, “I’m going to hang up now, ok? We’re on our way.” 

“Ok.” 

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.” He ends the call and pockets his phone and before Michael or Blake have the chance to say anything he rattles off a list of things they need, “B, I’m gonna need you to put on some of my boots and a rain jacket, get the truck and see if the chainsaw’s still in the back. If not, it should be in the garage. Make sure to grab a can of diesel as well and then meet us back here.” He turns towards Michael next, “Mikey, I need you to gather some dry clothes, sweats, jumpers, take whatever you need from the merch samples in my office and then get dressed as well. We’re going to be outside for a while and it’s shit weather, so both of you dress warm, ok?”

Blake and Michael look at him as if they’re still trying to process what is happening but then Daniel spurs them on by clapping his hands a few times and watches them do as they’re told without asking any questions and Daniel’s not sure he’s ever loved his best friends more than right at this exact moment. 

It takes them no more than five minutes to get everything they need and then they’re off, Daniel quietly cursing because the bad weather makes him drive slower than he’d like but he knows it’s better to be safe than sorry right now. 

“Where-” Blake starts from the backseat but then lets the question die down, as if he knows he won’t get a straight answer anyway. 

Daniel looks at him through the rearview mirror, “I’ll explain everything later, ok? I just-” He looks at Michael then, “It’s a long story.” 

Michael nods and pats his knee, “It’s ok, mate. Just tell us what to do when we get there.”

Daniel nods and tries to at least explain where they’re going but the words seem stuck in his throat and so he focuses on the road instead, the rain hitting the car and the frantic squeaking of the windshield wipers the only sound until he puts his blinker on and turns into his neighbour’s driveway. 

Next to him he hears Michael let out a quiet, “Ah. Ok.” 

Daniel doesn’t say anything because all of a sudden he feels nervous, something tightening in his stomach as he pulls up to the house. “I’m gonna check up on Oscar real quick, ok? Stay here.” 

“We’re not helping Oscar?” Michael asks, a little surprised.

Daniel shakes his head but doesn’t say anything and he can feel both Michael and Blake stare at him as he unbuckles his seatbelt, puts on his hood, and steps outside, but once again he decides not to waste any time. He’ll explain later. They’ll understand. 

The rain is relentless, pelting down on him and making his face tingle and so he jogs towards the front porch, letting out a relieved breath when he’s out of the rain. He tries to shake off as much water as he can before he pushes his hood down and kicks his boots off. He knocks three times, hoping Oscar can hear him over the howling wind so he doesn’t scare the old man, and then opens the door and steps inside, shrugging off his raincoat and leaving it on one of the hooks on the wall. 

He finds Oscar where he expected him to, in the living room, except there are no old reruns of the Price Is Right playing in the background this time, and Daniel tries to smile so as to not upset the old man, “Hi mate, how’s it going?”

Oscar looks up at the sound of his voice and Daniel can see his eyes light up, “Danny, thank God.”

“Did she call you too?”

Oscar nods.

“Ok. Good. I got two of my mates in the car and we’re heading over there right now, but she wanted me to check up on you and Ellie first though, so here I am.” 

“Ellie’s been awake for a while,” Oscar says, sounding incredibly guilty. “I think she only slept for thirty minutes before the thunder woke her up. I’ve been trying to get up to get her but-”

“Hey,” Daniel puts his hand on the old man’s arm, “it’s ok. Ellie will be fine. I’ll go get her, ok?”

Oscar nods again, “Thanks, Danny.”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Daniel says as he stands up. He hurries up the stairs and all but runs to Ellie’s room, relief washing over him when he finds the little girl sitting upright in her cot, quietly babbling to herself as she hugs a stuffed koala close to her chest. Daniel moves slowly so as not to startle her, “Hi Ellie.” 

The moment Ellie sees him she starts to smile, holding out her arms to him, her voice still a little raspy, “Danny.” 

Something tugs on his heart then, not only because she remembers him but also because she seems genuinely happy to see him, and he’s not sure if it’s love just yet but it comes awfully close. “Hi sweetheart,” he says as he reaches into her cot and picks her up. “Hey sleepyhead.” 

She looks at him intently, little brows furrowed in an adorable way, and then looks past him as if she’s searching for something. He guesses she is when she says, “Where momma?”

“Momma’s outside,” he tells her with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He can see her bottom lip start to tremble and so he quickly adds, “She asked me to come check up on you and Pop-Pop before I go to see her. A tree fell down so she needs some help.” It feels important to add, “But as soon as we’re done we’ll come right back, ok? I know momma misses you too.”  

Ellie seems to think about that for a second but then she settles into him without hesitation, head resting on his shoulder as she lets out a content sigh and he swears he feels his heart grow at least three sizes. 

“Let’s get you downstairs, huh? Go see Pop-Pop,” he whispers before he presses a kiss to the top of her head. When he turns around he sees the changing table and he knows from when his sister’s kids were smaller that he should probably check if her diaper is full but he’s not sure he’s allowed yet and so instead he grabs what he thinks is the diaper bag and takes it downstairs with him. 

“She was very much awake,” Daniel says as he makes his way back into the living room and drops the bag next to where Oscar is sitting. He bows down so he can hand Ellie over but the little girl clings to him even more and shakes her head, “With you.” 

“You gotta stay here for a little while, sweetheart,” Daniel explains but Ellie doesn’t seem to want to let go and looks away. Daniel looks at Oscar for help but knows there’s not much he can do either and so he stands back up and tries again, “I have to go help momma, bub.” 

“No.”

Daniel has to suppress a smile, admiring the little girl’s stubbornness that she’s definitely gotten from her mom. 

“Come with,” Ellie whispers.

He knows he doesn’t really have time to try and convince the girl to stay here, plus he’s got Blake and Michael with him so surely one of them could watch Ellie while they fix the fence. Daniel looks at Oscar and shrugs apologetically, “Is it ok if I take her? Might be easier that way.” 

Oscar nods and leans over so he can grab what seems to be Ellie’s clothes from the couch next to him, understanding the urgency, “Put these on. Take the bag. Her rain suit is in the mudroom. Boots too.”

“Mint,” Daniel says with a smile as he takes the clothes from him. “Come on, bub. Let’s get you dressed.”

Somehow he remembers to warm up a bottle of milk for her before he stuffs a banana in his pocket and hauls ass to his car. He doesn’t have a car seat and so, when he opens the passenger’s door a few minutes later, he hands Ellie to a very bewildered looking Michael instead, “Say hi to your uncle Michael, El.” 

“Mate, what?” 

Daniel doesn’t answer, gives the little girl her bottle and closes the door because he knows they’ve been here far too long already and he really, really wants to make sure she’s ok. When he slides into his own seat he takes his hood off and grins at Michael, who's still looking confused as fuck but now with a toddler in his lap, “Not mine. Promise.”

“Ok,” Michael draws out, pulling the zipper of Ellie’s rain suit down a little so it doesn’t dig into her skin. “Whatever you say, mate.” 

From the backseat Blake lets out a cackle, “You’ve got some serious explaining to do, mate. This is all confusing as f-”

“Oi!” Daniel reaches back and flicks Blake’s forehead, “Watch your language, will ya.”

This time it’s Michael who laughs, “I don’t even know what is happening right now but-”

“Just-” Daniel starts the car and heads past the sheds and onto Coopers Lane, knowing it will get them to Eagle’s Nest quickest. “Later, ok? I promise.” He pulls the banana out of his pocket and puts it on the dashboard, “Give her this once she’s finished her bottle, will ya?”

“Uhu,” Michael says as he tightens his grip on Ellie who is quietly singing her made up ‘Danny Banana’ song to herself and seems to be perfectly happy to be here. He doesn’t say anything else and Daniel is thankful that both Michael and Blake seem to understand the urgency of him wanting to get wherever it is they’re going, instead of wasting time answering their questions.

It takes them about ten minutes to reach the creek and he spots her red ute easily enough, parked haphazardly in front of the fallen tree. He pulls up behind it and tells Michael and Blake to stay put while he checks out what’s going on before he looks at Ellie and says, “I’m going to go find momma, ok. You stay here with uncle Michael and uncle Blake?”

The girl nods enthusiastically and above her Michael absolutely beams, “She likes me.” 

“Yeah, she does.” Daniel smiles and gently squeezes Ellie’s cheek, “I’ll be right back, ok?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and jumps out of the car, trying to see if he can see where she’s at. It’s still raining and so he holds his hand over his eyes, squinting as he lets his eyes roam along the fence line until he sees something bright yellow a little further down. He wants to rush towards her but he knows it’ll scare the animals and so instead he starts quietly talking so they know there’s someone coming. 

When he’s only a few metres away from where they’re standing he stops because for now the situation seems under control and he’s not sure it’ll stay that way if he comes any closer. He raises his voice so they can hear him, “Hello ladies.” The dog lets out a whine and so he quickly adds, “And Homer.”   

“Oh, thank God,” she whispers and he can see the relief wash over her. The three alpacas she’s trying to keep from escaping are absolutely drenched but are at least staying in their spot and don’t seem to be planning going anywhere else just yet. 

He gives her a small smile, “Sorry it took us so long, we-”

“Us?” 

“Yeah, uh-” he scrunches his nose, “Michael and Blake were over at my place so- They’re here to help.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything else and he figures she’s probably exhausted and cold and he wants nothing more than to tell her to take Ellie and head back to the house, that he’ll take care of it with Michael and Blake but he knows they’re nothing without her knowledge and so he offers the next best thing, “What do you need us to do?” 

She takes a deep breath and nods towards the pack, “If we can get them into the shed? That way we don’t have to worry about them escaping.” When he nods she continues, “There’s rope in my car, take that, and also- Grab a bucket and put two or three scoops of the grain pellets in there, it’s all in the trunk. Might be easier to lure them that way.” 

“Ok.” 

“I only need you here, Daniel,” she adds then with a hesitant smile. “The girls know and trust you but if we bring two other people in-”

“They might get spooked.” Daniel nods, trying to act cool even though the way she just told him she only needs him makes him feel all sorts of things, and so he does what he does best and acts goofy, pointing his fingers at her and clicking his tongue, “Gotcha.” It makes him feel like an idiot.

If she feels the same way she at least is graceful enough not to cringe at his antics. “They can help after,” she says and he knows it’s because she feels guilty. “With the fence?”

“Don’t worry about them,” he’s quick to reassure her as he waves to where his car is. “They’re watching Ellie, so I’m sure they’re on their third rendition of ‘The Wheels of the Bus’ anyway.” 

“Ellie?” She narrows her eyes at him and for a moment he’s worried he’s fucked up but then she nods, “I guess it’s probably better you didn’t leave her with granddad. Who knows how long this is gonna take.” 

“I’ll go get everything we need,” he says. He throws her a wink then, “‘I’ll be right back.” 

***

The feed proves to be a lifesaver and you’re able to lure the pack to the shed within seconds. 

“It’s ok,” you tell the girls, who are huddled together in the far corner. “You just stay here for a while, ok? We’ll go fix the fence and then I’ll be back to check up on you later.” You tell Dan to step outside before you follow after him and quietly close the door. You can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes you once you let yourself lean against the shed, shielded from the rain by the overhanging roof, “Holy shit, I’m glad that’s over.”

“Come here,” Daniel says and holds out his arms to you, pulling you close when you step into his embrace, and presses a long hard kiss to your temple. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You shrug but wrap your arms around him a little tighter anyway. It's the first time he's holding you like this and it feels- Nice. Part of you wants to stay here, wrapped up in his arms with his chin resting on the top of your head and your cheek against his chest, but, “We should probably go fix that fence, huh?”

Daniel smiles then, “Wanna go say hi to Ellie first?” 

You nod and Daniel lets go of you, taking your hand instead, and leads you back to his car. You can hear Ellie’s high pitched giggle coming from inside and can’t help but smile when you see one of Daniel’s friends, Blake he tells you, make silly faces at your daughter who’s sitting in what then must be Michael’s lap. 

Daniel knocks on the hood to let his friends know you’re back and seconds later two grown men and a toddler tumble out of his truck and you make a conscious effort to remember this moment forever because it’s too precious not too.

Ellie wriggles in Michael’s arms and when he puts her down she rushes over, “Momma!”

“Hi baby,” you pick up your little girl and pepper her face with kisses. “Momma’s missed you.” You look at Daniel’s friends then, “Thank you, guys.”

“No worries,” Michael tells you. “That’s easily the happiest, most easy-going kid I’ve ever seen.” Next to him Blake nods in agreement.

“Just like her mom,” Daniel adds with a wink before he introduces you to his friends.

Blake and Michael share a look but don’t say anything and you doubt Daniel has even seen it, too busy blowing a raspberry at Ellie, but before you have a chance to ask if they even knew of your existence Michael looks at you and nods towards the paddock, “What can we do to help?”

“I think we need to start by cutting down that tree,” you tell them as you point over your shoulder. “It looks like only a few branches hit the fence so if we take those now I can do the rest later this week.” Daniel starts to protest but you shake your head, “That’s for another day, Daniel. I can always ask George Yanos to come help out. I just really want to get that fence back up as soon as possible so we can all go home and warm up.” You look at Blake and Michael then, “You two are staying for dinner, by the way.”

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” Blake protests.

“Oh,” you reply with a wicked grin, “just you wait.” You turn to Daniel, “Can you head back to the farm and get the chainsaw? It’s in the shed next to the chicken coop.”

Daniel grins wickedly and nods towards his truck, “I already brought mine.”

“Ok. Perfect.” You look back at Michael and Blake, “Blake, could you help Daniel with the tree? If you cut the branches off first you should be able to cut down the trunk a lot easier after. It doesn’t have to be pretty and you can just leave it where it is, as long as the fence is cleared.”

Daniel nods and Blake salutes you with a grin, “Yes ma’am.”

“Michael? Would you mind taking care of Ellie? I’ll get started on the fence but I can’t really watch her at the same time and-”

“Of course,” Michael says with a wide smile. He squats and holds out his hands to Ellie who walks over to him without hesitating.

You look up at the sky then, a little relieved to see some lighter patches in between the clouds, “The rain should die down a little over the next hour or so, but I don’t really want to wait on that so I think we might as well get going now.”

Without having to say anything else the guys spur into action and you press a quick kiss to Ellie’s cheek, “Let’s get to work, huh bub?”

***

It takes them almost thirty minutes to cut all the branches off but at least by then the rain has changed to a light drizzle and the wind has dropped considerably. 

“So,” Blake starts all of a sudden, after he’s picked up a piece of the branch they’ve cut up earlier so he can drag it away from the fence, “how long has this been going on, mate?”

“Blake,” Daniel warns him, not wanting her to overhear his dumbass best friend making smart remarks. 

“What?” Blake feigns surprise but grins, “Seriously mate, what is going here? Is this why you wanted me to clear your schedule? So you could hook up with your neighbour?” 

Daniel picks up a branch as well and joins Blake to where they’ve started a pile of sorts, a little further into the paddock, “I’m-” he starts, not sure what he’s going to say because he doesn’t even know. He glances over his shoulder to where she’s repairing the fence then, Michael standing next to her with Ellie on his shoulders, and when she looks up and catches his gaze, and his entire body heats up because she smiles at him, he knows he’s officially done for and so he tells Blake the truth, “I really like her, mate.”  

“Dan-”

“I know,” Daniel says, holding up his hands in defence, knowing exactly what it is his best friend is implying. “I know, ok?”

Blake lets out a sigh as he pushes his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose, “It’s just- We can make this work after the season, ok? Not now.”

Daniel scoffs, “I said I like her, mate. Not that I’m thinking of proposing to her next week.”

“No, I know but-” Blake shrugs, pushing his glasses back down. “If this comes out before we’ve finalised the Red Bull deal we’ll have a hard time telling everyone they had nothing to do with each other.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at his best friend and for the briefest of moments he hates that Blake is also his manager and always has to think five steps ahead and can never just be happy for him. 

He knows the PR-game is always a tricky one, even more so whenever he dates someone he actually likes, but it’s not like they run a risk here. There’s no paparazzi around, no Kym Illman to try and sneak pictures of drivers’ wives and girlfriends without asking, and, except for dinner on Friday, they haven’t been anywhere public yet. Besides, he doesn’t even know if what they have qualifies as a relationship. Yes he likes her, very much, and yes, he wants to spend more time with her, but he’s known her for a grand total of ten days. In the end that’s what he tells Blake, “I’ve only just met her, B. Let’s take it easy, ok?”

“Ok,” Blake agrees with a curt nod that Daniel feels is more to please him than it is because Blake agrees with him. “Let me know if anything changes, ok?”

“Yep.”

Blake looks over to where Michael is standing then, a mischievous grin on his face, “Is there any way you’ll let me mess with Talzo a little longer? Tell him she’s your cousin or something? Make him freak out a little?”

Daniel lets out a honking laugh and pushes Blake back towards the fallen tree, “You’re the worst.” 

“Yeah, but will you let me?”

“No.” Daniel shakes his head, “Not this time, mate.”

“Oh God,” Blake mutters then, flicking Daniel’s forehead, “you really like her.” 

“I really do,” Daniel agrees easily enough.

It takes another hour but then the tree is cut up into what seem to be at least a hundred pieces and the fence is repaired and looking as good as new and so Daniel beams at his best friends, “Thanks guys. That was-”

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” both Blake and Michael say at the same time with an almost identical shrug.

Daniel throws his arm around her shoulders then and presses a kiss to her temple, “Ready to head back? Oscar must be getting worried what’s taking us so long.”

“Yeah,” she says as she leans into him. “I think we all deserve a warm shower and a cold beer.” 

“Come on,” he says as he nods towards her truck, “I’ll drive.”

She takes Ellie from Michael and walks to the passenger’s seat, where he’s holding the door open for her. Once she’s seated, Ellie in her lap because it’s too much hassle to put her in the car seat, he closes the door and rounds the car to the driver’s side. 

It’s a bumpy ride back to the farm, lots of fallen branches he hadn't noticed before littering Coopers Lane and so it takes them a good ten minutes to reach the house, both of them letting out a sigh of relief when he turns the engine off. Daniel turns in his seat and teases Ellie’s hair, “You’re a superstar, Miss Ellie.” He looks up at her then, “Just like your momma.” 

“Thank you,” she says with a warm smile.

***

The warm water runs out when Blake is taking his shower and you can hear him curse all the way in the kitchen, drawing laughs from you and Michael, both of you already showered and changed into warm clothes already, working on putting some dinner together. Daniel’s in the living room, chatting to Granddad while he waits his turn for the shower, even though you’re afraid he’s going to have to wait a little longer now that the boiler has to fill itself up again first. Ellie’s in the kitchen with you, sitting in her high chair and watching your every move intently as she munches on a breadstick. 

“So,” you start, drawing out the word as you turn towards Michael who’s on your left, cutting up some toast to go with the vegetable soup that’s almost ready, “Daniel tells me you guys work out every day from nine to twelve. Is that true?”

Michael nods, “Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“I know it sounds like a lot but we also include yoga and meditation and-”

‘Oh, ok.”

Michael throws you a cheeky smile then, “If you want to you could join us tomo-”

“Hahaha,” you reply with a fake laugh. “No.” 

“No?”

“No.” 

“Bummer,” he shoots back with a grin. “Might have been nice for Dan to have someone to show off to. It would definitely help with the whining.” 

You can’t help but laugh but before you can say anything a rather bewildered looking Blake walks into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and a red colour on his cheeks that you know isn’t because he’s nice and toasty. “Here,” you tell him as you hand him a cup of coffee, “this should warm you up.” 

He lets out a ragged breath, “Turns out cold water is really cold. Jeepers.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I could make you a hot water bottle if you want? Help you warm up a little?”

“Nah, that’s ok. I’ll just sit here for a while,” he replies, nodding to a chair next to the wood stove that’s been burning ever since you got back. 

“I’ll go see what Daniel and Granddad are up to,” you tell Blake and Michael, “I think the soup’s almost ready and the lasagne should be done soon too, so-”

“I’ll set the table,” Michael offers. He points at the kitchen cabinets, “Is it ok if I just open them and see what I can find?”

“I’m not hiding any secrets in my kitchen cabinets, Michael,” you shoot back with a laugh. “Have at it.” You find Granddad and Daniel gossiping about Mrs Mackenzie's supposed date with Mr Maxwell last week and so you gently flick Daniel’s shoulder, “Oi, you two. It sounds like Soap Opera’s Digest in here.” 

“This is important information, ok,” Daniel shoots back with a grin as he looks up at you. “The last I heard Mrs Mackenzie was still dating Kevin Holmes from down the road, so-”

“That ended months ago,” Granddad adds, leaning closer to Daniel. “Apparently he ran off with Mrs Clement.”

“The dentist’s wife?” Daniel seems shocked, “Did their divorce go through already? That’s quick.” 

Granddad shakes his head, looking awfully pleased with himself, “It didn’t.”

Daniel gasps, clutching his chain necklace for full effect, “No!”

“Yes,” Granddad nods. “I think old Kevin will have to find himself another dentist.”

“While this has all been very entertaining,” you interrupt with a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, to keep him from saying anything else, “I came to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” You look at Daniel, “We can wait if you want to take a shower first, I think the boiler should be full in another fifteen minutes or so.”

“Nah,” Daniel shakes his head, “I’ll shower after. It’s fine. I’m not that cold anymore anyway.”

“Alright, let’s go eat then.” 

Dinner is- It’s fun. Granddad’s sitting at the head of the table, with you, Ellie and Daniel on one side and Blake and Michael on the other. Blake and Granddad are discussing the Manchester United game from last week while Michael keeps making faces at Ellie, who’s giggles fill the kitchen at steady intervals, while Daniel keeps feeding her pieces of his lasagne. 

By the time everyone’s plates are empty, Ellie’s giggles have turned to yawns and so you get up and pick her up out of her high chair, “I’ll go put this one to bed, it’s been a long day for her.”

Ellie’s not too tired to insist on saying goodnight to everyone and so she gets passed from Granddad to Blake to Michael to Daniel for a goodnight hug before she’s returned into your arms and Michael tells you they’ll take care of the dishes in the meantime.

“Come on, bub,” you tell her as you head upstairs. “Let’s go see if Mr Koala’s waiting for you.”

Ellie’s asleep before you even make it to her bedroom and you figure there’s no harm done in skipping brushing her teeth for once, instead gently lying her down in her cot, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you quietly whisper, “Goodnight my sweet girl. Momma loves you very much.” 

When you get back downstairs the kitchen is spotless and you can see Blake drying the last of the dishes while Michael wipes the counter clean and then Daniel steps into view, “We’ll check up on the girls before we head home, ok?”

You start to protest, “Daniel-” 

“Nope,” he counters with a smile “You stay here. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You smile at him, “Yep.” 

Daniel waits until Blake and Michael have said their goodbyes and made it past him to the mud room before he takes a step forward and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, "I'll text you the address when I get home, ok?"

"You do that," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper because God, you really want to kiss him.

***

“Watch out for that brown one,” Daniel tells Michael with a nod towards Betsy, “she bites.”

“Good to know, mate.” 

Daniel chuckles, “The white one is alright, you can pet her if you want.”

“Yeah, nah, I’m good,” Michael shoots back with a grin, focusing instead of filling the feeder with the bucket of grains Daniel handed him earlier. He clears his throat then, “So tell me again how we ended up here? Offering to check up on some spooked Alpacas? You playing house with Oscar’s granddaughter wasn’t exactly on my bingo card for this year, mate.”

Daniel laughs, “Wasn’t on mine either to be honest, but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel offers with a shrug. “I like it.” He corrects himself then, “I like her. A lot. So-”

“Daniel,” Michael starts, hesitating a little then, which tells Daniel his best friend is going to say something serious and maybe important. “You know I’ve always got your best interest at heart, right?” Michael waits for Daniel to nod before he takes a deep breath and continues, “You’ve got a lot going on right now and I don’t know if this is-” He holds up his hand when Daniel wants to interrupt, “I’m worried it’s going to cloud your judgement, ok? I can tell you like her very much and I haven’t seen you this settled-” he air-quotes the word, “-in a long time but you’ve only known her for what? A week-and-a-half? You’ve been in this sport for much longer than that, don’t-”

“I won’t,” Daniel says, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral and not make it sound like he’s defending himself. He knows Michael’s right, of course he does. After all, he came to the same conclusion earlier today. Yes, he likes her, and yes, he would like to see where this goes, but he also knows it wouldn’t be fair to her or himself to take that into consideration when it comes to his future in Formula One. He looks up at Michael then, “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, right? 

“Maybe you should talk to her before you leave,” Michael offers with a kind smile. “Just to see where you both stand and to make sure you go into this with the same expectations, you know?”

“Yeah,” Daniel rubs his face. “Yeah, I should.” 

Blake walks into the shed then, soaking wet and looking as miserable as ever, “So I checked the fence-.”

“Uhu,”

“-and it’s still standing.” Blake deadpans with a blank stare.

Daniel chuckles, “Thanks, mate. Let’s go home, eh?”

[cody-paranatural]

do you have any pnat headcanons? :3

YES I DO.

I have!!!! A lot of them!!!!!

I will try to keep this relatively short but we’ll see how this goes lol.

Okay! So in no particular order:

- I need to get this one off of my chest. I don’t care about the wifi-spider from the twitter thing Spender is GAY. He got confused when a woman assumed he was asking her out 😭 The closest he’s ever been to ‘dating’ a woman was when he desperately asked Mina if she would pretend to be his date to one of his dad’s galas bc he was DESPERATE to keep them from realizing he was gay. But she really didn’t want to go there and so it ended up being the first gala he ditched completely and had a way better time because of it. It was the start of him actually being able to admit that he HATES living like this. I will die on this hill I cannot see this man as bisexual. Jean IS bi though.

- In my mind Mina is 100% the person Ms Baxter was referring to when she said she ditched her goth phase after a bad breakup in junior year. They’re exes. To ME. I want this to be true so bad.

- I don’t know why I started with the adults but I’m sticking by it for now. Anyway you literally can’t convince me that June and Shrike weren’t briefly a Thing in the past. It’s so real to me. I don’t think Shrike would’ve told June about her evil vampire fling turned boyfriend turned husband. But for comedic purposes if June DID know she would be so “I’m so happy for you and your ugly boyfriend” about it.

- Peter and June are so t4t and bi4bi. So are Shrike and Davy actually but I don’t know if the world is ready for that one. Listen I’m just saying that the Shrike timeline would get much simpler if you assume she wasn’t the one with the baby.

- Cody was a REALLY ugly baby. I needed a jumping point to get to the kids and this is one I feel strongly about. Because listen. He’s a cute little guy NOW. But this is a “butterfly was a caterpillar first” kinda situation. He needed to exorcise all the ugly genes he got from Davy as soon as possible. He suffered enough he deserves to look like his mother okay.

- I love the school store gang they’re all literally my best friends so here’s how I think the group came to be. To me Jeff and Violet live in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends so they’ve been hanging out for a while. Very shortly before they started first grade they run into Ed, who got distracted by a spirit or something like that and ended up getting split up from Izzy and also maybe Dimitri. They had one fun day together and then saw each other at school and boom. They’re besties now :] And later on they ended up befriending my beloved weird girl herself Lisa Paranatural. I think she just like, sat next to them one day and became part of the group. No one can really tell when or how it happened it just did. It’s like she’s always been there. And Cody was the last one to join them. Until proven otherwise I just think that he most likely went to the rich kid elementary school, and didn’t meet any of them until the start of 6th grade. You CAN become that close with someone in a little over a year. It happened to me. And Max got attached to the activity club in a week so anything’s possible. The world is my oyster.

- I think Jeff has an older sister :] He just gives me that vibe, like he’s a younger brother FOR SURE. Also literally everyone is his family as a silly name, it’s a tradition. One of his mom is named Jedextraordinary Flavors or something equally as silly.

- Speaking of Jeff, he writes poetry. This is mostly inspired by him talking about the symbolism of his pencil and his desk in chapter 1. He’s 12 so it’s of very questionable quality, but he has a lot of fun with it.

- Isaac is a trans girl. And Violet is a non binary trans guy. These two are very important because I will be using my headcanon pronouns for them here ^-^

- Isaac and Cody don’t really know each other in real life but they DO know each other on like a Twilight forum. And they fight all the time. I think Cody really likes reading vampire novels. I think he finds the inaccuracies very funny. And Isaac genuinely really loves Twilight but would sooner Die than admit it bc she is terrified of being seen as cringe. They are interested in completely different aspects of the Twilight universe and also Cody clearly loves drama, just look at how he talks about the student council stuff. I just think it would be very funny okay.

- In a similar vein Cody listens to The Fever sometimes (DJ Mothman and Professor Bigfoot’s radio station) On page 49 he found what they had to say about Shrike funny so I think he’d enjoy hearing what else they have to say, though only to laugh at it. Where as Stephen takes it very seriously. I think any supernatural related conversation between Stephen and Cody would be Very Funny, but I also like to think that if they ever actually became friends it would start with them talking about the Fever.

- Sege’s full name has GOT to make up the word sergeant somehow. Either his middle name is Anthony or his last name is straight up the word ant or something that contains it. Serge is my special funny guy i needed to include him.

- Since Isaac’s parents are just irish Goku and irish Sailor moon I think her aunt should be irish Miku. I think her whole extended family just looks Like That. They’re all EXTREMELY normal though. They’r personalities don’t match their designs AT ALL. Isaac absolutely does not see the resemblance between his family members and the characters they look like and she’s the only one and it drives everyone else CRAZY

- This is more of a general headcanon but I think that at some point a spectral uploaded a photo they took where the spirits are doing something really stupid, but the action is treating it SO seriously. And it breaches contentment and spawns two different memes. The spectral version where people are hyping up the lamest spirits they’ve seen and the non-spectral interpretation of it where people think the joke is that there’s NOTHING in the photo.

- I think at some point in high school Isabel and Max get to be buzzcut brothers. Isabel fucked up her bangs so bad after impulsively cutting them that she decided that she’s just gonna go bald for a bit. Ed helped. It’s a good look on her but I don’t think she would stick by it all that long.

- This one is mostly a joke. But I think that at some point while saying his very questionable conspiracy theories Stephen somehow got everything spectral and spirit related 100% right, and then immediately decided that this theory is kinda stupid actually and decided that bigfoot makes way more sense

- Also. In my beautiful mind Cash Reward is gonna have puppies at some point. Because I want to see Stephen being WAYYY too invested in being a dog uncle (Cash Reward is like a sibling to them, you see)

- I think Isabel will really get into miniature crafting in high school. I don’t really have a good reasoning for this one, I think it’s something she started because it didn’t really seem like her thing, but it just ended up being something she really ended up enjoying after a while. This one might be me projecting a little though because I kinda want to get into it :P

- Dimitri learns how to code in his free time. It started because Suzy REALLY wanted the journalism club to have its own website, but was too impatient to learn it herself. So she decided that their editor guy should do it. And Dimitri ended up really enjoying himself. I think he and Ed tried to make a little game together at some point but had WILDLY different ideas for what they wanted it to be so it didn’t really end up going anywhere

- Ed learns how to play several instruments just because they can. This one is so true to real to me and I don’t even know why. They can play kazoo and the ukulele for SURE. They get an otamatone when they’re older. A harmonica too, perhaps.

[raepritewrites]

If Heather were ever to write a memoir about being a superhero, she was going to include an entire chapter about what to do when you get sucked into a portal, because it was a surprisingly frequent hazard of the job and was confusing as hell if you didn't know what you were doing.

Fortunately, she’d been through this song and dance a few times, so she started with gathering the basics. Who, what, where, how, and when?

First, who? Some c-lister villain who called himself Vibe. The team had been working on a case of break-ins where banks would be robbed through some sort of portal technology. In and out, easy as pie, with almost no trace left behind. The guy was slick she could give him that.

Nightwing had theorized the guy might have a teleport ray, judging by the tachyon readings they were getting. Further investigation, however, and a quick conversation with Flash had revealed that Vibe was a meta created from the particle accelerator explosion of Central City, which had given the speedster his own powers. It hadn't been too hard to track the guy down from there.

Second, what? Well, bad guy plus warehouse equals superhero fight. It had just been Nightwing, Superboy, and herself who went to track down and capture the meta. The rest of the squads had all been busy on other assignments, and really, how hard could it be to take this guy down with three of their heavy hitters on it?

Apparently, harder than they'd thought.

Vibe, it seemed, was just as slick at evading capture as burglary. The idea had been for Nightwing and Scarlet Spider to wear the guy out and keep him distracted until Superboy could get in a final hit. It had briefly worked, and then everything went wrong.

Scarlet probably shouldn't have antagonized Vibe so much, but it was fun winding bad guys up. She and Nightwing had come up with some good lines as they danced around the teleporter. She had so much experience fighting alongside Nightcrawler that she assumed she could guess this guy's next move without any trouble. He would zig, she would zag. She'd been... a little too confident. Her spider sense had warned her of the danger as she swung towards Vibe for one more kick to the gut, but her momentum had been too strong, and there was no avoiding the inevitable.

Vibe had realized the game they'd been playing with him and grabbed Superboy as he'd tried to sneak up from behind, flinging him over his shoulder and into her. They'd crashed into Nightwing in a pile of tangled limbs and curses.

By the time Scarlet Spider looked up, Vibe had a new portal open behind him. "As fun as this has been, I'll be taking my leave now. This earth has always been a little too hero-happy for my tastes," the man smirked and saluted them, stepping backwards into the swirl of blue and white light.

If Heather had a nickle for every time she made a very stupid last-minute decision, she and Bruce Wayne would be in the same tax bracket. This was just another five cents in her fictional bank account. She sent a webline to the ceiling, propelling her up and off of her teammates and into the portal, which promptly closed behind her.

Third question, where?

On the other side of the portal, it dawned on Heather very quickly how stupid she was as she found herself free-falling. High-rises and skyscrapers rushed past her in a blur as she struggled to orient herself.

Some part of her brain that sounded a lot like her step-father screamed at her to throw a webline, and after two desperate attempts failed to land on anything, her third try caught a gargoyle. Her arm wrenched in its socket from the abrupt change in trajectory, and she gritted her teeth to stifle the howl of agony that crawled up her throat. She looked around desperately and spotted a rooftop not far away that she could reach.

Her landing was less than ideal, tumbling head over heels before rolling to a painful stop on the tarmac. She lay for a moment to let the panic subside, panting heavily from the spasms radiating from her arm and down her torso. She stared up at a smog filled night sky and the glowing neon sign of an office building as her brain rebooted.

Once she could hear more than just her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, she took stock of her situation. While she'd torn a few muscles in her arm, the damage was minimal compared to being a smear on the sidewalk. She'd twisted her ankle when she'd landed, and it throbbed in a familiar way - not broken, but definitely sprained. Everything else seemed negligible; cuts, scrapes, and general bruises. She would deal.

She sat up slowly and frowned at the office building's sign, declaring it to be one of Wayne Enterprises' headquarters. Why Vibe had thought running to Gotham was a good idea was anyone's guess.

She checked her comm, but only received static in reply, no matter what frequency she tried. Maybe it had been damaged in the fall? Her phone worked, but had no signal at all, not even wifi. That was strange; WE had public wifi available at all there buildings. She needed to reach the team somehow to let them know her status, and that despite her best (very stupid) efforts their suspect was in the wind. She wasn't sure where the closest zeta beam was from here, but maybe she could reach Nightwing a different way.

Did Heather feel bad breaking into the department store? Yes, a little, but desperate times and all that.

She'd grabbed a pair of jeans, a belt (because of course the jeans didn't fit right, but she didn't have the luxury of time on her side to find a pair that did), and an oversized sweatshirt. She dropped a pre-paid credit card on the counter with the tags of the items she was stealing, hoping the owners wouldn't be too mad at her. She then made triple sure that all the cameras she'd covered in webbing were still technically functional -just ineffective for a few hours - and grabbed a shopping bag from the register to stuff her gear into it.

Outside the store, it had begun raining, because this was Gotham and she had Parker luck. It was only natural. After trudging through the rain for a few blocks, Heather finally hailed a cab in a more populated part of the city. The clock on the dash of the taxi read a little after four am, and the driver looked like he wasn't thrilled to have found a customer.

"I need to get to Bristol," Heather told him, trying to be short but polite.

The cabby raised an eyebrow at her, blowing smoke from his cigarette out his cracked window. "That's going to cost you, lady," he told her flatly. "If you hadn't noticed, this is the Diamond District, that's a long drive."

"If you can get me there quickly, I'll pay you double the fare in tip," Heather promised.

Both eyebrows went up at that. "You're the boss," he shrugged and pulled away from the curb.

Once they reached Bristol, Heather had the cab drop her off at the Drake Estate, a few miles from Wayne Manor. She didn't think the cab driver really cared about where this woman in ill-fitting clothes was going at the crack of dawn out in the most expensive neighborhood in Gotham. But just in case someone asked him about it later, she didn't want him saying he'd dropped the weird woman off at Brucie Wayne's mansion. Never could be too careful.

True to her word, Heather had tipped extra generously, and the cab had taken off as soon as she was out of the backseat.

She glanced down the Drake's long driveway to where their modern estate could be seen peaking out between the tall trees and frowned distastefully. Shaking off her feelings towards Tim's parents, she settled into a fast walk and headed towards Wayne Mansion in the thinning rain.

By the time she reached the front gates, the rain was just mist that was slowly being burned off by the morning sun, and she was soaked to the bone. Wiping water off her face, she buzzed the intercom and hoped Alfred wouldn't be mad at her for the early morning call.

"Wayne Residence, may I help you?" His British accent came through the intercom sounding slightly tinny.

"Good morning, I need to speak to Dick Grayson or Bruce Wayne. It's Heather Reilly."

There was a long pause, too long. "Do you have an appointment?"

Heather frowned. "No, not exactly. Listen, I know it's early, but I really need to talk to Dick or Mr. Wayne."

"Master Wayne is a very busy man, young lady," Alfred began, in a clearly dismissive voice.

"Wait, please! It's..." she frowned harder, brow furrowing as an uneasy feeling filled her gut. "It's Heather, Mr. Pennysworth. You know, Heather? Dick's friend? We've... I mean, don't you know who I am?"

"I'm afraid your name is not familiar to me, and young Master Dick no longer resides here at the manor. Good day, young lady." The intercom clicked off and Heather stood blinking at it for several seconds.

"What the actual fuck?" She finally muttered.

Alfred Pennyworth did not know who she was. He had dismissed her with the same polite but frosty way she'd seen him dismiss hopeful gold diggers who hung off of Bruce at parties. As her brain processed this information, something else occurred to her as well.

Vibe. He had said something just before he disappeared. That their earth was too hero-happy. Their earth. As if there was more than one.

"Well, shit," Heather sighed sharply, rubbing at a pounding headache that was beginning to build behind her eyes.

Apparently, Vibe wasn't just a teleporter like her fiance, and perhaps their assessment of him as a c-lister villain was a bit hasty. Because apparently the sucker could warp not just around the world, but also apparently around the freaking multiverse?! And Heather, dumbass extraordinaire, had followed him to a parallel universe. Which meant that the only way she was ever going to get home was to find the bastard again, and there was no way she'd be able to do that on her own.

Fourth question, how?

Heather felt significantly more guilty sneaking onto the Wayne Manor estate than she had breaking into the department store.

She hoped that her Dick and Bruce - if she ever saw them again - would understand that she hadn't meant to memorize the defenses around the estate. Really, it was more Bruce's fault than hers.

She'd spent so much time working for the man, digging through the batcomputer's files and doing the menial grunt work to help hone her skills, that of course at some point she'd gotten bored and started studying the layout of the grounds and where all the motion detectors were hidden. She was only human... well, kind of. Sort of. Not important right now.

She didn't know for certain that this version of Bruce Wayne would use the same layout for his home's defenses. Hell, she wasn't even certain that this version had even become Batman. Maybe the man actually was a clueless socialite in this universe. But Heather had a gut feeling that she couldn't shake.

Like, sure, maybe there were universes out there where that was true. But... could there really be a universe where Bruce Wayne had never become Batman, and yet he'd still taken in Dick, who then would coincidentally also have a falling out with the man and move to Bludhaven? The whole reason her Dick had moved to that awful city was to establish himself as Nightwing.

Heather knew she was holding onto a thin string of hope here. But if she was wrong, she might never make it back home, and that possibility was too terrifying to even consider.

Her universe had found multiple ways to kick her in the teeth and drag her down, over and over again. Yet, that universe was her home, and she was still standing. She'd gotten back up each time with the help of her family and friends. She would figure this out, and she would come home to them.

There wasn't an option for failure.

By the time she was standing in front of the massive doors of the manor, her shoulder and ankle were starting to throb in time with her heartbeat. The sun had burned off the remaining rain and she estimated it was closer to six or seven am now. Despite knowing she looked like a drowned rat, Heather attempted to have some dignity as she straightened her clothes, pushed back her slick hair, and reached up to knock.

"I'll get it, Alfred," She heard a young male voice on the other side of the door, and she had just enough time to think Tim when a seventeen year old boy with dark hair opened the door.

Heather blinked. This... was not her Tim. Her Tim was still thirteen and only recently reached her shoulder in height. Yet, the haircut, the blue eyes, the sharp features, all of it definitely screamed Tim Drake.

The boy frowned at her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," Heather floundered for a second, unsure. She hadn't anticipated speaking to anyone other than Alfred, Dick or Bruce. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's um, it's been a rough night. My name is Heather Reilly. You're Tim, right? I'm a friend of Dick Grayson's, and I really need his help."

"You again?" Alfred was suddenly behind Tim, wearing the most severe frown she'd ever seen on the man.

It immediately made her step back a half pace and her shoulders hunch. No one, not even her own parents, could make Heather feel like a small naughty child the way Mr. Pennyworth could. There was a reason even Batman deferred to him. "I was quite firm young lady. How did you manage to get past the front gate?"

Translation: How did you avoid all of Batman's security? Heather thought, but of course they wouldn't know that she knew about any of that.

"Please, Mr. Pennyworth, if you just let me explain the situation," Heather began, trying not to wither under his stony stare.

"How do you know Dick?" Tim interrupted. He looked just as suspicious as Alfred, but there was something else in his stare, curiosity or something like it. Tim, like Bruce, was a detective and Heather could tell she'd piqued his interest.

"Dick and I are old friends," She said quickly, latching onto Tim's interest like a lifeline. "We met when we were teenagers. We, uh, had a lot in common. Listen, if Dick isn't here could I at least use your phone? I lost mine, and if I can't talk to Dick, then I need to try and call another friend."

"Are you in trouble?" Alfred asked, looking a modicum less severe than before.

"Very much so, sir,'' Heather nodded, shifting her weight only to wince as she placed too much onto her bad ankle. "Shit," she hissed, unable to keep the curse in.

"What happened?" Tim asked, opening the door wider.

"I... fell," She said lamely, scratching the back of her neck. How could she explain that it was from a height of several stories? Oh, right, she couldn't. "Twisted my ankle. It's fine, I'm a fast healer."

Tim and Alfred exchanged a long look, and only years of working with the bats helped her parse out its full meaning. They didn't trust her, clearly. They thought she might even be lying, but they weren't going to leave someone soaking wet and obviously injured outside on their doorstep.

Alfred hummed, still displeased, "You may use the phone in the library, follow me. Master Tim, would you please bring me the first aid kit?"

"Sure, Alfie," Tim sent one more scrutinizing stare her way before disappearing into what she knew was a supply closet.

She followed the butler into the library, wincing as she dripped rainwater onto the expensive rugs. He led her to an antique secretary desk with a rotary phone on it, because apparently in every universe Bruce Wayne was that kind of old money rich, and insisted she sit down on the oak desk chair. Tim reappeared shortly, carrying both a first aid kit and a towel, the latter of which Heather took gratefully as she sat her plastic bag full of gear onto the floor.

Heather carefully squeezed water out of her hair, mindful of her shoulder as Alfred looked through the kit. "If you would remove your boot, Miss Reilly, I will check your ankle."

"Oh, I mean, you don't have to-" Heather began, the towel now draped over her shoulders.

"I insist," Alfred said firmly but not unkindly.

"You might as well let him look," Tim said with a chuckle. He was leaning against one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. "He won't take no for an answer."

"Right, I knew that," Heather muttered, shaking her head. She missed the puzzled frowns Tim and Alfred shared as she reached down and started unlacing her combat boots.

Spider-Man and her father preferred their costumes with matching boots and gloves, the web design visible from top to bottom. But she'd long ago chosen steel toed black boots and fingerless black leather gloves for herself. She liked that it made the uniform her own, along with a modified version of her father's blue hoodie - cropped, slightly darker in hue, and made of a resilient Kevlar. The Scarlet Spider silhouette was still recognizable as the one Ben Reilly once wore, but she'd made it hers, and she knew her dad would have approved.

She got the boot off and peeled off her wet sock, hissing as the fabric stuck around the swollen ankle joint before finally coming free. Of course, it was the ankle she'd broken previously, that was just her luck.

"Okay, it's a little worse than I thought," she admitted quietly as Alfred examined the injury.

"You seemed pretty confident it was just a sprain," Tim observed casually.

Bruce hasn't taught him all his tricks yet, Heather thought as she considered how to answer Tim's obviously prying question. "Not the first time," she said as she watched Alfred pull out a roll of bandages. "I'm clumsy."

Before Tim could form his next question, a voice called out, "Drake? Pennyworth?" This was followed shortly by a boy, maybe fourteen years old, coming into the library. He was also dark haired, but much tanner than Tim and his eyes were brown. There was something oddly familiar about the kid that Heather couldn't put her finger on.

"Who is this?" The boy demanded.

"Manners, Master Damian," Alfred chided him as he finished wrapping Heather's ankle. "It's best you remove your other boot as well, Miss, to give them a chance to dry out."

Heather nodded, "right, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Damian, this is Heather. She says she's a friend of Dick's," Tim explained.

"Richard has never mentioned you," Damian said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He spoke with the slightest accent, something Middle Eastern that Heather couldn't pin down, and the more she looked at his face the more she was sure she knew him from somewhere.

"We're, uh, very old friends," Heather explained awkwardly. "We haven't seen each other in a long time." Or ever, in this universe's case.

"Tt," Damian scoffed, sharing glances with Alfred and Tim. He wasn't even attempting to hide how suspicious he thought she was. It was sort of refreshing. "Richard isn't home. He's running errands with Father."

Now Heather was narrowing her eyes, her head tilting to the side as a memory came to her. Of a painting that hung in her universe's version of Wayne Manor featuring Thomas and Martha Wayne posing with their young son. Bruce was solemn, even as a child, and Damian had the same set to his jaw.

"Oh my god," she breathed as it clicked, suddenly standing as she pointed at the boy. "You're Bruce's kid. Like, his bio kid, aren't you?"

The others gave her various confused reactions. Alfred raised one eyebrow, Tim frowned, and Damian crossed his arms haughtily.

"Of course, I am," the younger boy snapped, like he thought Heather was an idiot. Which was fair. She kind of was most days, even she could admit that. "How do you not know who I am?"

"I -" She dropped her arm and rubbed her neck. "Right, yeah, that's an excellent question." She sighed. "Okay, truthfully? I am friends with Dick, but... not your Dick?" They frowned at her, and she couldn't blame them.

"Look, I'm going to level with you. I'm not from this universe. I work with Dick on my earth with a team of heroes. We were fighting this guy - Vibe? I did something monumentally stupid, and I ended up here. I didn't realize until I was already talking with Alfred that I was even in the wrong universe because my Alfred has known me for years. I worked with Batman for a while when I was a teenager, back when Dick was still Robin, and-"

"What are you talking about?" Tim interrupted her nervous ramblings. "Why do you think we know anything about Batman?" He added angrily. Damian looked ready to commit murder, and Alfred had disappeared at some point.

Heather groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, let's just cut past the song and dance, okay? I know all about Bruce, I have for years. In my universe, he gave me almost full access to the batcomputer's files. I trained with Robin in the batcave. I know about the entrance behind the grandfather clock in Bruce's study-"

Heather realized a few beats too late that was probably not the best way to break the news.

Damian was suddenly in her face with a knife at her throat pulled from seemingly nowhere. She reacted instinctively, grabbing the boy's wrist, twisting it down until he dropped the dagger. She pushed him into Tim, who'd been pulling out his collapsible bo staff. She'd turned with the intention of escaping through the library's other exit, but only made it a few strides when the sound of a shotgun being loaded stopped her dead in her tracks.

Right, that would be Alfred, she thought numbly, lifting her hands up as high as her injured shoulder would allow before dropping to her knees.

"Do not move," Alfred ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"How did you disarm me so easily?" Damian demanded, stomping around to glare at her.

Heather gave him a small smile, which only made him angrier. "You remind me of my sister," she said instead of answering.

"I don't know what your game is," Tim told her, "but we're not playing. What do want with Dick?"

"First, poor word choice," Heather smirked at him over her shoulder. He glared back at her flatly, and she rolled her eyes. "My Tim has a much better sense of humor. I already told you exactly why I'm here. I'm in the wrong universe, and I need Batman and Nightwing to help me get home."

"Why do you keep insisting my father is the Batman?" Damian asked.

Heather sighed. "Look, we could keep going around and around on this all day, but I don't have that kind of time. Either call up Dick and Bruce so we can discuss this like adults, or-"

"Or what?" Alfred asked, suddenly reminding her there was a very protective butler with a gun pointed at her.

Heather pursed her lips, considering. "Why don't you take me down to the cave? You guys probably have a holding cell like my Batman does. You can keep me under lock and key until I can convince you I'm telling the truth, or until you can get someone from the League to come down who can wipe my memory if I can't."

"Or we could take you to Arkham Aslyum now," Damian suggested.

Heather took a deep breath, trying to be patient. Not like it could hold me. "It's up to you," she finally said.

Damian walked behind her so the three could share a whispered conference. Heather tried very hard not to hear them by humming under her breath, but it was a lost cause. Damian was coming up with some very creative forms of interrogation tactics, but was ultimately overruled by Tim and Alfred.

"Alright, let's go," Tim finally sighed. "Hands behind your back, and just keep in mind Alfred is a very good shot." She saw him pulling a pair of handcuffs from the corner of her eye.

"You're going to want to use something stronger than that," she told them mildly as Tim grabbed her wrists and yanked them behind her back. Tim hesitated for a moment, before Damian handed him something she couldn't see. She bit back a hiss of pain as they used what felt like metal cording from a grappel gun to bind her hands, then used the remaining cord to wrap around her arms and chest.

Better, she thought as Tim and Damian pulled her to her feet, but still not enough. Ah well, I'll let them have this one.

They blindfolded her before taking her to the batcave, maybe so they could still have plausible deniability. Heather let the boys lead her to the elevator, her spider-sense keeping her aware of Alfred's shotgun aimed at her chest. When the elevator stopped, her bare feet were treading the rock of the cave's floor as the boys prodded her along, her injured ankle really resenting the cold seeping into her bones. She couldn't surpress a small shiver, suddenly aware of her still soaking wet stolen clothes that were clinging to her.

"Relax, we're not going to hurt you," Tim murmured, misinterpreting her shudder.

"Unless you give us a reason too," Damian added, less meanly than he could have.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't as blood thirsty as he seemed. I wonder who his mom is? I don't think it's Selina. He doesn't look anything like her. Heather pondered this little mystery until she heard a metal cage door opening and she was gently pushed inside the holding cell. Someone pulled off the blindfold before they locked her in. She blinked her eyes to help them adjust to the new lighting, taking in the somewhat familiar landscape around her.

"Good to know the giant penny and t-rex are consistent in every universe," Heather observed. "Still ridiculous, but consistent."

"Master Bruce and Master Dick are on their way," Alfred said, lowering the gun slightly but not putting it away.

Heather nodded. "I figured. So... bio kid, huh?" She added, conversationally.

Damian narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't reply.

"I totally see it now," Heather admitted, taking a seat on the cot in the cage. She brought her legs up to fold beneath her, trying to get comfortable. "I thought at first that Bruce's adoption habit was worse in this universe."

"What makes you think I'm adopted?" Tim asked, taking a seat on a stool he'd brought over.

Heather blinked in surprise. "Oh, my mistake, sorry. My Tim Drake is, so I guess I assumed."

"What happened to your Tim's parents?" Tim frowned, but there was something in his expression that Heather couldn't read.

Heather pursed her lips, considering how to explain. "They were very neglectful. At first, Bruce just had emergency custody of Tim while the state investigated why he was being left alone for long periods of time with only a maid checking on him. When they realized how shitty the Drakes were, that's when he put in the paperwork."

"So they're... still alive?" Tim asked in a much quieter voice.

Heather's heart stuttered painfully. "Oh... I'm so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "Not your fault," he said it like it was something he told people a lot, which only made Heather feel worse.

"I really am sorry. This world is so different from my own," Heather said, mostly to keep the conversation moving. She'd always hated awkward silence. "My Tim is younger, and I've never even met him before." She tilted her head towards Damian. "I mean, he might exist on my earth. Who's your mom?"

Damian tutted again, which she was beginning to suspect was a habit. "Not that its any of your business, but my mother's name is Talia Al Ghul."

Heather blinked and sat forward. "I'm sorry - the daughter of the Demon's Head is your mom? One of the most dangerous women in the world, and the next leader of the League of Assasins?"

Damian gave her a haughty nod. "I see my mother's reputation precedes her even in another universe."

"Okay, mental note," Heather muttered. "Interrogate Bruce when I get home to make sure he actually knows how condoms work."

Tim let out an involuntary snort and Damian's pride disappated back into disdain as he muttered something in Arabic that she was sure was unflattering.

"Alrighty, anyway," She sighed. "I'm assuming you have questions you want me to answer?"

"I am not sure what we could ask you that could prove your worthiness," Damian snapped. "You are a stranger to us."

Tim nodded reluctantly. "I've never heard Dick mention anyone like you." He picked up the plastic bag they must have brought from upstairs that had her gear in it, pulling out her mask and frowning at it. "What's with the spider webs?"

"On my earth, I'm called the Scarlet Spider," Heather explained, waiting for any hint of recognition on his face, but nothing came. "You know, ally of Spider-Man? Friend of the Avengers?"

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Whoa, okay, I didn't think our earths were that different," Heather shook her head. "Wait, if Spider-Man and the Avengers don't exist in this world, does the Justice League exist?"

"Of course," Tim and Damian answered almost in unison, then glared at each other in annoyance.

"That's a relief. So the team must exist too," Heather said, only to receive another frown.

"You mean the Teen Titans?" Tim clarified.

"No...? I mean the team. We work for the Justice League? But, like, covertly. We handle missions that the League doesn't want a lot of attention on, but that still needs a lot of skill." Heather explained, "There's me, Nightwing, Superboy, Miss Martian, Robin, Batgirl, Bumblebee, Beast Boy-"

"I only recognize some of those names," Tim admitted.

"Weird," Heather muttered.

"This is a waste of time," Damian exclaimed, "She's clearly lying, Drake, we should take care of her before she can reveal our identities to anyone."

"Let's pump the breaks on the murder, alright Shortstack?" Heather couldn't help but snap. "Does your Batman actually kill? Because that's seriously messed up."

"He does not," Alfred confirmed, giving Damian a reprimanding glare.

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, muttering to himself. Tim and Alfred couldn't hear it, but Heather could perfectly. "This never would happen with Mother and Grandfather."

Tim's phone suddenly chimed at the same moment Heather heard tires crunching on the gravel outside the manor. "I'm guessing Bruce is here?" She asked Tim as he checked his phone.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Heather deflected.

Alfred finally lowered his gun and left, presumably to meet his employer and pseudo son at the door. Damian seemed to take this as an invitation to take out another dagger from some pocket and begin fiddling with it. Heather guessed this was his way of intimidating her, or it could have been a nervous habit. She didn't have the heart to tell him it was more cute than anything else.

The kid looked like he'd barely hit puberty. He reminded her of her own little brother and sister, which just made her homesick. She wanted to pull her phone out, just so she could see her photos and reassure herself that they were still out there, waiting for her, but she stopped herself from snapping her restraints. She needed this world's Batman to trust her, or she'd never get home.

"I'm assuming you're a meta human?" Tim asked her after he finished sending another text. He put his phone in his pocket so he could focus his attention on her fully.

"In a sense," Heather said reluctantly. "It's complicated."

"I have a friend who's the daughter of a demon, try me," Tim challenged.

"It's not that I'm refusing to answer the question, it's just seriously complicated," She explained. "Does this world have stable cloning technology?"

"Are you somebody's clone?"

"No- well, yes and no," She shook her head when he gave her an exasperated sigh. "Complicated! Ugh, okay, so my story starts way before I was born. On my earth there's a hero called Spider-Man. He was a regular guy who was bitten by a radioactive spider, giving him super powers."

"Usually when someone has a backstory like that, they turn to a life of crime, at least in my experience," Tim commented.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. I mean, he used his powers to win money in wrestling matches at first," Heather admitted, rolling her eyes. "He was young and dumb, don't worry about it - not important. The important thing is years later, Spider-Man gets a new rogue who called himself Jackal. The guy was crazy, but brilliant."

"We are familiar with the type," Damian commented quietly.

Heather snorted. "Trust me, I know, but unfortunately he was way less Nygma and his puzzles, and more like Crane with unethical experimentation. The guy manages to clone Spider-Man, except - plot twist - Spider-Man suddenly has a case of amnesia and he and the clone can't remember which of them is the real deal."

Tim whistled, "complicated."

"Oh trust me, tip of the iceberg," Heather complained, shaking her head. "I'll skip forward, or we'll be here for hours. The clone, he went by the name Scarlet Spider, eventually comes to a truce with Spider-Man and they become allies. In the meantime, Scarlet Spider and the woman who was once Spider-Man's fiance fall in love. Eventually, they have a kid." She shrugged as much as her restraints allowed her to.

"That was you," Damian guessed.

"Yep," Heather nodded. "Again, I'm going to skip forward for brevity's sake. I developed powers as I aged, but then suddenly one day my body freaks the fuck out. My DNA wasn't completely stable, being half human and half - er, clone slash radioactive meta slash freak lab accident." She sighed. Sometimes she couldn't believe this was her life. "My body mutated."

"It didn't kill you?" Tim asks, surprised.

"It almost did," she admits quietly. "Spider-Man saved my life. I was only nineteen."

"How old are you now?" Damian asked, almost politely.

"Almost twenty-four," Heather smiled. "My fiance, Kurt, is trying to plan a surprise party for me with my Dick Grayson's help. They're not succeeding, but it's adorable to watch so I'm letting it go for now."

"You weren't lying when you said you were close with him, were you?" Tim said, almost sounding like he was talking to himself.

"Robin was always one of my biggest heroes," Heather admitted. "When we finally met, he became one of my closest friends. He's practically my brother."

"That's why you were sure he would help you," Damian concluded.

"He's my best shot," Heather admitted as Bruce finally stepped into the cave, Dick right behind, followed by an Asian woman with short dark hair, and finally an African American teen about Tim's age.

Heather tilted her head at the woman and teen in confusion. The woman only smiled mildly and waved, while the teen mirrored her frown. Well, that's definitely new. Maybe this Bruce does have more of an adoption problem than mine.

"You got my message?" Tim asked.

"Yes. We've been watching the security cameras," Bruce muttered, eying Heather like she was one of the Riddler's newest puzzles. Which, ow.

"Hello," Heather said, giving a cheery smile despite the increase in suspicious eyes on her. "I'd get up to greet you, but..."

"Oh, this one has jokes," Dick said, coming to gently take Damian's dagger away. "That's refreshing. Last time we got someone from a parallel universe, they weren't any fun. Remember Bruce? The Stephanie doppelganger?"

"Dick," Bruce reprimanded before his eldest could go off on a tangent.

"Oh yeah, no, that one was no fun," Tim agreed, ignoring Bruce’s sigh. "This one says she's known you since you were Robin."

"Hey, I have!" Heather protested. "C'mon, we were all getting along so well. I mean, aside from the stabby child over there... but I have a feeling he's like that with most people?"

"We're trying to break him of the habit," Dick commented dryly.

"Did Damian stab her?" The black teen asked.

"Not quite," Tim shrugged. "She's fast."

"Aw, thanks Tim" Heather beamed. "That's like the nicest thing you've said to me all day. When I get home, I'll be sure to tell my Tim you were nice. Even if you do need to lighten up a little."

"What makes you think you're going anywhere?" Dick asked, but Heather couldn't hear any real threat in the words. She had a feeling this Dick had just as big of a heart as her world's.

"Look, obviously me being here is upsetting for multiple reasons. You guys love your privacy, and you hate having someone around who compromises that, I get it. Not to mention, it's probably not a good idea for someone from the wrong multiverse to stay here long term. I mean, I'm a biochemist not a theoretical physicist, but I'm assuming it's probably bad," Heather shrugged as much as her bonds allowed. "So, the way I see it is, you help me get back home, and we're all happy in the end. Right?"

"How can we trust that you're telling the truth?" Tim asked again, but she could tell Bruce was thinking it over.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Timmy," Heather told him honestly. "I mean, I could sit here all day telling you things that are true of my universe? Like, I know that Dick’s first pet was Zitka, the circus elephant. I know that my Tim basically blackmailed Batman into making him Robin. I know that my Alfred never uses cloves in his cooking because Bruce is allegic, which is why he never drinks the eggnog at the Justice League's Christmas party. Is any of that true in this universe? I don't have a clue. What I do know for certain is that you all are my only shot of getting home. If you won't help me..."

Heather swallowed, staring at nothing as the despair of that possibility hit her full force. "I'll never see my family again, and Kurt will never know what happened to me. Please, I'm begging here, help me get home."

Bruce crossed his arms and looked at the Asian woman that hadn't said a word so far. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, a little younger than this world's Dick. Heather had tried not to let it bother her, but the younger woman had been watching her intently the whole time they'd been talking. Heather couldn't help feeling like she was missing something as she watched the woman turn to Bruce and smile.

"Not lying. I trust her," She finally said.

The words were stilted in a way that normally Heather would associate with learning a new language, but the woman had a distinct Gotham accent. It almost reminded Heather of how her little sister used to talk when she'd started speech therapy, like the woman wasn't sure how to put her thoughts into spoken words.

"Okay, as much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, I have to ask - who are they?" Heather asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

"You don't have a Cassandra Cain or Duke Thomas in your world?" Dick asked.

Heather shook her head, "Doesn't ring a bell, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Like I was saying earlier, my timeline seems a little skewed from this one. My Tim is younger, and as far as I know, my Bruce doesn't have a bio kid. It's just Dick, Tim, Babs and me around."

"What about Jason Todd?" Bruce asked quietly, and if she hadn't known another version of this man so well she might not have heard his trepidation for the answer.

"That's... I mean..." Heather blew out a somber breath. "Jason was murdered by the Joker," she admitted reluctantly. Every face in the room fell, but there was an air of recognition to the grief. Clearly, the same fate had befallen their Jason as well.

Heather continued after a moment, "That was a few years ago. Recently, he, well... came back. Things are still a little delicate, so he's been staying with me and Kurt for the time being."

"Why isn't he home with us?" Dick asked.

Heather grimaced. "You have to understand, he wasn't in his right mind. He - well, he attacked our Tim and hurt him pretty badly. They're both doing better, but Jason hasn't forgiven himself and still has things to work through, and Tim needs time to recover mentally and emotionally. We're giving them both space until if and when they're ready to be in the same room."

"Wow, what a concept," Tim deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Bruce and Dick looked uncomfortable. Heather narrowed her eyes but decided not to ask. Not her circus, not her monkeys. She could only do so much for the Wayne family in her own universe; she couldn't possibly fix an entirely different one as well. Especially when she didn't have the complete picture.

"Ya know, I kind of wish we had a version of her," Duke spoke up. "That's like the most level headed decision I've heard from someone in this family in... no, scratch that, ever."

"Don't give me too much credit," Heather smiled, but it was self-derogatory. "I've had my fair share of screw ups, too. Sometimes, you just need an outside perspective." She sighed, wishing she could rub her eyes. "Look, I get that this is a lot to ask, but I have to track down Vibe before he disappears from this world, too. I can stay right here if it makes you all feel better, but I need help finding his tachyon signature so I can catch him and make him take us home. The batcomputer is my best chance."

"Quick question," Dick lifted a hand, frowning at her. "What do you mean by 'make us feel better'?"

Heather clicked her tongue and stood up, walking to the far wall of the cage, opposite the door. She flexed her muscles, snapping the metal grappeling cord like it was dental floss. As the cord fell into a pile on the floor, she reached forward and using two fingers on each hand, bent two of the steel bars towards each other into an 'x'. She stepped back from the cage wall and put her hands behind her back, shrugging sheepishly.

"You could escape at any time, couldn't you?" Duke guessed.

Heather nodded, chewing her cheek.

"You could have broken in here without alerting anyone, gotten what you wanted, and left without a trace," Tim added. "Just like how you got passed all of the security on the grounds."

"Well, I don't know about completely leaving without a trace," Heather hedged, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm not Kurt, I can't teleport, and I don't have invisibility either."

"Hn, perhaps you could explain your powers to us in detail while we start searching for your missing rogue," Bruce said.

She didn't know this Bruce or what had happened in his life to alter it from the man she did know, but she could hear the world's greatest detective in his voice and it made the anxiety in her chest melt. They weren't going to abandon her, they were going to help.

The only question left, was when?

[nine-of-words]

Something Borrowed (Part Ten)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5127

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

The horrors have been numerous and persistent for me lately, so this part took its sweet time getting written. Not much else to say about this chapter, other than I’m very excited to write the next one!!

It seems that things are determined to go sideways today. 

“Sorry to drop all of this on ya so early, but I knew you’d be awake.” Your sister’s voice comes through the speaker of your device.

You are indeed awake. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, despite it feeling like what you do the most these days- no idea why that would be- so you were already up and slowly trudging through your morning routine. But now you’re distracted with the call, going through making yourself a desperately needed cup of coffee mostly by feel in your dimly lit apartment kitchen.

“It’s okay- So, how exactly did this happen?”

“She took a wee tumble down the stairs. Got up in the middle of the night to get water, fell ass over kettle.”

“Oh, spirits. But you said it wasn’t serious, right?”

“Eh. Fractured her wrist, or so the doctor says. Right, Ma?” You hear a bit of noise in the background that sounds remarkably like your mother being quietly muttering in a displeased manner. “She’ll be right as rain soon enough. But she’s going to be in the cast for a tick.”

“Do I need to book a flight?”

“Hmm. You know we love to see ya- but nah. It's really not all that dire. Think she's tired of all the fuss by now, really.” She explains, before immediately switching into compulsory older sibling teasing. “Plus won't your new fella miss you? Unless you want to bring him along to meet what he's got to look forward to joining up with.”

“Haha… Yeah, you’re right. I suppose you’ll just have to wait…” You haven’t told them he’s not exactly your fella at the moment. What would you even say?

After a bit more conversation, Emer puts your mother on, and you speak to her for a short while. It assuages your worry a little, but not nearly enough to take the edge off. Though she's adamant you don't let her little mishap scare you into making sudden travel plans, you can't help but let it add to your ratings worries.

Maybe… you should go home?

You hang up your voci and look down at the brewed coffee that’s just started to drip through the filter. In your absent minded state, you’ve managed to put the exact mug you’ve been avoiding into the machine.

But there it is, the pink and white curves of ceramic reminding you of everything you're trying to push out of your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, pausing to stare vacantly at the mug.

Maybe putting an ocean between you and here will help you forget what you could have right now instead, if you weren't cursed.

You have all day to sit on it, you suppose, and can make a decision later. But you do have a business to run in the meantime, so you return to the process of adding your usual milk and sugar. 

It doesn’t help the bitter taste at all today.

Things don’t really go much better for you the longer the day progresses. 

“This is too sweet,” The older woman across the counter says, brandishing the mostly eaten cupcake in its paper lining. “I want a refund.”

“Well, it's a cupcake, m’am. It is mostly sugar…” You don’t even have the energy to muster your usual level of pleasantness. You barely keep from grimacing as you ring up the refund, just to get this person out of your hair.

Your customers are usually not this problematic, but you’re beginning to think that no one is having a good day today. You can deal with grumpy or picky people, but usually they’re not quite so many of them in a concentrated blast. Every little interaction is finding its way under your skin, and that’s not even taking into account how hard it is to concentrate and get any meaningful progress done.

Though, this is a task you’ve been pointedly avoiding that you’ll have to start sooner or later, today.

You’ve got to finish putting together Devin and Trevor’s cake- if you want it to be solid enough to put flowers in before delivery tomorrow night, which is rapidly approaching the longer you dawdle.

As in, nearly can be measured in hours instead of days soon.

It was different when it was just… anonymous cake layers you were cutting out and leveling. That could’ve been for anyone’s cake! But the more personality that goes into it, the more the subtle, nagging grief makes it difficult to work on.

You sigh and glob a stabilizing dollop of the vanilla buttercream- Trevor's choice- onto the base with your offset spatula.

It’s not as if you’re jealous that your ex is getting married at this point. You’re far past the stage of wanting him back by now. It just… all seems so unfair. Hopeless. He was able to wound you so deeply when he left- and just when you thought you had healed and moved on, carved out some new happiness for yourself- that got taken away, too.

Why should he get to be happy when you’re on the short end of the stick again?

You center a cake layer, then slather some more buttercream, spreading it out to make a glue for the next layer to adhere onto.

You’ll just have to think about it as Devin’s cake. It’s for your friend. That’s how you’ll get through this. You’ll do a good job, for your friend. Even if she’s marrying your ex, she should still get the best cake you can make for her, like you’d do for any other client.

Another layer of cake. A layer of elven berry compote that you made fresh yesterday- also Trevor’s choice, naturally. Another layer of cake. Then, repeat it all again.

As much as you try to rationalize that to yourself as you work through applying the crumb coat, you can’t help but realize you’ve been white-knuckling the spatula handle by time you’ve finished applying the buttercream.

Eventually, you have all of the crumb coated tiers ready on cake boards, to be given another coat and assembled after they’ve firmed up for a bit.

You mercifully shut the disassembled cake in the cooler, relieved that you don’t have to look at it for another few hours. Though, you have to hand it to yourself, even when your life is falling apart, you can make a bang-up gorgeous cake.

The demands of your business don’t stop just because you’re having a bad day and have other things to do, unfortunately. You’re not sure what portal to Hell has opened nearby, but it seems like all of the most awful customers have all decided to come to your shop today to take out their anger on you.

“No, we don’t do tiered pies here. I don’t even know if you’d be able to do that without making a mes- Well, okay. Have a nice day-” You say, though the person on the other end of the line has already hung up on you.

You turn to face the customer waiting at the counter, but before you can even greet them, they interrupt you with a snapping of their fingers.

“Where’s our waiter? I put our order into the kiosk twenty minutes ago and no one has even been by to so much as pour our water!”

“Oh, well, you can eat-in here, that’s what the seating is for, but we’re not a full service-”

“Ugh, fine! Just get me my order already, then.” The customer barks and you have to bite your tongue to restrain yourself from snapping back.

By time you reach another lull in activity and get back to work on Devin’s cake, your jaw and shoulders are fully tensed.

Since it’s slow, you take out the gumpaste. You have another tray of roses to sculpt so they can dry on time to place them tomorrow, so you might as well knock it out sooner than later.

Maybe none of this would be getting to you so much, but the full weight of the wedding being tomorrow is bearing down on you. The one saving grace is that Kirby will be there to distract you- at least you won’t be alone. You’ll deliver the cake, you’ll get through the ceremony, you’ll stay for a brief yet socially acceptable amount of time at the reception, and then you’ll go home and this whole excruciating ordeal will be over.

You just have to finish this cake and get through tonight first.

Only a few more hours until close. 

You can do this.

You make it another hour, rolling thinned pieces of sugary paste into delicate petals, before the bell door rings, and the person you see walk through the door gives you pause.

It’s not Carlyle, as you’ve been hoping it was every single time you hear the shop bell jingle since the last time you saw him. But it certainly looks like him, in everything but personal styling, and of course, the shape of the quartzose horns protruding from his brow.

Today it seems he’s left his body glitter at home, however. He’s dressed in relatively casual clothing; a hoodie (midriff still intact), untied slim joggers, immaculately clean sneakers. The difference is so staggering you might not have even recognized him as the same person, compared to his last visit, if he didn’t have Carlyle’s face; which you can now see clearly underneath his loose brown curls, this time not covered by the shadow of his hood.

“Hey.”

He gives you a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and smiles an uncannily similar, fanged smile to the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s a stab of pain, how sorely you miss it right now, and seeing it again, but just different enough to not be it.

“Uh. Hi, Marcus?” You say in a stilted manner, not really sure how to proceed. “You are… looking less gilded today than last time.”

“Hahahah, yeah. I didn’t have work last night, dude. No hangover!”

“Hah. Right…”

“But good to see you again, man! …I was wonderin-”

“Listen, if you’re here to deliver a message or something, I really can’t do this right now.” You cut him off, begging more than anything at this point to not have another thing go wrong or a twist of the knife today. You scrub at your face with your forearm to keep your hands sanitary, the deep pit of frustration starting to bubble out of you unintentionally. “And he knows to not-”

“Hey, no man, listen! It’s nothing like that.” He pats his curls down, the same way that his brother occasionally does with his dreadlocks when he’s smoothing out a misunderstanding. “He’d be PISSED if I knew he was here, hahah. He told me never to come here on my own after last time!”

“Well, maybe you should follow his instruction on that matter.” You say dryly and continue to roll the soft substance in silent judgement. “He usually knows what he’s talking about.”

Marcus seems to take this as a bad sign, his face twisting into a look of exasperation.

“Fine! Gimme a dozen cupcakes then. Fuck, make it any flavor, dude, I don’t even care.” He starts rifling through his pants pockets, finally pulling out his wallet, and then a card that he puts on the counter. It’s got his name printed on it, rather than Carlyle’s, so you suppose he’s gotten it replaced since the last time. “You’ve gotta talk to me if I’m a customer ‘n shit, right?”

“You know I do have the right to refuse service to you…?”

“Yeah man, but I don’t think you’re gonna! You’re too nice, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus says with the sort of shit-eating grin on his face that absolutely makes you want to refuse service to him, but with a vengeance.

“Well if you’re not here on your brother’s behalf…” You sigh in your own matching exasperated look and set down your gumpaste project to start boxing a dozen cupcakes. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest with you, dude. He didn’t send me, but it is about him. I’m like, super worried about him.”

“Oh…” You can’t help yourself, you have to ask. “Is he alright…?” 

“Hell no! He’s all fucked up, man! The other night, I left at 8pm and he was still in the same spot at 11am when I got back in. Same book, same fit, same stale cup of coffee. He had sat still in the same place reading whatever nerd shit he was reading for so long that he deadass went half solid.” 

You can’t find the words to respond to that. The guilt gnaws at you like you gnaw at your bottom lip, but in a strange way, you feel validated that he’s still as messed up about things as you are.

“Look, whatever he did, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s Lyle!! He like, never fucks up like that.” He leans over the counter, talking with his hands in another show of familiar, yet foreign-in-this-context expression. He taps his chest with the fingertips of a spread hand for emphasis. “And I would know, ‘cuz I’M the family fuck up here. So, maybe you could like, just forgive him and junk? Make up or whatever?”

“It’s not…” You take a second to steady your breath. You’ve been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, and now they’re getting dragged up so suddenly. “It’s not something he did. It’s… outside circumstances…”

You hesitate for a brief moment before you pick out the last of the random assortment; an orange and mixed spice flavor you found yourself trying out.

“That’s it? There’s no gettin’ around it, huh?”

“No. I'm sorry. It's complicated. I just can't.” You say with weakened conviction as you tape the box up, and then hoping to persuade yourself once again, add; “It’s better this way.”

“Right-” Marcus straightens up and rocks back and forth on his feet, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile with the motion. “Sorry if pushing was out of line, dude.”

“Don't worry about it- honestly, I'm sort of glad you showed up.” You smile, bittersweet. “It’s good that he has someone looking out for him.”

“Yeah.” Marcus smiles a conflicted smile back, then takes his cupcakes to go. “See you ‘round, dude.”

You find yourself having a silent argument with yourself as you finish the rest of the roses.

There’s the guilt, of course. Are you a bad person if you know that this separation is hurting you both, and yet you’re continuing to enforce it? Maybe you should have just let Marcus convince you to reach out?

Seeing someone with such familiar features has only made your heart ache that much more for what you’re missing.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have any customers in the shop at the moment, because they’d be able to clearly see you sneering at empty air and grumbling to yourself.

By the time you finish the last petal on the last rose of the tray, you’re no closer to having resolved your internal disagreement.

You put the roses away, and pull out your fully set, crumb-coated cake. Now just to put the final layer of frosting on, and then you’ll be done for the night.

As you set the tray down on the counter, your voci starts ringing in your pocket. You remove your gloves and answer the call, seeing that it’s Kirby. They’ve been checking in on you a lot more often lately, like you’re a sickly pet needing constant supervision. They're not entirely wrong.

You greet them as you put them on speaker. Then you wash up, and reglove as their voice comes through on the other end.

“So! How is your day going so far?”

“Oh, you know. Typical weekend customers. Ma broke her wrist.” You say flatly, smoothing out the buttercream on the top of the lowest cake tier with a spin of the stand with well-practiced motions.

“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is she okay??”

 “She’s fine, but it’s still stressful that I can’t be there to help out.”

Once you’re finished getting a perfectly even, level surface on the lowest tier, you begin the process again on a slightly smaller scale on the next largest cake tier.

“Mmm. Yeah, it must be, being so far away.”

“And Carlyle’s brother came into the shop earlier.” You continue, now lathing more buttercream onto the sides.

“Whaaaat??? No!! Glitter Boy?! Oh my SPIRITS you’ve gotta tell me all the details right now!”

“There’s not a lot to say, really. Told me Carlyle’s not taking it well either, and now I feel like a villain.”

“You’re not a villain,” Kirby sighs. “Sometimes things are just. Y’know. Messy.”

You continue to make your way through doing the final coat on the cake tiers, each one going progressively faster as they diminish in size.

“Oh, and how could I forget- I’m making a cake for my ex’s wedding that social pressure is forcing me to attend. So you know. The usual.”

“Hahah- Ooh, bummer. Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like, toooootally miserable! You’re having a pretty horrible day, and I’m… definitely not about to make it worse, hahah!!”

“Oh no.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “Something’s wrong, then?”

They laugh nervously, a little giggle-whimper that you can’t possibly be irritated with.

You’re silent as you begin to fill a piping bag with buttercream, waiting for Kirby to divulge their information.

“I MAY have some bad news.”

“Oh. Lovely. Just grand! More bad news is exactly what I need at this current moment.” You say, dripping with sarcasm.

“I know!!! Believe me, I know! But I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.” Kirby sighs. “I just got out of a meeting with my boss and they’re sending me out of town on a case. I have to get on a red eye in a few hours.”

“But… the wedding is tomorrow…”

“Yeah, that would be the problem! But I can’t exactly tell my boss to fuck off and still have a job, y’know??? Soooooo. We are in. damage. control. mode!”

“It’s okay.” You say, it not really being okay at all, but not wanting to lash out at your friend who’s only ever tried to help you in any given situation. You’re simply too stunned to even start to panic.

“Nope! It’s ABSOLUTELY not! But I’ll be there in like, an hour!! I’ll bring dinner and we can totally figure out a plan B, okay? Or I guess plan C or D by now- But bestie, I don’t care if I have to HIRE an escort to take you to that wedding, you’re not going alone! Especially not because of stupid work interference!!”

“Hah- A-Alright.” You laugh weakly and speak through a sharp intake of air, but manage to not sound like you’re about to burst into tears, even though you desperately want to. “See you soon.”

The call ends, but you continue working, despite the rapidly expanding pit of terror in your gut and the sting at the back of your eyes.

This news, surprisingly, does not help your ability to finish this cake.

You keep going, but not without roadblocks. Your eyes screw closed in frustration and pain. Your teeth grit. Your hand clenches around the bag, nearly squeezing the frosting out of the back end of it.

As a small mercy, closing time finally comes and you turn off the light, though you leave the door unlocked, given you’re expecting Kirby sometime in the next hour or so.

You need to move on to piping some of the finer details- But you can't even think about piping an even line right now, not with the way your hand is trembling.

Still, you persist, pushing the bag back taut and re-twisting the open end. 

“Stop. Shaking.” You hiss out loud at yourself, your body refusing to obey even your own verbal instructions.

You just need to get this cake done. Is that so much to ask?

Kirby is coming over and you’ll find a solution for the wedding. You won’t have to go to your ex's wedding alone. It will be fine.

The tremor in your hand nearly causes you to stab through the layer you’re working on with the piping tip, so you take a moment to straighten up your posture and try to loosen your locking muscles. You take a few calming breaths, then go back in and manage to finish the last few filigree details on the tier you're working on.

Your hand is already shaking again. You ignore it. You’ll get through this. You have to.

But every time you regain focus, the thought of Carlyle as a miserable and inert statue keeps creeping back unbidden into your mind.

It’s all too much. Too much. Too much.

The lights above you flicker. A buzz of energy ripples through the room.

The pressure on your chest is unbearable now. Blood rushes in your ears. 

You can’t deal with this anymore.

You can’t even think-!

POP-

In an instant, something cold and cloying splatters across the side of your face and the bridge of your nose, the front of your shirt, your clenched hands and outstretched forearms.

You bring a hand to your face in shock, blindly testing the sudden change in texture.

Your fingertips come away coated in sticky, sugary goop, and bits of shredded vanilla sponge cake.

And where the cake tiers were sitting on the counter, there’s a conspicuous absence of a cake, only the sparse large chunk of shrapnel- a bloodless crime scene, the mostly empty, frosting smeared cakeboards evoking the essence of a chalk body outline.

Well. You’ll be damned.

The cake exploded.

Hoarse, incredulous laughter escapes your throat- first in disbelief, then in bitter resignation. No other reaction really seems to suit this situation more.

Because your life is a joke. A bad joke.

Your laughs thin out, turning into choked sobs. You sink down until you’re sitting on your cold shop floor with your back against a cabinet, and bring the lower clean edge of the apron up to cry into.

Eventually, the unrestrained weeping quiets into silent tears Time has passed, as evidenced by the sky beginning to darken outside. 

“Heeeeellooooo~! I’m heee-” You hear a familiar voice call out and then equally familiar hoof falls on the tile. There’s a rapid change in their tone, making a 180° turn into hushed concern. “Oh. Well fuck, that doesn’t look good-” 

After a few moments, Kirby rounds the counter, an inquisitive look on their face.

You can’t even muster the embarrassment to be seen like this, too tired and emotionally drained and just simply done with it all.

You expect a look of pity or maybe some awkward fussing, but instead, Kirby simply gives you a knowing smile.

“What a mess!!” Kirby shakes their head, curls tumbling as they assess the damage. “You’re not hurt, are you, honey?”

You shake your head weakly, rubbing at your eye with your inner wrist.

“Good! Well then, let’s get this all cleaned up!” They chirp and reach out their hand, palm up.

After the moment it takes to recognize the gesture, you take their hand. Kirby’s grip is surprisingly strong for being such a petite faun, and they easily manage to help you to your feet.

“You don’t have to-” 

“Well I’m NOT going to let you sit here and cry covered in frosting all night.” Kirby laughs, beginning to roll up the sleeves of their work shirt. “So. Yes I do~”

“...Thank you.” You sniffle.

“Don’t mention it!!” They laugh. “You go get cleaned up and I’ll start tackling this absolute disaster zone!”

You trudge upstairs and debate on the benefits of a full shower before deciding that it’s worth it, even if ten more cakes explode. You’re uncomfortably sticky down your neck and arms. 

Maybe you can wash this day away, while you’re at it…

Before long you’re redressed and coming back downstairs- if not feeling completely refreshed, you at least now have it in you to face the (suddenly much longer) list of tasks ahead. Kirby has gotten most of the cake into a trash bag, and is wiping down the counter.

“There, you look much better! Now, come tell me what was happening when this happened, will you?”

You join them, grabbing a sanitizer rag and beginning to help wipe down the closest surface. You describe as best you can exactly what you were doing, feeling, and thinking about when the cake exploded, just as you’ve explained to them about the previous incidents that you weren’t physically present for.

“Hmm.” Kirby hums quizzically. “Well, the good news is I’ve got a potential solution for the wedding dilemma.”

“Oh?” You’d be lying if you said that the promise of a stressor being removed didn’t sound divine.

“Actually, I’ve already convinced Rosario to go with you, if you want, while I was on the way over. Did you know that she’s surprisingly easy to bribe?!” Kirby giggles. “But to be honest- I didn’t even need to bribe her!! She agreed before I offered anything in return. Apparently wedding cake and an open bar is enough reason for her to turn up, or so she said. But I think it’s because she likes you.”

“That’s… very kind of her.” She wouldn’t be the worst companion for the event- you’ve grown quite fond of her presence in your shop, prickly attitude and all.

“Yeah! She’ll easily make your ex just as uncomfortable as I was planning to, all on her own merit, hehe!! BUUUUUT, I think you know what I’m about to say-”

“Don’t…”

“You should call him!” Kirby says in the most obnoxiously sing-song sweet tone they can, and you wince hard.

“I can’t-”

“But you can~!!”

“But I don’t think I should-”

“Well, maybe you should think again, sweetie!! You absoluuuuutely should! Because if this-” Kirby motions to the partially cleaned up buttercream splatter still coating the vicinity. “Isn’t proof enough that it’s not a him problem, I don’t know what would be!!”

You drag a palm across your face, overwhelmed, and heave a sigh.

“At the end of the day it’s your choice! I can’t make you call him. But you miss him, and he misses you! I know this for a fact! And SPIRITS is he being SO insufferable about it!! And so are you!!!! And it’s just a BIT silly to keep drawing this out like this.”

“But… I don’t want him to get hurt…”

“Listen. We know there’s something attached to you- Rosario’s exorcism attempt confirmed that much. But there’s no like, actual indication that any of that is related to what’s happening with the curse. It’s just not how this kind of magic works. We’re almost certain we’re dealing with two unconnected, non-standard issues complicating each other at this point- some sort of spirit attached to you, and some sort of ley-based magical compulsion in play- but we don’t know the source of where either of those things are coming from. Yet.”

“Right.” You say, pausing your cleaning work to take in the new information.

“Though, someone has some very promising ideas about the later being some sort of messed up geas, and Rosario seems like she has a hunch on what is in the shop.”

“But… it just feels like it’s getting worse. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, of course…”

“I know it feels that way. But I am good at my job! And I’ve been keeping track of the numbers this whole time, y’know?? I’ve got the DATA. Do you know what I’ve noticed the most as a trend over the time I've been working your case?”

You simply shake your head to give them time to build dramatic tension before they continue.

“The cakes explode more when you’re upset!! Like, a whole, whole lot more! And quite frankly at this point, in my professional opinion, you being separated from him is making it WORSE!!”

“...You really think it’d be okay to ask him-” To go back to how it was before, to be with me again; you want to say, but end up continuing instead; “to come with me to the wedding?”

You have the feeling Kirby understands what you wanted to say, anyway, based on their pleased expression, like they’re finally getting the message through to you.

“You’re my friend!! And as your friend, I am HEREBY giving you the permission that you’re not giving yourself! I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I didn’t think it was safe.” Kirby squarely lays their hands on you on the shoulders, though they need to reach up slightly to do it. “If anything, having him there might keep you from getting bent out of shape at your ex and blowing up the second cake, like, at the actual wedding.”

“That would be horrible.” You rasp and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time all day, trying to blink back the sting of more tears threatening to spill, though this time more out of a sense of appreciation than despair.

“It. Would. Be. HILARIOUS.” Kirby says with a mischievous grin, patting your shoulders with each word for emphasis. “And if it were to happen, I would hope you were recording it. Y’know, for data collection purposes, hehehe!! But it would also be, let’s say: bad for business.”

You manage to finish getting things looking clean, as if nothing bad had happened at all, Kirby has called their ride to the airport.

“Now, I have to go or I’m going to miss my flight and my boss will probably-actually-literally murder me.” 

“And I have a cake to remake.” You quietly lament. “If you want, I can get on the plane and you can make the cake…”

Kirby lets out a string of giggles, picking their carry-on bag off the seat at the counter they stashed it on..

“Hahah- No thanks!! But- Call him.” Kirby repeats as they give you a squeezing hug goodbye. “Or Rosario, if you must. But don’t make yourself go alone. And keep me updated!! All of the juicy wedding gossip, please. I’m definitely going to be bored out of my mind otherwise, hehe!!”

Then they release you from their grip to head out the door with one last wave and a jingle of the shop bell. 

You, on the other hand, let out a long, withering sigh and pull out another set of white cake layers from the cooler.

…It’s going to be a long night.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[princess-leaorgana]

Fond of You pt. 3

Summary: Cursed by Shadow Magic and a bomb inside of himself, Gale of Waterdeep takes on one more challenge. Prequal to my longer series 'Of Waterdeep' that I'll be writing little bits of here and their that reflect events that take place in-game.

Gale x Tav (Tavriel, human sorcerer female, described)

M/F

Warnings- Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, smut chapter

Read here on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2

‘But the desperate one who would love such a pathetic man must hunger for greater delights deep down.’

Tavriel almost lost her own life. Her and her companions were finally in Moonrise Towers. This was supposed to be the beacon of the Absolute’s power. This was it, all they had to do was follow direction, keep their heads down and get close enough to Ketheric Thorm, and they would finally face her. The false deity. Their slaver, whoever it was behind the power of these strange illithid tadpoles. At least, that is what they had hoped. Right now, Tavriel was attempting to play nice with a Disciple of the Absolute who seemed to take orders directly from the General, a half orc named Z’rell. She easily accessed Tavriel’s mind and Tavriel pictured the very first thing that popped into her head to keep Z’rell away from her real thoughts. Z’rell could not know the group was trying to take down the Absolute, so Tavriel pictured in her mind the only other thing she could bring to the forefront. Gale. 

Besides destroying this evil and saving her own life, Tavriel had very little to think about at all. She didn’t dare think of her family, she didn’t think of her home. She couldn’t think of anything but the fight ahead and Gale, the bright spot in her dark adventure. Z’rell seemed to take the bait, but it did not go exactly as planned. Z’rell was distracted away from Tavriel’s true intentions of being at Moonrise, but indulged Gale in the mix. Tavriel tensed and she felt Astarion’s cold hand on the small of her back, steadying her. He was quick and subtle, he would ground her without letting Z’rell notice. This was a very delicate and dangerous little game and somehow Asterion was the one in control. Tavriel did calm her anger, and she would need to. The next few hours were horrific. The Shadowlands brought curses to vanquish, but Moonrise was just death and death and murder and hiding. They had made it out, back to the Last Light Inn, with a prison break of tieflings and gnomes found in the dungeons.

Most of the companions stayed at the actual inn. It was very nice finally sleeping on a bed, as disgusting as those beds may have been, it still was better than sleeping on the dirt. The tieflings were reunited with their families, friends and loves, as were the Ironhand gnomes, though, love and friendship wasn’t exactly what was going on between all of them. Tavriel was happy for it and would have loved to drink and celebrate with them all, but through all of that day’s events, one thing stuck in her mind. Z’rell’s little comment about Gale.

‘Pathetic man…’

Tavriel knocked on the door to the room Gale had disappeared to, he had been exhausted, rightfully so. The work he had been doing, the power he had been putting behind his magic since they entered the Shadow Cursed Lands earned him the right for an early night. Tavriel hoped he was ready for one more thing. Her injury was more or less healed. Gale was no longer a ticking time bomb. Tavriel had something to prove to a certain half-orc about her wizard. Gale appeared at the other side of the door and his eyes grew with joy seeing Tavriel.

‘Well, hello there, I had you pegged for a party goer,’ he said and Tavriel shook her head. He was already dressed down for the evening.

‘You said that the last time we rescued tieflings, and as you’ll recall, that time I also just wanted to spend the evening with you,’ she said and he smiled and looked down, playfully defeated.

‘I still think you should enjoy yourself,’ he told her, his grin never faded.

‘What do you think I’m doing here?’ She asked and he looked back up at her. She searched his brown eyes for a moment, allowing him a minute to speak. That never came. ‘Gale, did you forget your manners? Could I come in?’ She asked and Gale straightened right up.

‘Oh! Of course, I didn’t think…uhm,’ he fumbled and stepped back, giving her room to step into his room. Tavriel smiled and stepped in. Gale had already made himself quite at home. She hadn’t even unpacked, hoping she might not need a room of her own, of course. Candles for reading and a warm glow were lit around the room. Plush purple blankets on the bed, a book opened on top of them. A bottle of wine and a single glass on the bed stand.

‘How you make a warm space in such a nightmare of a place, I’ll never understand,’ she said and Gale shut the door behind her.

‘A talent of a spoiled upbringing, I’m afraid,’ he said and she laughed. ‘And you know…exceeding magical talent,’ he added and Tavriel laughed harder. She walked over to him, hands clasped behind her back.

‘Gale, uhm…about that little conversation with Z’rell,’ she began and Gale’s face fell.

‘Ah, yes, quite the shot to the ego. I have a feeling she’s got a talent for making people feel lesser,’ he said, his tone a bit playful, but it was clear what the commander had said affected him. Zelphie frowned and walked over to him.

‘People like her will do anything to make others think they aren’t as great as they think they are. You’re nothing like how she described, Gale,’ she told him and reached out for his hand. He smiled a little softer and took her hand. ‘You are amazing, not just for your exceeding magical talents,’ she said, quoting him from a moment ago and he chuckled. ‘But for the man, the human that stands before me. I think Gale of Waterdeep is a wonderful, caring, funny person. Nothing about him is pathetic, the very opposite, in fact,’ she continued and Gale leaned closer to her and placed his forehead onto hers. She pressed her forehead to his. ‘I love the man you are,’ she whispered and Gale searched her eyes for a moment before she lifted herself up on her toes to kiss him. She felt Gale’s lips on hers and his hand on her cheek. She sighed happily and reached her free hand to place it on his chest, her palm on his shirt, her fingertips touching the skin of his chest. 

‘I love you too,’ Gale whispered, but kissed her once more. He sighed against her and Tavriel’s hand left his and traveled to his neck. With a hand free now, he placed a hand on her hip and held her close. Tavriel’s heart fluttered. She had come to see Gale for this exact reason, she wanted to sleep with him. She had wanted that for a while, but now he was ready and so was she. At least she hoped he was ready. She felt so warm against him, and she wished she had been as undressed as him. She was nervous about this, but her desire for Gale kept her up at night. ‘I need you,’ he whispered and Tavriel moaned against his mouth.

‘You have me, Gale,’ she whispered. Her hand on his neck moved up to the back of his head, burying her fingers in his thick hair. He pulled back a little and made eye contact with her. She looked up at him earnestly, memorizing his face as she had made a habit of doing. His eyes were so deep, they were warm, she would live in his gaze for eternity. ‘I mean it, I want this…you and I. I mean it when I tell you I love you. As a companion and as a lover,’ she told him and she saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

‘Tav, I…gods I wish it could be different, I wish we were home, in Waterdeep,’ he whispered and she giggled.

‘I don’t live in Waterdeep,’ she told him playfully.

‘Wherever you want, I’d stay with you in Avernus if that would make you comfortable,’ he said and she reached back up to kiss him again. He took her hands and walked her over to the bed. Her heartbeat so quickly, being led by him, watching him slowly walk backwards. ‘But our imaginations will have to do for now,’ he said and motioned for her to sit. Tavriel sat and Gale sat next to her. She leaned over for another kiss, which he gave but cut short with a little laugh. ‘Close your eyes, I want to make love to your as the gods would,’ he told her and his hands hummed with a purple glow. Tavriel’s eyes widened a little and she looked back into his eyes.

‘Gale…could…I don’t want illusions…if that’s alright,’ she told him and his brows stitched together. ‘I asked you about being with mortals before Mystra because I wanted to make sure…that you’d be comfortable,’ she told him.

‘But Tavriel, you deserve to be treated like the goddess you are, I wish to wow you,’ he told her, the purple mist fading from his hands. She shook her head.

‘I want human Gale, I want to feel…you, for our first time. I want the first time to be special because I love you, not because I want to see stars or an astral plane or the pantheon. I want Gale,’ she told him and placed a hand on his chest. ‘I want to feel the man I love,’ she finished, her fingers touching his chest and he looked down at her hand and took it, kissing it.

‘You will have what you wish, but, I must warn you, it has been a long time,’ he explained and she smiled.

‘Follow my lead then,’ she told him. Gale was terrified. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another person. Besides the tadpole, Tavriel’s hand pulling him from his own portal was the first time in a year he had touched another human. He didn’t even visit his own mother during his isolation. He knew how to make a person happy in bed, but the time it had been since a person had touched him like this made him weary of his stamina. 

Tavriel stood up off the bed and brought her hands up to the clasp of her robes, unhooking it and undoing the buttons underneath. She allowed the heavy cotton garment to fall. Under her robes were a pair of trousers, her boots and a bra, no shirt. Gale’s eyes grew and Tavriel felt a warm course through her at his lingering stare. She watched his face while she kicked her boots off. Gale was gorgeous, in her mind that was a fact, not an opinion. But the look in his eyes, those big brown eyes, did all the work for him in that moment. She shuffled herself out of her trousers and she walked back to Gale, kneeling in front of him. He sat up straighter.

‘Now what are you going to do down there?’ He asked, pretending to be playful, but his breathless voice showed his nerves. Tavriel giggled and placed her hand on his calf. She removed his slippers and sat on her knees, helping him with his trousers. It wasn’t obvious when she looked, but as she undid the ties, she could feel his hardness through the fabric. Gale sighed a little at the touch and Tavriel grinned. ‘Oh…I’m afraid it’s not going to take very much,’ he said softly as he slipped out on his trousers.

‘Get up on the bed Gale,’ she told him and stood up. He stood up with her, removing his shirt. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking at his broad shoulders. Goodness, why was he so muscular? Gale was unlike most men she knew, he was covered in hair, it certainly didn’t end with his coif and his beard.

‘I would rather you get on the bed first,’ he said boldly and Tavriel did as requested. Gale said he was nervous about this, so if he was comfortable taking the lead, she would give that to him. Tavriel laid on the soft blanket and Gale joined her, crawling over her and she felt a chill run through her. ‘You are so devastating,’ he told her softly and she placed her hands on his cheeks and he dipped down to kiss her. He laid on top of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips parted and she could taste the wine on his lips. She sighed happily and couldn’t help rolling her hips up to his, grinding herself against his growing erection. Gale’s lips traveled to her neck. His beard tickled her skin and she felt more warmth at her core. She took one of his hands and guided it in between them, Gale’s fingers gliding over the fabric of her underwear, already quite damp with her arousal. She sighed, even at such a gentle touch he made her melt.

‘You see what you’ve done to me? Anytime you look at me, compliment me, touch me, I get just like this,’ she whispered and Gale’s fingers moved her underwear to the side. Tavriel gasped, feeling his fingers almost tickle her sensitive skin. Her hand returned to the back of his head, pulling his hair gently. His lips returned to hers and his fingers gently stroked her lips, teasing her as each time he almost parted them. She moaned against his mouth and Gale sat up a little. She couldn’t help the whine that escaped her lips and he had no choice but to laugh.

‘Come now, off with these,’ he told her softly, pulling at the delicate cotton covering her. She lifted her hips and removed her underwear and Gale stood on his knees, looking at her. She felt self conscious for a moment until he leaned over and nimbly untied her bra with one finger. She shuffled it off quickly and Gale took in the sight of her. Through his underwear Tavriel could see his erection and her heart thumped in her chest. What would he feel like? How would he like it? Gentle? Fast? Hard? Slow? She was nervous but so excited to see what he would like. ‘Nothing in any realm could compare to you…’ he whispered and grinned. ‘You were right, Tavriel, this is so much better, I don’t know what I was thinking earlier. The stars are dim compared to your beauty,’ he told her and he placed his thumb on her slit and she gasped. She felt like melting butter. Gale’s thumb parted her lips and Tavriel sighed as she felt him touch the most sensitive area of her body. Her back arched and Gale almost whimpered. ‘Nothing in the weave could compare, my love,’ he whispered and Tavriel sighed again, his thumb was gentle, he was just touching. It felt divine, who else to have a gentle touch than a wizard? A wizard that loved her, that would take joy in her pleasure.

‘Oh…oh that feels so nice,’ she whimpered and closed her eyes. Gale leaned over, still making easy circles over her clit and brought his lips to her left breast. She squeaked when she felt his lips and tongue on her nipple. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, her body giving him full control. She felt spoiled. He didn’t agree to that. He loved watching her lose herself, be something she wasn’t around anyone, around him. He was drinking her in, he felt powerful. As much as he would consider himself a gentleman, he was still a hot blooded man. He still loved to watch his lover lose themselves to him. Power and pleasure, and Gale was nothing if not ambitious.

‘Is that the right spot?’ He whispered and she squealed.

‘Yes, a little faster,’ she whimpered and he chuckled.

‘As you wish,’ he whispered and leaned down to kiss her neck. She arched against him, whining. ‘I love how you sing for me,’ he muttered and Tavriel was slowly losing it. Her toes were curling, but she had to relax. She wanted to finish, to show him how much he turned her on. How much power Gale had over her. That would come quickly with Gale’s next move. He moved his finger and she whined. He chuckled and dipped down, laying his stomach on the bed and took her legs over his shoulders. Tavriel gasped, watching him. This would be the first time she would experience a man going down on her. She propped herself up on her elbows. She watched as his mouth met her cunt and she whimpered. His mouth was so warm, but his lips were plush and his tongue licked up her. His brows furrowed with concentration as his tongue found the little bundle of nerves. He was beautiful, and she was melting against him. Her heels dug into his back, which elicited a moan from him. His moan vibrated against her and she threw her head back and she moaned loudly. She felt Gale’s fingertips dig into her hips as his tongue lashed quicker against her.

‘Yes, yes, just like that,’ she panted, her chest heaving and she attempted to relax herself. It might have been a long time for Gale, but he was an expert. Clearly, wizards were good enough with their mouths to cast complex spells, Gale being a very gifted wizard. This was all proven in his skill, keeping his pace completely consistent. ‘Oh gods…’ she cried and Gale hummed against her, making her toes curl. Her fingers dug into the mattress under her, and she arched her back. Gale followed her, concentrating on her pleasuring. She felt a quick burst of warmth. She glanced at Gale’s face once more. His brown eyes were looking back at her. Her orgasm blinded her. Gale watched her, not changing anything about what he was doing, except letting her hips go, allowing her to ride out her orgasm as she liked. Her legs widened and her hips ground greedily against Gale. She felt his tongue lick her greedily, moaning more against her. She felt her whole body relax in such a needed warmth, one she had not felt in very long. Her sensitivity ramped up and she pulled on Gale’s hair and he sat up, wiping her slick moisture from his face and beard, wearing a giant grin. 

‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, crawling up to meet her. Tavriel sat up and her lips eagerly found his. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he shuffled himself out of his own underwear. Her heart thumped loud enough against her chest he more than likely felt it too. She was very nervous about this, but she wanted it terribly. She felt him against her wet center and sighed, tensing a little. Gale lifted his head, breaking their kiss. ‘Is this what you want tonight?’ He asked and pressed his forehead to hers. She had quite the grip of his neck with her arms. They were both nervous.

‘Yes, Gale, I want to feel you inside of me, I want your pleasure as much as my own,’ she whispered and he nodded. ‘Gently, please,’ she finished and he smiled.

‘I know how to do that,’ he reassured her and kissed her face, little kisses and she felt his hand adjusting himself against her. ‘Spread your legs a little more,’ he whispered and she obeyed, her legs apart and her feet on the bed. ‘And relax,’ he said, pressing himself against her opening, which was still very sensitive. She shuddered and winced a little. He slowly pressed himself further and she groaned. Gale’s face returned to hers, watching her face and he slid inside of her slowly. She blinked quickly, it did hurt, but she would try and relax as he asked.

‘Oh Gale,’ she moaned softly, her voice shaking. Gale groaned with her.

‘You are…oh gods you feel…’ he muttered and Tavriel leaned up to kiss him. He kissed her back and she felt him move out of her a little and she whimpered when he slowly pushed back in. That felt nicer. She relaxed a little and her hands got lost in his hair. He still tasted like her. Three more quick movements and Gale cursed and tensed up. Tavriel had no idea what was happening. He groaned loudly and a little whimper escaped his lips.

‘I love you,’ she whispered, as he was frozen on top of her. He looked down at her and frowned.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered and she frowned. Why did he stop?

‘Are you alright? Did I do something-?’

‘No! No…I am…I’m fine I just,’ he said and she gasped as he removed himself completely. Tavriel frowned as he sat up and rolled off of her. ‘You are…dangerous,’ he said and she rolled to her side, frowning. He looked over at her and sighed. ‘I told you, it’s been a very, very long time. Mystra and I never…I don’t know if it would be possible for us to do what we just did, and I was with her for quite a while. So…’ he continued and Tavriel’s mouth opened a little. 

‘Oh…so you…did you finish?’ She asked and he nodded, his neck going red. Tavriel smiled. That was better than what she had thought had happened. ‘Oh, well, don’t apologize for that, that’s natural, and you were quite the gentleman, making sure I was taken care of,’ she said and grinned. He shook his head and laughed.

‘Well, generosity is always a noble virtue,’ he said with such a grin on his face. ‘Whether it be in the streets, at the charity box, or betwixt the sheets,’ he said, very proud of himself. Tavriel laughed and shook her head.

‘Gale!’

‘Besides, given my propensity towards verbosity, it surely can't be a surprise that I have a practiced tongue,’ he said, very quickly and very boldly. Tavriel almost swallowed her own tongue.

‘Well, not that you need any encouragement, but you are incredibly gifted with your…tongue,’ she said with a giggle and he grinned at her. ‘I do feel a little guilty, however…’ she said and Gale raised an eyebrow.

‘You shouldn’t. Besides our gloomy endeavor, this is the best I’ve felt in a long time,’ he told her and turned to his side, placing a hand on her cheek. She smiled at him. 

‘I hope that with all of your…own personal hurdles you faced these last few days you don’t think I came in here just to take advantage of that practiced tongue,’ she told him and his smile and eyes warmed from their cocky attitude. She did come into Gale’s room during a party to sleep with him, that was true, but she only did it because she knew they had both wanted a night like this for a while.

‘Ah, am I the object of your pity?’ He asked her and she frowned.

‘No, no, of course not, Gale, I just…I hope you know that this meant more to me than a little romp after a victory, you know? I…I love you so terribly and I hope this is the first of many nights, I go to bed every night thinking about this,’ she told him and she felt his thumb on her cheek. He was gently stroking her cheek and she smiled, feeling very tired all of a sudden. It had been a long day.

‘As do I, Tavriel, as do I. And I will do everything I can to make sure we can still spend more time alone, together. Alone,’ he said and she leaned over to kiss him. He kissed her back. He pulled her close and she giggled, but didn’t break their kiss. She was itching to be as close to him as possible. ‘If the world is still standing tomorrow,’ he muttered in between kisses. ‘I would very much like to take you to the pantheon, if you’ll have it,’ he said and she giggled again.

‘I’ll go anywhere with you, my love.’

[thebadgerclan]

Break The Sound Barrier

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox

Summary: When the emails leak, there's only one place Alex needs to be...

A/N: GO WATCH THIS MOVIE IF YOU HAVE PRIME!!!!! I had to expand on this particular scene, I just had to

(I've been writing some multi-chapter fics for firstprince over on AO3 if anyone's intersted!)

“You know what?  I’m coming to London tonight.  Just hold on until I get there.  We’ll figure this out.  As soon as the words left Alex’s mouth, Henry had been restless.  Pacing the halls, organizing and reorganizing his bookshelf, weeding out David’s toys, trying (and failing) to throw out the old ones (how could he, when he literally gave him puppy-dog eyes?), mind numbing tasks to distract him from the literal ocean separating him from the man he loved when he needed him most.

After three hours, Henry had taken to staring out the window like a war-era woman waiting for her husband to return from war.  Then a car pulled up to the gates, and Henry thought he might throw himself out the window to get to Alex faster.  But he settled for hurrying from his perch, down the stairs, and….There he was.  His Alex, his love, he was here.  Henry was barreling down the stairs, Alex was running up them, and they met in the middle, crashing into each other, clinging to each other desperately.  

They sank to the ground, in the middle of the stairs, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Henry was holding Alex like he might evaporate if he let go, and Alex was holding Henry like he wanted to shelter him from the world, like he wanted nothing more than to protect him from anything and everything.  Finally, Alex spoke.  “I’m here, baby,” he whispered, and Henry shattered, turning his face into Alex’s neck and sobbing.

Alex tightened his arms around him, kissing the top of his head.  “I’m sorry,” Henry cried.  “I’m so sorry.”  “Baby, Henry, no.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  None of this is either of our faults, baby.”  Henry only sniffled, keeping his face buried in Alex’s shoulder.  “Henry, look at me.”  Slowly, he lifted his head, and Alex’s heart cracked seeing his puffy and red-rimmed eyes.  “Baby,” Alex cooed, wiping tears from Henry’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  “Whatever happens next, I’m with you.  I love you, Henry, and I’ll fight for you.”

“I love you too,” Henry replied.  “God, I love you.  But…I’m scared, Alex.”  Alex nodded, resting his forehead against Henry’s.  “I’m scared too, baby.  But I’ve got you, whatever they try to throw at us.  Because I love you so fucking much, Hen, and….I feel forever about you.”  Henry nodded, fresh tears welling up.  But these were happy tears, spurred on by Alex’s appearance, his willingness to be here, to fight for him.  And Henry, well, he felt forever about him too.

After a few minutes, Alex coaxed Henry to his feet and shepherded him back to his rooms, where they barely managed to climb into bed before Henry was wrapped around Alex like a vine.  Henry was exhausted, and being in Alex’s arms was like a sedative.  Yet he was reluctant to sleep, fearing that when he woke, Alex would be gone.  “Go to sleep, baby,” he whispered, smoothing Henry’s hair back from his face.  “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

Eventually, Henry nodded off, and for the first time in weeks, he slept soundly.  When he woke, Alex’s arms were no longer around him, but there was still a warm presence at his side.  When Henry opened his eyes, it was to find Alex propped up against the headboard, David curled in his lap.  “Morning, baby,” Alex said, a warm smile on his face.  “I hate to break it to you, but I think your dog loves me more.”  Henry rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Well, he does take after me, and I do love you very much.”  He sat up further, pressing a kiss to Alex’s lips, drawing a huff from David, who’d been squished between them.  Henry cuddled into Alex’s side, who pulled him close, kissing his temple.  “I’m scared people will hate me now,” Henry admitted, one hand stroking David’s fur, the other linking with Alex’s.  “They call me ‘The Prince of England’s Hearts’.  Now that they know….I don’t know.”

“Well….you’re the king of my heart, that’s gotta count for something, right?”  It took Henry a moment, then he was laughing.  “Did you just call me a Taylor Swift song?”  “Maybe,” Alex replied, laughing now too.  “It’s not my fault her songs seem to fit our life so well!”  Henry smiled, pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek.  “We’ll be alright, won’t we?” he asked, and Alex nodded, squeezing his hand tightly.  “Yeah, baby.  We will.”

[yet-another-heathen]

Rising to the West - I

2,576 words. The first re-penned chapter in my original series, The Jackal of An-Nadr. 

For new readers, The Jackal is an ongoing whump series set in 1,200 BCE, where pre-Islamic fantasy meets the love of bloody sword fights, found family, and handsome men who long for nothing more than home. I am so excited for this unveiling, the love that you all have shown this series over the past several years means more to me than I could ever say. This is for you <3

- Masterpost -

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Chapter Warning | environmental whump, epic worldbuilding, demonic pirates and the massive sandships they sail, marooned in the middle of the desert with no hope of rescue, deadly levels of dehydration, very near-death experience, very brief allusion to noncon, prayer/fantasy religion, evading capture, foot injury

Taglist | @killtheprotagonist @secretwhumplair @ink-and-salt @kixngiggles @brutal-nemesis @thebewilderer @whumpsical @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whimperwoods @shydragonrider @pizzasthengym @thecyrulik @ceph-the-writing-spook @mylifeisonthebookshelf @ohwhumpydays @redwingedwhump

His name was Nadeem el-Azimi, and things had not gone according to plan.

He stumbled on the loose crest of the dune, barely able to blink his eyes open enough to right his path. His body swayed as he adjusted back onto course, aching with the effort it took to take those few extra steps. Sand cascaded down the face of the drift in steady intervals behind him, rushing toward the base like trickles of water.

Of all things, his mind kept circling and circling about how raw his feet felt. The loose, ever-shifting sand ground between his toes, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

The sun had set over the An-Nadr desert, and the temperature had plummeted with it. Nadeem pulled his waist sash tighter around his shoulders, clenching his jaw to keep it from clattering against the cold. The stars overhead were dying out one by one, but the warmth of dawn was hours away, even though the light would come sooner.

He kept walking. It only made it harder if he stopped.

In the distance, a low patch of scrub hugged the earth. The traders had taunted him with it when they marooned him amongst the sand. A sun-wrinkled face leered down at him as the others dumped him over the stanchion, the breath knocked from his lungs when he hit the ground. He struggled and gasped against his binds, while the men above him laughed.

“Three days to the east!” the old one said to him. The one whose filthy hands he could still feel roving over his body when he closed his eyes. He leaned over the rail and grinned as the other men tamed the mast behind him, the wind catching its girth and pulling it taut.

Nadeem thrashed and cursed through his gag, shouting desperately as the sandship began to move.

“Three days to the east you’ll find water,” he called back, “Better get going, little thief!”

And the shadow of the hull slid over his body, sunlight blinking between strips of rope. And then the white of the mast shrank beyond the waves, and the sandship had disappeared from sight.

It had taken him nearly half a day to struggle free of his bonds. By then he was utterly, entirely alone. For hundreds of miles in every direction, the only thing was sand.

That had been two and a half days ago. Anger had burned out into sorrow, then to hopelessness, then to a numbness that he couldn't shake. The leagues had passed underfoot slowly, pace worsening as his body had slowly begun to fail. Nadeem had never been a particularly stout man and, while he knew hunger like an old enemy, his body still was not made to endure the absence of water. Not like this. He rubbed mindlessly at the friction burns circling his wrists to try to distract himself from the endless drone of thirst.

Through the dark he could just barely begin making out the green against the washed-out blue of the surrounding sand, peeking between the dunes. He thought he could make out the shape of date trees, but he no longer trusted his eyes not to play tricks on him. They couldn’t be more than a few more hours away.

And as soon as he saw the oasis he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

And still he kept walking.

---

The first pearls of sunlight caught his shoulders, and he shuddered with relief. It wasn't enough, but with the night having long since sapped away his warmth, he’d take whatever he could get.

Those who crossed these deserts knew to travel after dusk once the savage temperatures had fallen, and to take shelter and sleep as much as they could through the long days when the heat would kill anything that moved. Any other day, he would have kept walking for another hour as the sun rose, then taken shelter behind one of the dunes to collapse until night fell again.

But not today. Today he could not afford to stop even for the dawn prayer. He knew it in the ache of his bones and the relentless throbbing of his head. He was dying. And if he stopped now, even for this, he wouldn't get back up. 

He could not begin to describe how tempting the thought was. How loudly his body begged him to let him rest one last time, how shrilly his heart tried to convince him he had already done all he could. He could lay here and watch the colors of the sky change, feel the warmth wash over him. He could give himself one more sunrise. One more chance to watch the beauty of it all before it was gone.

His feet slowed to a stop, despite his commands. A slow breath, in and out through his nose. He reached up with puffy fingers to fumble with his face cloth, loosening it until the linen fell free.

Nadeem turned slowly back toward the glint of the sunrise, and closed his eyes. He had both won and lost his own bet. He had lived for one more day. He would take that victory, even if…even…

Keep moving, Nadeem. Those thoughts are going to kill you.

Today he would either make it to the oasis, or his body would be slowly being covered up and buried by the ever-creeping drifts that surrounded him. Those were the only two possibilities left, and it was getting harder and harder to believe that he had any hope of the former. 

Control of his body was slipping, and apathy dulled his thoughts more and more with each passing breath. And still he mumbled out the soft, broken consonants of the prayer he had been clinging to, words repeated so many times in the last day that they had become nothing more than foreign sounds devoid of whatever had once made them words.

The comforting lines he had known since he was a child fell from him in a broken, confused tangle of what they were meant to be. He hoped the gods would still take the whisper for its intention rather than its delivery. He was fairly certain someone had once told him they would. That they knew. 

He couldn't remember their face. He hoped it had been Hanona. She had always been right about such things.

Keep moving, Nadeem. You have to take one more step.

He whispered a quiet little apology to the air before him, reaching out as if to gently cling upon the fabric of someone’s robes. His fingers closed over nothing, and he let out a shaky little breath as he pulled the imagined cloth closer to the ache of his chest.

He swayed, felt the knot of dry tears in his throat. But he knew crying was beyond him now.

When eventually he realized that the strength to continue on was slipping for good, he summoned one last, Walk, Nadeem.

His foot answered him sluggishly, one barely-there step backwards. He cracked open his eyes.

And stopped.

Far in the distance, slipping along the razor’s edge between waves and sky, a pinprick of black was making its way across the sand. 

A mirage. It had to be. 

He stared at it in doubt, blinking to see if it would fade.

He watched it for what felt like a lifetime, so afraid that if he looked away it would be gone. But as the minutes passed and the shape grew closer, a fragile hope began to smolder in his chest.

A ship.

His head was swimming. The mast rose and dipped over a bank, light catching flecks of metal. But he could still make out the shape of the bow, cutting across the tops of the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength to cry out. He didn’t have the strength to move.

They were coming straight for the oasis, straight to him.

He couldn’t—he...he…

...he stopped.

The sandship rose to the top of another peak, sail catching the light of the sun beyond. For a moment everything was dark, then the cloth rippled and his heart ground to a stop.

The vibrant, cobalt blue sails of an Al Qururaqin cutter shone in the morning sun.

He stumbled backward, and ran.

The ground gave away beneath him as he bounded down the dark side of the dune, slipping and catching himself when he hit the bottom. His heart was pounding as he pressed his back into the side of it and began pulling armfuls of sand over his body.

He barely managed to cover his legs and the lower half of his chest, limbs burning with exertion. Black spots swam across his vision. His breaths came shallow and ragged through split lips. Still he clawed at the sand until he’d covered as much of himself as he could.

If the ship hadn’t already spotted him, the dunes gave him a chance of being passed unseen. If they had...

He held his breath, straining to keep his gasps under control.

And then he heard it. Someone singing loudly enough for their voice to carry. The unmistakable shuffing of wood, the sound of voices calling back and forth to one another.

It grew closer until someone gave a sharp shout, and the sound of the sail straining at its rigging changed. The sandship was close—far, far too close—and it was slowing to a stop.

Something heavy hit the ground and he shrank further back into the dune. Then another, then more.

Too late he realized his mistake. As he lay there straining to stay calm, there came the petrifying moment when he remembered the trail of footprints he’d left along the tops of the dunes. The ones that would lead them straight to him.

The sand gave him nowhere else to hide. If he stayed here, buried or not, they would find him. Casting around, he caught just the barest hint of green through the split in the dunes.

He didn’t have the strength. He knew he didn’t. But panic summoned every last shred of energy into his trembling legs, and before he could think he pushed to his feet and stumbled into a run.

His feet pounded against the earth. All his vision was a blur as he slid around the corner of a dune and up the channel between.

Dizziness swept over him, and he gasped and shook his head to try to clear it. He scaled the next dune on his hands and knees, sinking deep into the sand as he sprinted for the shelter of the brush.

He knew the moment they’d spotted his trail. Strange voices rose into the dawn behind him, and when he couldn’t resist the urge to look back he saw the sharp rise of a mast against the sky.

Vibrantly embroidered bolts of sailcloth whipped and curled in the breeze, the sun’s first strands of light striking it from behind and setting the fabric ablaze. The blue sails burned against the pale of the morning sky, and dread smothered his thoughts.

He didn’t see the shale until it was too late. Something sharp speared up through the bottom of his foot, and before he could catch himself he’d gone sprawling across the outcropping and into the dirt. He let out a low groan of pain as he blinked the darkness from his eyes.

He'd collapsed at the edge of the oasis. Behind him a jagged shard of rock pointed in the air, covered in blood.

He struggled to his feet and stumbled into the bank of shrubs, barely slowing as he made his way deeper into the growth. His ankle kept trying to give out beneath him, the thick litter of sticks and twigs jabbing into the wound. Slowing him down.

He bit back his voice as he clambered over the thickest piles of stone he could find, hoping to every single god he could name that they would help hide his footprints. The distant shouts were growing closer.

He stumbled over a ridge and found a thicket of shrubs, and realized that the glinting just beyond was water. He slid down the bank into the spring, wading out into the knee-high water that spread out between pools of algae.

He realized then that there was no cover. None but the branches of shrubs that overhung the basin, clinging to the overgrown shore.

Without even stopping to savor the feeling he never thought he’d have again, he fell to his knees in the water and ducked beneath their low branches. Spines ripped at his clothes as he crawled toward shore, as close as he could get to the place where the water met the earth underneath their leaves. He wormed his way deeper into the silt until his back was pressing against half-submerged trunks and the surface of the water reached his throat.

He forced his shivering body to still, schooling his breath in an attempt to hide the sound. As quickly as the ripples around him faded into the reeds the sound of snapping twigs approached.

On the shallow ridge, less than a hundred paces away, a dark figure broke through the trees.

Nadeem forgot how to breathe.

As a boy, bright-eyed and impatient, the Mothers had spun tales of Al Qururaqin caravans, moving from port to desert port. Tales of four-armed demons with ashen skin as dark as the mud at the bottom of the Parattu, swords gleaming in their hands. Of monsters who steal boys away from their ships, taking them away into the blackness of their holds.

Stories of the ifrit.

He never thought he'd be cornered by one.

Nadeem may have been scrawny, but he was no short man—by the time he was twelve he’d already stood a full head taller than his Maaman, as well as half the men in his town. This ifrit dwarfed him. It must have stood three heads taller than he did, with such strength coiled in its body that he felt sick with fear.

It scanned the water, a beautiful and broad face silhouetted by the rising of the sun. Thin wisps of smoke rose from its shoulders, disappearing into the air. One of its upper limbs rested at its hip, blackened fingers curling loosely around the hilt of a sword.

As its gaze swept out across the bank and over his hiding place, he could only pray that it didn't see the impressions his feet had left in the algae.

An entire lifetime passed as the ifrit searched the grove, scanning the silhouettes of trees. So many times Nadeem was certain he’d been spotted, and yet the figure came no closer.

Then it turned, cast one more look out over the water, and went back the way it had come.

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