#did you see his 14 heart event?

[ecstasydemon]

the way some people talk about shane stardew valley irks me so bad

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[reiding-writing]

HI LOVE UR WORK ESPECIALLY COLD READER IVE BEEN BINGING THEM AND I NEED MOREE

Soo speaking of i think prompt 15 could be a really cute cold reader prompt for something and I WOULD LOVE IT

HOMETOWN [CLIMACTERIC]

/ˌhəʊmˈtaʊn/

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, mentions of spencer’s bullying, made up childhood bully (sorry spence <3), swearing as per, typical cold!reader antics

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff?? || 3.0k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

a/n: great minds think alike huh? the fact that both these requests specified for it to be cold!reader as well is insane to me 😭😭

There’s that saying that the worst people in school always end up going into jobs that provide for others; The idea that petty school bullies take up careers in hospitality or community service despite all of their obvious social flaws.

Honestly, Spencer always found the idea ridiculous. They had just as much of a chance as going into a hospitality job as they did a 9-5 office job.

Their attitude didn’t have any causational impact on their future career whatsoever, people just focused on the people that did end up in those fields and then generalised it to the larger population with no reasonable backing.

But he’d be lying if that wasn’t the first thing that ran through his head when he walked into station 14 of the LVMPD and ran right into somebody from his middle school.

Somebody who fit that god awful false idea to a T.

“We’ll get you set up asap, Robinson, DeGaris, show the agents to 22B will you?”

Spencer knew the second he turned around. Some people’s faces never really mature through puberty. The bone structure doesn’t change and they just end up looking like a taller version of their child self.

“Would you look at that? Looks like we’ve made it to the big leagues,” Officer DeGaris nudges his partner with a raise of his eyebrows, and Robinson shakes his head with a short laugh in response.

“More like we’re doing such a bad job they had to call in the big leagues,” Robinson pushes DeGaris’ head away with the palm of his hand before clasping his fists together at his waist. “Welcome to Las Vegas, land of casinos, neon signs, and… serial killers apparently— Uh I’m Caleb, this is Will, chances are you’ll see a lot of us over the next however long you’re here,”

“Pleasure,” Hotch holds out his hand to shake the two officers’, who promptly move to shake hands with the rest of the team afterwards.

By the time the two reach you and Spencer stood at the back of the group he feels like he might throw up his heart from how fast it was beating, and he swerves the shakes with all the awkwardness of his usual evasions as he excuses himself to walk ahead of the team.

It was stupid really. It had been almost two decades since what had happened, yet even just being in his proximity was making Spencer sweat like he was a final girl in a horror movie.

“Excuse us,” Your words hold no social grace as you slide past the two officers to follow after Spencer. He wasn’t the best with meeting new people, but he never left the conversation before it could even start. “Reid-”

Although mildly confused, the two officers don’t seem all that disheartened as the two of you disappear into the meeting room, their attention turning back to the rest of your team.

“Well,” Caleb claps his hands together with a politely awkward smile. “We’ll let you guys get settled in, if you need anything at all come and find one of us and we’ll do our best to get it for you,” He gestures between himself and Will stood next to him, gazing half-blankly into the open shutters of the window into the room with furrowed eyebrows at yourself and Spencer like he’s trying to put puzzle pieces together in his mind.

“Thank you officer, we will,” Hotch gives the two a small nod before gesturing the team into the room and leaving the two policemen outside.

—

At least the station had a coffee machine. Spencer’s one saving grace in the fact that he was not only working on a case in his own home city but also in the same town he grew up in, a town with some very familiar faces.

The scent of the caffeinated beverage was enough to bring him back to his right mind a little as it hit the ceramic mug with a burst of steam, and Spencer watched the liquid flow aimlessly as he waited for his drink to be made.

Coffee solved all his problems.

“Hey,”

Most of the time.

With a slow breath and his eyes shut to compose himself, Spencer turned around slowly to greet the voice, hit lips pressed into a straight line as his eyes opened once more, greeted with an all too familiar sight.

“I thought I recognised you Spencer, or sorry, it’s Agent Reid now right?” Will raised an eyebrow slightly, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

There was no real malice behind his tone, no sarcasm or taunting, no twitch in his facial expression that could make Spencer think he was trying to get under his skin. But he did. And it made Spencer feel like a 9 year old all over again.

“It’s uh, Doctor Reid actually,”

Will gives a short laugh and a nod, like Spencer’s title was something he’d expected. “Right, right, of course, so you’re not an FBI Agent then?”

“I am,” Spencer answers shortly, hands wringing together behind his back as he leans against the kitchenette counter. “But the title of Doctor outranks the title of Agent,”

He could see that familiar glint in Will’s eye as he explained the reasoning behind his official title, like he was looking at some puny know-it-all rather than a person of his own age.

“Very impressive,” Will gives him a slow, almost animated nod, and Spencer has never been more grateful for the shrill beeping of an automated coffee machine as he tears his eyes from Will to pick up his mug, cradling it between his to hands.

“Well, it was uh, good— to see you again Billy I’m glad you got where you wanted to go in life—“

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” Will crossed his arms over his chest with a shake of his head, his expression cordial despite the way his fists clenched like the mae had caused physical discomfort to him. “I go by Will now.”

“Right, Will, I should get back to my team now,”

“I’m sure they can wait a few minutes, we should catch up, for old time’s sake,”

—

“Where is Reid?” You exhale exasperatedly, biting your tongue to keep yourself in check as you turn towards Morgan and Emily with a show of your hands.

“Maybe the coffee machine was broken,” Emily shrugs nonchalantly as she sorts through the scene photos, occasionally passing one over the table towards you to hang up on the board.

“As if I needed any more reasons to hate those pieces of shit,” You groan exaggeratedly, dragging your hand down your face.

“Calm down lover, being away from the pretty boy for an extra few minutes won’t kill you,” Morgan rolls his eyes at your attitude with a short laugh, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Oh shut your mouth,” You scoff as you walk down the length of the table, pushing the heel of your hand against Morgan’s temple as you pass him as an extra form of chastisation which he promptly laughs at you for as you leave the room in search of Spencer.

“Oh to be young and in love,” Morgan laughs to himself as he clasps his hands together, leaning his head backwards over the chair to look at Emily with a knowing look.

“$50 on less than a year,” Emily doesn’t even look up at her proposition, and Morgan laughs with a shake of his head.

“Oh no no, they’re playing the long game, it’ll be at least another two,”

“Deal,” Emily holds her right hand out in Morgan’s direction, and he grasps it in his own with a firm shake.

“Deal.”

—

Spencer is still standing by the coffee machine, a steaming mug in his hands. It does not take eight minutes to make a single cup of coffee.

Well it wouldn’t if he wasn’t stood talking to one of the local police officers.

More like the officer was talking at him.

And if the way he was fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve was any indication, he was not enjoying the conversation.

If it weren’t for the harsh fluorescent lighting, the furrow of his eyebrows would be imperceptible from where you were standing, but the way he rolls his ankles and shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet would be noticeable from a mile away even in pitch black darkness.

Time to go and save Spencer Reid from his own social ineptitude. Again.

He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach despite you clearly being in his eye line, his sole focus on the man in front of him even as you near close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“…were quite the character weren’t you Pick?”

Spencer purses his lips together uncomfortably at the nickname, and you take the break in the conversation as an invitation to get between the two.

You clear your throat with crossed arms, eyes flickering between the two of them as they turn their attention away from each other and towards you instead.

“You’re needed back in the meeting room,”

Spencer nods at you a little too eagerly, clearly ready to rid himself of his new companion. “Right, good bye Bil- Will, sorry,” He doesn’t make eye contact with the officer as he all but power walks past you to head towards the meeting room, and your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as your glance wanders from Spencer to the almost smug expression on the officer’s face.

“Is something funny?” Your question is enough to bring Will’s eyes away from watching Spencer scurry off with his tail between his legs and towards you with horribly feigned innocence.

The look in your eyes is less than savoury, and it’s enough that small glimpse of condescension simmers in his irises to break through his pleasant facade.

You don’t stick around to have to speak to him any further, and with a final look over you leave him by the coffee machine to rejoin the team in the meeting room.

—

“You can’t avoid him forever you know,”

Your voice stirs Spencer out of his focus, and he straightens himself up in his chair as he looks at you, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

You hadn’t really said anything since you re-entered the meeting room, not even bothering to defend yourself against Morgan’s musings about how much you were complaining about Spencer not being present to help you with the profiles, yet less than a minute after Morgan and Emily left, your conversational battery had suddenly returned.

“I— What do you mean?”

“Officer DeGaris,”

Spencer looks at you like you’ve read his diary without his permission.

He forgets just how observant you are sometimes, how easy it seems to be for you to distinguish between Spencer’s general dislike for small talk and meeting new people and when his discomfort is specifically aimed.

You look through the meeting room’s glass window with roaming eyes, Spencer presumes it’s to find the Officer in question. “He acts like a glorified man-child so I can’t blame you for resenting him,”

“Did he say something to you?” He sounds almost afraid at the idea that Will might’ve said something distasteful to you, his face scrunching up in concern, but you dispel the thought with a quick shake of your head.

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Spencer can physically see the moment that your eyes catch on Will across the station in the way that your micro expressions change, the way your arms cross tighter over your chest and your nostrils flare. “He was more than distasteful to you though,”

You sigh in mild frustration. “You’d think that people would mature once they reach adulthood, but there’s always a few that cling to their childhood relevancy like their life depends on it. Pathetic really,”

he doesn’t know whether he should even be entitled to being surprised that you knew Will was character from his childhood. It doesn’t stop him. “I never said I knew him when I was a child,”

“He called you Pick, and you called him Billy,” You deadpan like it’s obvious. “You’re not exactly hiding it,”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” You can see the genuine befuddlement in Spencer’s expression as you relay the cluing details into his past, like he seemingly can’t comprehend that you were actually paying attention and storing Spencer’s divulgence into his childhood in your memories.

“Believe it or not Reid, I do actually listen,” You sound almost offended at how surprised Spencer seems, and he back tracks immediately with a surrendering wave of his hands.

“That’s not— I didn’t mean to insinuate that, I just meant—” Spencer sighs exasperatedly at his failure to string together a coherent sentence. “I only mentioned it offhandedly is all, it’s not something people usually dwell on,”

“It’s not difficult to listen when someone confides in you Reid, it’s basic human compassion,” You move away from the window with a start, stopping just shy of the door right as it opens.

“Can we help you?” The small amount of empathy in your tone vanishes immediately as you meet Will’s eyes, your head cocked in obvious impatience despite the fact that he hasn’t even spoken a word to you yet.

And although mildly deterred by your expression, he follows through nonetheless. “I need to speak to— Agent Reid, it’s something about the case.”

You’d wager it’s definitely not about the case.

“Doctor Reid is busy, if you have something important go and find SSA Hotchner,”

Spencer can’t see your expression as you stand with your back to him, but if he had to make a guess based off of the way that Will’s face falters he’d say you were probably glaring at him. That signature glare that you never hesitated to utilise when deemed a necessary reaction.

He’s half glad he can’t see your face, because it means that you can’t see his, and the way his cheeks redden against his will at not only your intervention between him having to have another conversation with one of the nightmares of his childhood, but also how casual you were in correcting his use of Spencer’s official title.

“I can’t find SSA Hotchner,” He responds like he’s got you beat, but you barely so much as acknowledge it at all.

“Email him then, your chief supervisor has the details.” You take a small step forward to motivate him to step backwards out of the doorway, and you uncross your arms only to grasp the edge of the door. “Now if you’d please excuse us, we do our best work without distractions.”

You don’t give him time to reply before you close on him, but there’s just enough time for Spencer to see the astonishment dawn on Will’s face at your dismissal before he’s shut out completely.

Your frustration is still present on your face as you turn to walk back over to the whiteboard, and Spencer presses his lips together in an awkwardly endearing fashion before muttering out a soft “thank you,” in your direction.

“I don’t tolerate bullies Reid, it’s nothing to be thankful for,” You shake your head to dismiss him, a much lighter—much friendlier— dismissal than you’d awarded Will.

”You didn’t have to do that though,” Spencer sighs softly, playing with the sleeves of his sweater. “Let me buy you a coffee at least? There’s a cafe a few minutes away from here that I used to go to when I was younger, and I think I need the break,”

You can’t really blame his sudden want for fresh air, and you’d rather not slave away on the profile without him to filter your thoughts through, so you don’t really have much option but to join him.

“It’s not one of those ridiculously expensive coffee places is it?” You raise your eyebrow at him warningly and Spencer shakes his head with a soft laugh, one your happy to hear as a sign that Will hadn’t knocked him off his game too much.

“No no, last time I was here it was $3.49 a cup, perfectly normal,” He brushes a strand of hair from his eye with a small smile. “So you’ll join me?”

You let out a small exhale and a shrug of your shoulders, and Spencer knows that you’re feigning more begrudgement than you’re feeling. “I guess I could do with a break,”

Spencer’s smile seems to get just that little bit brighter at your response.

“But I’m buying my own coffee.”

“Okay—” Spencer gives you a small nod, joined by a laugh, and you wait until he’s got his back to you before letting a small smile invade your mouth at the sight.

[notwithoutafight]

List of posts from 2024-2022 that Daniel deleted/archived on Instagram ⬇️

[there are probably other posts I couldn't find, sorry about that. the links are from tumblr blogs and a couple from twitter. unfortunately, I realized way too late that I didn't keep track of the sources, so I can't list them here, apologies again!]

Unfortunately we just didn’t have the pace this weekend. Fortunately, Singapore is a few days away (Azerbaijan 2024 - September 16, 2024)

Pizza. And some racing (Monza 2024 - September 2, 2024)

Got the most out of the car and myself yesterday, but unfortunately we just lacked overall performance. We’ll get it sorted for Austria 👊🏼 (Barcelona 2024 - July 24, 2024)

Tricky day. But feeling fast. Bring on Sunday (Hungary 2024 - July 20, 2024)

Celebrating 20 years of Red Bull Racing. No 🎂 for me though, just some 🍩 (Goodwood 2024 - July 14, 2024)

Challenging day, some issues in FP2 held us back. Looking forward to tomorrow - rain, hail, shine or whatever 🇬🇧 summer brings! (Silverstone 2024 - July 5, 2024)

Sweet sweet syrup (Canada 2024 - June 6, 2024)

Q3. Good job team. Ciao. (Imola 2024 - May 18, 2024)

Miami 24’ 🎨 Let’s get it 😈 (Miami 2024 - May 2, 2024)

Close to Q3 but all in all not a bad day. Bring on tomorrow. (Suzuka 2024 - April 6, 2024)

The game was right there, can you blame me? (F1 24 ad - March 15, 2024)

3️⃣ (VCARB photoshoot - February 9, 2024)

Honda thanks day 😊🇯🇵 (Honda Thanks Day 2023 - December 3, 2023)

2023. A unique year! But found what I was looking for and very happy for that. Yesterday we celebrated Franz even if he hated every second of it, but his contribution to this team over the years, his pure passion for the sport is something that can only be admired. Thank you Franz!! (Abu Dhabi 2023 - November 27, 2023)

Was fast. But a lap down 🤷🏻‍♂️... team did a great job repairing the wing. Wish they would’ve got rewarded. On to Vegas. Still having fun 😊 (Brazil 2023 - November 5, 2023)

Great weekend from start to finish. Very happy 😊 Grazie @.alphataurif1 (Mexico 2023 - October 29, 2023)

Tough day, some damage on the car cost us pretty big unfortunately. It’s the way it goes, Austin you always have my heart. Until next year. Hook ‘em 🤘 (COTA 2023 - October 22, 2023)

Another day on the sim. Getting closer. See y’all in Austin. (Sim work selfie at Milton Keynes - October 5, 2023)

Full circle (Selfie at the factory in Faenza - July 15, 2023)

Bonjour Monaco (Selfie at Monaco - May 27, 2023)

Weekend 🙃 (Miami 2023 - May 8, 2023)

Don’t leave me hangin 🙃 (Seat fitting, Red Bull garage, Australia 2023 - March 31, 2023)

Great night with @.okx_official. Excited to visit their new office in Oz when it opens 👏🏼 (OKX Event with Scotty, Australia 2023 - March 29, 2023)

We made the last Q3 of the year. Was worth a smile 🙃 (Abu Dhabi 2022 - November 19, 2022)

Mehico (Mexico 2022 - November 1, 2022)

[Not sure if this was a post or a Story, sorry] (COTA 2022 - October 20, 2022)

School in session ✏️ (LA - October 18, 2022)

Tokyo traditions. It’s good to be back! (Dinner with Felipe Massa Japan 2022 - October 4, 2022)

Chillin (Photo at the beach with Isaac and Isabella - September 27, 2022)

Singapore sweat baby sweat prep. I also have no idea what’s going on back there. [Not sure if he posted it on Instagram or only on Facebook] (Selfie with Michael - September 19, 2022)

The mini masterpiece is finally here. (2022 mini helmets - September 6, 2022)

What a legend. Happy retirement mate. (Photos of Vettel after his retirement announcement - July 28, 2022)

😊 (Baku 2022 - June 11, 2022)

Seat time Miami style (Sea-Doo Ad - May 5, 2022)

Miami. We made it. (Dinner with girlfriend and friends. I believe this was the first photo he posted with Heidi, Miami 2022 - May 4, 2022)

Good start to the weekend. FEA. (Imola 2022 -  April 22, 2022)

Alright first Q3 of the year. Not a bad place to do it 😊🇦🇺 (Australia 2022 - April 9, 2022)

G’day. Fun Friday. Good to be back 🐨🦘(Australia 2022 - April 8, 2022)

Shame  we didn’t finish but all in all a better weekend and making steps in  the right direction. We’ll keep at it! Got to watch the last few laps  for the win also, great battle, these cars are pretty awesome going  wheel to wheel this year 😌 next stop, Melbourne! (Jeddah 2022 - March 29, 2022)

Better this week than next…. Unfortunate to miss the test, but I'm starting to feel better. I'll stay isolated and just focus on next weekend. Appreciate the well wishes from everyone as well. (Selfie when he tested positive for Covid, Testing 2022 - March 11, 2022)

Too good not to share. What a record Gang of Youths! (March 4, 2022)

212 laps in a day and a half! Solid start @.mclaren (Testing 2022 - February 26, 2022)

Just happy flying the flag for Australia. Really appreciate the recognition. You can take the boy out of Oz but you can’t… anyway haha big thanks to everyone 🦘🐨 (At the farm, winter ummer break 2022 - January 25, 2022)

[1d1195]

Traditional - Extra VIII

Read Traditional here | ~3.5k words

Warnings: it was requested our MC be jealous again. Feelings of inadequacy. There are also some mentions of smutty topics. Otherwise, pretty fluffy. As of 10/14/24 I've added a bonus scene as well. It's at the bottom of the post update 🥰

Summary: At a fancy event, she can't help but think about how out of place she feels in Harry's life. Especially when the person he's dancing with is so gorgeous.

Harry can't believe she's so lovely and all his.

Harry was across the room looking like a James Bond character in his tux. He looked so effortlessly handsome and cool. Like he went to these things daily. It was impossible to tear her gaze away from him and she could barely make out the pretty smile on his mouth from so far away.

“Hey,” Louis’ voice was matched with a hand on the small of her back. Finally pulling her from her staring contest with someone who didn’t even know she was staring.

“Hey,” she smiled politely. “You look good.”

“I always look good,” he reminded her with an eye roll and pecked her cheek. “You look stunning,” he smiled sweetly. “Can’t believe Harry let you wear anything with that much cleavage.”

She snorted. “Harry would never tell me I can’t wear something,” she rolled her eyes. “I also wore a jacket until after we got here,” she explained.

Louis laughed and guided her toward the bar. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Of course,” she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sorry El’s not feeling well.”

“I know,” he pouted. “I’m not to tell her about any of the hors d’oeuvres,” he smirked.

She smiled. “We can probably put some aside for her,” she shrugged.

“You really planned all this?”

“Not really. I met with the person that planned it.”

Louis took in the spacious ballroom in one of the fanciest hotels in the city. There were wealthy people from all over schmoozing and donating like money meant nothing. It was inspiring they were so generous, but still terrified her a bit about how many digits probably floated in their bank accounts. Louis was still admiring the décor, the fancy place settings, the centerpieces that she made sure looked right the night before during the set-up phase. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she nodded appreciatively. “I hope it’s successful.”

Louis gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Your brother would be so proud,” he assured her. There was a tug in her chest and a sting in her eyes. She swallowed, nodding silently and didn’t say anything else. Didn’t want Louis to say anything else either. “But he wouldn’t have let you leave the house with that much cleavage either.”

She snorted again and shook her head. “I don’t see you complaining.”

“I may have the hottest girlfriend on the planet, but I can appreciate a plunging neckline with the rest of them,” he winked and grabbed two wine glasses from the bar top. “Where’s Harry?”

They meandered to another tall table setting their drinks down after sipping. “He’s been chatting with clients, business owners, old friends, etc...” she shrugged. “I’ll be lucky if I get one dance with him.”

“Well, his loss then,” he smiled. “Guess I’ll have to be your dance partner.”

“I’m really glad you’re here, Lou,” she sighed with relief. “I’ve... I’ve kind of been dreading this.”

He shook his head. “It’s stunning, love. Beautiful. You did an amazing job, and I know Harry will be thanking you with sexual favors later tonight.”

“Jesus,” she blushed and sipped her glass. She glanced across the room again and found him staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat. It was so stupid. She lived with the man for God’s sake. But his eyes scanning her made her feel warm all over. She waved briefly. His smile grew.

Louis nodded at him, and he nodded in response. It seemed they were finally over her broken arm. Although she was certain Harry would never forgive himself as much as Louis would never forgive him. But at least they could talk again. “Where’s Niall?”

She sighed. “Last I saw he was hanging out by the food line.”

“The food line? What are we waiting for? You told me about the menu, I’ve been dreaming about mini cheeseburgers. Classy place like this? They’re going to be the most amazing thing I’ll ever eat.”

She giggled and grabbed her glass. Louis followed behind her. “I think that was a bit selfish of me, but I haven’t heard a complaint yet.”

*

Harry was still wandering about and chatting with everyone but her. It was his job, but she missed him. She wanted to ogle him up close with how handsome he was. She and Louis played a gossiping game making up stories about couples they saw. It was dramatic and would give any soap opera a run for their money.

“Hey Louis,” Niall’s own rounds finally landed them at their table. “Enjoying?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Told you darling,” he winked and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She sipped her drink looking around for her boyfriend and not seeing him. “Do you want to dance, love?” Louis asked.

“I think Harry’s on the floor,” Niall said sipping the final remnants of his own drink. Her heart fell.

“He is?”

Niall frowned. “Yeah, sorry. I... It’s just a business thing. Ya know?”

She nodded feeling slighted that someone else got to dance with her sexy boyfriend. It was bound to happen. But she was hoping she would have gotten the first dance at least. “Well, fortunately, she’ll be free to dance with the hottest man here,” Louis smiled, grabbing her hand, and twirling her once into his embrace. She laughed, shaking her head and made her way to the dance floor with Louis. At least her best friend was there to keep her mind from thinking about how Harry was dancing with someone else.

*

“I’m sorry I gotta leave you alone, love. I don’t want to leave El alone while she’s feeling poorly for so long,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry. Tell her I hope she feels better. And that she likes her treats.”

“She’s lucky she doesn’t know mini cheeseburgers were on the menu, I’ll eat them in the car.”

“Louis Tomlinson, don’t you dare. I will ask her about them specifically.”

He kissed her cheek and winked at her. “See you, babe. Have a good night.”

Once more, alone with her thoughts and only able to stare at Harry from afar, she grabbed another drink from the bar and headed to the middle of the tables hoping it would give her the best view to find her boyfriend. The night was a little more than halfway over, but it seemed like it would continue forever.

She took her phone out of the pocket of her dress. An absolute must for an event of this caliber. She looked over her to-do list for Monday. Sent a few emails. Researched a couple articles. They were supposed to clean the house tomorrow which seemed dreadful after a long night like this. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she slept in a little. But when was the last time they slept in?

Harry loved her so much. She knew it. She felt it when he spoke, when he moved, when he bought her anything and everything she wanted without so much as blinking or thinking about what it meant to her.

But the jealousy that hit her like a truck when her gaze caught sight of him dancing with a woman around their age made her want to throw up. It made her feel so inadequate and she knew she wasn’t. Harry insisted. But it hurt. It hurt so much, and it wasn’t even something she needed to worry about or feel. Harry loved her so much.

“Hey, darling. Working again?”

She blinked, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah,” she shook her head hoping Niall didn’t see the way her gaze snapped away from Harry across the room. Was her face flushed? Was Niall going to notice? She worried she would cry if he said something. She did not need to make a scene. “Just a lull, ya know? No one is really talking to me,” she laughed softly.

“Lucky you. I’m reaching my quota of human interaction.”

“Do you want to dance?” She asked, hoping that if she could find a spot on the dance floor away from Harry, it would make her feel better.

“Make Harry jealous? Absolutely,” he held his hand out for her to take and she rolled her eyes with another shake of her head. Niall’s right hand found the small of her back, the left clutched her right and pressed it to his chest. Her free hand rested on his arm.

“Are you a ballroom dancer in your free time Niall?” She asked as he guided her around the floor. He chuckled and smiled.

“I wasn’t kidding, it’s really hot to know how to dance. The ladies love it,” he winked.

Her chest ached. She was sure he was right. Her eyes glancing around for the beautiful woman that was hanging onto her boyfriend. Maybe they were old friends. It was a party where Harry was meant to schmooze with others. It wasn’t his fault. She was being extra and insecure.

But she really missed him in the hours they had been there. “He’s an idiot for not dancing with you,” Niall murmured into her ear. She swallowed feeling the emotion she was trying to beat down creeping up her throat. “You look beautiful, nothing on her,” he assured her.

“How do you know—”

“I’m one of your best friends, darling,” he squeezed around her waist. “Even if we all think it’s silly, we know you’re worried about your worth for Harry.”

“She’s so pretty.”

“Well, you look stunning. If Harry didn’t say so, you should break up with him. This dress alone, wow. Maybe he does have something to be jealous of,” he winked at her. She laughed. Loud. Loud enough for others to look over and she rolled her eyes at him, her cheeks heating as others went back to their conversations. “She might be pretty, but so are you.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “I don’t fit in Niall. Sometimes I feel like I’m an assistant still or an intern. I just do all these things to make things easier but you and him? You guys don’t need me.”

“That’s so wrong,” Niall shook his head. “He would be crushed to hear you say that.”

She went to say maybe he was right, but her eyes caught sight of him. Like a magnet. His head was thrown back in a laugh. A laugh that she loved so much. The woman he was dancing with smiling delightedly. Why wouldn’t she be? It felt like winning an award when she made him laugh. His hand was placed perfectly on her waist, her dainty hand cupped in his. They were probably talking about something she didn’t know anything about. Something that Harry could chat about with someone who had more business experience than her. Someone who wasn’t basing all their knowledge based on theoretical ideas and probabilities from her classes. She turned back to Niall, looking over his shoulder, her eyes burning and aching to cry. She swallowed squeezing her eyes shut. “I have to run to the ladies’ room,” she said quietly.

“Darling?”

“Sorry,” she murmured, dropping Niall’s hand, and scurrying as quickly as she could in her heels to outside the ballroom. The party would be over soon, and she would be able to sneak out and home while Harry finished with everything else. By then she would have calmed down and Harry would be none the wiser.

*

“Kitten?” Harry’s voice was so gentle. He knocked softly. “Y’in here?”

She seriously thought about just ignoring him. He would go away looking for her elsewhere. She could calm herself down and convince herself she was being dramatic. Harry wouldn’t know. But Harry would know. He would see it immediately.

“Niall said y’ran to the restroom in a hurry. M’pretty sure you’re in here,” he continued.

She was going to kill Niall.

Biting her lip, she nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, his voice nervous.

She nodded but he couldn’t see her. “Just... tired. Needed a second,” she kept her voice quiet. Afraid she would upset him. It was stupid. She knew Harry loved her so unconditionally. But the way he looked with that woman on his arm. It was like they were picture perfect. Straight out of a movie.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

Saying no would break his heart. He would wait right outside. It wasn’t like she would get away crying and trying to pass him. She swiped at her eyes, tried to console herself quietly. “Yeah.”

The door opened. She saw his shoes below the stall door she was hiding behind. “Y’gonna come out her, kitten?”

She took as deep a breath she could manage. Pushed the lock open and stepped outside into the main part of the restroom.

He looked so flawless and perfect other than the frown etched on his lips. “Hey beautiful,” pity covered her face. “S’matter, kitten?”

Before she could stop it, she choked out a sob. Pressing her hand to her lips. His hands moved toward her immediately at the sound. “It’s so dumb Harry,” she whimpered and reached for a paper towel so she could dab at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened and he cupped her cheeks. “S’not dumb if s’upsetting you, my love,” he promised. “Are y’hurt?” He asked his eyes scanning her quickly from head to toe. She shook her head.

“I didn’t get to dance with you,” she sniveled. “I know how stupid this is,” she swallowed. “But you look so good and everyone you have danced with is equally beautiful. More beautiful than me and I just feel so out of place here. I’m so inadequate. It’s like I can’t stop thinking about that woman saying I’m plain and not worth your time. And I know how ridiculous it is because you love me so much, I feel it all the time but I—”

He pulled her to him quickly. Silencing her with the swift motion. His hand cupped the side of her face. His other arm looped around her waist, his lips brushed the top of her head, and he looked at the mirror as he caught her gaze. She looked down immediately. “Baby,” he hummed. “Look up, please,” he pleaded quietly when she didn’t look up. But Harry was grateful she melted into his chest as he held her. Shyly, she peeked up, only partially meeting his serious expression. “M’sorry I made you feel out of place.”

“You didn’t—”

“M’sorry I didn’t dance with you,” he kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you the whole night,” he assured her so soothingly. His voice was slow and deep. Like he wanted her to hear each letter of every word. There was no room for anything else but what he was saying. He wanted her to be crystal clear on the point he was making. “I didn’t want t’be away from you for a second, kitten,” he promised. “M’sorry I made you feel inadequate when you are the furthest thing from inadequate,” he stroked his thumb on her cheek. “Y’look so beautiful. M’crushed you’re crying,” he pouted. “Y’still look breathtaking,” a weak smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But you’re much too beautiful t’be crying. Especially over this.”

She turned toward him, slid one hand beneath her cheek so she wouldn’t get her wet makeup on his tux. “We didn’t even get a picture,” she whispered.

He sighed. “You’re right, we didn’t,” he grumbled. “We could take one now,” he offered.

She snorted. “That’s attractive. Me all snot-nosed and red eyed.”

“I still think y’look gorgeous,” he assured her.

She sighed. “I’m sorry I ruined everything. It was such a nice night and now because I was all jealous I—”

“Is... is this how y’feel when m’jealous of Niall?” He interrupted.

“What?”

“Like s’the most ridiculous thing in the world,” he rolled his eyes. She laughed quietly despite not wanting to. She supposed, objectively, he was right. “Y’have nothing t’be jealous of,” he promised her.

“Yes, I guess that’s how it feels. But I’m being reasonable.”

The sigh that left him was exasperated with mock irritation. But she could sense the tension easing slightly. “You’re not, kitten. You’re...” he shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. M’sorry y’feel so sad y’had t’cry in here,” he kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t make y’feel secure.”

But he did. It was hard to explain. Harry made her feel beautiful and perfect. The inadequacy was only her feeling of being younger than him, knowing the people he interacted with were so much smarter than her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Harry.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “I talked ‘bout you to everyone. Told them how lovely this was. It was all your doing. How y’make m’life so much easier. I finally feel like I have a balance. M’not stressed all the time. M’able to delegate more. M’trusting more. You have made Styles Incorporated better because you’re there.”

She blushed. “I really didn’t do all that much for this. I just met with the person that planned it.”

“But I never would have picked these colors, never would have gotten the vendors y’chose. Do y’know how many people raved ‘bout the mini cheeseburgers? This place is so fancy we don’t get mini cheeseburgers at these places,” he chuckled. “And the money,” he skimmed his thumb on her lip. “Baby, you are responsible for all the charitable donations made tonight. Y’have no idea how incredible y’are.” She turned toward his chest, but a smile found its way on her lips. “Y’look so gorgeous; I was jealous Louis and Niall got t’dance with you.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Say it again.”

She giggled, tilted her head up and met his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m... needy.”

“S’my favorite thing t’be needed by you. You never need anybody, so it means a lot t’me when y’need me. When y’want me,” he kissed her softly. “M’always needing you,” he reminded her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her forehead and wiped below her eyes one more time. “Come dance with me,” he released everything but her hand and tugged her toward the main room.

“The event’s nearly over, Harry. They’ll be packing up their stuff.”

“They can play one more song. I’ll pay them another ten thousand if they need me to. M’going t’dance with m’beautiful girlfriend.”

*

At one-fifteen, Niall was sitting in her usual spot for her mini coffee break with her boyfriend. “Is this because I cried?” She frowned.

“No, darling. Well, maybe. You gave me an idea,” he chuckled.

She glanced at Harry. He held his hands up defensively. “I’ve got nothing t’do with it, kitten. Wish I did. Wish I thought of it so I could take credit.”

“But it’s better because I thought of it. It’s because I love you more than him,” Niall winked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, Niall.”

She set Harry’s drink on his desk. “What kind of idea did you get while I was crying?”

Niall smirked. “That you should dump Harry—”

“Niall.”

“—I think you deserve a promotion. One that accentuates all your talents and skills that have made the people at Styles Incorporated smarter, better, and more talented. It’s only an idea. We don’t want to part with your current roles because you’re so good at them. But I think you deserve to be in the spotlight that showcases the kind of things you did to make last night happen.”

Her throat ached wanting to cry again. “I told y’she would cry,” Harry hurried to wrap her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “S’a good thing, my love,” he reminded her.

She sniffed. “But—”

“You’ve earned it,” Niall said. “Harry didn’t even think of it, that’s why you should like me as a boss more than him.” He explained. “It’s not because you’re dating the CEO of the company. You’re incredible,” Niall assured her.

“You are,” Harry’s voice was soft, reverent in her ear as he held her. “I wish I thought of it before him. He’s been insufferable all day.”

“You don’t have to say yes. Think about it. Think about what your dream job would be. Harry will make it happen,” Niall put a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “I’ll let you guys have your lunch date.”

“It is a lunch date,” Harry grumbled.

“I’ve never had a lunch date suck me off under—”

“Bye Niall.”

“I knew he knew,” she mumbled.

“Are y’okay, kitten?” She nodded. “Are y’sure, baby? M’sorry you’ve been so upset the last twenty-four hours. S’not very nice,” his lips touched right above her ear, pressing to her hairline. It felt extremely intimate even though they were in private. She nodded against him. “I love you so much, kitten. More and more every second,” he promised. “There’s no one y’need t’be jealous over. Ever. M’whole heart is yours.”

She sighed contentedly, feeling a little less inadequate.  A little more adored (which seemed almost impossible. But Harry was good at what he did).

“Say it again,” she sighed dreamily.

**You can find a bonus scene for this part here.**

--

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traditional taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jaded-and-hollow-souls @jerseygirlinca

@ameerakane20 @kimmi-kat @avasversion @youcouldstartacult @manrocket-mo

@golden-hoax @harryssky1 @soachibstel @morklee02 @harrysflorencex

@cherrycolas-things @emma34501 @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @acesofspadess

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[rageserenity]

It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

[lqvesoph]

There‘s no place I‘d rather be - LN4

gif by @princemick

lando norris x sainz!reader

summary: after a tricky qualifying session, you go to comfort your secret boyfriend

a/n: inspired by today’s quali in qatar

taglist | masterlist

Your heart broke when you heard Lando‘s radio message through your red headphones.

"It will get deleted", your brother spoke next to you and you looked up. "He was off at Turn 14", Carlos sighed and your heart sack further.

Lando will be so disappointed, was the only thing on your mind.

"I‘ll be back soon", you mumbled, put the headphones down and hurried out of the Ferrari garage. The paddock was quite full, especially now after qualifying but you managed to make your way to the Mclaren hospitality, slipping in before anyone could notice.

You‘ve never been inside here so you could only assume where the drivers rooms were but it did look kinda similar to Ferrari‘s hospitality.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?", a voice asked behind you, making you whip around. Oscar stood in the hallway, his race suit hanging low on his hips, with his bottle in one hand.

"Uhm- could you please show me where… Lando‘s room is?", you asked, unsure of how the 22 year old was gonna react.

A smirk found its way on Oscar‘s face. "Lando said he’s with someone from the paddock, I just never imagined it‘d be you", he grinned and shook his head.

Your eyes fell to the floor. Lando and you had agreed to hide your fairly new relationship for a while because both of you knew, that your brother would be very hard to convince.

"Follow me", Oscar smiled and waved you to him. He led you up a flight of stairs before making a left turn that led into a white painted hallway.

"This one is Lando‘s", he said and pointed at the right door. "Thank you so much, Oscar!", you gratefully spoke. Before you pushed the handle down you turned around again.

"Could you maybe not… tell anyone I was here and that Lando and me-", you asked but was interrupted by Oscar. "Don‘t worry, my lips are sealed. And I don’t really feel like getting caught up in this when your brother finds out", he chuckled.

"Thank you", you smiled and quietly pushed down the handle to open the door.

Lando sat on the couch, his head in one hand while looking at his phone.

"Baby?", you spoke, making his head shoot up. "What are you- How did you-", he stammered. You quickly made your way over to him, sitting down next to Lando and taking his phone out of his hands. With one glance you saw the layout of Twitter, so you exited the app and turned the phone off.

"We don’t look at that", you reminded him before pulling your boy into a tight hug. Lando’s head fell to your chest and his eyes fluttered closed. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent.

"I heard your radio and wanted to see you", you started answering his earlier questions. "I‘ve never been in here before so I had no idea where to go but Oscar found me and led me here."

Lando huffed. "Guess the secret‘s out", he muttered. "Come on, you told him everything apart from the fact it’s me", you chuckled and squeezed his shoulder teasingly. A small smile formed on Lando’s lips, making your heart skip a beat.

"Okay, guilty", he whispered. "He won’t say anything", you told him. "However I don’t know if Carlos caught on. We were watching Q3 together and I basically hurried out after he told me they‘ll delete your lap", you recalled recent events.

"He’s not smart enough to connect that", Lando fired back at his friend, which made you chuckle.

"Thank you for being here", he got serious again. "Means a lot!"

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his messy and sweaty curls. "Trust me, there’s no place I‘d rather be!"

Taglist

@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @sawendel @enjoymyloves @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @temqr1 @leclerc16s @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @andtheworldiscrashingdownonme @moneymasnn @justme2042 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomiracle @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person2345-blog @aquamariene-me @judespoision @sbgal @teti-menchon0604

F1 Taglist

@mehrmonga @f1lover55

[a-killer-obsession]

G, P, U 12 or 14+15 or all three?👀👀

Two Silly Boys

Prompt: Degradation/Sex Pollen/Unbearable

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, begging, oral (receiving), ass eating (receiving), petplay dog/master, double penetration (anal + vaginal), anal fingering, outdoor sex, semi-public sex

WC: 2.8k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

Going out to sea to explore the world was something you'd dreamed of doing since you were a child, so when captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law, offered you a place on his crew as their resident botanist you happily accepted. Much like you, Law was a healer, but while he practised modern medicine, you used more traditional methods. It was one of the reasons he was so keen on having you join, he'd come to learn the hard way several times in his journey that modern medicines and remedies weren't always available, and while he knew a little about the botany in North Blue and how to use it to heal, the flora of the Grandline was a whole different ordeal. He wanted to learn from you, as well as teach his crew how to stay safe when there were so many unfamiliar and dangerous plants in the New World. Born and raised on the Grandline, New World flora was your specialty, and you were happy to share your knowledge. In truth, it was nice to have someone who cared enough to listen.

Being botanist to the Heart Pirates did have its downsides though, namely two of them: Shachi and Penguin. You couldn't possibly fathom how no matter how many times you scolded them, they always ended up in the infirmary after touching or eating a plant that they shouldn't have. It drove you insane, you swore next time they needed a healing tincture that you'd just let them suffer. The two of them never learned, and somehow it always fell to you to fix their mistakes, because they didn't want the captain to literally rearrange their limbs for being such idiots.

A new uninhabited island loomed on the horizon, docking procedures already underway, and you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, having no doubt you'd be seeing them in the infirmary later. You gave the crew the usual talk; don't touch or eat anything without checking with you first, don't pick anything, don't stomp on mushrooms even if they look cool and squishable. You hoped the trouble makers were listening but you knew they weren't. Once docked, you spent the afternoon with the crew, exploring the island and collecting herbs and flowers that you knew had medical uses and gathering them carefully in a basket. You were especially delicate with a flower you recognised as having use for treating libido and erectile issues, you had no use for it but you thought Law might be interested in its properties for the way it increased blood flow, so you carefully picked several and placed them in an airtight jar.

You returned to the ship to store and organise your forage, setting some aside for drying and making notes and sketches in your journal about the variety of flora on the island. Forage sorted and put away, you left the ship again for a more causal, exploratory wander. The others had declared after a thorough search that there was no danger on this island, there were barely any large animals at all which meant the only predators were too small to truly endanger a human. Confident you were safe on your own, you wandered into the forest. You weren't worried about getting lost, you had an exceptional sense of direction and worst case the island was only about a three hour walk wide, you would appear on a beach eventually if you walked in a straight line, and from there you could just circle it to the ship.

An hour into your leisurely walk and the sound of moaning caught your attention. At first you thought you'd accidently stumbled on a few crewmates taking advantage of the dense forest, and turned to leave and give them privacy, till the moans mixed with pained curses and desperate cries. They sounded like they were injured so you hurried towards the sound, already pulling off your backpack to grab your emergency supplies. You skidded to a stop when the crewmates came into view though. The troublemakers, who else. What shocked you however was their current predicament. Naked as the day they were born, covered in a sheen of sweat, dicks in each other's hands, desperately pulling at each other. You weren't sure you'd even seen them without their signature hats before, Shachi's orange-brown hair falling over his face in sweat slickened strands, Penguin's short black hair dusted with dirt like he'd at some point been laying down.

“Yes, yes, yes, noooooooo,” Penguin cried out, so close to an edge but unable to topple over it. He shoved Shachi hard, instigating a round of aggressive fighting, uncaring of their nudity as they fought in the dirt. “You're not doing it right!”

“Neither are you!!” Shachi yelled back, kneeing him in the gut, “how hard could it possibly be to make another dude cum!”

“Ask your fucking self, useless prick!” Penguin decked him with a solid punch right to the jaw and Shachi quickly returned it with his own, the two best friends shocking you with the force they laid into each other and spat insults, covered in bruises, their erect cocks bouncing with every movement.

“CUT IT OUT! BOTH OF YOU!” you snapped at them, emerging from the treeline and grabbing them both by an ear, pulling them away from each other as they winced at your hard hold. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

You could barely understand a word they were saying as they both yelled over each other, not even bothering to cover themselves. You caught something about hiking, something about a dare maybe? And ah… a flower. Of fucking course.

“Stop, stop,” you sighed, releasing them to run hands down your tired face, “did you two idiots touch a flower? Yellow? Pink tips? Six pedals?”

“We uh..” Penguin started.

“...we ate it,” Shachi finished. You let out a pained groan, throwing your head back. God, these fucking two, you wanted to scream.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TWO IDIOTS NOT TO TOUCH THINGS?!” you shouted, the two of them now cowering at your feet. You couldn't help but notice the way the subtly touched your legs, it was the effects of the flower no doubt. “Why the fuck did you eat it?”

“It smelt nice!” Shachi wined, “and it tasted sweet so Penguin ate one too”

“But then we… got… hard,” Penguin sighed.

“How long have you dumbasses been out here jerking each other off?” You sighed.

“... three hours,” Shachi whined, practically nuzzling against your leg. You couldn't help the electricity it sent to your core, you'd never seen just how muscular the two of them were under the boilersuits, not to mention their sizable cocks. Nothing quite like two muscled men on their knees to get a girl going.

“What do we doooooo [y/n]?” Penguin cried, nestling against your other leg, the two of them each claiming a leg and running their hands up them as they knelt in front of you.

“The flower you two idiots ate is a powerful aphrodisiac,” you explained, allowing them some small relief by scratching their scalps, making them let out little whines. God, they were like animals in heat. “The flower relies on the wildlife around it to eat the flowers so their nose spreads pollen from one plant to the next. It encourages the production of said wildlife by setting them into a breeding frenzy. More animals means more opportunity to spread pollen. You two knuckleheads are no smarter than a wild boar, its working exactly as intended”

“So what do we do?” Shachi whined, “we… we tried doing it ourselves, we tried helping each other, but we can't… we can't finish”

“That's because the flower wants you to breed,” you sighed, “for a mammal with a phallus, you need to finish inside another. If you were females, you'd need someone to finish inside you. Men have died from this you know? You'll keep going till you either do what the flower wants, or until you drop dead”

“So we just… have to fuck?” Penguin asked coyly.

“Yup, good luck fellas,” you shook them off your legs and turned to leave, “don't forget to warm each other up first!”

“Wait… no!” Shachi looked at Penguin and almost cried, “we're not into men! I'm not doing that!”

“Speak for yourself…” Penguin muttered.

“Shut up Peng!” Shachi shouted, shoving him and setting off another fist fight, “you're not fucking my ass! Or my mouth for that matter!”

You made an annoyed groan as you pulled them off each other again, the two of them quickly reclaiming your legs, more aggressive with their touches now, hands travelling past the hem of your skirt.

“Let us fuck you! Please!” Penguin begged.

“We'll make you feel so good, I promise!” Shachi added. You rolled your eyes at them but couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your legs as the two men begged for you and ran hands up your thighs. It was a tempting predicament. You weren't sure anyone had ever helped two pollen victims before either, it could be interesting research to observe how they interacted with each other. Would they work together? Would they fight for dominance? It was a fascinating proposition.

“Fine,” you relented, parting your legs slightly, “but you two pathetic boys better make me cum till I see stars or I'm telling the captain”

They didn't even bother to give you a verbal reply before they were all over you, running their tongues up your legs and tugging at your clothes. Shachi stood and pulled off your shirt as Penguin unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the ground. They were like rabid dogs as they saw your underwear, and they made quick work of it, Shachi removing your bra, sucking on your breasts and groping them roughly as he stood beside you, while Penguin tugged down your panties and pulled you to rest your core on his face. You had to rely on Shachi to keep you upright as Penguin pulled your leg over his shoulder, and you cried out as he immediately drove his tongue between your folds, lapping at you like a parched dog, messily licking up any slick he could find and bullying his tongue inside you to find more.

“Fuck, Peng,” you moaned, hips rolling as you rode his tongue, “just like that, fuck. Who knew such a dumb, useless dog would have some use? Good dog, lap me up good,” Penguin moaned into you at your words, doubling his efforts, and you swore you heard him bark against your pussy.

“Am I a good dog too?” Shachi whined, letting your breast go with a pop to look at you with needy eyes.

“I don't see you eating your food like a good boy,” you huffed, “get on your knees and I'll see if you're worth my time”

Shachi dropped to his knees behind you, making a definite bark before pulling your cheeks apart and running his tongue against your asshole. If he had a tail, you had no doubt it’d be waggling. You shivered at the wet muscles lapping at you, feeling the way the two men's tongues occasionally met between your legs as they ate you out from both sides, Shachi's tongue bullying its way inside your tight hole. You reached one hand back to hold his head for support, a hand buried in each man's hair as they made growls and sloppy sounds against you, their cocks twitching untouched as they serviced you.

“Good dogs,” you purred, “fuck, gonna cum right on your faces, hnng~”

Penguin made a excited sounding yelp as you gushed on his face, and you cried out as Shachi took the opportunity to slip a finger in your ass, spitting on it and adding a second, your whole body tingling as he finger fucked you through your already intense orgasm. The two of them didn’t let up, Shachi’s tongue running over your ass and thighs before adding a third finger, stretching you open so you could take him.

“Good dogs,” you panted, barely able to keep yourself upright with the way your legs were quickly turning to jelly, “the two of you have worked hard, now show me how feral you are and come fuck me”

They moved faster than you could comprehend, working in tandem to get you in position so they could both fuck you. You expected them to lay you down, but instead Shachi lifted you so Penguin could slide inside your pussy, making you gasp at how fast he went to the hilt, before Penguin grabbed you himself and you wrapped your limbs around him. Shachi held your hips steady as he lined himself up with your ass, then he spat on his cock pumped it a few times to spread it. You held your breath, wincing a little from the stretch as he slid inside you slowly. They both held you still for a moment to adjust, the three of you panting heavily, both boys working hard to hold back and not just immediately slam into you. You gave them a small nod to let them know you were ready, mentally bracing yourself for what you knew would be a rough fuck given the effects of the flower. Shachi held your hips bruisingly tight, Penguin supporting your thighs, and the two of them began working in sync to lift and drop you, using you like a toy to get themselves off as they made deep thrusts in time. Between the strength of the two of them you were practically weightless, thrown around like a ragdoll as they grunted like rabid animals and fucked you mercilessly hard. Every hard thrust knocked the wind out of you till all you could do was whine as they used your body, quickly bringing you to orgasm again. Liquid dripped down their thighs from your release, wetting the dirt below you, the sound of them fucking your holes making sloppy sounds that echoed in the trees mingled with your collective moans.

“So good, good dogs,” you moaned, your tits squeezed against Penguin’s hard pecs, sweat making the three of you sticky as it collected between your bodies, your back pressed against Shachi’s front.

“Cum for us again, please,” Penguin whined.

“Need it. Need to feel you cum again,” Shachi added, his teeth grazing your shoulder.Penguin leaned back a little so he could rub your clit hard with his thumb, and you felt yourself spiralling.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cried, “cumming”

The two of them made deep groans that vibrated through you as they felt you squeeze around them, unable to let out your own moan from how hard you were cumming, the air entirely knocked out of you. All you could do was shake and see white dots in your vision as the two of them unloaded inside you, finally finding relief from the flower as they gave it what it wanted. The amount of cum they put in you was immense, another side effect of the flower, your two holes immediately dripping with white as they pulled out and held you steady while you found your footing and you practically collapsed against Penguin’s chest. Shachi grabbed the tank top he usually wore under his boiler suit and shook the dirt off, then he used it to do what he could to clean the impressive amount of collective fluids from you, your legs shaking and threatening to give out as he dragged it carefully through your oversensitive core. Penguin continued to wordlessly keep you upright while Shachi dressed himself, then they switched. Once the two of them were dressed they helped you, laying soft kisses and gentle, thankful caresses over your body as they pulled your clothes back on, before Shachi lifted you into a bridal hold.

“So what did we learn?” you yawned as they started to carry you back to the ship.

“Eat strange flowers,” Shachi gave you a shit eating grin. You smacked him hard on the chest and he pouted.

“I’m telling Law,” you threatened.

“Please don’t!” Penguin begged, “I promise not to dare Shachi to eat weird plants, and I pinky promise to not eat any myself!”

“Shachi?” you raised a brow. He rolled his eyes and readjusted his hold on you, making you squeak as you were jostled.

“Fineeeee,” he groaned, “I promise not to eat any more random flowers, even if they get me laid”

“I could have just let you die you know,” you huffed.

“I won’t do it again!” Shachi yelped as you pulled hard on his ear.

“Good dog,” you smiled.

“Woof!” they both replied.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 14

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, some setting is in a hospital, mentions of catheters and needles, descriptions and talk of anaphylaxis, mentions of financial difficulties, mentions of alcohol, mentions of toxic parents, mentions of death and suicide, minors do not interact

word count: 7.9k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

palestine will be free

The first thing you feel is something plastic poking the inside of your nose. It smelled of chilly, medicinal air conditioning. 

The next thing you feel is a massive, unpleasant weight on your chest. Then at the crown of your head. Then some weird pressure squeezing your calves every few seconds. Then an entirely full bladder. 

“I need to fucking pee.” You mutter, voice dry and raspy. 

“I think you can just go, dude.” A familiar voice replies. 

You fight against the crustiness of your eyes but immediately regret it. All you can see through the slits of your eyelids is a harsh, white light. 

“Am I… Am I fucking blind?” You whine. 

“I’m pretty sure that your eyeballs are still inside your head. So hopefully not.” You hear the voice chuckle. 

You fight against the unforgiving glare from above, forcing your eyes open. It takes a few moments to gain control of your body, but you’re eventually able to crane your neck towards where the voice had previously echoed from. 

“J-Jesse?” You croak. 

“Yeah. I’m here, bud.” Your raven-haired friend smiles. 

You spot him to your left, sitting in, what appears to be, an uncomfortable armchair. He wore a blue disposable mask over his nose and mouth, his hair looking unkempt and unshowered, and you notice how his clothes look wrinkled and slept in. 

“What happened? Are you alright? What’s going on?” You groggily inquire. 

“You’re the one all strapped to a hospital bed, but you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

Jesse takes your hand and squeezes it appreciatively. He flashes you a soft, warm smile. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“I-I’m not sure…” You admit. “What… what the hell happened?” 

“Well,” Jesse starts slowly. “You went on a date with Anderson to Orchards yesterday. At the end of it, you were being a total dummy and made out with her after she ate a whole plate of shrimp.” 

“N-no, no,” You interrupt, scrunching your face up as you try to recall the previous day’s events. “She ate this whole soup thing for dinner. Some weird French dish with some weird-sounding name.” 

“Bouillabaisse,” Jesse clarifies. “It’s a fish soup. It doesn’t always have shellfish in it, but hers apparently did.” 

You groan. 

“Oh, I am such a dumbass.” 

“Please explain to me exactly how you were being a dumbass in this situation.” 

“You literally just said that I was a dummy!” 

“That was Jesse of the past. I’m a much more mature man now in my old age.” 

You attempt to smack his arm, but he’s saved by the many coils of IVs attached to you, pulling your hand back. 

As he playfully rebukes you for attempted physical abuse, another person enters the room. A kind-looking nurse walks in with a clipboard in hand. Wearing dark blue scrubs, a low ponytail, and a surgical mask, she greets you with a friendly wave. She approaches your bedside opposite Jesse, and her glasses-covered eyes indicate a friendly smile. 

“Hi there,” She nods. “My name is Yoojin. I’m your nurse today. I’m so sorry for not being here when you woke up. I had to step out for a few seconds, but your brother here assured me that you were in capable hands.” 

You turn to Jesse and mouth in amusement, “Brother?” 

He suppresses a laugh. 

“Later.” He whispers through his mask. 

You turn to Yoojin with a small grin. 

“No worries. I only just woke up now.” You assure. 

She gives you, what you assume, is another smile under her mask. 

“So how are you feeling?” 

Jesse remained by your side the entire time, only leaving briefly when he needed to use the bathroom or take a call. He sympathized with your gripes about being bedridden, making lighthearted jokes about your catheter, messing around with the IPC devices off your legs over and over until a nurse came in and kindly asked him to stop. 

The TV in your room wasn’t working, so he kept you entertained, cracking his usual dad jokes and telling some old stories of Jackson you hadn’t heard yet. You pretended not to notice that the anecdotes he’d recall always excluded an essential person in his childhood, and you tried your best not to remark on it. 

After a couple of hours, Dina finally came around to visit. She walks in as you’re berating Jesse for stealing a fruit cup you knew you weren’t going to eat. The sight of her immediately warms your heart. 

“Dina!” You exclaim. “Oh, I missed you.” 

Dina sets her bag down next to Jesse, lowers her face mask for a moment to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and pulls up a chair next to him. She takes your hand and beams at you graciously. You notice that her eyes are slightly glassy. 

“Oh, babe,” She sighs. “I missed you too. Sorry that I’m just getting here. Had to deal with a few things before I came over.” 

“Don’t apologize, D. I’m just glad to see you.” 

She squeezes your hand softly. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” She gulps. “You worried us so much.” 

“Sorry about that,” You grin sheepishly. “I was being a bit of a dummy.” 

Dina blinks for a moment before giving Jesse a smack on the back of his head at this. 

“Oy vey. You asshole.” She chides knowingly. 

“Hey! No need to abuse me! I’m delicate.” 

He caresses the spot where she hit him as you laugh heartily. 

The couple recounts the events of last night for you, explaining in detail as much as they know. You listen without interruption until they reach the topic of your EpiPen. 

“But how’d you guys get to my EpiPen so quickly? Did you pass by my apartment?” You ask them curiously. “I don’t mind if you guys did! It’s just not that close to the restaurant. Wouldn’t have made much sense to book it back to my apartment, honestly.” 

Dina and Jesse share a look you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrow, confused by their hesitation. Eventually, Dina responds. 

“Uh, well…” She begins slowly. “Jesse actually happened to have a spare EpiPen at his place. Thank god, right?” 

“You did?” You turn your head towards Jesse. “I didn’t even know you had one, Jesse.” 

“Y-yeah,” Dina continues cautiously as you notice Jesse’s expression shift to a poker face. “He used to have an, uh, egg allergy growing up.” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yup,” Jesse chimes in. “I grew out of it when I was in high school. But my mom still insists that I have an EpiPen on me. Just in case.” 

You continue to look completely discombobulated. You don’t fully buy their story, especially since neither were looking you directly in the face. But you’ve always trusted Dina as a sister and Jesse like a brother, so you half-heartedly accept the tale they’ve decided to present you with. 

“Oh, okay,” You say, slightly unconvinced. “Well, thank god for that, I guess. Is it okay that you used it on me, though? What if you suddenly need it again?” 

“No worries,” Jesse assures you. “I’ll call my mom and ask her to send me a new one.” 

His poker face improves, so you concede for now. 

The couple continue to recount the previous day’s events until they eventually catch up to the present. 

“Only family is technically allowed to visit you in the ICU,” Dina confesses at one point. “Jesse had to say he’s your brother to get past the nurses' station. The nurse manning the desk at the time could definitely tell we were lying, but she was really nice and allowed it anyway.” 

“Oh, gotcha,” You say. “Well, you’re basically my brother, anyway.” 

“You should feel so lucky to share the same genes as me.” He boasts, stealthily avoiding yet another smack from Dina. 

“What about you, D?” You ask, turning towards her. “What did you say you were? My sister?” 

“Nah, I didn’t wanna be siblings with Jesse, even just as pretend.” She grimaces. 

“Okay, yeah, didn’t think of that,” You realize, scrunching up your nose in total disgust at the thought. “Gross.” 

“Wouldn’t be able to get that image out of my head.” Dina shudders. “Anyway, I told them that I’m your life partner.” 

“My what?” You giggle. 

“Hey, it counts!” Dina defends. “Well, kind of. The nurse had to list me as your ‘spouse’ instead, which feels like a hate crime.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh as Jesse chuckles. 

“What? You don’t wanna be married to me?” Dina asks in mocking shock and offense. 

“I am absolutely honoured to be married to you,” You assure her. “I’m just worried about poor Jesse. How in the world are we supposed to break it to him that we’ve actually been married for over ten years?” 

“Oh, please, Jesse’s known from the start that he’s always just been a side piece.” 

“Hey!” Jesse interjects in indignance. “I’m right here.” 

“Be quiet, side piece. The wife and I are speaking.” Dina waves him off. 

You burst out into laughter at Jesse’s playfully hurt expression. 

The three of you discuss what the doctors have told you, and you eventually bring up the conditions required of you to be discharged. 

“I know that the doctors and nurses saved my life and whatever. And of course, I’m very grateful. And I truly do not mean any disrespect,” You say. “But I want to get the fuck out of here, uhh, right fucking now.” 

Dina smiles and Jesse chuckles. 

“I know, babe.” Dina sympathizes. 

“You’ll be out sooner than you know, bud,” Jesse adds. “Don’t stress over it. We’ll get you out as soon as possible.” 

“Oh!” Dina suddenly pipes up and reaches into her bag. “I can’t believe I forgot. I brought your phone. I was able to grab your purse for you before the paramedics took you away. I turned it off and charged it at home, so it should have some juice.” 

She places your phone in your hand, and you flash her a grateful smile. 

“D, you need to be canonized for your good deeds, I swear. With a statue and everything.” 

“Oh, I know,” Dina smirks. “Brought your wallet too. Not sure if you wanna keep it here or bring it back to your apartment, though.” 

“I’ll ask them if I can keep it here with me.” 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“I’ll… I’ll have to figure out how to pay for all this when I get out.” You sigh. 

“Oh, babe,” Dina says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. Just focus on resting, okay?” 

“Your insurance will hopefully take care of a huge chunk of it,” Jesse contemplates. “It’s through your dad, right?” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” You say as your hands begin to fidget anxiously. “Something as big as this, they’ll probably contact my parents. I… I can’t let them know I’m in here. I know it’ll start shit and… I just know it won’t be good.” 

The couple give you identical, concerned looks. 

“D-do they know? Th-that I’m in here?” You ask timidly. 

“Not that we know,” Jesse replies. “Neither of them is on your emergency contact list. And you know that Dina and I would never speak to either of them. Unless it’s to tell them to shove a stick up their respective asses.” 

You and Dina giggle. 

“Speaking of which,” Dina adds. “You can ask your uncle. I called him yesterday while you were still out. I hope that’s alright.” 

“Oh, that was so thoughtful of you,” You say gratefully. “What did he say? I hope he didn’t worry too much.” 

“Honey, you almost died. Of course, he’s worried. He loves you.” She checks the time on her phone. “He should be arriving sometime later today, actually.” 

“Shit,” You groan. “He didn’t have to do that. He gets so busy with work during this time of the year. This must have been so inconvenient—” 

Jesse suddenly takes his thumb and middle finger and flicks you on the forehead. 

“What the fuck!” You exclaim in indignance, rubbing the spot you were hit, as Dina gives him another hard smack on the head. Jesse ignores you both. 

“You are more important than any goddamn job that exists in the world, in the whole motherfucking galaxy. Your uncle loves you, just as we do. So no more complaining about it, dumbass.” 

You give him a pouty look, but his words fill your heart. 

Your best friends stay the rest of the time until your uncle arrives around midday. Relief and affection overwhelm you when he enters the room. You squeeze him with the tightest embrace you can possibly give for someone essentially strapped to their hospital bed. You ignore the loud beeping resulting from the tangling of your many IV wires. 

After your friends help you unravel all the cords, they gather their things and get up from their chairs. 

“We’ll let you guys talk.” Jesse says, offering his seat to your uncle. 

“Oh, you don’t have to leave.” Your uncle graciously assures them. 

“It’s alright; have some family time,” Jesse insists kindly. “I’m pretty sure she can only have two visitors at a time, anyway.” 

The couple make their way towards the sliding glass door. 

“I cannot express how grateful I am for you two,” Your uncle says before they exit. “Thank you for saving her life. And thank you for keeping me in the loop.” 

“Please, no need to thank us, really.” Dina nods kindly. “She’s family. We would do absolutely anything for her.” 

“That means you’re both family to me too.” Your uncle concludes. “Thank you.” 

You hold back tears of vast emotion from three of the most important people in your life exchanging such caring sentiments. You’ve never felt luckier. 

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Jesse promises. “Let us know if either of you needs anything, okay?” 

Jesse and Dina take their leave, and your uncle subsequently takes a seat next to you. 

“Oh, Uncle,” You start before he can speak. “I’m so, so sorry. You shouldn’t have flown all this way. I can’t believe I was so stupid to have—” 

“Hey, hey,” Your uncle interjects. “None of that. You have no reason to be sorry. You needed me, so I’m here. I’m not mad, and this is not your fault.” 

Tears form in the corners of your eyes. 

“I just feel like I’ve inconvenienced so many people. If I could have just paid attention…” You lament. “And now I’ve totally made you drop everything to be here. I know you’ve still got work—” 

“You are a thousand times more important than my job, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and squeezes your hand, echoing Jesse’s previous words. 

“But…” 

“You are my family. Nothing is more important than that.” 

You smile at his adamancy. 

“And especially since losing Rafael,” He continues. “I think of you as my own.” 

“I know, Uncle.” 

You squeeze his hand back in affection. 

“D-did…” You suddenly say. “Did you tell—” 

“No, your mother and father don’t know a thing about this.” He answers insightfully. 

“Thank god.” 

“Did you want me to tell them?” 

You grimace. Your uncle chuckles. 

“I figured as much.” He surmises. 

“I just don’t know how to keep this from them forever, though,” You continue. “They’ll see it through the insurance company. I…” 

“Don’t worry about that. I can talk to the nurses later today before I leave, see if I can pay it in full myself without needing to use your father’s insurance.” 

“Uncle, please. Please don’t do that. This is going to be so costly, and you’ve still got your mortgage and Raf’s leftover student debt—” 

“I just want you to focus on getting better, alright? I don’t want anything else on your plate right now.” 

“Uncle, promise me. Please. Please promise me. Do not spend a single cent on this. I want to do this on my own. I’ll figure it out. Please promise me.” 

He gives you nothing more than a smile in response. 

Your friends and uncle take turns rotating as your company for the rest of the day. They’d only leave your side when the doctors and nurses needed to conduct extensive tests to ensure that you were still stable. You were never on your own for more than a few seconds, your loved ones determined that you not feel alone. 

You’d turned your phone on almost immediately after Dina’d handed it to you. But as a small, gracious gesture of appreciation, you had set it aside to give your visitors your undivided attention for the rest of the day. 

It wasn’t until the evening, when your friends and uncle waved you goodbye as visiting hours ended, that you allowed yourself to finally glance at your notifications. 

Anxiously picking your phone up, the first thought you have is to call Abby. Jesse and Dina had mentioned she was with them in the waiting room the night before. But, like your friends, she was informed that she wasn’t permitted to see you in the ICU as she wasn’t family. Dina and Jesse sent her home with the promise to let her know as soon as possible when you finally woke up and that you were alright. 

You notice that she’d messaged you earlier in the day. But much too embarrassed to face her just yet, you decide instead to first call your old freshman roommate. 

Tara picks up after only two rings, almost as if she’d been waiting by the phone for your call. She greets you with a happy shriek of your full name, an amused giggle escaping your lips as a response to her sudden enthusiasm. 

“Thank fucking god!!! I’ve been waiting all fucking day to hear the sound of your voice!” 

“Umm, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You reply, smirking. “This is actually Satan, here to leave a message. I’m calling to let you know that I will be collecting your mortal soul sometime during the next 24 hours.” 

“Oh nooooo,” Tara plays along. “What on earth have I done to warrant eternal damnation, Miss Satan?” 

“Not sure if you know, but homosexuality is actually a cardinal sin. And unfortunately, you seem to be a notorious, flaming homosexual. I know, I know; it’s quite disappointing. But alas, I do not make the rules.”  

“But Miss Satan, are you not a homosexual too?” 

“Well, that’s exactly how I know it’s a sin.” 

The two of you crackle at each other’s banter, and you make plans in your head to spend more time with Tara and the rest of the girls after you’re released from the hospital. 

You and Tara chat for a little while about the most mundane things, like her classes the day before and her plans for the weekend. She apologizes for not having more to say and for “being so boring,” but you’re genuinely happy to just hear her prattle off about anything. 

At some point, she hands her phone over to Astrid, who greets you with a similarly delighted shriek that her girlfriend had received you with prior. She gushes over you with love and concern, insisting that she and all the Wilson girls come to visit you as soon as you’re out and adjusted. 

“Tara just about broke down when I told her about it.” She reveals. “She was about to leave for her shift at Ruston’s when Dina called, and I’m pretty sure the whole dorm could hear her sobbing.” 

“What?! I did not!” You hear Tara shout from a short distance. 

“You had so much snot running down from your nose that I just about hosed your face down before you left!” Astrid yells back. 

“Stop telling her that! She doesn’t need to hear all that!!” 

You giggle at the couple’s repartee. 

“Anyway,” Astrid continues. “Kris, Sid, and I tried to come down for a visit, but they apparently only let family in. Jesse and Dina seemed to have monopolized the fake roles of being your family already.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that, Addy.” 

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” She brushes off. “I’m just glad that you haven’t been alone there. Those two really care about you, you know.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Dina started to make a whole fuss when they wouldn’t let us past,” Astrid continues. “Threatened to sue the nurses, all the doctors, the entire hospital. The receptionist nurse didn’t even get a chance to kick her out ‘cause Jesse himself forced her to go leave and take a walk to calm down. I don’t think she came back until a couple of hours later.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like our Dina.” You snort. 

The two of you discuss what you’d like to do whenever you finally get released, Astrid swearing to get you out of your apartment nearly every day after your discharge. 

“I don’t think I have all the stamina for all that, babe.” You chuckle. 

“Then you better get yourself to the gym with Jesse, and build that stamina the fuck up! I want your sexy self at parties and clubs, living your best 20s life with us!” 

You chuckle warily at this, simultaneously pushing away the reminder of who Jesse’s daily workout partner is. 

After saying your goodbyes to Tara and Astrid, you make brief calls to the rest of the girls of the Wilson Crew. They all answer your calls with an assortment of jubilant greetings, each girl expressing their elation and gratefulness that you’re finally awake and safe. 

You send individual texts of love to Dina, Jesse, and your uncle, thanking them extensively for coming to your aid and expressing your excitement to see them again very soon. 

Having done your rounds of gratitude, you finally acknowledge that you can no longer ignore the unread texts of the blonde-braided woman you’d had your near-fatal dinner with. You open up your message thread with Abby to see that she’d sent you only three texts earlier in the day. 

You stare at her text. 

Oh. Huh. 

No part of you blamed Abby for the incident; in fact, you’d been feeling a tremendous amount of remorse for putting her through such a traumatizing and jarring ordeal. It had been plaguing you so much since you woke up that you were far too embarrassed to ask Jesse and Dina more about her. 

But something about her texts bothers you. There was very little warmth and familiarity in her messages. Her words didn’t seem that of the woman who had been walking you to your classes every day, who showed you off to her friends at the Bow and the Arrow, who treated you to a lavish restaurant on a fancy date. Who kissed you with so much passion on the sidewalk of that same restaurant the evening before. 

Is… Is she angry with me? 

You continue to stare at her strange messages for several more minutes, unable to process the situation you’re somehow in now. You can’t think of an appropriate response that would lead to something honest, so you decide to put your response off. 

A-at least until after they release me… At least until I get home… 

The doctors only began to discuss the possibility of your discharge early Sunday morning. Though it hadn’t even been a full two days since your admittance, it took everything in you not to practically beg them to let you go. You’d been insisting to anyone who’d listen that you were completely fine, that you’d walk right out yourself if you weren’t strapped to your bed with a million wires. 

It wasn’t until midday, as you were mercilessly beating Jesse’s Shy Guy as Pink Gold Peach in Mario Kart, that Yoojin walked into your room with good news. You don’t notice her at first, too busy taunting Jesse for landing in 7th place while you scored 1st. 

“You only won because I got Lakitu’d in the second lap! Fuckin’ Isabelle was sending red shells at me nonstop…” Jesse gripes. 

“Sucks. Sounds like a personal problem, man.” You shrug. 

“Alright, I want a rematch, but on the Egg course this time.” 

“You’re such a sore fucking loser!” 

“There’s a shortcut on Yoshi’s circuit close to where the finish line is, by the way,” Yoojin interjects, eyes smiling. “If you use a mushroom and drift to the hidden waterfall on the right, it’ll get you pretty far ahead.” 

You and Jesse look up, a bit sheepish at her witnessing your juvenile behaviour. The nurse looks completely unbothered by it, however, and she approaches your bed as you place your controller down. 

“Aww, come on, Yoojin,” You whine. “Don’t tell him that! I’m on a winning streak!” 

“Shh,” Jesse shushes you, attempting to cover your face with one hand. “Don’t listen to her, Yoojin. She’s delirious from all the drugs you’ve been pumping her with. I must know all your secrets, ‘cause I swear, this one is cheating.” 

“Maybe later,” Yoojin laughs as you flick Jesse’s forehead. “Because you might want to hear what your doctor just told me.” 

Your ears perk up at this. 

“I can go home?” 

“Your most recent labs just came back, and everything looks good.” Yoojin nods. “And your vitals have been stable for the last 24 hours. So unless you plan on wolfing down ten pounds of shrimp sometime before leaving, we can get started on getting you released sometime later today.” 

Your face breaks out in a huge smile, and you turn to grasp Jesse’s arm. 

“Dude! I can go home!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, I heard,” Jesse says. You can feel his smirk through his face mask. “Finally.” 

You turn back to Yoojin. 

“I can go right now?” You ask. 

“It’ll take a couple of hours to make sure everything’s set for your discharge,” Yoojin says, chuckling at your eagerness. “But just hang tight, and you’ll be out of here in no time.” 

“Why don’t you guys settle things here while I go tell your uncle?” Jesse offers. 

Your uncle had stepped out to get some lunch at the hospital’s food court not too long ago. He and Jesse had arrived on the dot when visiting hours began earlier in the day. Dina had accompanied them but left shortly after to take care of other obligations, promising to be right back the second she was done. 

“Oh, that’d be great,” You say. “Thanks, Jess.” 

“No worries, bud. I’ll be right back.” 

He gives you a pat on the head before leaving you alone with the nurse. 

“So before you leave, we’ll go over a few things to make sure you don’t suddenly relapse during the next few days,” Yoojin begins. “And we’ll make sure you go home with a couple of new, unexpired EpiPens, just in case.” 

You nod as she goes on to explain the plans for your discharge. You listen attentively, determined not to end up back in the hospital like this again. As Yoojin wraps up, you work yourself up to ask her a question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since the beginning of the conversation. 

“Hey, umm, before you go,” You mutter nervously. “I wanted to ask about how much all of this will cost me. I-I know it’ll be pricey and all, especially with two brand new EpiPens, so I just want to be prepared.” 

“That’s not really something I can help you with,” Yoojin replies apologetically. “That’s the jurisdiction of the hospital’s billing department. But I’m sure you can get it all settled with your insurance after you’ve been released. Depending on what you have, they should cover most of it.” 

You give her a tentative smile as you wring your blanket between your fingers. 

“A-alright then.” You sigh defeatedly. 

It takes about two hours for you to finally be released from all your restraints and another hour until you’re finally walking out of the hospital and into the sunny parking lot. Yoojin allowed you a quick embrace before you left, insisting that you promise to be much more careful from here on out. 

You lean against your uncle and Jesse for support as you exit the hospital’s automatic sliding doors, legs still a little shaky after being bedridden for so long. Dina pulls up next to you in her car and gets out to open the passenger door. 

“M’lady.” She says with a bow, gesturing to the seat. 

“Shut up, D.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Your uncle inquires. 

“I think so,” You reply. “Didn’t really bring anything with me.” 

“Alright, well, I’ll head to my hotel room first so I can take care of a few things. I’ll meet the three of you at your apartment sometime later today. Sound good?” 

You, Jesse, and Dina all nod in unison. Before he walks away, you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” You murmur. “It means so much to me that you came.” 

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.” 

He gives you a quick squeeze before releasing you, promising he won’t take very long before walking away towards his rental car. 

“So,” Dina chimes. “Wanna grab some gross, greasy non-hospital food on the way home?” 

 When you finally cross the threshold of your apartment, you’d already wolfed down the majority of your fries along with half a chocolate milkshake. You collapse onto your couch with a relieved sigh, your best friends falling next to you on either side. You lean your head onto Dina’s shoulder as you take her hand between both of yours. 

“I think I’m about to go into the world’s longest food coma.” You decree. 

“I’m right alongside you, dude.” Jesse agrees, having devoured one and a half burgers himself on the way. 

“No comas, please, or we’re gonna have to turn right back around and readmit you into that hospital.” Dina says. 

“Never again, please,” You beg. “If I have to hear the nonstop beeping of a heart monitor for one more second, I’m going into straight-up fight-or-flight mode.” 

Your friends chuckle. 

“Alright,” Jesse eventually says as he sits up straighter. “Now that you’ve been freed, what do you want to do first?” 

You hum as you ponder his question. 

“Get so blackout drunk that I totally forget this entire experience ever even happened in the first place?” You offer. 

“Right, well, perhaps we can do something that isn’t completely stupid and detrimental to your health. Especially after you were just in the hospital after almost dying.” Dina retorts. 

You boo her as Jesse chuckles. 

“Well,” You continue. “I guess I should tell the girls I’m finally out. I promised them I would. Or did you guys say anything to them already?” 

“Not yet,” Dina says. “They’ll probably want to hear it from you.” 

You groan. 

“You’re right. Ugh. I don’t think I can handle the sheer amount of screaming and excitement that’ll come with it, though. Kris sounded like she was going to smother me with so much love that I’d suffocate from it.” 

“You can always put it off, at least until tomorrow.” Jesse counters. 

“I guess so. You think they’ll be mad?” 

“Babe,” Dina says, squeezing your hands and rolling her eyes. “You almost died. I think they’ll survive a day.” 

“Alright, alright,” You giggle. “I probably should focus on getting work done before class tomorrow, anyway.” 

“Ma’am, I know you are not thinking of going to your classes right after you were just in the hospital all weekend.” Jesse scolds sternly. 

“I’m fine!” 

“Dear lord.” Jesse sighs, exasperated. 

“Like I said,” Dina repeats. “You almost died. School is not a priority right now. You need to be resting, not writing essays and doing homework.” 

“I don’t want to fall behind!” 

“Didn’t your doctor give you a school note before we left earlier? She said you can give it to your professors to excuse you from your classes this week.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not mandatory or anything. I’m fully recovered now, so it just seems totally unnecessary.” 

“Like hell it is!” Dina bellows before releasing your hands to stand up from the couch. You fall flat on your face onto her spot when her shoulder disappears from under your head, and you muffle irritated curses into the couch cushion. You look up to see she’s disappeared momentarily into your bedroom. 

“D… What are you doing?” 

Dina reemerges after a few seconds, your laptop in her hands. 

“Babe. What’d you get that for?” You ask suspiciously. 

“I’m emailing all of your professors myself to tell them that you will not be attending any of your classes this week. Especially since it seems that you want to be such a stubborn dumbass about it…” Dina says matter-of-factly, shoving your head away from her spot on the couch to sit beside you once more. 

“Never should have given you my password.” You grumble as Dina opens up your laptop and easily bypasses your lockscreen. 

“Alright, who are all your professors again?” She asks, opening up your browser to access your email. 

“I’m not telling you!” You reply stubbornly, crossing your arms. 

“Hmm… I know she’s got Olinick’s double class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Mulligan at least on Mondays—” Jesse lists, counting your professors on one hand. 

“No, no, no, I don’t!” You turn towards him, shoving your hands in his face. 

“—I think Joslin from the English department too, but I can’t remember if that was last year or this year.” 

“Jesse!” 

By the time your uncle arrives at your apartment, you’d conceded to your best friends and allowed them to draft an excuse email to all of your professors. Dina opens the door for him after he knocks while you make final edits to your letters, and he settles into the ratty, secondhand armchair right next to the couch. 

Your uncle chuckles at the scene before him: you with a focused look on your face typing rapidly on your laptop, Jesse leaning back into the couch while gently patting the top of your head as he continued to make suggestions to your email, and DIna taking her seat right back next to you before kicking her feet onto your lap as you lift and place your laptop on top of her legs. It had been a while since your uncle had seen you so relaxed around other people, the last time being right before your freshman year of college. His fondness for your best friends quickly grows by the second. 

You look up from your work for a moment to smile warmly at your uncle, and he returns it with one of his own. 

“Hi, Uncle! Sorry, I’m just finishing up this email to my professors.” 

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. You telling them you won’t be attending any classes this week?” 

“Yup,” Jesse answers for you. “Took a lot of bullying on our part to convince her not to overwork herself with school right now.” 

“This dummy wanted to go back to classes right away as if nothing happened.” Dina rolls her eyes as she extracts a foot from underneath your laptop to kick you softly, earning her a stern “Hey, hey, hey!” from you. 

“Well, thank goodness she has you two to set her straight.” Your uncle chuckles. 

“Oh, she’s absolutely lost without us.” Jesse says, continuing to pat the top of your head. 

Your uncle smiles. He can tell that Jesse’s joking around, but he knows that the couple have both been selflessly keeping you alive for the past few years. 

“So how are you feeling?” Your uncle continues with concern etched on his face. 

“Not so bad,” You admit. “Just so glad to be among civilians once again.” 

You feel Jesse rub your upper back kindly. 

“I’m sure,” Your uncle smiles kindly. “How about we talk about what you’re going to do now that you’re out?” 

The four of you discuss what the next, post-hospital visit steps would be. They remind you of the check-up appointment you have later in the week, caution you once more about what foods you need to constantly be looking out for, and double-check that you have your new EpiPens handy and within constant reach. 

“I still have my current EpiPen in the bathroom,” You say. “It hasn’t lapsed yet. So maybe I can give you each of the ones they sent me home with, if that isn’t too much of an inconvenience to either of you guys?” 

You turn towards Dina then Jesse. 

“You sure?” Jesse asks. 

“Yeah, I mean, I obviously don’t want something like this to happen again. But if, by some hideous trick of fate, I end up in a repeat situation, it might be smart to just have one in multiple places. Just to cover my bases, I guess.” 

“I don’t mind at all,” Dina nods. “As long as you have easy access to one at all times.” 

“Yeah, that was my thinking too,” You agree. “Plus, I don’t want to have to use one of yours again, Jess.” 

“Mm, I guess.” Jesse hums. 

Your eyes meet his and you once again recognize his poker face. 

“That sounds like a good plan,” Your uncle agrees. “Let’s try not to rely on just luck next time around.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. 

The sun had been set for at least an hour when Dina and Jesse finally took their leave. Both offer to stay the night, in case you suddenly need either of them, but you assure them that you’ll survive one night alone just fine. You embrace each of them tightly, putting every ounce of gratitude you have into your hugs. 

You settle back onto the couch after you see them both out the door, and you turn towards your uncle still sitting in the armchair. 

“I know I’ve said this probably a hundred times the past day or so,” You begin. “But thank you for coming, Uncle.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t come,” He replies. “Neither would Raf if he was still around.” 

You both share a sad smile. 

“I miss him, Uncle…” You whisper suddenly. 

“I know. I do too.” 

You sigh before continuing. 

“I wish he was still here. I feel… I feel so incomplete without him around. Like this has all been an awful nightmare that I have yet to wake up from.” 

“I know just what you mean,” Your uncle laments. “But our lives still go on, sweetheart. I think it’d make him sad to see us grieving him for the rest of our lives.” 

“But… it just feels so wrong. It feels so wrong to stop grieving for him, to move on from him.” 

“It’s not exactly moving on from him,” Your uncle ponders. “It’s more like… We make a place for him in our hearts. It’s sort of like he becomes a part of us. He’ll always be in everything we do.” 

Your eyes well up as a childhood memory floods your thoughts. 

When you were eleven years old, you had your first anaphylactic experience. You and Rafael were hanging out at his house, your uncle at work all day. You were making a mess in the kitchen, developing concoctions with half the contents of the pantry. As you were dumping a bag of marshmallows into a blender full of graham crackers and banana slices, Rafael fished an old bag of chips out of one of the cabinets. 

The writing on the bag was all in a language you couldn’t understand, but the superheroes on the front seemed to be enjoying the crunchy snack. Raf was tearing the bag open before your greasy fingers started grabbing at its contents. 

It didn’t even take two minutes until Rafael realized something was wrong. You were annoyed and taken aback when he slapped the chips out of your hand. It wasn’t until he was hauling you to the garage and strapping you into the passenger seat that you began to feel dizzy. By the time Rafael had driven to the emergency room, your skin had broken out into hives and your throat felt completely swollen. The last thing that you remembered before blacking out was your faithful cousin scooping you up and sprinting to the emergency room’s entrance. 

You didn’t hear the end of it from your parents when you’d woken up from being unconscious after a couple of hours. Your mother spared no shame in relentlessly admonishing you, regardless of who was in the room, for your “stupidity.” The doctors and nurses offered you continuous looks of pity as they had to witness your many verbal lashings, though none stepped in to interfere. You were blamed for inconveniencing the family, for forgetting your EpiPen at home, for “forcing” Rafael to drive a car when he didn’t have his driver’s license yet, for obligating your parents to pay for your medical bills. 

From that day on, your fear of your parents’ wrath was far greater than the fear of possibly falling prey to your fatal allergy. 

All that gave you hope was your uncle and cousin coming to your defense. Unlike your parents, they showered you with care and love, especially Rafael who felt guilty and responsible for your admission. They nursed you back to health after you were released, Rafael promising you that he’d never let it happen to you again. 

 “Can I tell you something, Uncle?” You ask. “I didn’t even tell Jesse or Dina this. And I don’t think I ever could.”  

“You never even have to ask, sweetheart. You know you can tell me anything.” 

“I…” You gulp. “There was a point… while I was in the ICU that I was a little lucid for a few moments…” 

You wring your fingers together in uneasiness as you stare down at your lap, unable to meet your uncle’s eyes. 

“I… I didn’t know what was happening to me. I didn’t know I was going through anaphylaxis again. But I just knew… I felt that something was wrong with me.” 

Your uncle listens to you intently, his chin on his hands folded as if he were praying. 

“Something inside me… Somehow, I knew that I was dying,” You continue. “Or I knew that at that moment, I could die. I could keep going… or I could choose to let my body give out completely.” 

You finally meet your uncle’s gaze. 

“And I wanted to. I wanted to just… go,” You confess. “Not in a s-suicidal way. Not exactly, at least.” 

Your eyes fill with thick tears. 

“But… I wanted to be with him again. I knew that if I gave in, if I succumbed to whatever was killing me, I would see him again.” 

Your bottom lip shakes as you continue. 

“I miss him so f-fucking much, Uncle. I don’t know how to go on without him around. I’m so l-lost and confused, and all I want to do is talk to h-him about it. But I can’t. There’s n-nobody else in this world that I’ve ever felt as close to as him. Maybe except—” 

You break off before you can finish, shaking off the memory of ocean green eyes and a constellation of freckles. The look on your uncle’s face tells you that he already knows how your sentence was going to end, but he says nothing. 

“He told me he’d never let anything happen to me. He was always supposed to be here with me,” You sob. “I know that’s selfish. I know that his life didn’t revolve around me. But so much of mine did. I planned… I built my life to always include him. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” 

Your uncle’s sad eyes watch as you roughly wipe your cheeks of the tears uncontrollably streaming down. 

“Sweetheart…” Your uncle begins as he stands up from the armchair to sit next to you on the couch. “You are not selfish. I know how much he meant to you. How much he still means to you.” 

He takes your hands between his. 

“I just…” You sniffle. “It’s been years. I thought I’d healed from it already. I thought I’d moved past all the pain.” 

“It’s not a continuous thing, dealing with your grief.” Your uncle smiles softly. “You’ll have moments, hard ones where it’ll all feel raw and fresh again. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or selfish. You just have your own way of handling your sadness.” 

You nod in acknowledgement of his words. 

“But I think we both owe it to Raf to live our lives, to be happy without him around,” He continues. “His gift to us was time. Time with him and great memories. Even if he’s no longer with us, we’ll continue to carry that gift with us wherever we go.” 

Your uncle smiles and you return it, though wistfully. 

“I’m very grateful that you trusted me to share this with me,” Your uncle begins. “But don’t be afraid to talk about this with your friends. Especially those two.” 

“Jesse and Dina?” 

He nods. 

“I see just how much they love you,” Your uncle says. “They seem like they would do absolutely anything for you. And I am so grateful that you have people like that in your life.” 

“Yeah, they… mean so much to me.” 

“I’m glad. So, please. If I’m not around, don’t be afraid to confide in those two. I’m sure if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same for them.” 

“I’d do absolutely anything for them.” 

“Exactly. So don’t be afraid to embrace the love in your life. You deserve that. And that’s exactly what Rafael would want for you.” 

You throw your arms around your uncle and sob into his shoulder. 

You and your uncle continue to talk for a while until you realize that it’s nearly midnight. Like your friends, he offers to stay the night in case you need him. But you know his flight home was only in a few short hours, so you insist that he go back to his hotel to get a bit of sleep before he needs to leave for the airport. 

It took everything in you not to beg him to stay, but you couldn’t bear troubling him further. And you longed to finally have some time to yourself, so you put on a brave face.  

After your many assurances that you would take care of yourself better, you walk him to your front door. When you open it up, you both notice a simple brown box with a thin bow placed on top of your doormat. You pick it up, noticing how light it feels in your hands. 

“What is this?” You mutter. 

“You got a package?” Your uncle asks, looking at the box. 

“No… I didn’t order anything.” 

“Strange. Maybe your friends Dina and Jesse left it for you.” He offers. 

“I… I guess,” You frown. “Although, I don’t really know why they wouldn’t just give it to me when they were here earlier.” 

“Hmm, that’s true,” He hums, squinting his eyes at it. “A secret admirer, perhaps?” 

“Ha ha, Uncle. Very funny.” 

You give him an amused grimace before untying the bow and removing the lid. You gasp as you recognize what it contains. 

“Oh…” 

You drop the box and embrace its previous contents. 

“My Barbie Bear…” 

author's notes:

thank y'all so much for you patience waiting for this new chapter to come out. i literally wrote like, half of this while in the psych ward, and that was all the way in decemeber sldkfjlsdk

tbh i meant this chapter to be a lot shorter than it turned out to be but lskdjfs more content for y'all ig!

reader's first words after waking up is inspired by me saying, "i need to poop so bad" when the doctors were busy working on me in the emergency room lmaoooo

silver lining of me being in the icu back in december is being able to describe it in detail in this chapter hehe. being in the icu suuuuucked but mostly cause it was boring and cold and i wasn't allowed to get up to pee!!!

the nurse yoojin is named after one of my nurses while i was in the hospital. i loveddddd her, she was such a sweetheart and it made me so happy whenever she was assigned to me. i was rewatching arcane while i was in the hospital, and she saw and asked me about it, and then we gabbed about the show and league of legends (cause she religiously plays the game but hasn't watched arcane yet), and i eventually convinced her to actually watch the show heeeheee

reader’s uncle saying he sees reader as his own is what uncle iroh says to zuko in atla, fun little easter egg heehee (you know me and my love for easter eggs)

reader greeting tara on the phone as satan was how i first greeted my best friend when i was finally able to call her through the public phone in the psych ward (hi rhi LOL)

pink gold peach is my main in mario kart lol

reader's professors mentioned are all named after old professors from my former college's theatre department (rip dennis, miss you always ❤️)

reader’s uncle telling her “we make a place for him in our hearts” in regards to rafael is what tara in buffy the vampire slayer says to dawn when their mom dies (can you tell i love btvs)

working on the next chapter asap, lmk what you think of this chapter in the meantime!

also i made an ao3, so if you wanna read on there too, check it out!

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[kentsjohnson91]

𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮ᵐʳ⁷³

*gif by @makarhughes

in which matt’s helped y/n through her chronic illness for years, but one night, it all becomes too much.

warnings; chronic illness (lupus), hospitals + hospitalization, worried matt rempe

When you were 14, you sat in the sterile doctor's office, your hands trembling slightly as you waited for test results. You had been feeling off for months—fatigue, joint pain, strange rashes—and you knew something was wrong, but hearing the words "You have lupus" felt like the ground was pulled from beneath you. Your chest tightened as the doctor explained the diagnosis, your mind racing with questions you didn’t know how to ask. All you could think about was how this would affect your life, your schooling, and the people you loved. You felt numb, unable to process it all at once.

When you were 19, you had met Matt during an off-season charity event. You were volunteering at an animal shelter, and hadn’t expected much from the night, just another hockey fundraiser with a few familiar, but many unfamiliar faces. But when you were introduced to Matt, something clicked. He was easygoing, with a quiet charm that drew you in right away. You guys spent the evening talking, first about hockey, then about everything else. By the end of the night, you were laughing like old friends. You hadn't thought much of it at first, but as time went on, your paths kept crossing, and it became clear that meeting Matt wasn’t just a coincidence—it was the start of something that changed your life.

Telling Matt about your chronic illness had been one of the hardest things you ever did. You remembered the night clearly, sitting across from him with your hands clenched tightly in your lap. Your heart pounded as you struggled to find the right words, terrified of how he might react, “I have lupus.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of seeing pity or disappointment in his eyes. But instead of pulling away, Matt gently reached for your hand, his quiet reassurance easing some of the weight you’d been carrying alone for so long.

Ever since then, he’d been the absolute sweetest boyfriend — always taking care of you when things got rough, and always reassuring you about your strength and resilience. It had even gotten to the point where Matt had offered to take games and practices off, but you always told him no. Despite his reluctance, he always listened to you.

While you had been feeling okay over the past couple of weeks, today was one of those days.

It had been one of those mornings where you knew, as soon as you opened your eyes, that it was going to be a rough day. Your body ached in ways that made it hard to move, and a low fever had settled in overnight, leaving you feeling drained. You groaned softly, rolling over and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror— the familiar butterfly-shaped rash had returned, bright across your cheeks.

Matt wasn’t in bed next to you. You cursed to yourself as you realized the time, noting that he was at morning practice. You groaned, tears welling up in your eyes at the pain you were in. You tried to fight through it and get out of bed, but the pain was too much. You felt helpless. With the strength you did have, you reached out to grab your phone off of the nightstand next to you, sending a quick text to Matt.

one of those days. will you be home soon?

You waited anxiously for Matt’s reply, but didn’t have to wait long.

leaving the arena now. be home soon, my love.

On the other end of the phone, Matt could sense something was wrong. Even when you were dealing with a flare up, you were as independent as could be. You hated asking for help, because it made you feel like you were a burden. The fact that you texted him was a miracle in itself.

When he got home, he set his gear down in the garage and made his way up the stairs to your room as quickly as he could. Within minutes, he was sitting beside you on the bed, concern etched on his face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, brushing a hand across your forehead to check for a fever. You were burning up.

“Better now that you’re here,” you joked, cracking a small smile, but Matt could see right through it. He smiled at you sadly, climbing into bed next to you. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes. Whenever you went through a flare up, you felt as though you could sleep for days on end.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, settling down under the blankets as you gently placed your head on his shoulder, “close your eyes, love, and just rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

So you did.

Matt stayed close all day, making sure you stayed hydrated when you woke up, adjusting the pillows when you needed more comfort, and even gently applying cool compresses to your face when the heat of your fever became unbearable. Every time you tried to apologize or downplay your discomfort, he stopped you with a quiet, reassuring smile, “I’ve got you,” he’d say, his voice calm and steady.

By the time bedtime came around, you were still achy, but the fever had gone down a little, and the rash had begun to fade. Matt had barely left your side, keeping the TV on low and talking to you softly, filling the silence with easy conversation to distract you from the pain. As the two of you lay in bed that night, Matt’s arm draped protectively over you, and you felt a deep sense of comfort. You hated feeling weak, but with Matt, it never felt like you had to fight alone.

As you fluttered off to sleep, Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. He loved it when you slept — you were so extremely beautiful, and he knew that sleeping took the pain away for a brief moment of time. At the same time, however, he couldn’t help but worry. It had been a long time since he’d seen a flare up this bad, but you had gotten through it. That gave him just enough solace to fall asleep next to you after hours of worrying as you slept, his arm still draped gently over your body.

Within minutes of his eyes closing, Matt stirred in his sleep, feeling you shift beside him. He was exhausted, having stayed by your side all day, but he’d never leave you when you were having such a rough time with your illness. He had only just fallen asleep when he felt a light tug on his arm.

“Matt…” your voice was faint, barely a whisper in the dark room, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it that shot adrenaline through him.

He blinked his eyes open and sat up quickly, heart already pounding. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though dread immediately settled in his chest.

You looked at him, your face pale and clammy, beads of sweat dotting your forehead. You swallowed hard, struggling to speak. “I… I don’t feel right. It’s never been this bad before. I think… I think I should go to the hospital.”

Matt’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch, and suddenly, he was wide awake, fear gnawing at him. He kept his face calm, though—he had to. If you saw how scared he was, it would only make you panic.

“Okay,” he said gently, his voice even though his mind was racing. “Let’s get you there. Can you sit up?”

You nodded weakly, but as you tried to move, you winced in pain, and Matt immediately reached over, helping you. His hands were steady, though inside, his chest felt like it was caving in. You were never the type to admit that you needed help, and hearing you say that you wanted to go to the hospital made his heart twist in his chest.

Once you were sitting up, Matt quickly grabbed a sweatshirt for you, carefully sliding it over your shoulders before easing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands never leaving you as he helped you stand.

Every second felt like it stretched on forever. In his mind, he was already imagining the worst—what if something was really wrong? What if you were in more pain than you let on? But outwardly, he stayed calm, focusing on the next step. He needed to get you to the hospital, and everything else could wait.

Once the two of you were in the car, Matt kept glancing over at you, his hand gripping the wheel tighter than necessary. “You’re doing great,” he said softly, hoping the words would bring you some comfort, though the knot in his stomach tightened every time you shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“It hurts,” you cried out, your voice shaky as you gripped your stomach and leaned forward to rest your head on the dashboard. Matt flinched at the pain in your voice, tears gathering in his eyes, but he couldn’t let them spill.

“I know, baby, I know. We’re almost there, just hold on.”

The drive felt like it took forever, every red light adding another layer to Matt’s mounting anxiety. But he didn’t rush. The last thing you needed was a reckless driver on top of everything else.

When you finally arrived at the hospital, Matt helped you out of the car, wrapping his arm securely around your waist as you guys made your way inside. The bright lights and sterile smell of the hospital hit him hard, but he kept his focus on you, his heart aching at how much pain you seemed to be in.

As Matt checked in, you leaned heavily against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t said much since the car ride, and Matt’s worry spiked even higher.

The nurse took both of you to a room, and once you were settled on the hospital bed, Matt pulled a chair close, refusing to leave your side. The doctors came in, asking you questions. Although you were obviously in tremendous pain, the doctors wouldn’t let up and get you help. But all Matt could do was watch, his hands clenched together in his lap, his mind screaming for answers.

When the doctors left to run tests, Matt finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re gonna be okay, alright? They’ll figure out what’s going on.”

You gave him a small, tired nod, your eyes glassy from pain and exhaustion. “Thanks for staying calm,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with gratitude.

Matt forced a smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Anything for you.” But inside, his heart was racing, every second dragging on painfully as he waited for some kind of news. He kept stroking your hand, praying silently that everything would be okay, all while forcing his expression to stay calm.

For your sake, he would hold it together. But the second you were out of this hospital, he’d let all his fear and worry flood out—just not yet. Not until you were okay.

Within minutes, you had passed out from exhaustion. The doctors moved quickly around you. Matt stood by your side, holding your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to soothe both you and himself. Although you were asleep, he could feel the tension in your grip, the way you were holding on to him like he was your anchor in a storm.

“I’m right here,” he whispered softly, leaning closer to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

But even as he said it, the fear gnawed at him. What if you weren’t okay? What if this time was worse than before?

The doctors were speaking in low tones, their words just out of reach, and Matt’s stomach churned as he tried to make sense of it all. He wanted to demand answers, to make them tell him what was going on, but he couldn’t leave you. He needed to stay with you, to keep you calm, even as his own fear threatened to overwhelm him.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor approached, her expression serious but not alarming. Matt held his breath.

“We’re going to admit Y/N for observation,” the doctor explained. “Her symptoms are concerning, but we’re taking all the necessary steps to stabilize her. We’ll get her comfortable and monitor her closely.”

Matt nodded, swallowing hard. “Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s in good hands, Mr. Rempe.”

Matt thanked her, but his focus was already back on you. You were still holding his hand, your grip weak but steady, your eyes still closed as they wheeled you toward a permanent room. His chest tightened again, but he forced himself to stay composed, even though he was falling apart inside.

Once you were in the room, Matt sat down beside your bed, his hand still clutching yours. The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound breaking the silence. Your breathing had calmed slightly, but you looked so pale, so fragile, that it nearly broke him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’re going to get through this, okay? You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

And even though he was terrified, even though the fear still clawed at him, Matt knew he’d stay with you through it all. No matter how scared he was, no matter how hard it got, he wouldn’t leave your side.

You were everything to him, and he’d do whatever it took to make sure you were okay. Even if that meant staying up all night, fighting sleep when his eyes would flutter shut. The clock struck 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:00, 5:00, and so on, but the boy refused to sleep, his tired eyes glancing over to you in concern more times than he could count. Time moved slowly, but that didn’t matter to Matt.

The next morning, around 9:00, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the hospital room, casting a soft glow across the bed. You blinked awake slowly, the familiar beeping of machines and the sterile hospital scent filling your senses. As you adjusted to the light, your eyes immediately found Matt.

He was still in the same chair beside your bed, his posture tense but upright. His hand was still holding yours, his grip firm even though he looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t slept at all. His face was slightly scruffy, and his hair was messy from running his hands through it all night, but his gaze was focused entirely on you, concern etched deeply into his features.

“Matt?” your voice came out raspy, your throat dry from a night of fitful sleep. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to pull his attention back from wherever his thoughts had drifted.

His eyes snapped to yours, relief flooding his expression as soon as he saw you were awake. He immediately leaned forward, his tired features softening. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice thick with fatigue. “You’re awake.”

You nodded slowly, your body still heavy with exhaustion, but you could already feel the difference. You felt better—weak, but a little better, “You stayed up all night?” you asked softly, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn out, knowing he had been up watching over you.

Matt gave you a tired smile, but his eyes were filled with love and relief. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice gentle, “I didn’t want to sleep in case you needed me.”

You frowned, your heart swelling with love for him, but also a hint of guilt creeping in. “Matt, you didn’t have to do that. You need rest too.”

He shook his head quickly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. “I’m fine. I wanted to be here. The only thing that matters is you.”

The emotion in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt tears prick your eyes as you looked at him. You knew he was tired, that he had been running on pure adrenaline and fear since the two of you had arrived at the hospital, but there he was, still sitting by your side, refusing to leave.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Matt leaned forward, his free hand brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter how hard things get.”

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in your eyes. “I hate that you’re worrying so much,” you whispered. “I hate that you have to deal with this because of me.”

Matt’s expression softened, and he shifted in his chair, leaning in closer to you. “You’re not a burden, Y/N. Not even close. I’d do this a thousand times over if it meant being here for you. You’re everything to me.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You let them fall silently, grateful for his unwavering support, his love that never faltered even when things got tough. You squeezed his hand tightly, wanting him to know how much he meant to you, how much his presence had kept you grounded through everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words filled with all the emotion you couldn’t fully express.

Matt’s face softened even more, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too,” he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, the room filled with a quiet peace as you held onto each other. You could feel the weight of everything—your illness, the hospital, the fear—start to lift, replaced by the warmth and comfort of Matt’s love. He had been your rock through it all, never wavering, never leaving your side.

“You should rest now,” you whispered softly, your hand still holding onto his. “You’ve done so much for me. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Matt chuckled softly, the sound warm and soothing despite his exhaustion. “Maybe in a little while,” he said with a tired smile. “But right now, I just want to be with you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full. “You’re the best,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Matt gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb gently over your knuckles, “I know.”

You chuckled softly, an eye roll quickly following. But as the morning light filled the room, the two of you stayed there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, knowing that together, you could face whatever came next.

That was until you checked the time, however. You groaned, and Matt’s head shot up, his brows furrowing as he looked over at you to figure out what was wrong, “Matthew Rempe! What happened to morning practice?”

And that was the first time he had left your side.

[vrystalius]

Trick or treat!

My request is this: A y/n who didn’t know they can see ghosts and Kyojuro who cannot! On a scale of 1-10, how confused would he be watching his beloved suddenly have a conversation with thin air while they went out to buy a halloween costume? :3

Ghosts?!

Kyojuro standing beside you while you casually talk with a friendly shop-ghost. Either his worst childhood fears came true or you hit your head pretty hard. He wants to believe the latter.

Pairing: Kyojuro x gn!reader

Kyojuro’s eyes were burning holes through your skull while you were conversing with a polite, pale and dead fellow that was suggesting that a demon costume not a good choice to go with, given that any lower level slayer can get scared and attempt to slice you. You hummed and put that costume back where you got it from, but before you could grab the angel costume from another shelf, you felt a shaky hand grab your arm. Kyojuro turned you around to face him, his eyes wide and smile rather wonky. He glanced around the store to check for anyone close by.

“My sun, who were you talking to right now?”

You grinned and pointed at the floaty ghost beside you. He leaned over your shoulder to look at where you are pointing at, then shook his head. His usual booming voice got reduced to a nervous whisper.

“There’s no one here.”

“You can’t see him? Oh! I thought you could see them too!”

Them? Them?! What are you talking about?? Are you being affected by blood demon art or are you not feeling well? How much water did you drink today?

“I cannot, love. Let’s sit you down somewhere—“

Kyojuro carefully sat you down in a changing cabin and closed the curtain behind him. His hands were firmly resting on your shoulders. You couldn’t decide if he was looking deathly afraid or worried right now. You heard about his childhood fears a couple of times, how when Senjuro and him used to share a room they always lit a candle before sleep, or else they both wouldn’t fall asleep in fear of the dark. Surprisingly, his little brother got faster over the fear than he did. Once they had separate rooms, Kyojuro wouldn’t stop lighting a candle every night until he was 14. His fear of the dark and the creatures in it wasn’t overcome until he finally became a slayer and was able to fight what’s hiding in it, but Ghosts? He is still afraid of them, and if you’re able to see and interact with them, that means that they are real. Very real.

“Ghosts— do you see them? Are they nice? …To you?”

Kyojuro’s grip on your shoulders tightened while his voice got shakier. You placed yours reassuringly over his, giving it a couple pats.

“Yes I can, most of them are pretty nice. Yago, the one in the corner of our bedroom, he’s kind of mean sometimes. I thought you knew him, he kept talking about how—“

“The who in our what?!”

“I-I was joking, sorry. It was too tempting.”

Your husband let out a soft whimper and knelt down in front of you, holding onto your arms.

“My flame, my sun, my everything. Please, please let be bring you to Shinobu to let her check you out. I think you’re not feeling well.”

For the sake of his own sanity and not wanting to confront the slim chance of his childhood fears coming true, Kyojuro really wanted to believe that you are either joking, lying or not feeling well.

Overall, 10/10 is very confused and afraid. Will have a heart attack when you start talking to “Yago” in the middle of the night.

Thank you for requesting, I hope it’s okay I headcanoned him to be afraid of ghosts :,D This was very fun to write! <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s the trick or treat event 🎃

Here’s the event masterlist 🎃

[ficmenrhot]

Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

————————————

I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

——————————————————————

A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)

[moonferry]

yk when u want a specific type of content but it like doesn't exist so u have to make it urself..

anyway have some bachelors x masc farmer ideas/headcanons/rambles. idk i just say words. long post so strap in, folks! honestly these could be considered gn if u squint bc i don't really use masc pronouns in the writing, however there are mentions of masc labels (boyfriend, husband)

mentions of internalized homophobia + depression

i may do bachelorettes x fem farmer next so stay tuned :3

harvey:

- wears his boyfriend's/husband's shirts. literally no exceptions. if you wore it, he is going to wear it too. you left a shirt at his place? oh. it's his now. and he's going to be smiling the entire time he wears it. this being said, i think he'd totally be like T____T it doesn't smell like you anymore and ask for a different one.

- loves to compliment your appearance or just you in general (in my play through he literally says "you look so handsome. did you shave?" like 3 times a week)

- personally, i see harvey as being bisexual + super open about it. like everyone in town supports him & they're so ecstatic for him when they see he has a boyfriend.

- if you have yet to ask him out, though, and he's realizing his feelings i think it would be very hard for him to hide them. someone could be asking him something and you walk into the clinic? his entire train of thought is GONE. i'm talking they have to wave their hand in front of his face to get his attention back.

- don't even get me STARTED on if you propose. he'd literally walk into the clinic, slam his coffee on the reception desk and be like, "MARU, LOOK." pretty sure he fainted and maru had to fan him back to consciousness.

elliott:

- despite elliott's openness with his own sexuality, i think he was terrified of your rejection. not too terrified obviously because something something inspiration from painful experiences yada yada. if you ended up not being interested in him, he probably would've gotten over it - but don't be surprised if you notice some strange subtext in his writing. he's a romantic writer - if he has feelings, they're going to get written down. sorry folks.

- but * yay * you didn't reject him, so elliott is still inspired. maybe you even become the next love interest in his newest novel? who knows.

- in his 14 heart event, he writes a series of letters to you because he has to leave pelican town for a week. i absolutely loved this idea and i think elliott would do this even if he was in the town. they could be something as mundane as what he did that day/week and he just. put it in the mailbox. you still enjoy reading them, though.

- i think he absolutely loves using "my" like "my man", "my husband" "my beloved" just anything, really. he loves you so much - and he knows he doesn't own you, obviously, he's just so glad he is lucky enough to call you his.

alex:

- i think alex was TERRIFIED of falling in love with you. in his 10 heart event, he mentions telling himself that he shouldn't experience these feelings for another man. every act of kindness you showed him ate away at his heart and it drove him crazy.

- i think he experienced a little internal homophobia before finally realizing that it was okay. it doesn't help that george is so adamant about him finding a girlfriend (and that george has a little homophobic arc 🥲). alex probably internalized these ideas and pushed himself into his gridball/weightlifting obsession to quiet his mind.

- after he finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt - and was entirely relieved when you felt the same way - it was as if a weight removed itself from his chest. he could finally breathe again. the world seemed different - in a good way. colors were more vivid, sounds were more pleasing to hear, the earth felt solid underneath his feel for once. he wasn't afraid of anything, especially not with you beside him.

- now, he proudly walks around the town with your hand in his, smiling to himself.

- sometimes those thoughts start to seep back in, though. like when he's about to sleep at night and his brain just can't shut up. he starts to hate himself again, and then he feels you press against him or hears you mutter in your sleep and his heart softens.

- also he got george and evelyn shirts that say "i love my gay grandson" they wear them proudly.

shane:

- surprised that anyone took a romantic interest in him, not surprised by the fact that you're a guy.

- i don't think shane has a "preference" for dating someone, he goes based off of vibes + personality rather than gender or appearance. he also doesn't label himself or his sexuality/romantic attraction.

- he's definitely a shirt lender. like you see a nice jacket in his closet and you're like "hey, hun, can i borrow this?" "sure."

- thinks you look amazing in his clothes. probably puts the best ones on hangers (or at the top of the clothing pile) in hopes that you'd choose them.

- even if he doesn't show it outwardly, he's super afraid of losing you. because of his mental illness, he can't help but think that every good thing he has will be taken away from him or that he "doesn't deserve" them. (he does, and you often remind him of this if he gets too into his head).

- i picture him reaching over and placing a hand on your arm in the middle of the night JUST to make sure you were still there and not the universe playing a cruel joke on him.

- can cook, but he's so used to making frozen dinners that he often forgets to.

- if you're taller than him, forehead kisses are a MUST. he will not let you leave the farmhouse until he receives his daily forehead kiss.

- i think he loves being the little spoon. it just makes him feel safer, more grounded in a way. he's been at the point where it feels like nothing is permanent and it can all end in the blink of an eye, so being spooned helps him realize that it isn't all that bad and that it will be okay, given the right time and effort.

- shane definitely falls asleep on his husband's chest like.. once a week.

- because mental illness is a constant battle, i imagine shane still gets "bad days". but don't worry! his loving husband is here to help. shane's depressive episodes usually consist of lying in bed (often for days at a time) and it's extremely hard for him to do anything. but the farmer is used to this - he's definitely read up on mental health books and how to support someone with depression. the farmer never tries to force shane out of bed or tells him that he needs to "get over it". the farmer often checks on him in between their farm duties. i imagine when the farmer is completely finished, they sits down on the edge of the bed and play with shane's hair or rubs their hand up and down his back:

"hey shane, are you okay?"

"i will be."

"i love you, chickadee."

"i know."

"do you want some ice cream?"

"yes, please."

sam:

- by far, the most "affectionate"? in a way.

- sammy loves pda im sorry. if you two are walking along, he has to be touching you in some way - whether it's holding your hand. your arm looped through his own, your hand in his hoodie pocket, etc. he just needs physical contact. i also think he'd look at you with big, wet eyes and wait until you kiss him.

- he takes you to band practice !!! seb and abby don't really mind, and you even offer some input on how they should approach their next song.

- absolute golden retriever boyfriend. can and will curl up on your lap and cuddle against you (even if he's ridiculously tall and lanky).

- if and when you attend all his shows/concerts, he definitely pulls you on stage once the set it over and kisses you publicly - sebastian and abigail just roll their eyes (this happens every single time. they're used to it).

- probably has your name written on his guitar.

- i think kent and jodi would be some of the most supportive people ever - they're just happy their son found someone to be with, regardless of gender.

- i think kent would probably sit you down and give you "the talk" about *grumble grumble* if you break my son's heart *grumble grumble*. not that you would, obviously, you adore sam. but kent's words do put the fear of god in you - this is the man who sends you bombs in the mail as a "friendly gesture"

- don't let that fool you, though, kent will be an absolute waterfall if you and sam get married. i also think he'd be more of a "ask for his blessing" before proposing kind of guy, but he'd give it willingly.

- sam loves it when you run a hand through his hair (if he had a tail, it would be wagging).

- sam puppyboy au? thinking thoughts...

sebastian:

- i think the only one surprised that seb has a boyfriend is seb himself. he always pictured himself a "loner for life" and DEFINITELY didn't expect to fall in love with this weird farm boy.

- he probably spends more time at the farm house/wherever you two hang out than his own home. but who could blame him?

- he was so confused about his feelings that he ended up talking to maru for help (crazy, right?) the two of them built a pillow fort near maru's telescope and spent hours talking. it was quiet nice. this helped him realize two things: 1) maybe his sister wasn't all that bad and 2) he was DEFINITELY in love with another man. he didn't know which was more confusing.

- i think sebastian likely confessed first in a sort of "nonchalant" way. i think the conversation went like this:

farmer,teasing: "oooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad it makes you look stupid."

seb: "yeah, i do."

neither of you were prepared for that. i think he would ease the tension by just. ignoring what he just said.

- i think he smiles like a frog . a sort of :} if you will. like bulbasaur.

- speaking of bulbasaur, that is definitely his favorite pokémon. oh and froakie. he just like the little frog dudes. would love you forever if you won him a plushie from the claw machine.

- it's no secret that seb often thinks no one would notice if he left, but getting closer to you made him realize that.. someone would. and maybe that's enough.

- if he stays up late working on a project, just walk over to his desk and wrap him into a back hug. bonus points if you voice is gravelly from sleep. "let's go to bed, sebby." he'd melt. like full on puddle on the ground.

- because sebastian is like 5'6 you'd think he enjoys being the small spoon. WRONG!!! he is a big spoon exclusively. you don't mind, though.

- he would die if you played with his hands while cuddling. please give this boy some physical affection. he deserves it.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (14/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex content, kind of hate sex too, oral sex, fingering, smut, the angst, drug dealing, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure when she first felt it: that overwhelming, suffocating terror, the unpleasant, cold sweat on her back, the anxiety and fear. Just as in her childhood, such feelings were evoked in her by the darkness, mostly when she did not feel his warm body beside her, his safe arms not embracing her, his calm breath not enveloping her face.

She opened her eyes then, always feeling the same thing: panic.

Her fingers tightened on the duvet as she realised after a moment, semi-conscious, where and who she was, who she was actually waiting for and why he wasn't there.

An almost physical pain accompanied her as she realised that her uncle was not with her, that he had gone again to sink into his Hades, his World of the Dead, full of drugs, shootings and whores, something she never wanted to have anything to do with.

She would then look anxiously at her watch, counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours, flinching at every creak of the floor or sound in the stairwell, her heart pounding in the hope that it was him, that he had returned, that she would soon be able to sleep in peace again, wrapped in his arms and his wonderful, familiar scent.

He did not return, however, and as usual, when her despair reached its zenith her only thought was that he was dead.

That he wasn't coming back this time.

Even though she knew she shouldn't do it, she would then pull out her phone and call him with tears in her eyes, praying that he would answer, her breath stifling in her throat, when suddenly she heard his voice on the other end.

"What is it?" He asked impatient and frightened, as if he feared the worst.

That something had happened to her.

She was relieved because he was alive and didn't know how to act, how to explain the fact that she was actually bothering him with whatever he was doing for no reason.

"I woke up and you weren't in bed." She muttered in pain, listening to his quiet sigh of fatigue and understanding.

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. I didn't want to wake you up. I have to stay here for at least another hour."

She swallowed hard, glancing at her watch, seeing that it was one o'clock in the morning.

Another hour alone, in the emptiness of his flat, which felt foreign and cold without him.

Even with her things there, it didn't feel like home.

It was his flat, his space, his Hades, and she was just a visitor in his darkness.

"Why?" She asked like a small child, looking around her, again seeing the various frightening shapes in the objects that stood in the room.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about it, repeating to herself that, after all, she had long since outgrown this fear, that monsters did not exist.

"I have a problem with one man. We are clarifying things, but he is…reluctant. He has taken a lot of money from me, but he has not given me what I need. I have to go. One more hour and I'll be back, I promise." He whispered in pain, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart in her throat.

Had he just tortured someone?

No, he'd promised her he wouldn't do such things.

That he would do everything he could to avoid violence.

"Oh. Okay." She mumbled, unable to get anything else out, feeling even more terrified than the moment she had called him.

Her lower lip began to tremble when she heard him hang up, tears of fear and despair one by one began to run down her face.

She went into the living room, lay down on the sofa and turned on the TV: the sounds that came from it and the light it emitted made the space around her seem less frightening.

She thought she would just wait for him.

However, an hour passed, then another, and he still wasn't there.

She curled up on the couch and began to cry, tired and drowsy, at the same time unable to fall asleep, Vhagar lying next to her on the floor turning from time to time, having no similar worries to her.

She shuddered as she opened her eyes, still half asleep, feeling someone touch her, his familiar arms lifting her up.

"– easy – it's just me, little one –" He whispered tenderly, her hands and legs automatically entwined around him like vines, her heart full of pain and relief at the same time.

He was back.

She stared at him, breathing loudly through her mouth, at his familiar, beloved face, his sad look full of remorse, his fingers stroking her cheek tenderly.

"– you promised –" She mumbled, hurt and disappointed, his broad hand running over the skin of her warm face as his brow arched in pain.

"– I know, baby – I know – I'm here now –"

He always made love to her when he returned, no matter what state she was in. Even if she tried to push him away, to show him her anger and dismay, his hands and lips full of patience caressed her between her thighs until she fell apart in front of him.

He only took her when she was completely vulnerable, her cunt all slick and leaking from her peak offering him no resistance, even more delicate and sensitive to his every sharp thrust. She couldn't push him away then, craving only the embrace of his arms, his lips that devoured her in a thirsty, yearning kiss.

Their hands clenched desperately on their bodies, cuddling them into each other with loud grunts and moans escaping from their throats, wordlessly testifying to the fact that they both suffered the same way through the separations they experienced almost every night, finally being together again. She drew then on his sighs, his assurances and his pleasure, his gaze filled with an affection so deep it frightened her.

There was something beautiful in the fact that he was somehow devouring her, bit by bit.

The feeling of emptiness would only return when he disappeared again a few nights later.

In between, in the time when she woke up in his embrace, when she looked at his peaceful face in the sunshine, she had the feeling that she was a completely different person: everything made her happy.

In her presence, her uncle was gentle; that didn't mean he didn't get frustrated or that they always agreed, but sensing subconsciously that her words weren't meant to attack him, he reigned himself in and expressed the understanding she so desperately needed.

He did not treat her as his housekeeper or maid: together they went shopping, cleaned his flat, went out with Vhagar, did laundry. She enjoyed watching him from the sidelines as he did simple, prosaic tasks: cutting vegetables next to her, reading on the internet how to make a dish they liked, wondering aloud with her if he had just poured too much pepper into the pot.

"– fuck, so spicy –" He muttered when he tasted what he'd made with the sauce, but she decided when she tasted it herself that it wasn't so bad, and that pepper, unlike salt, was very healthy.

He chuckled at her words, looking at her with pity, as if he was wordlessly trying to tell her that she didn't need to show him mercy.

She noticed that he began to laugh and smile in her presence.

That he began to joke and tease her.

That they talked about things that were increasingly difficult and complicated, and that he didn't back down or avoid answering.

That he had changed.

And then his phone would ring again at night, and he would get up quietly, get dressed and leave.

It felt like she was regressing at that moment: all her childhood phobias, the terror of being left in the dark, were coming back to her with redoubled force, and although she didn't tell him, she would light the small lamp next to her bed, calling Vhagar to come inside, wanting to at least hear her breathing beside her.

Only when she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock did she turn off the light, afraid he would think she was being childish, and pretend to sleep until his hands sank into the softness of her body under her shirt, his lips against her ear, whispering:

"– I'm back, baby –"

A few days of sweet peace had lulled her vigilance again, and the appearance of his grandfather on his doorstep made her state of limbo between worlds collapse. As she locked herself in her room, where she didn't usually stay but kept most of her belongings and books, she began to reflect on the fact that although her mother had called her several times, she hadn't had the courage to answer her.

She didn't know what words to use, fearing that she would try to convince her to come home.

But there was no going back for her.

Not there.

It bothered her that this conversation had gone on for so long and she felt an overwhelming urge to overhear what they were talking about, but she held back, thinking that she should trust him, that he surely knew what he was doing. She jumped up on the bed when she heard the front door open and close, getting up uncertainly and stepped outside, looking at his silhouette from a distance.

He was bent over the countertop and had just had a glass of whisky despite it being so early.

Why?

She approached him uncertainly, feeling his aura, his rage and frustration.

"What did he want?" She asked, watching in horror as he filled his glass anew with alcohol.

"That I should come back. I didn't agree." He replied coarsely, not even looking at her.

She swallowed quietly, glancing sideways at him, her hand touching his shoulder seeing his gaze, frantic and wild.

"Aemond. What happened?" She mumbled and he looked at her in a way that made her feel a cold sweat on her back, a darkness and emptiness in his eyes, something she felt like running away from and hiding under the bed.

"Are you deaf?"

She stared at him with big eyes, feeling for a moment that she had lost her breath and her heart stopped. She turned away, moved ahead and closed herself in her room, locking the door behind her with the key, feeling that her hands were trembling.

Who was this man?

She naively thought that that look, that tone of voice was reserved only for his men, only for those with whom he had to talk rough, whom he had to press down and destroy, but not for her, never for her.

She sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chin, and sat like that, staring dully ahead, feeling shivers with every move or step he made on the other side.

He knocked on her door only hours later, when she was struggling to concentrate on reading one of her textbooks.

"– baby, I'm sorry – he brought me out of balance and I took it out on you – I shouldn't have done that – it's a hard subject for me – will you join me and Vhagar for a walk? –" He asked in a voice she knew well, the same one he had used after he had forcibly kept her in his family home.

In a voice filled with remorse.

She looked at the pages filled with text, thinking with surprise that she didn't want to go anywhere with him, didn't want to do anything with him, didn't want to have anything to do with him.

She thought the look was for everyone else, but not for her.

That she was special.

But she wasn't.

"– I'm reading a book – I'd rather stay home –" She said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear her.

A long silence answered her and she was afraid he would become furious, but he only swallowed hard, as if her words had hurt him.

"– okay – we'll be back soon –"

He made several more attempts to drag her out of the room, she however felt safe there, knowing that he could not violate her space by force and had to stand outside, waiting patiently until she wanted to look him in the eye again.

"– are you angry with me? –" He asked at last.

She felt tears under her eyelids thinking that she was not angry with him.

She was afraid of him.

But she wasn't sure if he would bear those words.

"– shall we watch something on TV? – I'll stroke your head afterwards before bed, just the way you like it – I'm sorry –" He mumbled out like a little boy, and she felt a squeeze in her heart knowing that he had already returned, that he was again the one she loved, the one she wanted, the one she had agreed to marry then, on that beach.

She looked at her bracelet made of candy and then at the scar underneath it, thinking that she was sure the man because of whom she had made it to herself had disappeared.

"– I think I'd rather spend the evening here – if that's okay –" She muttered in a breaking voice, feeling tear after tear run down her face, her lips quivering all over with emotion, with regret that she had to push away, if only for a moment, the man whose presence she craved incessantly, because she needed distance and a moment to breathe.

A sense that she, too, had something to say in a situation where everything really depended on him.

"– oh – okay – I'll be next door if you need me –" He replied, and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips into a thin line, trying not to make a sound, feeling her chest twitch with each of her quiet sobs.

And then, as the late evening fell, she saw him turn on the light in the hallway, heard him put on his jacket and shoes, and her heart stopped in her throat.

No.

"I have to go out. I don't know when I'll be back." He said loudly, and she jumped up from the bed as if burned, opening her door quickly, facing him, pale and shocked.

"– why? –" She mumbled with difficulty, thinking that she didn't want him to leave, that she just wanted him to let her be alone for a while, but for him to be next door, in the other room.

"– the policeman who was helping us was shot – Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him – the consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me –" He muttered without strength, as if he was very tired and weary, something in his gaze that told her he had given up.

Tyland is taking revenge for what I did to him.

The consequences of my actions are slowly reaching me.

"Take me with you." She whispered, just wanting to make sure he was okay, that everything was under control, that she would be with him and not in an empty, dark, big, scary flat, counting down the hours and minutes until his return.

"No. I can't. I won't make the same mistake again. The more they are aware that you are not my temporary whim, the more danger I put you in." He said, and she shook her head, deciding that she didn't care what happened to her.

She could no longer stand the terrifying emptiness she felt when the door closed behind him and she was left alone in her cage.

"Then treat me like your whore in front of them."

She saw that his eyes grew big at her words, as if he couldn't believe they really came out of her mouth.

"What did you say?"

"Treat me as if you're bored with me. As if you hold me close just because I am Daemon's daughter. Be cold and chilly. You can hit me if you want." She said without thinking, deciding that it didn't matter anymore anyway.

In their eyes she was just his whore anyway, a deviant, a niece he had raped and made his sex toy out of.

"What? Do you want me to do it so you can find the strength to leave me? Reassure yourself of how fucked up I am?" He asked furiously, gesturing with his hands in a sign of impatience, his words like a cold shower that woke her up, making her realise what she was really afraid of and why she was so desperate to say something like that.

"I don't want to stay here alone, wondering if you're still alive. The fear I feel then no lamp can light up." She muttered with difficulty, feeling that she couldn't hold back the tears that flowed down her face.

His eyebrows arched in pain, as if it was only then that he understood what she was trying to convey to him, something in his gaze that told her he had hesitated, that he felt something, that there was hope.

"– I don't know, baby – God, I have to go – I –" He mumbled, and she nodded, not wanting him to think about it.

"– give me five minutes –" She said and disappeared out the door, looking for some of his hoodies in the wardrobe to put on, feeling relieved.

And then she heard his quick footsteps, the sound of the door opening and closing, the fact that he had shut it with a lock he knew she didn't have a key for.

She ran out into the corridor, looking at it, the symbol of her enslavement, and ran towards it as if she had lost her mind, bursting into a loud sob, banging on it as if she were a small child.

"– NO – NO, NO, NO, AEMOND, DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE – TAKE ME WITH YOU, PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME –" She shouted, choking on her tears, digging her short nails into the wooden structure, pounding on it with her fists only to fall to her knees.

"– I'M SCARED, I'M SCARED, I'M SCARED, PLEASE –" She whined, laying down on the floor, but he was gone.

She felt Vhagar run up to her, sniffing her anxiously only to lie down beside her a moment later and they lasted like that, an hour, or maybe more, lying cuddled together.

When she woke up, she was blinded by the light of the lamp in the corridor – she felt an unpleasant shiver and the fact that she was cold, so she picked herself up from the floor and went to her room. Vhagar moved behind her, apparently thinking that perhaps they would go out for a walk, however, even if she wanted to, she could not open the door now.

He had locked her in here.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling a constriction in her chest, tears one by one running down the side of her face onto the pillow under her head, complete nothingness in her mind, darkness, as if there was not a drop of light left in her.

He didn't return until hours later – his silhouette that stopped in the doorway of her room was dark and tall, as if he were a demon, a nightmare, a demigod, a dream, but not human.

The touch of his hand on her skin, his fingers digging into her flesh, his lip that she bit, the taste of his blood on her tongue seemed at once completely foreign and wonderfully familiar to her.

"– no –" She breathed out, wanting to punish him, to push him away, to make him feel what she felt.

However, her body betrayed her, her pussy leaked under his fingers with desire and lust, with the need for him to embrace her and wrap her in the warmth of his body, for his hard manhood to sink deep into her again and soothe her.

"– I'm back – I'm here, baby – you can let go now –" He whispered, as if uttering some kind of spell or curse from which her body relaxed, allowing him to do what he wanted, to sink her into his darkness and take her for himself.

His voice seemed to come to her from afar, his fingers deep inside her hitting again and again the sweet spot between her throbbing muscles making her lose touch with reality, writhing beneath him in ecstasy.

"– being with me, you won't know freedom – I'm not in a position to choose between that and your safety – if that's what you want, I'll let you leave – but make love to me one last time –" He breathed out and she felt tears under her eyelids, her throat squeezed so tight she had trouble taking a deep breath.

If that's what you want, I'll let you leave.

I don't want leave, she thought.

I just want to be alone.

I want to be special to you, the only one in the world.

Beloved.

"– my sweet baby girl – my little sunshine –" He whispered, taking her for himself, the voracious, desperate stabs of his hips thrusting deep into her slick, hot opening, filling her with his seed with the loud click of her moisture, their breaths heavy and ragged, their embrace tight, full of desire to be reunited again.

His tears joined hers as he pressed his face to her cheek, his broad, familiar hand stroking her head, his breath raspy, surrounding her ear with warmth.

"– my grandfather – what he told me –" He whispered, and she froze, opening her eyes suddenly. "– he said that you wouldn't be able to bear this life, just like my grandmother – that you would commit suicide too – and I don't want to live in a world where you won't be there, even if you are no longer by my side –"

She hugged him tighter, feeling that she suddenly understood what had happened.

Why he had been so angry, why he had looked at her that way, why he had spoken to her that way.

He was terrified as much as she was.

This realisation, the fact that she wasn't the only one living in fear was both depressing and liberating for her, the weight of his words and the emptiness she felt inside her seemed to pull her lower and lower.

When she woke, the sun was just rising – his arms were embracing her from behind, her hand on his palm, his warm breath enveloping her neck.

She knew that something inside her had snapped, that if she just stayed and claimed that nothing had happened, their whole lives would start to crumble around them, and he would feel it.

She stood up quietly and looked at him, putting her hand in the pocket of his trousers. She swallowed hard when she felt the keys to the house by the sea underneath them and took them out quietly, praying he wouldn't wake up.

She didn't know how she would then explain to him what she wanted to do and what it meant to them.

She pulled her hoodie over her head and, dressed only in his sweatshirt, shorts and trainers, with her small backpack in which she had only her keys, wallet, phone and charger, she quietly left the house and closed the door behind her, seeing the look of concern of Vhagar standing in the corridor, not understanding why she had not taken her with her.

Sitting on the bus, she wondered what he would feel when he woke up.

Disappointment?

Anger?

Helplessness?

What she felt every time he left?

She wondered if she should leave him any kind of message, but as much as she wanted to, she wouldn't know what she should write him on it. She felt that she was stuck, unable to either move backwards or forwards.

She knew she loved him and she knew she was miserable.

When she arrived, the sky was cloudy, as if the world around her reflected her state of mind. She only had time to step inside the large, empty house and felt her phone vibrate.

She knew he was awake.

Was he angry?

Desperate?

She unlocked the screen with a trembling hand and swallowed hard to see couple unanswered calls and one message from him.

She closed her eyes, understanding what he was asking, feeling that part of her wanted to do this for him, to reassure him him that she was okay, but she knew how it would end.

He would write another message, then another and another, and she would give in to him and let him come.

She needed to clear her mind, she needed the solitude she had condemned herself to, not forced into.

When she walked into his old room she put her small backpack on the floor and lay down on his bed, looking towards the window. As she looked around she felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that when she was a child it felt like there was so much space, but now she felt it was cramped.

She reached her hand to the shelf standing next to his bed and smiled, taking from it one of the small volumes telling the adventures of the Mighty Vhagar. She flipped through page after page of tales of the Prince and his beloved Rhaenys travelling across distant lands on their dragons, feeling tears of emotion and melancholy pool under her eyelids, clutching her throat.

The Prince, though fearless and relentless, feared, watching the other powerful dragon riders for his beloved's life; her dragoness, Larax, was beautiful, her scales silvery blue, glistening in the sunlight, her figure slender and light, sailing beside him across the sky. However, what made Larax different from Vhagar was size – Vhagar was gigantic like a stone fortress, yet Larax was small and delicate. And so, although his Rhaenys deeply desired to visit the neighbouring Kingdom, he never agreed, knowing that it was a barbaric people, riding dragons that were shrill and terrifying, which he himself feared, though he did not speak of it. He, as a Prince, would travel to this dark land with his father the King, thus keeping the peace, and she would cry when he left her. "Weep not, my dearest," he said, "my heart remains with you."

She closed her eyes, feeling the heavy tears one by one run down her cheeks straight onto the sheets of paper, onto the pages filled with beautiful illustrations of dragons and their riders, stories they had read with hot cheeks all evenings.

She spent the day walking on the beach – the squeals of the seagulls around her and the hum of the sea simultaneously calmed her and filled her with sadness. She put her arms around herself, feeling the coolness of the wind seep through her body, involuntarily smelling his scent as soon as she touched the fabric of his sweatshirt.

It was as if a part of him was still with her.

She looked at the bracelet she had received from him, an expression of his love, so childish, naive.

Innocent.

And yet so dark at the same time.

And then the night came.

Even though she slept in his bed, under his duvet, even though she could smell him, she was afraid: she was not afraid of monsters now, however, but of what was going on inside her head.

Where was she supposed to go back to?

Who was she supposed to be?

What was she supposed to do?

She felt that a sense of meaning had slipped through her fingers: she realised that without her mother, her father, her uncle, her professor, she was nothing.

What kind of person was she really?

What were her values?

What did she want?

For eight years she had only dreamed of being with him again, but she had never thought about what that would look like.

What she would have to sacrifice.

She didn't want to betray him, abandon him – never – but she was terrified of living in constant fear of losing him again.

Of hearing the news that someone had shot him in the head, just as he had once done to Larys.

The next day she woke up even more tired than when she fell asleep: she had nightmares all night.

She dreamt of a monster coming out of the wardrobe, dark, tall and long, who just stood over her and watched her, and she couldn't say anything or scream.

She realised that this was the personification of what she feared most.

The inability to react, to make a move.

The cage.

The fact that she had received another message from him and how he was suffering did not help her.

She didn't know what she was supposed to answer him.

"I'm alive"?

Wouldn't he then feel that she no longer loved him? That she had only written him off so that he would give her a break?

She didn't want that.

She didn't want him to suffer.

Sitting on the beach for hours, gazing at the horizon, she thought of a way out of the deadlock she was in, something that might make her regain control of her life, the feeling that she was co-determining what was happening to her.

But there was a void in her mind, and that scared her the most.

That there was no path in her life in which she could be truly happy.

That she was doomed to wither like a flower, to die while she was alive.

Part of her wanted to give up, to call Daemon and tell him to take her home: however, what kind of life would await her there?

Jace would never forgive her. They would all pretend that nothing had happened, but they would certainly be disgusted with her in reality. After all, she'd fucked her own uncle, run off with him even though he'd hurt her, fooled her, humiliated her.

It was hard for her to understand how one man could combine so many contradictions: her uncle. It seemed to her, although she recognised that this could only have been the result of her vanity, that in her presence he was revealing a part of himself from the past that he had locked away. He was rediscovering a gentle, tender touch, a soft tone of voice, a calm gaze, a lightness in breathing, as if to remind himself that what his men had seen was only a mask.

But was that really the case?

Or was she merely telling herself this to make herself feel better, to look at his stone-cold face when he spoke to them without feeling terror?

That he wasn't pretending at the time.

That he was the other part of himself then.

A monster from the wardrobe.

Could she love someone who soothed and terrified her at the same time?

Or did he need her to subdue that side of himself, to save himself from falling?

In the end, she knew that he himself was afraid of the dark.

She thought sadly, looking at her hands, that they were both just as hopelessly lost, standing on the margins, unable to find a place or purpose for themselves, feeling an eternal, never-ending shame since they were little children.

That night a storm broke loose: lightning struck close to home, thunder shook the ground, loud and dangerous, making her curl up in bed in fear.

And then she heard it: the creaking of the floor.

She clamped her hands on the sheets, swallowing hard and listened with her heart beating in panic, recognising that the sound was coming from the floor below the room.

She drew in the air loudly when she heard it again, this time more clearly, as if someone was coming up the stairs: she picked up her backpack, slid to the floor and hid under the bed, exactly as she had done when she was a small child.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears of terror one by one run down her face, clenching her lips to make sure no sound came out, thinking it was just a bad dream, nothing more.

And then someone opened the door.

She stared ahead with big eyes, feeling her heart in her throat, begging in her mind that she could just melt into the floor, disappear, dissolve into the air, the footsteps beside her getting louder and clearer, making her realise it wasn't a nightmare.

And then a silhouette knelt beside the bed and she recognised his face.

He was looking at her exactly as he had when he first found her: his gaze expressed shock and compassion, his brow arched in pain, as if he himself wanted to cry.

"– Rhaenys – oh, baby –" He mumbled with a breaking voice, reaching out to her, and she crawled to him quickly, bursting out crying as soon as he enclosed her in the embrace of his familiar, safe arms.

"– I'm sorry –" She cried out, whooping with tears, feeling that her whole body was trembling from fear, sadness, disappointment, the suffering caused by their separation. "– I'm sorry – I didn't know what to do –"

He hushed her, kissing the top of her head again and again, his hands stroking tenderly through her hair and down her back, cuddling her into him, his wonderful scent filling her nostrils giving her relief.

"– no – it's okay – I found you, little one – you're safe now –" He whispered, and she nodded quickly, tightening her hands on his leather jacket.

She felt him take her in his arms and lift himself up, exactly as he had done then, laying down on the bed with her. He pulled off his shoes and jacket before his shaking hand touched her cheek again, as gently and slowly as if she were made of glass.

He gave her one tender, warm look full of relief before his warm, full lips pressed against hers in the sweetest, gentlest kiss she had ever experienced in her life.

He gasped when her fingers ran over his neck, when her body pressed against his, when her lips parted in front of his, trailing over their fleshy structure, just teasing them. She heard his shuddering sigh, felt his hand sink into her hair, combing through it with tentative, affectionate strokes full of hope, the tips of their tongues touched and licked, making her shudder.

There was something perverted and obscene in those kisses alone, in the way their lips, swollen with desire, melted together again and again with the quiet clicks of their saliva as all she could hear around them was the tapping of raindrops against the window.

She thought that only in his arms she was not afraid.

Only in his arms did it all make sense.

The affection, the suffering, the sacrifice, the pain, the joy, the sadness.

It all came down to his person.

"– I love you –" She whispered into his mouth and heard him sigh, his hands clenched tightly on her body, craving those words like nothing else. "– that's all I know –"

His tongue slid deep between her teeth, coming out to meet hers, as if he couldn't take any more of the feeling that was tearing their hearts apart, his hands pulled her closer, allowing her to feel the hard, throbbing bulge in his trousers on her stomach.

She moaned involuntarily into his throat, feeling her nipples harden with sweet desire, the space between her thighs all swollen, producing moisture in response to his treatments.

They said nothing more to each other – his hands slid under the fabric of her hoodie, roaming lazily over the bare, smooth skin of her back, her waist, her thighs. He wasn't in a hurry; she felt that after this sudden, terrifying, shocking separation he wanted to enjoy this moment, the feel of her body under his fingers, everything she was and had become to him.

He pulled away from her to look at her, his free hand stroking her jaw – his thumb ran over the line of her cheekbone as his gaze traveled all over her face, a hot, tender feeling in his healthy eye from which her heart fluttered in her chest. She clenched her thighs together, feeling the tension, just looking at his parted lips, hearing his broken, accelerated breathing, feeling his manhood pushing again and again against her lower abdomen.

When his fingers rubbed against the material of her panties she merely nodded, and he took a breath, pressing his thirsty, moist lips against hers again, pulling them off her thighs with a few sure tugs. He didn't unzip his trousers, however – instead, his fingers sunk tentatively between her thighs into her warm folds, drawing a surprised, girlish moan from her throat.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, it's okay –" He murmured into her mouth, sighing with delight as her cunt leaked under his hand, hot and eager, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily around her swollen, sensitive clit made her roll her hips, needing more, harder.

"– please –" She mumbled, throwing her arms around his neck, allowing herself to drift off completely into the pleasure his painfully slow, sure touch was giving her, his movements deliberately gentle, not giving her what she needed.

The corner of his mouth twitched in satisfaction when he noticed something in the expression on her face that told him she would give herself to him completely, his free hand tightening on her hair.

"– I'd rather use my mouth down there – but I want to look into your eyes when you come –" He whispered in a way from which she felt a drop of cold sweat run down along her spine, her lips parted involuntarily in a pathetic moan as the tips of his fingers dug firmly into her silky folds at last.

There was something unsettling and frightening about his dark, defiant gaze, the way it was fixed confidently in her eyes, not allowing her to turn or move away, just to simply take what he was giving her. Her fingers tightened on his black T-shirt as he finally sped up, with each circle around her clit rubbing her throbbing opening, weeping in desire, begging for his attention.

She closed her eyes and gasped as she felt the tips of his two fingers push against her slit, stretching her swollen pussy on their thickness, receiving her quiet cries of desire in return. His hand tilted her head back, his breath heavy and hot on the skin of her face.

"– no – look at me –" He breathed out, his gaze dark and hot with desire, his fingers hitting her sweet spot again and again making her walls begin to clench around their length in convulsions.

"– Aemond –" She cried out and his mouth was immediately on hers, devouring her with greedy, loud, sticky kisses full of his tongue and panting, his fingers pounding into her in a relentless, fierce rhythm making her feel a wonderful tingling in her lower abdomen, in her lips, in her nipples, her pussy beginning to clamp down on them, close to fulfilment.

She squealed and mewled, feeling the tears of relief one by one run down her cheeks as she suddenly reached her peak, her hazy gaze barely able to see his face, his black eye staring at her as if he was seeing a woman orgasm for the first time, wide open in delight and satisfaction.

She felt him slide his fingers gently out of her hot, throbbing insides, hearing the sound of his belt and zipper being undone a moment later, letting the fingers of his hand stretch her slit to the sides, allowing his full, fat cock to slide easily into her without any resistance.

He groaned in relief when he was finally inside her, positioning himself so that the movements of his hips were enough to sink him again and again between her hot walls, leaking from her fulfilment, letting his hands embrace her and cuddle her into him.

He panted into her ear, focused only on himself and his sensations, with lazy, slow thrusts opening her again and again on his swollen length, teasing again her spongy spot inside her, now oversensitive and delicate.

His touch was surprisingly tender, light, devoid of aggression; it made her feel relaxed, herself taking pleasure in feeling him deep inside her, in the way his face sank into the hollow of her neck, his lips brushing her skin encouragingly.

"– oh baby – mmm – my little girl – ah, God, yes –" He gasped, speeding up, chasing his fulfilment without thinking about how long he should last to feel masculine enough, experienced enough, confident enough.

Something about knowing that with her he wasn't worrying about such things, that he was just being, reaching for what he really wanted with a few sloppy, messy thrusts reaching his peak with a sigh of delight, made her simply close her eyes, focusing on how hard he was pulsing inside her, filling her with his release.

They lay snuggled into each other, panting quietly, not saying anything or moving, just lingering in that most natural state for them, where their bodies were entwined together to form one person.

"I know how to fix this, baby. Do you trust me?" He asked in a whisper, and she opened her eyes and blinked, surprised to feel her heart hit harder in her chest.

"What do you mean?" She asked just as quietly, trailing her fingers down his back, pressing her face into his neck, smelling of his aftershave and cigarettes. He swallowed hard, as if gathering his courage, and kissed her forehead.

"I will give you back the premises that belonged to your father."

She froze, not understanding for a moment what he meant, and looked at him, trying to make out anything on his face.

"What?"

"Before Larys took over their entire family business, your father had three establishments: Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle's Nest Hotel. He got to the point, wanting to get as far away from drug smuggling as possible, that the people working there were reluctant to go back to their old ways. Larys forced them to do so, but most of the best workers fled to my grandfather or Daemon. I didn't know for a long time what to do with these places, but now I think I should just pass them on to you. That will make you able to take part in some of our conversations as an associate, like Baratheon does, for example. I will assign you some of my men to protect you. Some of them are tired and want peace and quiet for themselves and their families. Your presence, the fact that you are with me and at the same time you are Daemon's daughter gives us the assurance that you will not be attacked from any side."

She listened to him in disbelief, thinking, touched, that he was serious.

He wanted to give her some of his power, some of what her father had worked for, so that she would feel that she was not completely dependent on him.

She would be part of his world, not delving into the darkest side of it.

"What about Jace? Luke? He was their father too." She mumbled, thinking that would surely make them hate her even more.

She heard her uncle grin.

"I don't give a shit about them."

She swallowed hard, looking him straight in the eye, seeing the certainty in his gaze that made her feel hot.

"I won't have to store your drugs or sell them?" She muttered, and he shook his head.

"No. You'll just be giving us cover for our meetings from time to time. Nothing illegal that would burden you." He whispered in a trembling voice, looking at her expectantly like a child waiting for praise.

"You'll really do it?" She asked, and he nodded, licking his lower lip.

"Yes. Yes, if you come home with me. We'll go to the notary tomorrow, make it official." He said, excited that she hadn't rejected his idea.

What he was saying simultaneously pleased and horrified her.

"After all, none of them will want to listen to me. They won't respect me. I'm just a little girl, what do I know about their tough world?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders, realising that it all only sounded simple.

"I'll help you. Just like you helped me with my studies. I will teach you everything. They'll respect you, first for the sake of me and your two fathers, and then for the sake of you when they realise you'll protect them and not drag them into this shit." He said looking her straight in the eyes, something in his certainty, the warmth that emanated from his voice made her eyes glaze over with tears.

"Shall we try?" He mumbled, his haze full of hope.

She nodded her head and hugged him, his arms closing her instantly in a tight embrace.

"I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I promise." He whispered.

And she believed him.

[jolalibrary]

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[astorianyxkings]

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.