#eventually lead to moments where we can be so soft together it hurts. because we’re not used to leaving our souls so open and vulnerable

[yandereshingeki]

i am such a sad sucker for the “I can fix him, and he can fix me” trope im gonna rip my heart out

[kylie-writes-stuff]

Too Far

pairing: rodrick heffley x gn!reader ; greg x platonic!reader (but it's mostly a sweet family fic between rodrick and greg)

warnings: cussing, rodrick thinks greg ran away/is missing, rodrick's probably ooc, uh idk what else

word count: 1.7k (why is this the longest thing i’ve written-)

summary: (takes place during rodrick rules) y/n has been a good neighbor and friend for a while now. either of the heffley boys can go to them for anything.

a/n: im a strong believer in the fact that rodrick has a soft side and he truly cares about his little brother. he doesn't show it a lot but it's there. i love rodrick so much so i wanted to try writing for him. sorry if it's ooc but i dunno, i like it. let me know what you think :)

--

You were watching tv, no clue what just happened in the house down the street, when there was a knock on the door.

You got up, groaning. Who would be here this late? 

You opened the door, somewhat annoyed, until you saw that it was... Greg? 

It was Greg, the young boy from down the street, with tears in his eyes.

You immediately wrapped an arm around him, leading him inside, “Woah, kid, what’s wrong?”

As the two of you sat back down on the couch, he choked out an answer, “R-Rodrick.”

“What did he do this time? Want me to beat his ass for you?"

A small smile crossed your face when you were able to make the boy chuckle.

He explained that him and Rodrick had a great night together but things went bad once they got home. He said that their parents found the pictures from the party last week, which you had attended, and both the boys got it trouble. But that wasn't why Greg was crying. He was crying because Rodrick was disappointed in him and said some hurtful things.

You didn't push any further. Greg was a tough kid, most of the time, so whatever Rodrick said must've been really bad.

"Wait," you said after a few minutes, "Do your parents know you're here?"

"N-no. I snuck out."

"Greg, you can't do that," you said sternly. You weren't angry, just worried.

"You and Rodrick both sneak out all the time," He tried to reason.

"That's different. We're both old enough to take care of ourselves. No offense, but you're still just a kid. If your parents find out they're gonna be worried sick."

"Can I just stay for a while longer? Please? Besides if they find out I'm gone, they'll probably check here first."

It was true. Greg and Rowley would come to your house sometimes, just to have a different place to hang out. Your parents were away a lot of the time so it worked out.

You were Greg's babysitter when he was in 5th and 6th grade. Ms. Heffley knew you were a responsible kid and she didn't exactly want Rodrick in charge. Now he's in 7th and he's trusted a bit more so you didn't have to take care of him anymore. During that time was when you and Greg got close. The two of you became friends.

You had gotten pretty close with Rodrick too. Especially since you had a lot of the same classes in school. The two of you had similar interests so you would hang out sometimes.

Of course, you couldn't say no to Greg.

You two sat and watched whatever he wanted to watch. You told him that he could have whatever he wanted from the kitchen, it didn't matter. He immediately searched for ice cream, making you laugh.

Soon there was another knock on the door. This time you looked out the peep hole.

"It's Rodrick," you whispered to Greg.

"I'm not here!" He whispered back, running up the stairs.

You waited until he was all the way upstairs, before you opened the door, "Rodrick? Hey, what's up?"

He looked back at you with panicked eyes, "(Y/n), you gotta helped me."

You ushered him in, just as you had done with his younger brother not long ago, and you two sat down. "Of course, what is it?"

"Well I- me and Greg got into a fight I guess? I said some stuff I shouldn't have. I- Fuck, (Y/n), I messed up... I took it too far."

You gently put a hand on his knee, "Hey, relax. You're okay. What do you mean you took it too far?"

"I told him that... I said 'you might be my brother, but you'll never be my friend'. W-We got in trouble for something and I got mad at him. Obviously I don't mean it, i-it just kinda slipped out."

"Okay, well, we both how Greg is. I'm sure he'll understand if you just tell him and apologize. You two will be fine," you offered him a soft smile.

To your surprise, he shook his head.

"That's not what I need your help with."

"Oh," was all you could say.

"I went to check on him a while ago because he's never been in this much trouble, I wanted to make sure he was okay. Mom and Dad were already asleep. I- I went into his room and... and he was gone. (Y/n), I don't know what to do."

You pulled him into a hug, him quickly latching onto you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair. "It's okay Rodrick. I'll help you find him."

Of course, you knew where he was. But you wouldn't give away Greg's spot if he didn't want you too.

Rodrick looked up at you, "You will?"

"Of course, let me get a jacket and we'll go."

You went up the stairs and into your room, where Greg was sitting on your bed.

"Dude, he-"

"I heard all of it. I understand."

"Oh good," you said, waking to your closet to get a jacket, "So, do you forgive him?"

"Of course, he's my brother," The two of you smiled.

As you pulled on your jacket, you asked, "Well what do you wanna do? He's ready to go searching for you."

"Maybe you two can drive around for a while and come back, and i'll just be on the sidewalk around here? I don't know, I just don't him to get at you for lying." He suggested.

You thought about it, nodding.

"Okay... but be careful, alright? Stay in here for like 15 minutes, then you can go out."

You went back downstairs and grabbed your keys. Rodrick followed you out and into your car.

"He couldn't have gone far, right?" He asked, bouncing his knee up and down.

"Nah, i'm sure he stayed close. Lets just check the neighborhood, yeah?" You said.

You drove around, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the center console where Rodrick was holding it tightly.

--

"H-he can't be gone. (Y/n), he can't!"

Of course, you haven't "found" Greg yet. Rodrick was freaking out.

You pulled over and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, his hand still in yours.

"Hey, Rod, it's okay. We'll find him, I promise."

Rodrick shook his head, his eyes becoming glossy. You felt bad for letting him believe Greg was really gone for so long, but you told Greg you'd stick with his plan. And you were true to your word.

"What if we don't?" His voice cracked.

"We will, I promise. But it's getting late and you should rest. We'll go looking for him first thing in the morning. I bet you he probably went to Rowley's house."

"Yeah... yeah, that makes sense," Rodrick nodded. "Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you. For Greg, too. I love that kid."

Rodrick smiled, hearing you speak so fondly of his younger brother. In that moment, he knew everything would work out.

You started driving back to the cul-de-sac you guys lived on. Rodrick leaned his head against the window and started to dose off, his hand still holding yours tightly.

Then you saw it. Greg walking on the sidewalk, just like he said he would.

"Rodrick! Dude!" You shook him awake.

"Huh? What?" He woke up, startled.

"Look!" You pointed over to Greg while pulling over.

Rodrick saw him and as soon as you stopped the car, he opened the door and stumbled out.

"Greg!" He called out to his younger brother.

Before Greg could even turn around, Rodrick had him engulfed in a hug. The display of affection obviously took Greg by surprised.

"Don't ever do that again," Rodrick paused, trying to come up with some sort of insult, "... dumbass."

"I won't, I promise."

You watched as the two brothers smiled at each other. A rare occurrence for sure, but a nice one.

Rodrick lightly pushed Greg towards the car and they both got in.

"Hey (Y/n)." Greg said from the back seat.

"Hey, kid, glad you're safe," You smiled back at him.

"Yeah."

"Had this guy close to bursting into tears," You snickered, gesturing towards Rodrick and trying to lighten the mood.

"Don't tell him that!" Rodrick mumbled as he nudged your arm. This only made you and Greg giggle more.

You saw a smile form on Rodrick's lips, despite him trying to hide it. Laughter was, indeed, contagious.

You poked his cheek, making him chuckle.

You started to drive towards the Heffley house, the mood in the car now light and playful. You pulled into their driveway and unlocked the doors.

"Go inside, twerp. I'll catch up." Rodrick said.

"Okay," Greg smiled, getting out and heading towards the door.

"(Y/n)... thank you." Rodrick said, his voice softer as he looked down at his shoes.

"For what?"

"I dunno, everything. I mean, who would get up in the middle of the night and help some loser look for their little brother?"

"Oh c'mon, Rodrick. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you or that kid. It's no big deal, really." You said.

"It is to me. Thank you," He finally looked up at you, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Anytime."

"Can I- um... can I try something?" He asked. His eyes darted away from you for a split second.

"Well, uh, yeah. Sure." You said, curious to as what wants to do.

Suddenly, Rodrick put his hand on your cheek and leaned in. You felt his lips press against yours softly and closed your eyes. The kiss lasted only a little bit, but it felt much longer.

You couldn’t lie. It felt amazing. Kissing Rodrick just felt so... right. It’s like your lips were made for each other.

He pulled back a little and you smiled, laughing softly.

"Is- Is that a good thing?" He asked.

"I dunno, you tell me."

You leaned in and kissed him again. He was quick to kiss back. Eventually you leaned back.

"You should get inside," Another kiss, "Don't want you getting in more trouble."

Rodrick's usual confidence came back and he smirked, "If it's for you, it's worth it."

"Shut up!" You laughed.

He chuckled and pecked your cheek, before walking to the door.

As you pulled into your own driveway, you smiled.

Your relationship with Rodrick Heffley had changed tonight. But you know it had changed for the better.

[earlgreydream]

doubts.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. loki kinda degraded sub!reader and she scrunches up all tiny and sobs afterwards because she thought he meant what he said

cw: slightly smutty, slightly angsty

You begged Loki to let you come, fighting against the magical restraints your dom had placed around your wrists and ankles. 

“Oh, you want to come so bad you’re crying? You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?” Loki sneered, the words sending arousal pooling deep in your belly, even though you fought against it. Your body jolted at the slap administered to your inner thigh, a pained cry escaping your lips. 

You’d been acting up and testing Loki’s patience, which is what earned you this punishment, your pleasure being dangled in front of you, just out of reach. You’d broken his rules, and he’d had enough of your attitude. 

“Come now before I change my mind,” Loki’s tone was dangerous, and the pressure inside of you shattered. He followed your lead, finishing inside of you before he pulled out and made the restraints vanish. 

As the pleasure wore off, his words echoing in your mind, You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?

Loki stood off of the bed, going to run you a hot shower. As soon as he’d stepped away, a sob tore through your chest, your shoulders heaving as you cried. You curled up in a ball, feeling small and alone on his massive bed. 

Loki heard you crying, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He abandoned the shower and ran to your side, kneeling down on the bed. You looked so tiny and fragile, folding in on yourself. His chest ached when he heard your soft sounds and saw the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your hair, trying to self-soothe. He reached out to pull your hands away, wanting to keep you from anxiously tearing the hair from your sensitive head.

“My darling-” his voice cracked when you jerked away from him. You hiccuped on your broken sobs as they wrecked you, emotion flooding every last thought and turning you into a mess. 

Loki’s magic sparked around you, cleaning you up and leaving you both in loose clothing. The green shimmer surrounded you, Loki’s fruitless attempt to touch you without frightening you. It was warm, and seemed to buzz with its own life, but didn’t make you feel any better. 

“My darling, have I hurt you? Tell me whatever is wrong so that I may fix it,” Loki begged, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” you tried to catch your breath, wanting to get your keys and leave. 

He sank back, giving you space. His eyes were concerned and sad, and he fought against the urge to pierce into your mind, ripping the truth from you. The door vanished from the wall as you tried to run out, and you whipped around to face the god, who was kneeling on the bed and looking wounded. There was no exit, Loki keeping you contained to the bedroom until your devastation was resolved. 

“Y/N, I won’t let you leave when you’re so upset. You cannot drive safely. If you wish, I can take you anywhere you want to go,” Loki fretted, and though you knew he was right, you only grew more and more upset. 

“Come to me, darling,” Loki opened his arms, the authority in his voice making you comply. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You’d end up in Loki’s arms confessing your pain whether by his will, or your own.

Your sobs broke his heart, and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you firmly, and eventually your struggling subsided as you let yourself weep against his chest. 

“Please don’t make me pry the truth out of you,” Loki begged softly into your hair. He didn’t want to add to your pain, he only wanted to fix it. He was very aware that sifting through your mind to take your private thoughts was something that made you feel extremely violated. He wanted you to tell him on your own, but he wouldn’t let you keep such heartbreaking secrets from him. 

“Y-you... did you mean what you said about me? That I was pathetic, and d-desperate and a whore?” You sobbed out, stammering over your words.

“Oh, oh my goodness. My darling, I am so sorry. I never meant any of that. I thought you understood I just said it in the scene... please my love, I adore you more than all of the stars. Never think you are not the most perfect, beautiful, eloquent, and lovely person in my eyes. I love you, I will never say such horrible things again.” Tears flowed freely down Loki’s face. You were startled, unused to seeing raw emotion from him, especially not guilt. It hadn’t occurred to you that the words Loki had spoken were just part of the scene, part of the sex you were having. He wasn’t typically fond of degradation, but he was experimenting in the moment, never expecting it to be received as genuine. 

There was no room for doubt in his words. He meant his love then, and he would spend the rest of his life proving his love to you.

His strong arms cradled you against his body, trying to hold you together.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he breathed apologies like a repetitive prayer.

You listened to his heartbeat, letting the rhythm slow your racing mind. Your sobs eventually subsided, calmed by the steady circles of his hand on your back.

“I forgive you,” your lips moved against the underside of his jaw.

“Please always stop me, tell me then, if anything at all makes you feel even the slightest bit unsafe. I never want you to feel this way again, certainly not at my fault,” Loki begged, and you nodded before burying your face back in him.

“Do you still love me?”

“I love you the most,” you promised.

Loki talked you into staying the night, doting on you to the point you were almost smothered. His magic conjured everything you wanted, even in the back of your thoughts.

“Do you want to go get some?” He asked, and you turned, tilting your head in confusion.

“To Paris. For the macarons.”

“You’re reading my thoughts,” you sighed softly, but a smile graced your expression as you kissed him.

“No, I’m sleepy. Maybe tomorrow?” You asked, and he nodded, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed.

You situated yourself in his arms, your back against his chest. His larger frame shielded you, wrapping you in safety and warmth. You slept soundly with him, the pain and uncertainty from the afternoon long gone and replaced by his love.

The smell of coffee rose you out of your sleep. Your eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft light spilling in through the windows, and you sat up, suddenly realizing you weren’t in Loki’s bedroom at his apartment, where you’d fallen asleep.

“Loki?!” You called, and he leaned in the doorway.

“Good morning. I didn’t mean to frighten you. We took a short trip in your sleep. We’re at my Paris flat.”

You smiled, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. Loki put a coffee in your hands, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“If I cry will you spoil me more often?” You teased lightly, and he shot you his signature dom look of warning, making you shudder.

“It breaks my heart to see you cry, my darling,” Loki’s tone was apologetic, guilt still left over from the day before. You squeezed his arm as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m okay,” you swore, earning another kiss from your lover.

“Mm. Finish that up and we’ll go to the patisserie down the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, happy you were cheered up and back to normal. He moved his fingers and a pretty sundress appeared hanging on the back of the washroom door for you, delicate white flats placed below.

“Dressing me up like your little doll?”

“Careful, or I will dress you, after I get that attitude in line.”

“I love the dress. And I can put it on by myself,” you apologized, pecking his lips before walking to the bathroom.

You returned in the sundress, a white beret adorning your head along with it. You relished in the bright smile Loki rewarded you with. In a shimmer of green, he was dressed in pastels that matched your own. You loved to see him in casual clothes instead of the Asgardian armor he frequently wore, and he indulged you for this small Parisian vacation. 

“You look stunning, my darling.”

Giggles erupted from your lips, making Loki’s heart soften. He dipped his head down to kiss you, making your nose scrunch up in the cutest way that he loved. His long, slender fingers folded with yours, holding your hand as the two of you made your way out of the flat and onto the bustling street. You were thankful for the sunny weather, greatly improving your mood from the rough night in New York’s rain. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you nodded.

“Let’s get some crepes. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Loki.”

The young god pecked your lips before pushing you inside of a patisserie. 

“Salut,” the girl working called to the two of you as the bell clinged on the door.

“Darling, what would you like? We can take some macarons to go,” Loki asked, pointing to the pastries behind the glass.

You chose a few, and Loki rattled off your order in French to the shopkeeper, taking the bag from her and moving you to sit at a table in the corner for your crepes. 

“Can we stay in Paris for a couple of days? Just us, not any of the distractions from New York,” you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder and accepting the bite he fed you. 

“Most certainly.” He kissed the sugar off of your lips before the two of you left for a park with your snacks for later. Loki held your hand as you walked along a low stone wall beside him, your eyes level with the extra height. 

“Y/N, you must know that you are so, so terribly loved.”

You turned and snaked your arms around his neck, looking deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“I do not doubt your love, Loki.”

[softjakehoon]

Can We Pretend?

Pairing: Idol Jay/Reader

Warnings: Smut. For 18+ only, minors dni.

Includes: Corruption kink, friends with benefits, protected sex, squirting, mild choking, slight biting, rough sex.

Authors note: I might edit this later. I apologize for any errors, I wrote this at 5 am instead of sleeping. Lmao.

------

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

You were watching a drama just a couple of minutes ago when he kissed you by surprise. You remember teasing him and questioning his innocence because of a scene in the drama where the main leads were hugging before having sex for the first time. 

Your brain stopped functioning for a while to remember how it all came to this. 

"Pft. Who the fuck hugs before having sex?" You almost choked on your drink out of laughter. 

"Why? Isn't that a normal thing for couples?" Jay asked you with innocence plastered on his face. 

"Are you being serious? You.. don't tell me you're still a virgin?" You were so shocked that you had to pause the drama you're both watching. 

"What's wrong with being a virgin? Also, you already know I haven't dated anyone in my life, why are you so shocked?" His lips pouting cutely as he argued.

"But that was 3 years ago, Jay. You're literally 21 now, you need to get laid." You teased him out of habit. A sting of pain suddenly grazing your heart at the thought of your best friend on someone else's bed.

"As if I have the time for that. Besides, I can't just hook up with anyone. I have a reputation to protect as an idol." He's right, you nodded in response. A sudden thought crossing your mind. 

"Wait a minute, how do you release tension then? Do you just get off by yourself or?" Your face inspecting his eyes closely for some hint. "Don't tell me you don't jack off either?" You were beyond shocked by his blank expression, showing no sign of guilt at all. 

"Holy shit, how do you even do that? You poor thing." You taunted him. 

"Enough, y/n. I'm fine, I have a lot of ways to release stress. Unless, you want to offer yourself to help." Jay knew he wasn't thinking straight when he said this but he maintained his cool and unbothered expression to see how you would react. 

"You want us to be fuck buddies, is that it? Fine, I'll help you." You weren't sure why you agreed without giving it a second thought. But you know deep inside you've been in love with Jay for 6 years already. For all those years, you tried so hard not to be overly affectionate and clingy to the boy you liked the most--in fear of him drifting away from you. You wanted to be someone constant in his life, someone he can go to whenever he needs someone to lean on. You wanted to be his soulmate. 

You've done a great job so far, but you're not sure anymore. How the hell are you going to manage pretending from now on? When you're overly sentimental and you tend to give meaning to every single thing he does. 

"What? How can you agree so fast?" He jokingly covered his mouth, pretending to be shocked. 

"What? Do you want me to take it back? It's not like this is my first time having sex anyway." You tried to act cool as much as possible, pretending that this setup isn't that much of a big deal at all. 

"Right. I'm not. But you're gonna be my first." You're almost sure he sounded hurt when he said that while looking deeply in your eyes. 

You couldn't resist it anymore. You wanted to be the one to erase his innocence but you were surprised when he kissed you first. 

You couldn't honestly tell if this is his first kiss or not because he's definitely good at it. 

You pulled away out of shock. You didn't expect him to be this good since you thought he's just gonna go for a quick peck. He looked confused at your reaction.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, in case you wanted to back down. 

"No. No, I was just shocked. I thought you were just gonna go with a quick peck, that's all." For some reason you can't look directly in his eyes. You're sure of it. If you do, you're gonna fall for him again, like you always do. 

"Well, we're not gonna go further with just a peck, right? Stop acting so shy, I thought you're gonna help me." He lifted your chin using his thumb, your eyes meeting in parallel. 

"You sure about this, Jay? I mean, I may get clingy after all of this. You know how sensitive I get. I tend to feel a lot of emotions." You warned him, followed by a fake laugh to ease the tension. You wanted to give him an idea of what could happen at least. 

"Then, don't. We're just using each other for sex, keep that in mind." You're aware he didn't mean to hurt you by this. He was just stating the obvious--drawing the line between the two of you for safety precaution. But this hurts, and you wanted him to take the pain all away, even just for a while. 

You kissed him roughly in frustration. He picked up your pace quickly, he really is a fast learner, you thought. And his lips, they're small and cute but they felt so damn good on yours. You grabbed his face, feeling every inch of his jawline, circling your fingertips on the mark on his neck. You looked deep into his eyes before gently sucking on it. He moaned at the contact, grabbing a fistful of your hair gently and pulling you back to a kiss. 

"Don't leave marks, y/n. I have a photoshoot tomorrow." He said, firmly. 

"Too bad. Wanted to fucking mark you as proof of getting your virginity taken." You chuckled. 

"Let me mark you instead, then. Proof that I let you take it." He whispered into your ear, biting into it gently, and kissing your neck while sucking on your skin up to your cleavage. 

You moaned from the sensation. You're already melting from his touch, you couldn't help but to rub your thighs together, wanting some kind of pleasure on your core as soon as possible. 

"Jay, I want your cock in me so bad." You whined, desperate to feel him inside of you. You palmed his cock inside his shorts, pulling it out. This is your first time seeing your best friend's dick and it was prettier than you imagined it would be. And you always thought he would be huge, but this doesn't even compare to the one in your dreams. The length, the girth, the tip of his cock, all red from arousal, leaking with precum already. Your mouth is watering from the sight. 

You couldn't help it. You dropped on your knees, eyes levelled to his crotch. You pumped his dick with your small hands, earning a gasp from him. You circled your tongue in his tip, gathering all the precum in it before fully deep throating him. He let out a growl this time, surprised by your sudden action. "Fuck, y/n. That's it, your mouth feels so good." You hummed in his dick, sending vibrations to his senses. You kept bobbing your head up and down, making sure to go as deep as you can, his tip hitting your throat making you slightly gag. You pulled it out for a moment to spit on it, and put it back inside your mouth, sucking him sloppily.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm close, keep going." Your jaw is starting to hurt a little, but you wanted to taste him so bad. You continued sucking him off while cupping his balls, massaging them gently. 

"Fuck, I'm cumming." He tried to get you off of him but you wrapped your arms around his thighs, pulling him closer. His cock, burying in your throat even deeper as he cummed. You looked up to him, eyes closed and mouth open from the pleasure. His head tilted back, and his hair slightly wet from sweat. The view of him from below caused a pool of wetness in your core. You milked him dry and swallowed his load without hesitation. 

"Shit, y/n. That's just.. insane. Come here, I wanna taste you too." He helped you get up, both of you smiling from ecstasy. 

You sat up on the couch, your thighs closed involuntarily trying to hide your arousal. "Can I?" He looked into your eyes, asking for permission if he could eat you out like a gentleman that he is. 

"Y-yes." You shyly answered. This is the first time someone is getting down on you after all. Your ex never liked foreplay and always went on ahead with penetration every single time that it hurts most of the time. Nervous of what's to come, you covered your face with your hands, not wanting him to see your state. 

"Let me see your pretty face, y/n. I wanna see how good I'm making you feel." He grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his head, giving you something to hold on to while he flicks his tongue in your clit. He looked at you, your head tilted on the side, your mouth open releasing soft moans. He took the chance to put two fingers in your mouth, making you suck on them only to put them inside your cunt. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out while licking and sucking your bud, driving you insane from the pleasure, your arousal dripping down his chin generously. 

You grabbed his hair firmly as you focused on reaching your climax, clenching on his fingers. "Jay, I.. I'm gonna cum." You're almost out of breath at this point. 

He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot several times that had you squirting around his digits. He eased you from your high, fucking your hole with his tongue and sucking on your juices. He looked up to you with lust all written in his face. His cheeks and chin, all wet and covered with your scent. 

"I always knew you'd taste good. Though I didn't know you're a squirter." He chuckled and sat on the couch. 

"Shut up. It's because it felt too good." You got up and climbed on his lap. He grabbed your ass to spread them and began kissing you again. The taste of his cum and yours both mixing in your mouth as you kiss him back. You began grinding at his erection, coating his length with your juices as he guided you by your waist. 

You're getting impatient at this point, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You felt Jay searching for something in the corner of the couch, eventually bringing out a condom. 

"Why do you have that there?" You asked him, curious if he knew this would happen. 

"The boys left it here just in case. Didn't know I'd be the one to use it though." He tore the packaging and started rolling it down to the base of his cock. 

"You're such a good boy, aren't you?" You smiled at him.

"I don't think so." He whispered in your ear and bit your jaw, leaving a slight mark. You moaned a little bit louder this time. Surprised that it didn't hurt at all. "Aren't you such a pain slut? You're getting turned on by that? Huh?" His voice is so deep and velvety, making you clench your walls on nothing.

You started positioning yourself in his cock, slowly sinking down while biting your lip. He gasped from the unfamiliar sensation when he felt his tip enter you. You made sure to bottom all the way down, training your cunt to adjust to his size. 

"Shit. Move for me, baby. Be a good girl and ride my cock." He's holding you by your waist, pinning you down roughly. 

"Fuck, Jay. Your cock is so deep in me." You continued bouncing up and down, grinding back and forth on his cock from time to time whenever your legs would start to get tired.

Jay sensed that you’re starting to slow down so he started thrusting deep and sloppily into your core. You tried to meet his every thrust, biting your lips to keep yourself from screaming.

“Jay, I’m close.” He wrapped his right hand on your neck gently, while his left hand stayed at your waist. You're left at his mercy at this point. He’s in charge of the moment, giving you a smack on your ass as he growls from the intense pleasure.

“Cum for me, y/n.” With a couple of thrusts, you reached your orgasm, your walls convulsing around Jay’s cock that sent him to the edge as well.

He stayed inside you for a moment as both of you tried to catch your breath and then he pulled out after, discarding the condom in the trash bin.

He helped you get up and prepared a warm bath for you to enjoy. He knows that both of you just entered a complicated situation but he doesn’t regret it. As long as he’s with you, nothing else matters. 

[messers-moony]

Serene | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five’s wife has a room in their apartment for her own safe keeping. But Diego’s daughter accidentally reveals her biggest secret.

Her scent was heavenly—a beautiful desired mix of coffee, chocolate, and old books. Waking up beside her was like waking up in a coffee shop during sunrise. Her scent resembled her nature and her personality to a tea.

She was calm, collective, resourceful, and quiet. Much different than he himself. Number Five was just as innovative as her. But he found himself more different than similar. He often acted upon impulse and unable to rest. To his siblings, they were bewildered at how the two of them spent a multitude of years together in an apocalypse.

Nevertheless, opposites attract.

Regardless, she didn’t speak up. Instead, she hid in a corner with a book agreeing with the other person instead of saying her point of view. She hated conflict more than anything. Five, on the other hand, would only make conflict when necessary. He always stood up for himself and his opinions.

It was a communication issue they both had to solve. While in the apocalypse, she didn’t speak for the first month. He was lucky if he even got some form of communication other than a nod or a shake of the head. Eventually, he learned her name was Y/n. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. She looked like her name.

She moved so delicately and smoothly it drove Five crazy. This woman he met was so opposite to him it drove him up the wall. The conflict between the two usually ended up in her quietly leaving the shared apartment and returning later than expected. Which left Five to pull at the tuffs of his brown hair in frustration.

Five overthought everything. This woman was the light of his life, but she couldn’t deal with conflict to save her life, and it made him wonder. Maybe she went through a dark time before the apocalypse. Perhaps the scars on her arms weren’t from accidental burns on the fire. He paced in their main room for hours. It seemed before a knock on the door caught his attention.

The boy opened the door to see his brother, “ Hey, Diego. “

“ Um, hey, Five. “ Regardless of Diego’s nervous greeting, Five gave a reassuring smile, “ Artemis wanted to know if she could stay here for the time being while I’m at work. “

The little girl was Y/n’s pride and joy. The two were so highly similar. Even Artemis found herself cowering at Five sometimes. Five was just a ticking time bomb no one ever knew when it would explode, and it made people nervous. Henceforth Diego was hoping Y/n would answer the door with her soothing nature.

“ Yeah, she can stay here for as long as she wants. “ Five replied softly, looking at the ten-year-old girl, “ Is Y/n here? “ Diego queried.

Five shook his head, “ She went out. I’m sure she’ll be back later. “

“ Alright, well, thank you for taking care of her. “ Diego sighed as Artemis went inside Five’s apartment, “ It’s no problem. “

Diego gave another nervous smile and walked away. The brunet male shut the door and locked it afterward. The little girl never really got along with Five. He didn’t know what to do. Children didn’t mix well with Five, especially an introverted, antisocial ten-year-old girl.

Artemis was gorgeous for her age. Long brown hair that resembled Vanya’s at her age with bangs across her forehead. Striking blue eyes like no other. A pale complexion compared to Diego’s naturally tan one. Her name was almost a contradiction to who she was. This little girl was no independent, strong, brave goddess. Instead, she was intelligent, quiet, and careful.

There was one room in the apartment Y/n didn’t really let anyone into. It was the ‘spare’ bedroom that wasn’t really a bedroom anymore. Five had only been in there a handful of times. It was known as her safe space, so Five respected that. But Artemis seemed to walk right inside. To say it made Five uneasy was an understatement. He didn’t know if she was allowed inside or not.

Five walked into the room and was greeted with bookshelves. It looked much different than the last time he saw it. The room wasn’t huge, maybe the average size of a square bedroom. Black bookshelves covered the walls with a desk sitting in the middle of the room planted on a rug. The only wall space not covered was a window with a tiny navy blue couch placed in front of it.

That’s where Artemis sat with a book in hand; she giggled at her uncle’s lost complexion, “ You haven’t been in here before, have you? “

“ I- I haven’t been in here a lot. “ Five replied in awe of the room, “ Aunt Y/n says she doesn’t let a lot of people in here. “ Artemis’ voice was soft and serene.

“ Yeah, it’s been a couple of months since I’ve been allowed in this room. “ He reminisced, “ Is this where you two talk? “

Artemis nodded, “ We talk a lot in here. This is where she works, and she shows me all her drafts. “

“ She works in here? “ Five queried, completely baffled, “ Mhm! You didn’t know? “ The young girl asked.

“ No, I- I didn’t know. “ He muttered, “ She’s not just an English teacher. She writes books in her spare time. “ Artemis smiled.

“ She does? “ Five spoke, “ Like how Vanya wrote her autobiography? “

“ Kind of. “ Artemis answered, “ She writes fiction novels. “

Five spun around the room, “ Can you show me? “

The young girl didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at Y/n’s desk sitting in the middle of the room. Under the rug laid a key which she picked up. Carefully she unlocked the bottom drawer on the left side of the desk, which held multiple different notebooks full of drafts and notes.

Artemis picked up a navy blue-bound notebook and handed it to him, “ This is her most recent stuff. “

Shocked and astonished at what his wife was hiding from him, he took the navy blue book. He took a spot on the rug sitting next to the open drawer while Artemis went back to reading on the couch. Her handwriting was elegant cursive that she taught herself how to do. The notebook was as messy as Five’s lesson plans for his college students. Nonetheless, he read on.

Life is a journey and full of different surprises. People from all around the world meet in the center for one leading cause. What occurs when tomorrow doesn’t happen? What is indeed on the other side? People tend to believe there’s an afterlife. Others think that it’s game over.

Brooklyn James takes a path into the unknown. A scared adolescent. She takes a brave step to find the answers for everyone. But at what cost? Prophecies advise and warn. People intrigued and fascinated.

When happens when both ends meet?

Five sat on the floor, entranced in her writing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How has he never seen this before? How was she doing this without him noticing? Eventually, he closed the book and looked inside the drawer. Inside was an envelope with his name on it. Curiosity peaked, he took the envelope and opened it. Inside he found more writings, but all addressed to him. It even went back to the apocalypse.

It’s been about a month now. I was able to find some parchment and ink in an old book store. I can imagine they were selling for the aesthetic of old ways of writing. Thankfully I learned how to write with a quill, or perhaps this note would look like one big black blob. Five seems to be adjusting to me better. I’m scared of him. He’s terrifying.

We’re so different it hurts. He likes to express everything, and I don’t know how to feel about it. My entire life, I’ve been shut down to the point where talking feels like a fruitless effort. Maybe talking to him will help me. But I’m scared. What if he shuts me out as everyone else did.

This is so surreal. We’re stuck in an apocalyptic future—stupid healing powers. I wish I never healed myself sometimes. I didn’t know that after climbing out of my burnt house, this is what the world would look like. Five’s been a great help, though. Sometimes he takes my mind off things. At night he’ll ramble about the constellations, and I like learning about them.

Maybe he thinks I’m asleep or not listening because I don’t talk much, but I’ve learned a lot from him. He makes me want to be a teacher, step out of my comfort zone. I hope he becomes a teacher. He’d be a fantastic math professor.

He continued to read through until a voice made him jump, “ So, you’ve found my locked drawer. “

“ I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean- “ Five suddenly became a stuttering mess, “ I showed him. “ Artemis admitted.

Although Y/n wasn’t mad, Artemis cowered with her head, looking at the floor. Y/n’s voice never held anger, even when she was angry. Her voice was calming, soothing, and laced with honey. It was one of the reasons Five fell so in love with her.

“ Artemis, can you step out to the living room, please? “ She knelt before the girl giving her a tiny smile, “ You aren’t in trouble, my princess. I just want to talk to Five, okay? “

“ I’m- I'm sorry. “ The girl whimpered, and Y/n kissed her cheek gently, “ It’s okay, you aren’t in trouble. I’m not mad. I just need you to sit in the living room for a moment. “ Five stared in wonder at his wife comforting the tiny girl.

The young girl got the message and padded to the living room. Y/n stood up from her spot and stared at her guilty husband. His green eyes looked everywhere except for her e/c ones. He wanted her to yell or be angry with him, but she never was. No matter what, he couldn’t ever make her mad. Her patience were infinite.

“ I suppose you found what I’ve been working on. “ She stated, and Five nodded, “ And you saw my parchment from the apocalypse. “

“ I really didn’t mean to. “ He murmured, and she chuckled, “ You were going to have to find out sooner rather than later. “ Y/n replied.

Without warning, he was embraced. Her arms were wrapped around his torso while her head rested on his heart. The scent of her shampoo reached his nose, a glorious mix of honey and coconut he couldn’t ever get enough of. His arms gently wrapped themselves around her shorter frame while his chin perched on top of her head.

He kissed her hair gently, “ I didn’t mean to snoop. I’m sorry, love. “

“ Well, do you like it? “ She asked, “ Like what? “

“ My drafts, my room, my notes? “ Y/n listed, “ I love it because it’s who you are. “ Five replied softly.

He pulled away to meet her soft e/c eyes, “ This room is who you are as a person. If I had to describe you in one room, it’d be something along these lines. “

“ You aren’t mad I didn’t tell you? “ She whispered, and he shook his head, “ Never. We spent forty-five years together with no privacy because we didn’t have that. When you said you wanted this room to yourself, I didn’t hesitate to agree with you. “ His voice was soft like silk.

His green eyes glittered like gems, “ This is your private room, your safe place, and I shouldn’t be mad at you for wanting privacy. “

She kissed his cheek gratefully, “ Thank you. “

“ Anytime, darling. Anytime. “

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hi. can i request something angsty i absolutely love your angst works! so being in a long term relationship with mr ran haitani that's kind of already having fallouts. then reader cheated and confesses to ran about it but he still kind of didn't expect reader would do something like that. thank you very much! pls ignore if you want <3

This hurt to write. But it hurt so damn good.

King of Sorrow: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: A N G S T

masterlist

song recommendation:

Things had been going downhill for a while.

Ran noticed the way you stayed out late, the way you no longer cuddled him in bed at night, the way your eyes wandered when you two were at the club...

But he never says anything.

You two had been together since he had become part of Bonten - and that was five years ago. FIve years of bliss, love, and happiness.

But that all started to fall apart last month.

He can't recall what he did - if anything. Ran tried his best to show you that he loved you, even when he was away. But lately, it'd been met with a half-hearted "thanks" or "I love you, too". Ran knew you weren't saying it because it was inherently true. You were saying it because you felt obligated to.

But he didn't feel obligated.

No, he's convinced he loves you, even if you're falling out of love with him. It's a hard thought for him to grasp, but he does somehow - that you might just have fallen out of love with him.

So he ups his gestures of love in an attempt to stave off the routine. This week, he's taken you on a trip to Italy. No meetings, no calls, nothing that has to do with work. It's just you and him on a cruise ship, sailing from port to port.

"This is amazing," he beams, cutting into the steak with gusto. "I've never had steak like this before."

"It's Wagyu," you mention, looking more somber in the dim lighting of the restaurant than when you both entered. Come to think of it, the moment you stepped onto the boat, you seemed downcast, even more so than when you were at home. You couldn't even look Ran in the eye anymore, and even though he'd made love to you the previous night, it seemed like that didn't have any effect on how you felt today. Usually, you'd be excited and full of life, but...

"Babe," Ran whispers, putting his fork down. "What's wrong?" Your bottom lip quivers and Ran stiffens. No, he thinks. Don't cry. But he also wants to get to the bottom of things, so he continues cautiously. "Things have been really strange for some time now, and I brought you here so maybe we could fix whatever's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, wiping your eyes quickly. "Everything's fine."

"No," Ran tuts. "It's not. My love, you've been distant. I'm worried about us." He reaches across the table and touches your hand, and gesture he hasn't tried in a long time. "I'm worried about you." You snatch your hand away, standing and throwing your napkin over your barely touched food.

"It's fine, Ran," you snap, then walk away from the table quickly, rubbing at your eyes furiously as you leave the ship's dining room. Ran sighs, motioning for the waiter as he cuts his losses with the dinner.

"Just send the bill to the room, please."

Ran finds you in your shared suite, sitting in the chair facing the balcony with your head in your hands. You're sobbing, and for a moment, he replays the interaction between the two of you before approaching, holding your purse in one hand.

"Love," he begins, kneeling beside the chair and placing your purse in the other seat beside him. "I need you to talk to me."

"I just..." you start but break off, tears flowing down your fingers. "It's not your fault." You reveal your reddened face, eyes rimmed with smeared mascara. "I didn't mean to..."

"Whatever it is, it's fine," Ran whispers, taking your wet hands in his. "It'll be okay. Just tell me what's wrong." His heart is aching to know why you're so heartbroken, but you inhale shakily, then exhale before opening your eyes.

"Ran, I want to start off by apologizing." Ran shakes his head, his violet eyes unsure, but you stop him, squeezing his hands once. "Just listen to me all the way through, okay?"

"Done," he affirms, shoulders relaxing now that you're finally telling him what's wrong.

"A month ago... I went to Takada's bachelorette party, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." He remembers that night. You looked so stunning in your tight mini-dress and pinned-up hair. He thought about railing you over the side of the banister before you left and was a little disappointed that you came home around eight in the morning instead of that same night.

"I..." You shakily inhale again, shaking your head rapidly. "I got so drunk. I don't know what was wrong with me, I..." You sniff, then remove your hands from Ran's, wiping at a stray tear. "I ended up sleeping with someone. I don't know who they are, I don't know where they came from. But I just remember waking up in the bed, naked, and seeing him there."

Ran stares at you, face empty, still not fully processing what you've said. He is still for a while as the cogs in his mind turn around and around and around and around and around and then

stop.

His mouth dries up, and his violet eyes look away from you, at the wallpaper, at the mirror, at the corner of the room, at the ceiling.

"I've felt so guilty since then," you mumble. "I couldn't tell you because I felt so ashamed, I--"

Ran stands, letting out a soft "oh", wavering a little on his feet. He blinks a few times, still not looking at you, then cocks his head to the left, like he's hearing something. But he's just processing. His mind flits from one day to the next, trying to pinpoint any signs, any clues... How could he have been so stupid?

No, you couldn't have cheated. It was a mistake. You'd gotten undressed, the man was drunk and also fell asleep in your bed... No, you couldn't do that. Not to him. Not to Ran Haitani.

But your guilt is written all over your face.

"Oh," Ran mutters again, jaw clenching. His breaths come quick like he'd been running for hours, and he can barely think as he sees red cloud his vision. He can't understand what he's doing when he breaks the table in the conjoined living room, or swipes the vases onto the floor, shattering them and depositing the flowers among them. He can't think about anything as you shout for him to stop, trying to reach him past his haze of red, but he's too far gone.

And the thing that frightens you the most is that he isn't yelling or screaming.

He's quiet.

He's not cursing at you, he's just destroying anything that looks whole, tossing it to the ground and rendering it unusable. You slide down against the wall, tears coursing down your cheeks again as he huffs, standing in the middle of the wreckage, gasping for air.

And then, the clearest thought Ran's had in almost an hour comes to him.

"Let me get you your own room."

"Ran," you plead, stumbling over your feet to get to him as he marches over to the phone. "Ran, please."

"Hello? I need a new suite for Mrs. Haitani. Do you have one available?"

"Ran!" you beg, pulling at his sleeve, but he doesn't move from the phone, gripping the receiver as the person on the other line tries to find an open room for you. You try to reach the button that will hang up the call, reaching past Ran's frame in earnest. He's blocking it, but there's just enough room for your pointer finger to tap the button, ending the call.

Ran doesn't even move. The phone is still up to his ear as if the call is still going on, but no voice is on the other line.

Fat tears roll down from his eyes, and he's frozen there, standing with the phone in his hands as if he were paused in time. But he lets the phone slip from his grasp, walking like a zombie over to the chair by the balcony, and sliding into it slowly.

And he doesn't get up, staring out at the sea with an empty, forlorn look.

"Ran," you whisper, crouching next to him. He doesn't answer, tears running freely down his face. "Ran..." Again, there's no answer, so you hang your head next to his leg, touching his thigh with your right hand. He doesn't move, even when you get up to prepare for bed, the door leading to the carnage of his temper still open.

He doesn't move from that chair all night, and you don't sleep, staring at him as his tears dry. You even succumb to sleep for a brief moment, waking to see him still in that same chair, still trying to think.

But eventually, he moves, walking into the bathroom and staying in there for a while. You wait patiently for him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he emerges, wiping his face with a towel before he inhales sharply.

"As soon as they dock this ship at the next port, we're heading home. Couples counseling or a divorce, it's your choice." You look down at your hands, nodding. You understand the need to cut the trip short. It's for the best.

When you arrive back home two days later, Ran immediately grabs a new bag of things, loading it up with clothing and toiletries, choosing to take residence at Rindou's home instead of sleeping in the same bed as you.

And that hurt the worst, his cold violet eyes not even glancing over at you as he left the master bedroom without any words.

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 9

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language + mentions of sensitive topics Warnings: Referenced past abuse. Does not go into detail. Notes: Longest Serenade chapter yet at 4k+ words! Bit of angst, majority is fluffy fluffer fluff though. Next chapter is maximum h*rny, with two versions depending on reader, uh, equipment. EDIT: Forgot to put title, like dumbass. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato

Chapter 9: Berceuse

(Berceuse: A lullaby. Generally slow and undulating.)

One moment you’re playing the piano, lovingly demonstrating a song you’d like Daniela to learn, the next you’re blue screening as she places a teasing kiss to your neck. It takes all of your willpower to keep playing, improvising a way to end the song right then and there. Then you’re turning to Daniela, eyes wide, blushing hard. She’s giggling. When she regains her composure, you give her a confused expression.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve made real eye contact with me all morning. What gives?” She asked, frowning slightly. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck, you avoid her gaze, doing little else than proving her point. This frustrates her, and she lets out an aggravated sigh. I should probably tell her what happened, you think, dreading the idea. Still, the two of you had been making an effort to communicate better. What kind of partner would you be if you didn’t tell her about her mother’s intervention?

“Okay, okay… I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but if I’m being this obvious about it anyway…” You started, trailing off anxiously. In response, Daniela places one of her hands over yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Though your face somehow gets even redder, the action gives you the courage required to continue. “I had another progress update meeting with your mother yesterday. I was worried, since this was the first one where you weren’t present, but I didn’t- I mean, er… Fuck it, she knows you’re interested in me. Doesn’t think we’re already together, thank God, but she told me, and I quote, that my response should be ‘swift and uninterested’. What are-” before you can finish you’re cut off by a loud groan, followed by your girlfriend cradling her head in her hands. Yeah, you think, this is about what I expected.

“Of course she did! I can’t have anything nice,” Daniela snapped, having gone from ten to sixty real quick. You’re just glad that she wasn’t taking it out on the piano. “How would she even know about us? I only stare at you when she’s not looking!” Oh? Since when did she stare at you? Certainly if Lady Dimitrescu had noticed, you would have as well?... Then again, the few times where all three of you were in the same room usually involved you working while they chatted or ate together. Still, the idea of Daniela making heart eyes at you from across the room was enough to make you blush again. “Look, she’s probably making some assumptions. There’s no way she knows as much as she thinks she does, at least not about us. So let’s just be careful- ugh, I sound like Bela- and otherwise keep doing what we do. Alright, songbird?”

“If you’re sure, then so am I. Let’s try to focus on our lesson for now, though,” you replied, doing your best to sound confident. Hoping to add in a little reassurance, you give Daniela a quick peck on the cheek. Unsurprisingly she ‘dodges’, instead kissing you on the lips, but you hardly mind at all. When she pulls back she’s got a huge grin on her face.

“Lesson now, fun later, got it. Speaking of later… You and me, inside the library, right after lunch. I’ll tell mother we’re going over theory and key recognition, but really-” she leans in close, mouth barely an inch from your ear “it’s a date. Don’t worry about getting caught, I’ve already made sure that neither Bela nor Cassandra will interrupt.” Your heart skipped a few beats at her suggestion, and you had to admit… you were beyond excited for this. When was the last time you had gone on an actual date? Years ago, just a month before you left your hometown and moved to the village. That had been a date you’d spend the rest of your life regretting… then again, it was what made you leave in the first place. And if you hadn’t left, you’d have never met Daniela.

Maybe it hadn’t been that bad after all.

————————————

Four minutes past one in the morning, you shuffled nervously towards the library, with note cards in hand. Even if you weren’t really going to help Daniela study, you wanted to be prepared in case you bumped into anyone along the way. After all, this was the night shift, when most of the servants were up and about, accomplishing any tasks deemed ‘too noisy’ to be done while the manor occupants slept. Thankfully, the fact that lunch had just finished meant a fair amount of workers would be busy cleaning up the dining hall. In the end, you only passed one other servant, but it was the only one you hadn’t felt confident about running into: Daphne.

Despite your long-standing friendship (having known each other in the village, and being brought to the castle within the same week), you had yet to tell her about your relationship with Daniela. Which by itself wouldn’t have been too bad, if not for the fact that she could tell you were hiding something from her. This had, understandably, put a damper on your friendship. From her perspective, there was nothing you shouldn’t be able to tell her. Even you weren’t sure if you should be more honest, all things considered. There was no way she’d ever tell someone else about your situation. But if one day you got in trouble for lying to Lady Dimitrescu… and somehow someone figured out that Daphne knew too, well, she’d be just as fucked as you, if not more so. After all, there was a chance that Daniela’s affection for you would lead to a lighter punishment. Not that being exiled into the forest was much better than being flat out killed.

So when you saw Daphne heading towards you, you tried to get by with a simple smile and a brief wave.

“Aren’t you even going to say hi?” Daphne asked, tone stiff but filled with disappointment. It catches you off guard, to the point where you drop your note cards. Immediately you’re squatting down, gathering them up, taking the excuse not to look at your friend. She doesn’t move to assist, instead pausing in the hallway to watch you. “We were supposed to stick together, you know? But it’s like becoming Lady Daniela’s little plaything made you think you’re better than the rest of us. Better than me.” That last part was barely more than a whisper, and you freeze in place, hand still hovering over one of the cards. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t matter. Just try not to get yourself killed, alright? I don’t want to be the one to clean up your corpse.”

“Daphne, wait, please!” You said, finally moving to your feet, blocking your friend’s path. When she looks at you, you can just barely make out tears in the corners of her soft blue eyes. “I’m sorry, really. I… I can’t tell you what’s going on because I can’t risk getting you in trouble. You’re my best friend, Daph, and I don’t want anything happening to you just because I was doing something reckless.”

“Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you?” Daphne questioned, with a bitter laugh. She’s shaking her head in disbelief, even as you stare at her, shell shocked. “Maybe the others haven’t caught on yet, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’m not oblivious to the way you talk about her. I figured you’d tell me eventually… It’s been weeks, though. More than that, I mean seriously, don’t you think I’d go down for you in a heartbeat? There was a time where I was sure the two of us would do anything for each other, ride or die when the dying part was a guaranteed end to all of this. Something tells me that’s not the case anymore.” Now she refuses to meet your gaze, instead staring down at what few note cards still lay on the floor.

“That’s still the case, I promise. It’s hard enough to look past what our employers do to strangers. If they hurt you? I’d never dream of forgetting, let alone forgiving them,” you explained. It’s enough to make her look back up, but she’s far from smiling.

“If that’s the case, maybe I’m looking at the wrong signals. But I’ve got to go, and I assume you do too. Take care,” she said, before slipping past you as quickly as she can. Then you’re left to gather the last of your note cards, mind whirling. Cruel as the thought may be, you hoped that this wouldn’t ruin the mood for your date. The best your mind could do to cope was focus on one thing at a time…

————————————

“Are you sure this is safe? I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been told to keep this door shut, under the threat of, you know, losing my life,” you called out, hanging out in the doorway. Beyond you by a few meters was Daniela, who twirled about with laughter, reaching out to catch a few falling leaves. This was the entrance to the garden, as far as you could tell. Not to be confused with the vineyard, which was larger, as well as on a completely different side of the estate. You had never been to either, seeing as only a select few servants were allowed to leave the manor. If Daniela hadn’t made it seem like you’d be staying in the library, well, you probably would have protested a little, regardless of how badly you wanted to go on a real date. Even when you had met up with her, she hadn’t told you any details, just laughing and asking you to follow her.

“Don’t be a baby! We’re still a few weeks away from autumn, and besides, you’re here with me! What could possibly go wrong?” Daniela asked, sending you a cheeky grin before dashing off into the garden proper. For a moment you’re left on the threshold, a picnic basket in your arms, wondering what the season had to do with your safety. Then you sigh, figuring that it couldn’t be that bad. Hadn’t your girlfriend mentioned this to Bela, anyway? Certainly the responsible older sister would have stepped in if something genuinely dangerous had been suggested? Well, you hoped as much, at least. With that in mind you close the door behind you, then dashed towards where Daniela had gone. Even as you round the corner, you don’t see her, and suddenly you’re nervous as hell. Before you can call out to her, the sound of rustling leaves catches your attention. Suddenly something jumps out at you! “Rah! Gotcha, babe!”

Ah, of course it was your girlfriend, clearly pulling a leaf from Cassandra’s book. You playfully smack her arm in response, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. Humorous intentions aside, she had legitimately scared you, and you had nearly dropped your basket in response. Before you can say as much, Daniela’s hooking her arm in yours so she can pull you further into the gardens.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, firefly,” you muttered, a tad grumpy now. Most of your irritation was false, however, intended to tease your girlfriend. For a moment she doesn’t seem to realize that, and she stops in place. Once her eyes meet yours she understands what’s going on. Then she’s grinning, sticking her tongue out at you, and continuing down the path. Soon enough you’re approaching a paved brick circle. All around it, minus where it meets the walkway, are various flowers in bloom. Past the flowers are bushes, and past those are trees, whose branches provide a canopy for the circle. “Wow… and I thought you were pretty,” you teased, admiring the view.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Daniela lets out an offended scoff, before taking the basket from you. Wordlessly she opens it up to grab the blankets within, spreading them without sparing you a glance. Now it’s your turn to wonder whether or not her anger is just a joke. Hoping so, you help her smooth out the blankets, making sure the two of you have ample space to spread out. At one point both of you reach for the basket at the same time, and she just grabs your hand instead, squeezing it. Next thing you know she’s pulling you down onto the blankets, rolling on top of you.

“Come here often?” She asked. Then, unsurprisingly, the two of you kiss. Both of your arms wrap around her waist, holding her as close as you can. One of her hands cups your cheek, the other resting on the ground to support herself, for ‘optimal makeout angles’. It’s a minute of bliss before she has to pull back for air. Instead of pulling away entirely, she shifts down a notch, resting her head against your chest. “Mmm… so comfortable. I could just… fall… asleep…” Daniela murmured, pretending to be sleepy. You can’t help but laugh, chest obviously shaking in as you do. “No! Pillows aren’t supposed to vibrate.”

“Are you sure about that?” You asked, only laughing harder.

“They don’t talk, either,” Daniela replied, huffing as she does. When you keep laughing, she rises to a sitting position, much to your disappointment. “So you have chosen death? So be it. I’ll just eat these candies myself, then.” With that said, she digs into the picnic basket, retrieving a bag of chocolates. Pouting, you reach out to try and yoink one away from her. Rather deftly, she pulls them away, sticking her tongue out at you before tossing a couple in her mouth. Determined, you surge forward, trying to catch her off guard, only to (somehow) end up face down in her lap. “Exactly like I planned, songbird. Now get comfy, alright?”

One of her hands trails fingers through your hair as you semi-awkwardly roll over. Now you’re facing up, watching your girlfriend practically inhale a few pieces of chocolate. But now she seems more inclined to share. She plucks one more from the bag, offering it to you by holding it in front of your mouth. Gladly you open up, and she drops the chocolate, before giving you a small ‘boop’ on the nose. Both of you laugh, then, a sound that sparks warmth in your chest. This was… nice. Relaxing. Not only were the two of you allowed to be as open with your affection as you wanted, it was the first time in ages that you had actually been outside, able to enjoy the sunlight.

Several minutes pass by like this, with Daniela feeding you (and herself) candies, both of you taking time to appreciate the scenery. Eventually the bag of chocolates becomes close to empty, and you see your girlfriend have an ‘oh crap’ moment.

“I was going to save some of these for you to smuggle into your quarters, damn it… guess you’ll just have to refuse to share, babe,” she said, shrugging a little. Then she sets the bag aside, now devoting both of her hands to playing with your hair. “Guess I’ll just have to find something else to keep my tongue occupied. Know any volunteers?”

“Hmm… I would, but it’s reeeaaaaaallllllly comfortable down here,” you teased in reply. Suddenly her hands are taken out of your hair, and you can just barely see that they’re positioned on her hips. She’s pouting at you, very similar to how you’ve seen her mother do, yellow eyes betraying her mischief. What exactly did she have planned?

“Really, songbird? I take you out, give you a wonderful place to rest, hand feed you chocolates… and you won’t even kiss me? When was the last time you even got to do something like this?” She asked, perking an eyebrow. The question is innocent enough. The answer, however, is not. Even with your head in her lap, you cannot fight off the brief sense of panic as your mind flashes into the past. It takes a deep breath, a few blinks, and a reassuring touch from Daniela for you to calm back down. “Songbird?... Hey, hey, it’s okay, I didn’t- I don’t know what happened. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can just…” She trails off, sounding unsure of herself, and you feel a pang of guilt. Was it finally time to come clean?... Yeah, yeah it was.

“It’s fine, I promise. I just… I need to sit up for this,” you explained, begrudgingly rising out of her lap. But she doesn’t let you pull away entirely, a hand guiding you to sit right up against her. Then she gently wraps an arm around you. Leaning into her touch, you rest your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “It’s kind of a long story, firefly… But this has happened often enough that I need to tell you. At least part of it. So, well… When I was younger, I, uh, I read a lot of romance novels, watched a lot of movies. Not even the good ones, really. And I didn’t- I couldn’t think through them. Couldn’t analyze it the way I needed to. So I didn’t get a good grasp of what a healthy relationship looked like. My, uh, my folks weren’t keen on demonstrating one for me, either…

“Before I came to the village, I was, well, uh, the thing is you might not like this part? And you’re not gonna like the next part, either. Just… listen to the end, please,” you pleaded, waiting for an acknowledgment before continuing. “I was engaged, as in to be married, to a woman I had known for most of my life. We were neighbors, and had gone to school together, and everyone thought we were the cutest couple. Hell, for the longest time I thought that. We weren’t, though. She was-” Daniela tenses a bit, though remains silent- “manipulative, sometimes aggressive. Anytime there was an argument, she made herself into the victim, told me that I was crazy. She wanted to make all the decisions about our relationship for me, and I just… I didn’t question it. Not even after she proposed, when my only reason for saying yes was because we were in public, with friends, and she clearly assumed that I’d agree. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t ready, that maybe we were going too fast, but she tuned me out.

“I didn’t even think about running until our final date. That was the first, and the only, time that she ever… that she ever-” a few tears spill from the corners of your eyes- “got physical with me. She’d broken things before, for sure, but I never thought she’d hurt me.” Daniela rubs your back gently, her breathing a little shaky. Evidently she hated hearing about this as much as you hated talking about it. Somehow that made it a little easier to talk through. “The next day she had to work early, so I just packed up my things, went over to my parents’ house and told them what happened. For once they actually agreed, if you can believe it. Told me to get the hell out of town, said that they’d deal with my fiance, and our relatives, so that I didn’t have to worry about anything when I came back. It was less than a full day before I drove away from everything I had ever known, promising my folks that someday I’d be back. Didn’t settle down until half the continent was behind me, not ‘til I was here at the village.”

There were a couple moments of silence as Daniela waited to make sure you had finished talking. Then she’s kissing the top of your head, shaking a little more noticeably now, murmuring reassurances that you can’t quite understand. Again you lean into her touch, indescribably thankful for her comforting presence. Fuck, you think, I probably ruined the date… so much for spending quality time with my lil firefly. When the silence breaks, it does so softly, slowly, a careful opening rather than a forceful push.

“Why would you give me a second chance? After what I did to you?” Daniela asked, voice barely audible, her head still resting atop yours. It’s not the response you expected. Not in the slightest. You pull away slightly, to look her in her eyes, heart aching at the tear stains on her cheeks. Even though you want to give her an answer that will bring her peace, your mind draws little more than a blank. Why had you given her a chance? You had wanted to be with her, without doubt, even before Cassandra and Bela intervened. Even after every time that she reminded you of your past…

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t learned anything from what’s happened,” you started, uncertainty clear in your tone. “Or maybe it’s because you looked… regretful. You didn’t enjoy what you did, and I saw it in your eyes. And… and then you did something about it. If you hadn’t shown remorse, or if I genuinely believed that you might do something like that again, we wouldn’t be here right now. I mean, in that case your sisters probably would have killed me for turning you down, but that’s not entirely relevant right now, is it?” You’re rambling a little, stuttering over your own words. Still, somehow it makes Daniela laugh, and relief floods your chest. Soon enough you’re curled up against her once more.

“Hey,” she said, after a minute of comfortable silence. “Thank you for showing me what romance is supposed to be.” Then she’s leaning in for a kiss, and you’re responding eagerly, unable to stop yourself from smiling. This time it’s your hand that runs through her hair as you pull her in as close as you can. To your surprise, she does pull away a tad earlier than usual. But there’s a grin on her lips, and she looks satisfied as hell. “Definitely more of that, soon. There’s just one more thing we have to do, to make this date perfect, you know? I may or may not have, kind of, written you something? You’re not allowed to laugh, though!”

“When have I ever laughed at you?” You asked, teasing, literally laughing as you speak. In response, Daniela scowls, making a point to look away in feign protest. “Joking, joking… I’ve just, you know, never had someone write me something before. Kinda don’t know how to react, really. Other than blushing real hard-” which you were doing- “and trying to play off my excitement with humor. But I promise I won’t laugh, even if you start with something like ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ or end with something like ‘just us in bed, doing the do’. Please tell me that’s not what you wrote, though?”

“Now that you mention it, maybe that should be what I recite. Sounds exactly like the sort of thing that would get me laid,” Daniela joked, rolling her eyes at you. Then she’s tugging a loose piece of paper out of the picnic basket, unfolding it to reveal a well-worn surface and hand-written text. She hesitates for a moment, glancing up at you, before taking a deep breath. When she speaks it’s clear just how nervous she is. But with every line she gains a measure of confidence, by the end acting her usual confident self.

Step from the shadows, weary corners of my mind Encased in old thoughts, brought into new life Like ashes rising from tombs housing the divine

Spinning webs as I descend, from the cradle of heaven From the dead I have risen, blessed be the gift I’m given Only from your haunting call do I embrace living

Catching the corners of my lips turning up All my years I’ve felt, but never this much Quietly writhing, begging for your softest touch

The pursuit of unintentional romance left abandoned Whispering love-locked tales to be consumed Sweeter than every facade I have ever imagined

Come closer now, into my arms, heart embraced Trailing fingers over scars, sewing lines traced Tell me love, “we shall last until the end of days”

At first, all you can do in response is stare at her, expression filled with affection. Inside your chest your heart was racing, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this warm. Reaching out, you take one of Daniela’s hands in your own, grinning as soon as her gaze meets yours. Both of you are blushing rather hard. Then she sets the poem down, eyes never leaving yours for even a second. You try to stutter out a few words, but find your tongue tied, and so you settle for placing your forehead against hers. The two of you stay like that for a few loving moments. When you part, it is only to come back together, this time in a tight hug.

“One helluva date, yeah?” Daniela asked, looking incredibly proud of herself. You can’t help but nod enthusiastically in response, honestly happier than you had felt in years. “Well, I will have to let you get back to work soon, unfortunately… but we have a few minutes, at least. Besides, having to part will only make tonight all the more sweeter.” At that you pause, confused, tilting your head to the side. Realizing that she must have gotten ahead of herself, Daniela blushes before elaborating. “You, me, my room. Tonight, right after your shift ends.”

You could hardly wait.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 1

Lazy Mornings:  A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2361

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.  (smut on series)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself.  When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.  Idea expanding on the one in my fic Lazy Sundays though it’s a completely different story (just same minor god x steve).

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THIS LET ME KNOW.

Chapter 1

Steve was on edge.  The Avengers had just come to the end of a very long, and very grueling mission.  With the lack of sleep, niggling injuries, and stress of battle, that would have been enough to have him anxious and exhausted just by itself, but Tony had insisted that they have a party to unwind while Steve still had government agencies to liaise with, paperwork to fill out, and people to question.  So instead of getting his work done so that he could sleep off his injuries and actually unwind, he had to be ‘on’ as the public figurehead of Captain America for a bunch of strangers while he was still running on less than four hours of sleep and had a cracked rib.

As he made his way through the large, open room, Steve became aware of a strange phenomenon.  The people around the door were in full party mood.  People were dancing, talking animatedly, and playing games of darts.  But as Steve moved through the room, the mood got more relaxed.  There was less dancing and more just talking and sharing drinks.  The level of the music dropped so it was more muted and even though the song never changed it somehow felt like it went from an upbeat dance number to a soothing ballad.  The light changed in the room too.  Closer to the elevator bright-colored disco lights cutting through the dark.  Whereas, by the windows, there was a soft diffused gold light, almost like early morning light coming through a gauze curtain.  By the time Steve reached the couches that were set up on a platform against the windows on the far side of the room, everyone was just lazing back on the couches, casually drinking in the soft light.

Thor, Bruce, Wanda, and Clint were all sitting together with you.  Steve didn’t recognize you, but the soft glow in the room seemed to both highlight you and make you seem like you were in soft focus. You had a slightly ruffled look like you’d woken up recently from a very good sleep.  Clint was practically curled up next to you like a cat.

“Steven!”  Thor boomed, making everyone near him jump in surprise.�� “Come here, I have someone I wish for you to meet.”

Steve tried to hide the frustration that suddenly bubbled up inside him.  His friends had been trying to set him up with people for months and months now.  He’d been on countless blind dates with people he had nothing in common with, and even more dinners with surprise guests he was forced to be on with.  He hadn’t expected it from Thor and he resented the fact that even after such a grueling few weeks he needed to now play a round of the dating game.

Thor got up and approached Steve, clapping him on the shoulder as he gave your names.  He leaned in, bringing his lips to Steve’s ear.  “You may feel the urge to pull away.  Resist it - for me.”

Steve sighed and nodded as you looked up at Thor.  “You’re not staying?”  You asked.

“Not tonight,” Thor answered.  “I wish to celebrate.”

You gave him a small nod.  “Well, you know where I am if you need me.”

“I do.  Thank you,” Thor said, letting Steve go and heading back into the party where Tony was talking animatedly with Hill.

Steve took a seat near you.  Clint looked up at him with hooded eyes, like Steve had just disturbed his sleep, but not enough to properly wake him up.  There was an odd feeling of lethargy around the couches.  Not in a bad way exactly.  Just an overly relaxed sleepiness that made Steve wonder if they’d been partaking in marijuana before he’d gotten here.  Along with the sleepy-looking Clint, Wanda had her legs tucked up under her and was staring absently out the window, while Bruce was relaxed back with a goofy looking smile on his face.  It strangely had the effect of making him want to get up and leave in case he’d forgotten to do something.

“So what do you do?”  Steve asked as he resisted the urge to go back down to the office and get his work done.

You smiled and shook your head like you found the question funny.  “I like to paint,” you say.  “And I make a mean breakfast.”

Steve looked at you puzzled.  He’d never come across someone who answered that question with their hobbies rather than their job.  He wondered if you didn’t have one and were embarrassed or if you did something you didn’t think Steve would approve of.  The thought you were a HYDRA agent passed through his head and he looked over at Thor.  “How do you know Thor?”  Steve asked and Wanda started to giggle.

“We run in similar circles,” you say.  “Though I admit, I do not know him well.”

“She’s not HYDRA, Steve,” Wanda giggled.

That knowledge made Steve relax a little and you smiled at him.  “You’re holding a lot of tension, Captain Rogers.”

“Please, call me Steve,” he said.  “We’ve been on a mission for weeks now.  It takes a lot of me.  Everyone really.”

You placed your hand gently on his forearm.  He normally didn’t like when strangers invaded his personal space like that.  He’d had a fair amount of sexual harassment since becoming a supersoldier.  However, there was nothing even flirtatious about the moment.  It was genuine and kind and made him relax even more.  “It can be hard to let it go,” you said.  “But you are done, and now you can take the weight off your shoulders.  No need to carry it tonight.”

Steve tilted his head.  “Are you a therapist?”

You chuckled again.  “I guess - of a sort,” you said.

Steve was perplexed by the vague nature of your answers and couldn’t help thinking people were hiding something from him like this was some big trick.  Though he couldn’t see any reason why Thor of all people would be the instigator of such a trick.

“Will you relax, Steve?”  Wanda chided.  “She’s just a girl Thor thought you’d like.”

Steve tried to do as he was told.  He had to admit that it wasn’t easy though.  You definitely had a calming influence.  Despite the loud music and drinking happening in the rest of the room, at the couches, it was like a slumber party.  Bruce looked as relaxed as Steve had ever seen him, his whole body open and still as he talked calmly.  Clint dozed on and off, waking to join in on the conversation and then dropping back off to sleep again, while Wanda was giggly, and about an hour in she said she was going to go to bed and paint her toenails.

Whatever it was that was affecting the others, Steve could feel it too, but in the middle of what was a raging party, Steve was unwilling to completely relax.

“You don’t like it here much, do you?”  You asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t mind a party sometimes, but no… not today.”

“I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had a home-cooked meal,” you mused.  “Would you like to come back to my place?”

“No,” Clint whined as Steve balked.  “Don’t go.”

“I don’t… that’s probably not a good idea,”  Steve said.

“I meant for dinner, Steve,” you said.  “I promise, no funny business.”

Clint sat up and stretched.  “You should do it, Steve,” he said.  “Live a little.”

Steve looked at Clint and Bruce who were both nodding in approval.  He sighed and gave a small shrug.  “I guess I’m coming then.”

You got up and offered your hand.  “Come on, I won’t bite.”

He let you lead him out of the Tower and down into the street where you flagged down a cab.  “I don’t usually do this,” Steve said, as he sat in the back with you.

“I know,” you said.  “That’s why Thor set us up.”

“You’re not…” he stopped, not sure how to ask the question that was swirling in his mind right now and have it not come out as either offensive or judgmental.  “Are you a sex worker?”

You smiled and shook your head.  “No.  I like my bed though.”

“Why are you being so vague then?”  Steve asked.

“I can tell you if you really want to know,” you said.  “But Thor thought you might fight it more if you knew.”

Steve tensed up and shifted away from you a little.  “Do the others know?”

“Oh, yes,” you said.  “And I know you don’t know me well enough to trust me, but I promise what it is, won’t hurt you.  I’m not evil or malicious.  I am not here because I have to be or I’ve been paid to be.  You truly have just been set up with a woman.  And I am that.  I like you and I just want to take you somewhere you can relax and just enjoy a comforting meal.  That’s all.  If you don’t trust your friend on this, just say.  I’ll tell you.”

Steve looked you over, trying to see the lie or the trick.  All he could see was genuine kindness.  He gave a nod.  “Okay.  Will you tell me eventually?”

“Of course,” you said.  “When we’re both sure of how we feel about each other, I’ll tell you.”

The cab pulled up at a block of apartments on the upper west side.  It was a large pre-war building, the kind that has been romanticized in hundreds of films and costs more than most people could dream of earning to live in.

He followed you in and the two of you rode the elevator up to your floor quietly.  The tall ceilings and recessed walls of the hall brought him right back to his childhood.  You let him into your apartment and for a moment Steve felt like he’d stepped into a storybook.  The light was soft and diffused, filling the room with a hazy golden luminescence.  The furniture all looked inviting and cozy, the deep soft-looking couches all had cozy mink throws on them and a collection of fat plush cushions.  There were a few large bookshelves both filled with a mixture of books and board games.  Your TV was large but not obnoxiously so, and your coffee table was littered with candles, magazines, and books.

“Get comfortable,” you said as you headed into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room.

Steve took a moment to look around your apartment.  There was something about the room that reminded him of the way he and Bucky decorated.  You had a different taste to either man.  Steve was more into straight lines and dark wood, and Bucky like black and chrome, whereas you seemed to lean more into creams with splashes of color here and there.  However, like with him and Bucky, you had a mix of old and new.  Steve liked to keep things from his past whether they be actual things he had owned or just items that reminded him of his mother or times with Bucky.  The things you owned seemed to go back further than what he owned, but there was a lot that seemed to center around the nineteen-twenties.  Though they didn’t stop there.  There were items representative of various decades littering your apartment.  From depression-glass bowls to porcelain animals from the sixties to a lava lamp and a small collection of Pez Dispensers.

Steve noticed a copy of the Hobbit that looked remarkably like the copy he got when it came out.  Picking up several books he noticed that many were first editions.

He went and sat down more confused about who you were than he had been before.  You came out with a tray and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.  Each was laden with pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and fresh fruit.

“It’s a little late for breakfast,” Steve said, looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

You shrugged.  “I’m good at a few things, but this is the one that’s quickest,” you explained.  “Otherwise we’d be up for a few more hours while I cooked.”

“Breakfast food it is,” he said and started to eat.  You took your plate and sat back, crossing your legs under you and balancing your plate in your lap.  “You have an interesting collection,” Steve said, gesturing to one of your bookshelves.

“Thank you.  I try not to get too sentimental about what I keep and let go,” you said.  “I know it’s a little eclectic but there are some things I just can’t let go of.”

“How long have you lived here?”  Steve asked.

“A long time. Practically forever,” you answered

Steve wanted to ask you what you did for you to be able to afford living here but knew that would meet the same vague answer - so he let it drop and ate.  The food was good.  Warm and sweet and full of fat.  It wasn’t long until Steve began to feel sleepy and content.  You took the plates back away and when you returned to the living room, Steve was practically asleep on the couch.  You came over and gently touched his arm.

“It would be more comfortable in bed,” you whispered.

“I don’t… I never sleep with women on the first date,” he replied, sheepishly trying to fight the drowsiness pulling him down.

“I have a spare room if you want it,” you said gently.   “Though I just mean sleep.”

Steve stood slowly and followed you down the hall.  You opened the spare bedroom.  “This is my guest room.”

“And your bedroom?”  He asked, part of him wondering if you’d drugged him.

“The end of the hall,” you replied, taking a few steps toward it.  He followed you down and as he stripped down to his undershirt you changed into a soft pair of pajamas.

He climbed into the bed with you and you wrapped him in your arms.  As he drifted off to sleep, he thought how strange it was that he felt as comfortable as he did right now.

// NEXT

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Rose Colored Glasses

Summary:  Ethan sacrifices everything for family. Then, with help from a familiar face, he moves on.

Notes:  Just a little something brought on by me lamenting the fact that there aren't enough fics out there that just have the Winterses and Bakers being normal friends and family.

AO3

The third time Ethan dies, he wakes up warm.

It’s a large step up from the frozen wasteland Eveline greeted him in, but the process of coming back is still just as painful. This time, it’s not his chest feeling hollow or his ribs burning as they scraped together after being shoved into the cavity where his heart was supposed to be. Now it’s mostly a full body ache; for a moment, before his thoughts reorder into some semblance of sense, Ethan thinks wildly that he has the flu, that everything since Mia had finished making dinner had to be a fever dream. She made soup--maybe because he’s been sick? She was always better at noticing when something was wrong than Ethan was. She probably put him to bed after dinner, gave him a cold compress maybe, and he’d passed out and thought up the entire nightmare because of that stupid children’s story.

The ache eases, though, almost immediately, leaving behind the warmth sinking into his bones. Ethan sighs but doesn’t open his eyes. It was all real--he knows that. He died--again--and now he’s...somewhere else. But the air isn’t cloying in his lungs, and he doesn’t hurt anymore, and it’s so, so comfortable, so he doesn’t suppose he minds too much. Rose is safe, Mia is safe, even Chris is safe. Hasn’t he earned a little rest? Hasn’t he earned the right to close his eyes for a while?

Sensation filters back in gradually, and Ethan realizes all of a sudden that he isn’t wearing his jacket or hoodie anymore. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. He doesn’t feel the heavy weight of his hiking boots on his ankles. His pants feel clean and unwrinkled, rather than stiff with bloodstains. There’s a constant pressure at his back holding him up, like lying on a brand new mattress. Then sound fills his ears; rain against a windowpane, his own soft breathing, the far-off sound of pots and pans and a stove turning on. His nose twitches when he smells something spicy and full-bodied, a good home-cooked meal. But Ethan still does not open his eyes. They’re too heavy. The ache has passed, but Ethan’s body is so very heavy.      

Even when a hand passes over his brow, Ethan can’t seem to find the strength to open his eyes. The fingertips are square and blunt, the skin worn from hard work. The palm rests gently over his brow before moving on. Ethan thinks of Mia, running her fingers through his hair every time he’d get sick, and cannot keep in a tiny, miserable noise.

“Shh, you're alright, son,” says a familiar voice. It’s less rough now, less demented than Ethan remembers it. Kinder, definitely. “You’re alright now. You’ve gone through enough pain to warrant a little rest.”

Ethan murmurs incomprehensibly, even to himself, and drifts.

When he wakes again, he is still warm. It makes him sigh and settle before finally, finally, opening his eyes.

The room he is in is rustic, with old, worn carpets and wooden furniture. The bedframe is wood too, and his blanket a deep blue, obviously hand-knit. The rain still patters away at the window above his head, but it's gentle and calm. A pair of loafers he recognizes as his own wait at the foot of his bed.

Sitting at his bedside, his glasses slipping halfway down a sloping nose, is Jack Baker.

“Hello, Ethan.”

“Hello, Jack.”

Ethan sits up, scrubs a hand through his hair and over his eyes. A phantom pain twinges through his wrist and he hisses, but it’s gone the next second. Jack hums and nods. “You’re feelin’ some pain?”

“Just the old ones,” Ethan tells him, letting resignation drip from his words. Waking up to a dead man-turned-monster after his own death is just par for the course at this point. Somewhere between getting his hand chopped off by a monstrous version of his wife and realizing that Mother Miranda ripping his heart out was not, in fact, the first time he died, Ethan stopped trying to make the world make sense. Jack Baker waiting for him in the afterlife? Fine. Sure. Why not?

“That’ll happen for a while,” Jack tells him, still gentle as a lamb. “The older they are, the more the pains stick around. They’ll leave you eventually. Just takes some time.”

Ethan nods and swings his legs out of bed. He looks up, considering, and at the openness of Jack Baker’s face, quirks the corners of his mouth up. “This is it then, huh? This is the end.”

Jack smiles too, wider than Ethan thinks he could manage. “Don’t know ‘bout that--but this is what we have for now. Reminds you of old times, huh?”

“Just not the good times,” Ethan says.

“No,” Jack agrees tiredly. “Not the good ones.”

His companion is silent as Ethan slips on his shoes and, after another pause, clumsily folds the blanket he has been given. Afterwards, he has to admit he can’t prolong the inevitable any more. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

Jack seems to take him at his real meaning, take his words for what are you doing here with me, Jack? “You remember what I told you the last time we saw each other, son? What I asked you to do?”

“‘Free my family.’” Ethan repeats. Those words have haunted him for longer than he’d have thought possible. All that death and the blood resting squarely on his hands--could it really be labeled as freedom?

Jack leans forward and, telegraphing his movements, slowly places his hand over one of Ethan’s. His fingers are square and strong and soft against Ethan’s reflexive fist. He finds himself relaxing far more quickly than he’d have expected. “You did as I asked you, Ethan,” Jack tells him. “Even though it pained you, even though it was the most difficult thing in the world for me to ask of you, you helped us. You didn’t have to.”

Ethan stares at him blankly. “Sure I did.”

“Oh?” Jack smiles, leans back and crosses his arms. His rocking chair is more stable than the one they’d had Eveline’s old body stored in back in Dulvey. It creaks with his movements. “You could’ve broken a window and run for it. You found your wife and could’ve gone off into the woods instead of facing Eveline. But you stayed, and you helped, and now we’re here instead of stuck in that mold.”

“Well--but--it wasn’t like I had a choice--” Ethan tries, his tongue feeling thick and strange in his mouth. No one has ever actually sat and talked with him about what happened in Louisiana, never acknowledged what he’d had to sacrifice before Ethan himself brought it up. Even Mia shied away from it. Taking a deep breath, Ethan tried again. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“But you did it, Ethan. No one else. So thank you.”

And well, that is true, so Ethan keeps his mouth shut. He shrugs, feeling awkward and embarrassed and not sure why. Jack Baker takes pity on him after a silent moment. “Since you helped us, we decided to wait for you. To make sure y’all are safe and sound when it came to be your time.” Jack looks over the rim of his glasses at Ethan, and for a second Ethan feels like a little boy about to be scolded. “We thought it would be quite a while before you showed back up, son.”

Ethan snorts. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Don't see why you should apologize for saving your daughter. There is nothing disappointing about you, Ethan.”

That warmth increases in Ethan’s chest. “Who else is here? Marguerite?”

Jack nods and softly claps his hands on his thighs. “She was fit to be tied when you showed up so unexpectedly. She’s downstairs now, getting some supper ready. We figured you’d be a bit peckish.”

For how well his last dinner with the Bakers went, Ethan feels considerably less apprehensive at the smells wafting upstairs. “What about Eveline? Lucas?”

“Lucas comes and goes,” Jack tells him. “He’s--he’s Lucas. It’s been harder for him than the two of us. He’ll come around.”

Ethan privately thinks that is the absolute last thing Lucas Baker will ever do, but keeps it to himself. “Eveline?”

“Nowhere we can see.”

He thinks of the cold, the snow, the mud and dirt and loneliness he woke to when he died at Miranda’s hand. “She probably doesn’t like company these days,” Ethan mutters.

If he hears Ethan’s comment, Jack doesn’t react. He stands then, and cracks his back, letting out a loud groan. Ethan smiles a little more at the humanity in the action. This is who Jack must have been before--well, before everything. Perhaps, if he and Mia had met them under different circumstances, they'd have been friends with the Bakers. Perhaps neighbors. Perhaps they’d have let the Bakers babysit Rose once in a while.  

“Zoe is the last one we’re waiting for,” Jack says. “She won’t be here for a long while, God willing. You’re welcome to wait with us for as long as you like, of course.”

“I’ll need to stay for Mia and Rose.”

“Of course. Would you like some company?”

Ethan blinks before taking Jack’s offered hand, letting the older man pull him to his feet. “You’d wait with me? Even if Zoe comes first?”

Jack claps a hand to Ethan’s shoulder and lets it rest there, warm and reassuring. “For as long as you’ll have us, Ethan, it would be our privilege.”

The gorge in his throat swells, his face grows tight and his eyes prick. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack inclines his head and leaves the words hanging in the air between them, comfortable and knowing. As he turns to lead Ethan out of the room, Jack pauses. “Oh, you got any good stories about little Rosie? I’m sure Marguerite would love to hear some. Been such a long time since we had a baby in the house.”

Ethan smiles, and nods, and lets the warm glow of the home beyond his doorway guide him out.

[ieattaperecorders]

May You Find Your Rest

Somewhere else. Two men who were not born in this reality lie in bed together, hold one another and unpack a few things. (Just 4k of cuddling and talking about feelings, really.)

Read on Ao3

---

It's dark in the small, quiet room where they sleep. Not completely, neither of them feels entirely safe in the dark anymore, so the curtain is always parted to let a sliver of light in.

Curled against Martin, Jon is warm and still and finally thinking of nothing. He's just starting to drift off when he feels him reach over and plant light, careful kisses on his cheek, on his temple, on the top of his brow. He sighs with pleasure. It would be so easy to keep drifting, to let himself sink into sleep as the one he loves kisses him softly and sweetly. But instead he opens his eyes, not really knowing why he does it.

Maybe it's the way Martin moves, slow and deliberate. Maybe there's a subtle a hitch in his breathing, something Jon senses without seeing or understanding. Something that tells him he shouldn't go to sleep. Not yet.

So he lies listening to the silence as Martin's hand moves over his side, outlining him. It nudges itself under the hem of his nightshirt, tracing the softness of his waist. Then, as if this hadn't been its destination all along, it brushes the wide, ragged scar over his stomach. A twinge (not sharp, not much more than a tingle) runs through his body. His breathing barely changes – it's not a gasp, just a slightly deeper inhalation. But Martin notices, hand hesitating, drawing back.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, and he sounds so horribly solemn.

"Not really," Jon says quietly. "Just a little sensitive. Scar tissue."

Gently, he places a hand over Martin's and presses it down into his abdomen, until it's covering the center of the scar. Jon has scars that are sensitive in other ways. Martin has learned to be careful around the thin line that cuts across his throat. Knows there are days when the chewed circles that pockmark his body itch uncontrollably, when he'll scratch himself bloody if he isn't thinking.

(In the safehouse, Martin had pulled the hand from his face and whispered don't. Had kissed his scars over and over, until he couldn't feel the itch, could only feel the gentle pressure of his lips and his kindness and love.)

He wants to say, it doesn't hurt when you touch me here. To show Martin that his body won't flinch from his touch. It wouldn't be his fault if it did. It wouldn't be either of their faults. But it doesn't, and he needs him to know that.

The hand relaxes against him. It moves in a slow arc, finding the edges of the wound, mapping and knowing it. Jon keeps his own hand in place, letting it move with his.

"I'm sorry," Martin says.

Jon brings a hand to his cheek. "So am I."

He wonders what Martin is apologizing for. For cutting the tether, letting them out? For the wound that could only be made by his hands? For not being able to let him go? No . . . Jon doubts he would be sorry for that.

Maybe it isn't an apology at all . . . maybe he's just sorry. Sorry he had to be hurt again.

"So am I," he repeats. "But it's done. We're here, now. Together, and alive. Despite it all."

Martin's head rests on the pillow, gaze turned to the side. He's subdued in a way that feels meaningful but that Jon can't identify. So he says nothing, lies still and lets his hand trail up the side of Martin's face, over his temple, around his ear. Affectionate touch, easier and less confusing than the jumble of words and questions swarming in his brain.

After a long silence, Martin says, "I wish you had trusted me."

" . . . What do you mean?"

"In the Panopticon. I just wish you'd trusted me enough to go along with the plan."

Jon frowns. "I . . . don't know if that was about trust."

"Wasn't it, though?"

"I didn't do what I did –" he pauses, rephrases. "I didn't kill Jonah because I thought you were lying, or going to betray me, or – or controlled by spiders. I didn't think your intentions were anything other than what you said. But I couldn't bear the thought of what we were doing . . . or I thought I couldn't. Clearly I could. In the end."

"Yeah. Well. Turns out both of us did things we didn't think we could," Martin says bitterly, thumb still tracing the scar.

"Funny how often that happens."

"You could have trusted that I knew what I was doing."

"But you didn't. None of us did . . . no one could in that situation."

"That includes you, you know," Martin frowns. "You kept going on about all you knew, but even you said you weren't unbiased. You don't think maybe the idea that the only way out was global euthanasia had anything to do with your own baggage?"

Another twinge, sharper this time. Without realizing, he'd pressed Martin's palm down harder than he should have, in where the nerves were still healing. He eases off.

". . . Maybe," he says eventually. "Probably. I doubt any of us were unbiased. How could we be?"

"But it was your biased plan you decided to go with. Like you always do. You always think you know better than everyone else--"

"I don't think that's entirely fair."

"It's not entirely unfair either."

He feels something stirring defensively in him. Then he stops. Assesses. "No," he says eventually. "I suppose it's not."

The hand is warm against his stomach, and he can feel the dampness of sweat just forming between their skins. It's not pleasant or unpleasant, just something he can feel, and he focuses on it for a while.

"You didn't trust me either, you know," he senses an objection coming, and he heads it off. "You were right not to. I wasn't trustworthy. You thought that I would go behind your back, and I did."

The tension that was rising deflates a little at the admission, and Martin's voice is gentle when he says, "you did."

"But I don't think you were lying when you said you trusted me." Jon adds. ". . . Do you?"

" . . . Fine, I get it. Trust is complicated and all that," Martin sighs, "it just. It hurts."

". . . I'm sorry."

Martin nods, is still for a moment, then leans forward and kisses him once. He kisses back.

"Do you regret it?"

"Which part?"

"Killing Jonah. Not waiting for us. Trying to go the other way."

Jon thinks of the hours before it happened. Of whimpering into Martin's chest, almost pleading, begging him to see. Horribly aware that Martin was as deeply set in his feelings as Jon, that there would be no budging for either of them.

He thinks of the moment he spent watching Martin's sleeping form, just before he climbed those stairs. Seeing his brow creased with unquiet dreams, and knowing that he was about to hurt him. He thinks of the terror, the dawning horror that fell over him as he saw what it all had been leading to.

"I don't know," he finally says. "I regret the pain you went through . . . I regret making you feel that."

There's a curved line trailing over Martin's forehead, just above his eye, which Jon follows with the edge of his thumb. The one on his shoulder is larger, took ages to heal, and there are more that travel down his back and arms. Places where the rubble struck him, before they both unraveled.

The scars aren't really what Jon is referring to when he talks about pain. But he supposes they're a part of it too.

". . . Do you?" he asks.

"Do I what?"

"Regret any of it?"

"I'm not sorry that I didn't let you stay in that tower and kill the entire world, if that's what you mean," he says firmly. "I'm sorry, but I'm never going to regret that."

"No . . . I wouldn't expect you to."

"I wouldn't have told the others to start if I'd known you'd already done it. But if I'd known that . . . that would've been it, right? We'd be stuck there."

"Unless the others went behind both our backs."

"What, you think Melanie wanted to stick a knife in you that badly?"

"I don't know about wanted. But I think Basira could have done it."

"Yeah . . . maybe."

". . . I'm sorry that I went behind yours."

Martin breathes into the space between their bodies, a long and expressive exhale. "I know. . . And I know you were hurting. And scared. I do know that."

"We both were."

"Yeah. Yeah . . ." he sighs. "I forgive you for it. I do. I don't want to hold onto that."

Jon finds Martin's hand in the dim light, pulls it closer to himself and kisses it. He hesitates – not sure if he should say this, should even acknowledge it – before linking their fingers together and pulling the hand back to his stomach, over the place where the knife went in.

"I don't need to forgive you for this. That is – I, I don't believe there's anything to forgive? It was what you had to do, and it was what I asked for. But . . ." he pauses, hesitates. "I know guilt can be an insidious emotion--"

"Oh, do you?" the lilt of sarcasm does not go unnoticed. Jon ignores it.

"–And I want you to know . . . if you feel like you need to be forgiven for it, you are. Entirely and unconditionally."

Martin nods, moving his hand off the scar and over around Jon's side. As he leans in for another kiss he grips him a little more firmly, his touch seems less hesitant and Jon is glad that he said something after all.

"Anyway, I was right, wasn't I?" Martin says after a moment. "We're here. We're in another world, and things are fine. It's normal. Maybe the fears are here, but it's not an apocalypse. Maybe it never will be."

That makes Jon frown. "You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"And we never will," he says firmly. "We won't ever know the cost of what we did. Maybe it balances out. Maybe it doesn't. Either way, you and I won't have to feel it."

"At least it's normal here. You're not even an avatar," Martin says, and Jon nips back the impulse to quibble about the nature of that term. "You haven't been having the dreams, and you haven't needed a statement since we got here."

". . . I'm still feeding the Eye." It isn't until he sees the look of confusion on Martin's face that it occurs to Jon he didn't already know. "I don't have the power I once had, or the same needs," he explains. "But I feel it sometimes, using me as a conduit. It's as if the signal's fainter, but the receiver is so much more sensitive."

"Do you know it's happening, though, or are you just guessing?"

"I'm not sure how it happens, exactly. Maybe it just grazes off the fear I witness when I see something terrible on the news, or pass by someone in distress. Maybe in time it'll push me to seek out more, to force myself into other peoples' tragedies in service of the Beholding. Or maybe it never will, and I'll stay this way for the rest of my life."

Martin's brow furrows, and his voice is insistent, pushing back with some need Jon can't quite understand. "Okay, but it's not like you're actually hurting people--"

"No . . . I am," he says firmly. "And I am certain of that. It might be more subtle now . . . a lingering feeling of invasion, or paranoia. Or a trauma that would have otherwise passed leaving a decades-deep mark." He stares thoughtfully at his own thumb. "It feeds through me, and I give it strength. On some level, my existence still depends on the suffering of others. That's one consequence we can't avoid."

Martin is quiet for a long while. ". . . Guess it doesn't matter, right?" he finally says. "It's done. Can't undo it."

"No. Not any of it." He shakes his head. "It's funny, really. All my paranoia and suspicion, all my worry that the Web would slip an agent in under our nose, and the whole time I was looking in the wrong place. Seeing and seeing and never understanding."

"What do you mean?" Martin fidgets, and Jon wonders if he's said something he shouldn't have, though he can't guess what. "Looking in the wrong place?"

"I mean myself. The mark when I was a child. The lighter I could never remember. Even the tapes they sent to press on my wounds, keeping that anger fresh. All of it leading to that moment."

". . . Oh." Martin sighs. "Yeah, Jon. They manipulated you, that's what they do. They manipulated all of us."

"They did. And I was more theirs than I ever realized."

He feels Martin's fingers tapping against his side, thoughtful. After a moment, he speaks. ". . . She said that about me, too. Annabelle. That I was suited to the Web, or something."

"I imagine she'd say anything she knew would rile you up."

"She was right, though. At least a little bit . . . ." he takes the edge of Jon's sleeve between his fingers, twisting and fidgeting with it. "When we were down there, waiting, I could feel you coming through the web. The vibrations just spoke to me, I knew Basira was with you even before I saw her."

That surprises Jon. Startles him, even. He feels Martin fidget again, and in his mind he plays back what do you mean, looking in the wrong place. Notices the quiet nervousness in his voice. Considers how deep and old Martin knows his hatred of the Mother of Puppets to be.

"I always knew," he says, voice light and casual, "that there had to be a reason you'd defend anything as vile and repugnant as the common house spider."

Hearing Martin laugh, feeling that tension release in a sudden startled lungful – it's beautiful, it's a victory, and he smiles as Martin nudges into his shoulder. Halfway between a gesture of affection and a headbutt.

"Arsehole," he mutters. "It's not just that. I know I'm . . . well, I'm not always great at being direct. And maybe I can sometimes be passive-aggressive . . . ."

"Well—"

"You don't have to agree with me."

". . . Right."

"But that's sort of Web stuff, isn't it? And I – I was always good at telling Peter what he wanted to hear. I know why she said what she did."

"Mmm." Jon lifts Martins' fingers from where they're worrying at his sleeve, rolls them between his own. "You've learned that it's safer to nudge and suggest than to be direct. To make yourself look smaller than you are. I can see the . . . thematic overlap, I suppose. Imagine it drawing the attention of the Spider."

". . . Does that bother you?"

"Well I'm not worried you're some spider-controlled double agent," he says, then adds something under his breath.

". . . What was that last bit?" Martin lifts his head.

"Nothing."

"Did you just mutter ‘anymore?!"' he asks incredulously.

"My point is, we call to them in countless ways, often without knowing or wanting to," he sighs. "Besides . . . I'd hardly be in a position to judge. They had their strings on me from the start."

"That makes you a victim of them. Not an agent or an avatar."

"Martin . . . ."

"Don't ‘Martin' me, I'm right."

"Do you really think the two are incompatible? Being a victim of a power, and being a channel through which it feeds on others? After all you've seen?" his voice softens. "After all you've been through . . . after the Lonely?"

Martin goes quiet. Jon runs his fingers over his shoulder, absently stroking.

"In the end, I chose to be theirs. With it all falling down around us, I saw what they'd known I would do from the very beginning. I witnessed my fate laid out for me and instead of defying it, I ran towards it."

". . . You still regret it, don't you? Letting them out."

"I don't know, Martin. Truly, I don't," he says. A smile starts, then dies on his lips. "There's so much I regret nowadays, it's honestly hard to keep steady how I feel about most things."

A vague, hmm sound, an expression of some emotion that Jon can't guess at, though he suspects that wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. He brings both his hands up, cupping the sides of Martin's face between his palms. Martin startles, but says nothing.

"Most," Jon says, looking back at him seriously. "But I know how I feel about you. That doesn't change. And I don't regret staying with you."

The beginnings of tears form in Martin's eyes, and there is quiet in the room as Jon brings his face to his. Brushing a soft kiss over his mouth, the trails on his cheeks, the space above each closed eye. He doesn't stop until Martin shudders, swallows, and speaks again.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," Jon says. "And I'm glad that I'm here. I'm glad we're together and alive . . . whatever else comes with that."

Martin shudders again, a weak and pained sound coming out of him. It's all Jon can do not to pull Martin's face into his chest and let out a thousand desperate apologies, to self-flagellate, to beg forgiveness for ever allowing any pain to come to him. He sensibly quiets that urge, because he knows it's the last thing Martin needs. It's the last thing either of them need.

"Do you promise?" Martin whispers.

"Promise what? That I love you?" Silence follows, and Jon frowns, confused. ". . . I do promise that, if that's what you mean."

Instead of answering, Martin silently reaches between them, fumbling for Jon's hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Some nights I pretend to sleep," he says after a pause. "Or, well. Pretend's too strong a word . . . I just lie quietly in bed. But I'm waiting for you to fall asleep first."

Jon's fairly sure he lost the thread of this conversation, and he doesn't know where or how. ". . . Why?"

"Because I'm scared I'll wake up and find you gone."

"Oh. Oh, Martin . . . ."

"I don't-- it's not that I really think--" he shakes his head, "just sometimes can't let go of the thought of it, and it scares me." A wry smile crosses his face. "Which power feeds on that, you think?"

"I mean –"

"Not actually looking for an answer, Jon," he sighs, a mixture of affection and irritation. "Anyway, I think we both know which one it'd be."

He nods. Holds Martin's hand, rubbing the knuckle of his thumb. "I don't know what I can say . . . I can tell you that I won't leave, that I'll be here when you wake up. But I don't suppose that helps unless you can--" he hesitates, not wanting to say trust. It's starting to feel like a deeply troublesome word, both imprecise and emotionally weighted, the sort Jon tends to despise. ". . . believe me?"

"I don't actually think you're going to just vanish in the night someday. It's hard to explain."

"It's unlikely that we'll live to see another ritual for me to be the apocalyptic tipping point of."

"There's still more . . . ordinary things."

"Don't tell me you think I'm going to run off with one of the locals?" He raises his eyebrows, smiling, lets a teasing superiority into his voice. As if he considers the people of this reality to be below their station.

Martin doesn't laugh or smile. He gives him a look, like he's being stupid on purpose. Jon half wants to tell him it's completely involuntary.

"You don't need a bottomless coffin or an all-seeing eye to run off and martyr yourself. People do it with their own hands every day."

And now he understands. Now the thread comes back, winding itself directly around his throat.

". . . Come here," he says, though there are scant inches between them. Martin does so anyway, fitting himself into the space between Jon's arms, head tucked into his collar, legs twining with his. Jon's hands run over his shoulders, through his hair, down his back. He kisses the crown of his head over and over, pouring it all into touch and action until he can find the strength for words again.

"I love you," he whispers. "I'm not going to leave. Not that way . . . not in any way I have control over."

"Seeing his body there next to you . . . it felt like when I was coming back from the shop, and the sky went dark, and the ground started reaching and –" he swallows. "E-everything had gotten so horrible but we finally had a way out, a chance to start over. And then it was just gone again."

And Jon's heart is breaking, and he's afraid if he speaks he's going to start crying, but he can't be silent after that. So he tries.

"I'm so sorry . . . ."

"I know . . . I know." Martin sniffs. "It's not . . . I'm not looking for that. Honest. I just . . . ."

He goes quiet for a while.

"I know you were in pain," he continues. "The night before it all happened. I know – I knew that it was killing you, what we were about to do. It wasn't that I didn't care. But I told myself that someday – even if it wasn't right away, someday you'd be glad we'd done this. Because there'd be a someday."

". . . Maybe I would have been."

"And maybe you wouldn't have. I didn't know. I don't know. We'll never know. But I know you were hurting, and that's just it. Because I also know it . . . s-still hurts."

"I couldn't do that to you."

"We've both done things we thought we couldn't do," Martin says humorlessly.

"Right . . . I take your point."

"I know you feel guilty," Martin whispers, "and you – you just said that while you're alive others are suffering –"

". . . Yes."

"I know how tempting it can be. To just give in to it."

"I know you do."

"So . . . ."

Martin trails off, helpless. Jon feels helpless too. He clumsily feels for Martin's hands and brings them up against his own chest.

"Whatever else I feel, I promise you that I'm glad I'm alive," he says, holding their hands over the place where his heart still beats, steady and warm and living. "Even when it's difficult to bear it all, I'm glad that I'm alive and with you. I want to build a life together, here and now, more than anything. To take whatever chance we've got."

He wonders what Martin is looking for as his eyes trace over his face. Whatever it is he seems to find it, or maybe just trusts that it's there, because he takes a shuddering breath and nods.

". . . I believe you," he says.

"Thank you," Jon breathes deep, feeling the sharp heat behind his eyes fade as he blinks his own tears away. "And . . . I can hope that we made the right choice. Really it's all either of us can do, anymore."

"True."

They lie together in the silence. Martin slides his arms around Jon's sides, resting his head against his chest, and Jon feels the rhythm of his pulse next to his ear. His body is heavy and real, meat and bone, tangled up together with one that he loves. He feels the heat of Martin's breath as he sighs, the gentle weight, the tickle of hair, the hard ridge of skull beneath it. Abject, bloody systems of life.

". . . Martin?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you . . . for coming back."

In the dark he feels a smile against his body. ". . . Which time?"

"Any. All."

"I always will," he whispers. ". . . Thank you for staying."

"That's the deal."

"Yeah. . . yeah." Martin lets out a long, steady sigh. "That's the deal"

Jon feels Martin's limbs relax around him, grip loosening as eyes tiredly close. He twines his fingers through Martin's hair, stoking softly and sweetly as his beloved drifts. Jon doesn't close his eyes just yet, instead watches the face that rests against him slowly go slack in the moonlight. Thinking that maybe tonight, Martin will fall asleep first.

[elvish-sky]

You’re Mine {Fili x Reader}

A.N: i already posted this but my dumb ass accidentally deleted it so here we go again! I’m so sorry! I wrote this for the lovely @guardianofrivendell who deserves lots of things, but especially Fíli fanfiction! It’s based on this post. I hope I did alright, I loved writing it and hope you guys like it as much as I do!

Word Count: 1,951

Summary: You and Fíli have always disliked each other, but something brings you closer together.

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Warnings: Xenophobia, Angst, Fluff, Injuries

****

You’re Mine

“I don’t understand why she needs to be here!” Fíli slammed his fist on the table.

“Oh yeah? Well, it’s not like you’re adding much to the conversation yourself, sitting there with your arms crossed like a baby.”

It was your weekly evening dinner with the Company, and things were going… about as well as usual.

Everyone else sat there, silent or quietly chatting with the person next to them, while you and Fíli sniped at each other. Even months after reclaiming Erebor, you and the dwarf still detested each other. As a human traveling with the Company, tensions had been high with everyone at first but the rest of the group had eventually warmed up to you, in no small part because of your help getting the elves on their side during the battle. Not Fíli.

Fíli drew breath to retort, but before he got the chance Thorin stood.

“Y/N, Fíli, if you don’t stop this outrageous behavior I will send you to your rooms right now.”

“He started it,” you exclaimed.

“I did not!” Fíli stood up, glowering, but a glare from Thorin made him sit right back down.

The two of you spent the rest of the dinner sullenly glaring across the table at each other, making faces and basically doing everything you could to insult the other while staying silent. Once it was over, you stomped out of the room, closely followed by Fíli. You make it halfway down the corridor before his hand on your shoulder turns you around.

“Why did you say I started it?”

“Because you did,” you huffed,

“I did not!” His face was getting redder with anger.

“You did.”

“I don’t see why you feel the need to make every single thing my fault, Y/N!” Fíli’s face was closer to yours than it had ever been before, you could feel the resentment pouring off of him in waves.

“I don’t! I was just telling the truth!” Your fists were clenched by your sides.

“You never tell the truth, Y/N. You just make things up to make me look bad!”

You threw your hands up in exasperation, too angry to speak so you just walked away, leaving Fíli behind, mouth open as if about to say something else.

You walked through the hallways, heading towards your room, stewing.

Make things up to make him look bad. Bah! He does that himself. And besides, he had started it.

He always started it. You didn’t know what it was about you that rubbed him the wrong way, but something certainly had.

Lost in your thoughts, you eventually looked up to see a door you didn’t recognize. You were so furious that you must have taken a wrong turn. Sighing, you turned around, trying to recognize your surroundings.

They were completely unfamiliar.

You sighed again, picking a random corridor and starting down it, hoping it would lead somewhere you recognized. You made your way through the twisting halls, emerging into a crossroads. You stopped. The archway on the left had those carvings, and the one on the right had Khuzdul for Royal spelled out above. You had never thought announcing where the royalty lived was a good idea, security-wise, but it wasn’t your decision. But if that arch was one your right, and the other was on your left, then that meant your room was in the corridor straight ahead!

Relieved, you hurried towards it, tired and ready to go to sleep and end this day, but before you reached it a dwarf melted out of the shadows next to you. Startled, you backed away, only to find another directly behind you. You moved to take the passageway to the left, but a third appeared.

You were surrounded.

“Um, Hello? Is there anything I can do for you?” Your hands were shaking, but you weren’t quite sure why.

The dwarf that had first appeared, one with ragged brown hair, spoke. “You can get out of our mountain, human.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but before you could do anything else, he kicked you in the stomach. You doubled over, the wind knocked out of your lungs, and your head was met with another kick, snapping it back into the hands of the second dwarf. He grabbed you, and held one of your arms, the third dwarf holding the other so that you were trapped.

The first one stepped closer, fists closed. He started raining blows on your face, hitting your lip, chin, eye, jaw, until it felt like it all was on fire. He punctuated each one with the word, “leave,” until all you could hear was the ringing in your ears and that one word. He kicked you in the stomach again several times, also striking your thighs and shins, your arms, until you were aching all over. Finally, he stopped, and the others dropped you to the ground where you huddled in a heap.

He bent over you. “Your people didn’t come to help us all those years ago. And look! Now, none of ours will come to help you.”

He spat on your face before entering the arch to the left with the two others, leaving you collapsed on the ground.

You lay there for a while, too weak to move, only able to breathe, ears still ringing. You mustered the energy to sit up, but couldn’t do any more than that.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps heading down the hall, towards you. You braced yourself, drawing your knees up and hiding your face, expecting another attack. But all you heard was;

“Y/N?”

The footsteps rushed closer, and you sensed someone kneeling in front of you. Their hand was placed on your shoulder.

“Fíli?” Your voice came out all broken as you lifted your head, seeing him kneeling in front of you with the most concerned expression on his face.

Fíli reached out, cupping the side of your face so gently that it didn’t even hurt. He tilted your chin up, into the faint moonlight shining from a skylight cut into the rock far above. His soft thumb brushed your lip, and he drew it away to reveal a streak of red painted across his skin. Tilting your head at a different angle into the moonlight, his eyes darkened as he saw the swollen flesh around yours. Your heart skipped a nervous beat in the silence, thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it as he looked you in the eyes.

His voice was soft, tight, jaw set, the anger barely restrained as he spoke.

“Who did this to you?”

“No one,” you croaked out.

“Tell me, Y/N. They don’t get to hurt you like this. You are mine, mine, and I am going to make them pay.”

Your eyes widened at the word ‘mine.’ Suddenly, things made sense that hadn't before, like how the seat next to him was the only one left whenever you arrived anywhere like it had been saved for you. Like how Dwalin or Gloin always winked at you after you fought with him. Like how Kíli had called you the Khuzdul word for ‘sister’ for months, not knowing that Balin had been teaching you the language. It explained the blush that had risen on his face when you had pinned him the last time sparring, sweaty. But it didn’t explain why he insulted you at every opportunity, took every chance he could get to make a jab. But you couldn’t have him rampaging through the kingdom, so that conversation would have to wait a moment.

“Fíli. Please, don’t.”

His eyes grew soft again, the golden light of rage dimming into something calmer. Standing, he brushed off his trousers, before reaching down to scoop you into his arms, careful not to jostle you. With you in his arms, he set off along the corridor to the right.

“My room is the other way,” you pointed out.

“I know. We’re going to mine,” he clarified, and you settled back into silence, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes to ease the pounding in your head.

You blinked your eyes open at the soft sound of a door opening. Fíli walked across the room after shutting it behind himself and lay you gently on the bed. He propped your head up with a pillow, and dunked a cloth in the washbasin before returning to your side and gently dabbing away the blood on your face.

“Fíli.”

His eyes met yours.

“Why are you doing this? You despise me.”

His hand stopped wiping your face.

“I don’t actually.”

“Then what’s with the jabs, the insults, the constant bickering?”

“I thought you hated me. And I had fallen so hopelessly in love with you that it was the only way I thought I could protect myself from hurting my heart even more.”

He sighed. “And it didn’t even work. I’m still hopelessly in love with you.”

You managed a faint smile.

“I guess it didn’t work for either of us.”

His head snapped up.

You continued, “I love you too.”

Fíli smiled, getting up and grabbing a dressing for your eye. “So, we’re not the smartest when it comes to this kind of thing.”

You laughed, ignoring the pain in your chest as he pressed the compress to your eye. “No, we are not. And you can never, ever tell Kíli about this.”

“Deal.”

You smiled at him, shaking the offered hand.

“But seriously, Y/N. Who did this?” His eyes were darkening again.

“I told you, it wasn’t anyone. I fell.”

He slammed his fist down on the bedside table and you were strongly reminded of him doing the exact same thing earlier, in a much different situation.

“That is bullshit, Y/N. Not even you are that clumsy. Now tell me so that I can stop it from ever happening again.”

You sighed. “I don’t know who it was. Three dwarves attacked me in the halls, but it was dark so I couldn’t see them well. All I know is that- that they were mad I was human. That I deserved to be injured and left there, because my people didn’t help yours when the dragon came.”

You started to cry. “And I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry that they didn’t help but I’ve tried to help, I think I helped, and I feel bad that I still need to do more.”

“Y/N,” Fíli brushed a tear from where it had run down to the tip of your nose, “you don’t need to do anything. You helped us get our home back. You’ve never owed us anything, and you definitely don’t now. And I’m going to hunt those dwarves down, whatever it takes, and make them pay.”

You reached out, laying a trembling hand on his arm. “Please stay instead.”

He looked down at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “I’ll rest better knowing nothing can happen to me if you’re here.”

His face softened and he unbuckled the sword belt he had slung on, removing his boots, and then climbing carefully onto the bed next to you. Lifting your head, he moved so that it rested on his chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close. The soft rhythm of his breath lulled you into a daze, and the last thing you heard before drifting into the unconsciousness was the whispered words, “I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again, my love.” You fell asleep with a smile on your face, which Fíli gazed at, not believing that you actually loved him too but so happy that you did until he joined you in the land of dreams.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit

I’m also gonna tag those of you who commented on the first one, not because of any desire for more notes just because I feel absolutely terrible and like a total dumbass and I want you to know where it is @cassiabaggins @claraofthepen @beenovel @who-ever-said-i-was-nice @thewhiteladyofrohan @hey-its-nonny @anjhope1

Also tagging @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth thanks for some inspiration!!!

[rafael-silva]

under the sky and stars: a tarlos fic

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

*

What starts as a peaceful day is turned on its head when TK is hurt during their hike. Cut off from help and with no cell service, Carlos and TK work together to keep the younger man awake and getting the injury under control. They lean on one another, sharing memories, voicing confessions and finding comfort within each other along the way.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + cauterizing a wound

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, major character injury, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, injury description, softness, kisses, comfort

11.1k | rated T | on ao3

*****

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

Because, well, camping in the middle of nature, miles away from the city and with fluctuating cell service…what could possibly go wrong?

This particular camping spot was near and dear to Carlos, one of his all-time favorite locations. He’s frequently visited this very spot countless times with his family growing up, setting up their tents together, Carlos and his sisters looking for firewood while hiking and then building the bonfire, laughing and creating many memories along the way.

It had been a while since Carlos went camping there, mostly due to his busy schedule, juggling hectic shifts and long days, along with some days off, so he can spend as much time with TK as possible.

And once he was reminded of that spot by the memories feature from his photos app, popping up a selfie of the Reyes family from a few years prior on a hike, a thought crossed his mind. A very good thought. And he suddenly couldn’t contain his excitement at the possibility lingering in his mind.

He and TK were cuddling on the couch after a mutual exhausting never-ending day, both of them stumbling into their home within ten minutes of each other, weary to theirs bones. After a quick shared shower, they settled on the couch and into each other’s arms, drawing comfort from one another and watched a movie in comfortable silence.

“Have you gone camping before?” Carlos’s voice sliced through the quiet, his tone soft.

TK takes a moment to think, revisiting his own memories before nodding. “Yeah, a couple of times. When I was younger though, went camping in Upstate New York, once with mom and dad and the other time with just dad,” he replied, slightly intrigued by Carlos’s somewhat random question.

“So, there’s this camping spot,” Carlos had started explaining, running a hand up and down TK’s arm. “I used to go there all the time with my parents and sisters, especially growing up. It was kind of our safe haven, it had quickly became our spot and I was thinking that we could go camping there one weekend. I’d love to show it to you and share it with you,” he expressed.

TK moved so he’d face Carlos instead of having his back against the offer’s chest, and there was much emotion written in his features, his green eyes glued to Carlos’s brown ones.

“That place means a lot to me, and you mean so much to me, TK,” Carlos added. “It’s part of who I am, and I want to share everything that I am with you.”

TK’s eyes remained on Carlos, his expression soft.

“Of course, if you’d want to go camping, that is.”

TK lightly chuckled, nodding and moved closer to Carlos. “I’d love to. I mean, I’m not really big on camping, just because it wasn’t super easy to do while living in the city, but I’d do anything with you. Even if we were going to a random spot, I know I’ll love it. And the fact that that spot means so much to you, of course I’d go with you. I look forward to getting to know that side of you, Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos’s face had broken into a big, bright smile, his eyes twinkling. He returned the tender kiss TK brushes to his lips and leans into the paramedic’s touch when TK cupped Carlos’s cheek.

“Besides,” TK began with they separated, “one of us should know what they’re doing when it comes to camping.”

Carlos had nodded, agreeing. “Plus, we’ve both been working so much and so hard lately, I feel like we’re running on fumes and a break could really help us. And nature is a great healer.”

“Nature and love,” TK added before giving Carlos another kiss.

After managing to take the same weekend off, and Carlos calling his father asking to borrow his truck for the trip, Carlos and TK make a list of everything they need for the three days. They split it between them and each get what they’re responsible for by the agreed time.

The weekend approaches quickly to both their delight and that’s when Carlos and TK find themselves on the road, TK’s road trip playlist blasting through the speakers as Austin disappears in the rearview mirror.

And Carlos, Carlos smiles, stealing a quick glance at TK when they stop at a red light. The younger man is so at ease, leaning back against the headrest and Carlos’s heart swells with even more love for him. TK turns to look at Carlos, an identical smile on his face.

Excitement sizzles in Carlos’s stomach at the thought of creating even more memories with TK during this trip, and at one of his favorite places, too. He already starts to feel better, feeling the tension leave his body. Both he and TK had been looking forward to getting some peace, to recharge their energies and to spend more quality time together.

But TK’s said danger magnet was waiting in the corner, getting ready to strike and to throw them both a painful and unexpected curveball.

They arrive at the camping spot a couple of hours later. Carlos parks the truck at the end of the trail and switches off the ignition, excited to be back to this spot. It’s so beautiful that TK pauses his movement to get out of the car, looking through the window and taking it all in.

Carlos hops out, closing the door behind him and stretches his muscles. Their early start had been in their favor, the sun still hanging high in the sky above them, which tells Carlos they’ll have time to set everything up and walk around for a while before it gets dark, too.

TK follows Carlos, gazing around and the amount of green merging with the blue of the sky and the birds twittering around them takes his breath away.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Carlos says, standing by TK’s side.

TK nods. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“Come on,” Carlos takes TK’s hand and begins walking further into the tree line. “It’s on foot from here, but it’s not too far in. But be careful,” he warns. “Some of the ground is really slippery and there are a lot of hills. Took a tumble once and sprained my ankle, I do not recommend the experience.”

TK tightens his hold on Carlos’s hand as he leads them through bushes, branches and tree barks, closely following Carlos’s trail.

After about an eight minute walk, they reach a clearing with even, dry ground and large open space.

“Here we are,” Carlos announces.

“Wow,” TK says, tilting his head upwards to look at the tall trees above them. They cast a shadow down at the campsite, but don’t completely obscure the sun, its golden light shining through the branches.

TK can feel the history here, the years it took for these tree to grow and flourish like this, and for the first time, he feels one with nature and he welcomes it. He closes his eyes, the soft wind colliding with his face and he draws in a deep breath, relishing in the fresh, clear air.

“It’s like all your worries wash away when you’re here,” Carlos’s voice brings TK back from his thoughts.

“I feel lighter already,” TK agrees.

But the spell is broken when TK groans and shoos away a mosquito. And Carlos mirrors him when he hears buzzing near his ear.

“Bug spray is in the bag, let’s get everything set up and we can walk around for a bit,” Carlos says.

After sending off texts to their parents that they’ve safely arrived (which had taken some time while they searched for a spot with sufficient cell service), it takes Carlos and TK two trips to bring everything they need from the truck to the campsite. They start with setting up the tent in the middle, and TK being completely out of his zone here, helps when Carlos asks, doing exactly what the officer tells him. Carlos is an expert as he works, his muscles and mind working together, knowing exactly what to do and what goes where, not missing a beat. The tent is set up in record time (based on TK’s knowledge and how often people say it takes forever to set up a tent) and TK wears an impressed expression.

Carlos chuckles at the look on TK’s face. “Learned to set it up during the summer I was fourteen. My father had told me and my sisters that we were setting up our own tents that time. It wasn’t easy, it took a lot of time and more than a few collapses, but eventually, the tent held.”

“Well, practice makes perfect,” TK smiles, planting a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“And sweat, a lot of sweat,” Carlos adds.

TK chuckles, opening their cooler and takes hold of Carlos’s reusable water bottle, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” Carlos gratefully accepts the bottle and takes a long swing of the cold water.

They move around in unison, TK retrieving the sleeping bag and undoing the zipper so it’s flat and lays it on the ground inside the tent then covers it with their duvet and places their pillows at the head of the tent.

Outside, Carlos arranges their sitting area, gathering the blankets that have been designated for camping. His mother had left them at his place a couple of years back, for whenever he’d take solo trips. He spreads the blankets around where the fire would be built then grabs the foldable chairs, arranging them behind the blankets.

“We have enough time for a walk before it gets dark,” Carlos says when TK emerges from the tent. “Everything else can be set up when we’re back, and we’ll get wood for the fire, too.”

TK nods. “Sounds wonderful, babe.”

Carlos grabs his compass and map, pocketing both for when he’ll need them and takes TK’s hand, and together, they stride into the endless greenery.

*****

The sun is setting when they return to the campsite, each of them carrying an armful of wood.

“These should last until tomorrow,” Carlos says, dropping the logs near the place for the fire.

TK does the same and awaits Carlos’s instructions.

Carlos kneels down and starts arranging the logs then looks up at TK. “Can you grab me the lighter fluid and matches?”

TK nods and goes to retrieve the items. A chill is starting to set in the air around them at the loss of the sun’s warmth and TK can’t wait to get cozy by the fire. He also grabs his hoodie while he’s at it.

He hands Carlos the medium sized bottle of lighter fluid and watches as his boyfriend pours some over the wood. Once he’s closing the bottle, TK lights a match and drops it over the fluid, the fire immediately igniting.

He slips on his hoodie and settles on one of the blankets, looking over his shoulder at Carlos when he hears rummaging from behind.

He smiles when Carlos shows him the bag of marshmallows and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Camping just isn’t proper camping with marshmallows,” Carlos declares as he sits next to TK, the bag in one hand and slim wooden sticks in the other.

He hands TK the bag, who promptly opens it and accepts a stick from Carlos. They both sear a marshmallow through their sticks and hold it over the open fire.

“Now, there’s an art to roasting marshmallows,” Carlos starts. “To get it crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. You can’t hold it too close to the flame and you have to keep rotating it so its evenly roasted.”

TK nods and does his best, but he pouts when the marshmallow completely burns.

“It’s okay, baby, it takes a few tries to get it right,” Carlos reassures him.

TK eats the burnt marshmallow and shrugs. “Soft on the inside though. Well, more like melty. And hot!”

TK tries again and again, and when his fifth marshmallow is still burnt (not as badly as the first one, but still burnt nonetheless), he shakes his head and laughs.

“And I thought I’d be good at this because I used to roast them over the stove growing up,” TK sighs.

Carlos’s eyebrows travel up his forehead and he’s shaking his head. “Not the same as roasting them over a campfire, definitely not the same,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I’m learning that the hard way,” TK dramatically sighs again.

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his own stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow. “You should have at least one that’s properly roasted.”

TK lightly elbows Carlos in the stomach and playfully rolls his eyes. “Okay, this is amazing,” he admits after eating the marshmallow.

Carlos smirks. “Besides, like you said earlier, practice makes perfect. So I guess we have no other option than going camping a lot so you can perfect your marshmallow roasting technique.”

“Hmm,” TK hums as he moves his face closer to Carlos’s. “Yeah, I guess that’s our only option,” he whispers.

Carlos smiles as he closes the small distance between them by capturing TK’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Carlos tastes a mix of TK and burnt marshmallows, and the combination makes his heart jump in his chest with joy; further proof that Carlos isn’t dreaming, they’re here, together in one of Carlos’s favorite places on the planet. TK easily opens to him and they pour into each other. TK’s free hand goes to the back of Carlos’s head as Carlos’s goes to hold TK’s face.

The kiss slows down, turning into a simple press of lips and they start exchanging small, chaste kisses before separating to catch their breath. They don’t pull back completely though as Carlos rests his forehead against TK’s.

They’re lying on the blanket a little while later, TK cuddled to Carlos’s side, after it was agreed that they’d had enough marshmallows for the time being. Otherwise, they’d get a sugar rush and neither wanted to experience the crash from that. Besides, they still hadn’t eaten the dinner they packed for the night.

Carlos had grabbed his zip up hoodie and slipped it on before lying down, the wind picking up a little and a shiver ran through his body. Once they’re both warm, both by clothes and each other’s presence, silence falls onto them, the leaves rustling around them the only sound as they watch the stars glitter above, vivid against the endless black sky.

“You can never see the stars this clearly in the city,” TK says in a quiet voice.

Carlos nods, not entirely sure if TK means New York or Austin, but he supposes both, because it’s true either way. He had heard about the light pollution in New York and how it obscures the night sky and its beauty, and from his experience living in Austin, the same can be said for the Texan city.

“There’s beauty in every direction you look here, it’s all encompassing. Left, right, up, down…you’re surrounded by it, you’re a part of it. There’s a lake this way,” Carlos points to their left, turning to face TK. “Me and my sisters used to go swimming there, the water is so blue and so clear and it’s the perfect temperature. We can take a dip before leaving, if you want.”

“Oh, but I don’t have my swimming suit,” TK points out.

Carlos doesn’t reply, instead he lifts a suggestive eyebrow as a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Ohhhh,” TK catches on to where Carlos’s head is at, and a blush paints his cheeks.

The nearby fire dances, the flames coloring TK’s skin golden and bringing out the green in his eyes. Carlos winks and the light pink rises up his boyfriend’s face and TK’s lips spread into a soft smile.

“Well, then, I couldn’t refuse that now, could I?” TK wiggles his eyebrows and moves closer to Carlos.

The beauty of the stars is momentarily forgotten as Carlos watches TK, getting lost in his features, taking it all in even though he can draw every detail in his sleep. He feels his heart grow in his chest with the amount of love he feels for the other man, gazing through green gates and into his soul, he’d willingly get lost in those irises for days.

Without a word, Carlos leans in and captures TK’s lips in a soaring kiss, giving TK his all and gladly receiving TK’s as the paramedic wastes no time in reciprocating.

“I’d come here alone, sometimes,” Carlos voices a few minutes after they return to their previous position. “When I was older. Sometimes my family would be busy and wouldn’t be able to make the trip, other times it was unplanned. I’d need to get away for a few days, and I’d find myself here. When things would get hard or overwhelming, this place was always there for me. This place offered me a lot of clarity over the years, opened my eyes to many things. Helped me dig deep into myself and really know who I am. Because here, in the middle of all this beautiful nature, that wasn’t so scary. It was almost like nature was telling me that it’s okay, that whatever happens, it’s all going to be okay, that it’s all just that, natural and organic. And eventually, whenever I needed to make a decision or when I just needed to think, I’d come here.”

TK waits a beat, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of Carlos’s hoodie and then asks a question. “Did you ever come here to find clarity about…me? Or us?”

Carlos is silent for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah, after you got shot,” he swallows, his mind taking him back to that horrific week.

He tightens his hold on TK, unconsciously needing to know that TK is okay, that he’s with him, right here, right now.

Then something clicks in TK’s mind. “When you texted me that you were leaving town for a couple of days, you came here.”

Carlos nods. He had sent that text a week after TK was out of the hospital and recovering at home. He had seen him a couple of times since his discharge, each time his emotions and feelings towards TK growing and bubbling more in his chest. And after making sure TK was really okay and was taken care of by his team, he had decided a trip was needed.

Falling for TK was unexpected, it had taken him by surprise and so did the amount of feelings he’d quickly developed for the other man. He needed to gather his thoughts and to process it all. He thinks back to those couple of days, pacing the ground for what seemed like hours, his mind going in a million different directions. It’s only when he sat down and looked up at this very sky, that he really started seeing everything, truly seeing.

Carlos draws in a deep breath before continuing, looking up at the sky now. “Like I told you that day at the juice bar, seeing you in that hospital bed was very hard, and all these strong feelings I had for you, they really took me over. I’d been out of the dating game for so long when I met you, and I never expected to fall for you as quickly as I did. And although I had felt it blossoming in the days and weeks before you got hurt, I truly realized just how much I felt for you when I found out you got shot. And then when I saw you lying in that hospital bed, that feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach and that pang in my chest,” he pauses, “…it scared me, the strength of the feelings scared me, the thought of losing you and losing everything we could be before we even truly began terrified me,” his voice breaks a little with the last few words.

TK finds Carlos’s hand and gives it a light squeeze.

Carlos recovers and continues. “And then you woke up and got sent home and every time I saw you, the feelings just grew and grew and there was no stopping it, not that I wanted to stop it. But I still didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t want to push you, knowing what you had gone through. I guess I just needed to process it all, it had all jumbled together and I needed to untangle it. So I came here, because this place always helps with that.”

“And what did you realize?” TK carefully asks.

Carlos turns his head once more so he’s looking at TK. “What I knew was true all along, that what I felt for you, all those feelings, all that love, was natural and organic. Cosmic, even. I realized it came from the deepest of places, the brightest and purest of places, it came from the soul, from the bottom of the heart. And that realization felt right, it felt good. I remember smiling then because I felt lighter, I felt like that realization breathed fresh air into my lungs. And I wasn’t scared anymore. I was hopeful. I knew this love was worth fighting for.”

TK is quiet for a while, letting everything Carlos said sink in, and the flickering flames reveal the unshed tears swimming in his eyes. Carlos’s words had been so honest, so vulnerable and it moves TK, fills him with even more love for Carlos.

“So, in a way, this place had brought us together,” TK expresses.

Carlos nods. “Which is one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here.”

“It really means everything, you sharing this place with me,” TK runs his thumb over Carlos’s knuckles. “I also realized what I had known all along that day of the solar storm, after the bus rescue and on the way to the hospital. I was scared, too. Getting into something and starting a relationship was the last thing on my mind when I got to Austin, but that connection to you, that pull between us, it felt right from the very start. I resisted it, though, I did, because I was still dealing with everything that happened in New York. But that day, I realized I wanted to deal with everything with you, with you by my side. I was learning to stand again, I knew that was something I had to do on my own but I wanted you to be there for me to lean on when I needed it. You gave me strength, Carlos, every day, and you continue to. You brought color back into my life and I knew then I wasn’t scared anymore. And you’re right, our love is cosmic and worth fighting for. It’s always under the sky and stars.”

Thinking back to that night, lying on the hood of the Camaro under the Northern Lights, the moment they really gave them a chance and started the journey of everything they would become together, TK smiles.

Carlos makes the connection, as well, mirroring the soft smile. “The sky and stars really do have a way of bringing us closer. Our love being cosmic sounds particularly appropriate.”

A gentle kiss is shared as they move even closer together, gravitating towards each other, always in each other’s orbit.

The tent goes forgotten as they fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in each other’s embrace, blanketed by the comfort of their love.

*****

If TK is distracted by watching Carlos, who’s wearing a tank top and sweat shorts, stride around the campsite while he gets their breakfast ready, well, who can blame him? TK’s eyes find themselves glued to Carlos’s biceps and the way his muscles contract and move under his skin, making TK miss the words Carlos is directing at him.

Carlos pauses, lifting an eyebrow. “TK? Earth to TK?”

“Hm?” TK snaps out of his trance and eyes go to Carlos’s face, which is just as captivating.

Carlos chuckles lightly. “Welcome back.” Then he’s smirking. “Like what you see?”

He gets it, though, knows the power of the tank top. Because he, too, loves it when TK wears his own tank tops, and Carlos finds himself in the same position TK was just in.

A blush crawls up TK’s neck and face as he bites down on his low lip, his eyes roaming over Carlos’s majestic form. He nods after a few moments.

“You’ll do,” TK playfully teases.

“Oh, is that it? I’ll do?” Carlos whispers, his tone a little heavy and low as he takes tentative steps towards his boyfriend, the smirk still drawn on his face.

“Yeah,” TK nods again, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s.

TK smiles against Carlos’s lips when the officer leans in for a kiss and returns it, his body filling up with warmth at their contact.

“Come on,” Carlos says when they pull apart. “We gotta have a good breakfast because we have some exploration ahead of us today. And other activities, too,” Carlos lifts an eyebrow and winks at TK.

They keep up their flirting and playful banter throughout breakfast, and once they’re finished and Carlos had gathered the stuff they’ll need and packed it into his backpack, they start their journey into the woods, Carlos leading with TK close behind.

The first couple of hours go by smoothly. Carlos shows TK a few of the spots he would frequent when he’d visit here, telling him stories along the way and sharing the memories he’s built with his family. He snaps pictures of TK here and there, some while he wasn’t looking, others with TK posing along with a bunch of selfies of them wearing big smiles.

They come to rest at a clearing, deciding to take a break before continuing their hike. Carlos finds a large rock to sit on, taking a few sips of water before his eyes find TK. The other man is roaming around, looking up at the trees and taking it all in. He comes to a halt on an elevation, looking into the distance and doesn’t realize he’s right on the edge of a hill.

Carlos’s face falls a little when he notices where TK’s standing, and he’s about to tell him to take a few steps back when TK himself turns around and starts to move towards him.

Carlos’s newfound relief lasts for only a brief second as he watches TK stumble. He quickly gets to his feet, moving to help steady TK while a little voice at the back of his head supplies slippery mud, but it’s too late.

For a moment it feels like an out of body experience and in an instant, he’s running to TK. It takes a second, but before he reaches him, TK looses his balance and falls, Carlos’s eyes going wide and his heart drops into his knees as it happens.

Carlos freezes, arms stretched out, heart hammering and eyes glued to the space TK occupied a second ago. He was right there, within his reach and then he wasn’t.

The image of the panicked look on TK’s face and his green eyes blown wide with fear will forever be etched in Carlos’s mind.

He swallows and finds himself at the edge a moment later as he looks down. It’s a nasty fall, even though it’s not a drop but a slope, the steep angle surely would have increased TK’s speed as he rolled downhill. The area it’s littered with rocks of all sizes, and TK’s body would most definitely be bruised and battered by the impact against them.

Carlos yells out when he finds his voice. “TK! TK! Hang on! I’m coming for you!”

The panic in his gut starts brewing even more at the lack of a response from TK.

Carlos weighs his options, and a quick survey tells him there’s no other way to get to TK except down this slope. He takes a deep breath and very carefully starts making his way towards where he’ll find TK.

He almost slips a few times during his descend, tree leaves crunching under his hiking boots and his feet sinking into piles of leaves and small bushes. He keeps calling out for TK on his way down, still getting no reply from the other man. Carlos tells himself he has to get a hold on the panic rising in his body, he feels his hands begin to shake and wills them to steady. He needs to be composed to help TK, to get him out of this. TK is relying on him.

That knowledge gives Carlos the strength he needs and he gathers himself, letting out a small sigh of relief when the ground appears to even out before him.

Then his eyes land on TK, who’s sprawled out on his side, his back to Carlos. And he isn’t moving. And Carlos can’t tell if he’s breathing from this angle.

Carlos’s legs move on their own accord and he���s sprinting towards TK, dropping to his knees next to him. His eyes run over TK’s face and head, where he finds a cut under his hairline that’s oozing blood down his face, and his usually neat hair is filled with torn leaves and covered in dust. He watches TK’s chest closely next, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he spots the rise and fall there, although shallower and shorter than he’d like, but TK is breathing.  

“TK? TK, babe, can you hear me?” Carlos speaks, his voice coated with worry.

With TK still unconscious, Carlos starts doing what he could: check TK over for any visible injuries on the rest of his body.

And he most definitely was not prepared for what he found. He couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that tears from his throat when his eyes land on a large, jagged open wound on TK’s right thigh. There’s blood gushing down his leg and dripping into a puddle beneath the paramedic, a stark crimson staining the rock below.

“Shit, shit,” Carlos mumbles and breaks himself out of his haze.

He knows he shouldn’t move TK until he’s sure there’s no spinal damage, but he also needs to apply pressure in hopes of slowing down the bleeding and the only way to effectively do that is to have TK lying on his back.

Knowing it’s his only option and the best chance TK has in this moment, Carlos very gently and carefully, while supporting TK’s body and carrying his weight, repositions TK and then clamps both hands over the wound and pushes down as hard as he can, putting all his weight into it as he prays that it isn’t the day he loses the love of his life.

He knows deep down it won’t do much good because he can already feel the blood seeping through his fingers. TK’s blood. Carlos’s stomach churns in an unnatural way and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and attempts to get his irregular breathing under control.

It seems, however, that the pressure does achieve something because Carlos is quickly opening his eyes when he hears a sharp painful gasp. The adrenaline, that same small voice at the back of his head supplies once more.

TK is haphazardly moving his head from side to side, eyebrows knitted together with confusion. Carlos easily finds TK’s wide eyes, filled to the brim with panic and fear and does his best in comforting and calming his boyfriend.

“TK, TK, hey, hey, look at me, look at me,” Carlos guides, trying to get TK’s attention.

The erratic movements eventually slow and TK focuses on Carlos through his blurry vision, tears springing into his eyes. He blinks a few times, trying to clear his line of sight sending a couple of tears down the sides of his face.

“Carlos…” TK whimpers through clenched teeth, reaching out for his boyfriend and closing his fist around the material of Carlos’s tank top, holding on with all the strength he could muster.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “Stay with me, TK, hang on.”

“What…what happened?” TK asks when he gathers his breath.

“You fell down a hill, probably slipped on some mud and lost your balance. You were unconscious when I found you and you have a cut on your head and I think you could have a concussion. Can you wiggle your toes?”

After a moment, TK nods, knowing why Carlos is asking.

“Okay, good. But…”

“But?” TK questions and manages to lift himself to look at where Carlos’s eyes had landed.

TK gulps, seeing the wound and the alarming among of blood he had already lost and tries to keep the sizzling panic at bay. He knows panicking won’t help, that he needs to remain calm.

TK groans, pain flaring through his leg and making him a little dizzy.

“I think a piece of wood punctured your thigh and then broke away. I’ve been trying to slow the bleeding but it’s not working very well,” he explains, his voice filled with the panic he’s trying to suppress.

TK is silent for a few moments and Carlos fears he fell back into unconsciousness. But then TK is speaking, clearly having slipped into paramedic mode in those few seconds.

“Okay, we need to make a tourniquet, hopefully that will help slow the bleeding until we get help,” TK says.

Carlos nods, thinking back to what they have in their backpack. His heart drops some more when he realizes they don’t have anything for a tourniquet. Besides, the backpack is up that hill and there’s no way Carlos is leaving TK alone.

Making up his mind, Carlos takes off his tank top and looks to TK for instructions on what to do next.

TK frowns. “What…”

“This is everything we’ve got.”

TK nods, no time or energy for arguing. He already feels weaker and his head is starting to spin. But he evens his labored breathing, not only trying to access his own body for internal injuries but also to be able to properly tell Carlos what to do. He’s not alone, Carlos is here, and they can do this, together.

“Okay, you need to find a strong stick, it needs to be thick so it doesn’t break when it’s twisted to tighten the tourniquet,” TK tells Carlos.

Finding a stick in the woods, should be simple enough, Carlos thinks as he looks around, still in his position and applying pressure to TK’s thigh. Once he spots a stick that could work, he takes hold of TK’s hands and guides them to the wound, pushing them down there.

“I need you to hold pressure while I do this, TK. Can you do that for me?” Carlos asks and once he’s sure TK has complied, he moves to retrieve the stick.

TK gives it his all. He’s scared, and he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to bleed out on this hill in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t want Carlos to have to watch it happen. He doesn’t want to ruin what this place means to Carlos. He doesn’t want to miss out on spending the rest of his life with Carlos. So he fights against the darkness creeping at him from the corners of his eyes and gives it everything he’s got.

But he’s tired, he’s so tired, and his hands momentarily stop working. But a voice reminds him to stay awake, stay awake…

Carlos can tell, that as expected, TK’s strength is faltering by the way more blood is running free down the paramedic’s injured leg. So he does his best to keep TK awake and talking until the tourniquet can take over in controlling the bleeding.

“Hey, TK, stay with me,” Carlos pleads. “Tell me, what’s next?”

TK nods. “Loop…loop the shirt above the wound and then place the stick over the loop and tie a knot,” his voice trails off.

Carlos follows TK’s instructions, his hands working quickly to do as TK says.

“Then…rotate it and the knot is going to tighten,” TK continues using a shaky breath. “It should help control the bleeding.”

“Okay, you ready?” Carlos asks, his worry filled eyes moving to TK’s face, knowing how much tourniquets hurt when they’re applied.

TK draws in a breath and nods.

“Okay, here we go,” Carlos starts twisting the stick and his heart clenches and shatters some more at hearing the throaty and pained moans that TK lets out.

The younger man’s eyes are squeezed shut, face crunching up in agony as the groans keep spilling from his mouth.

It works, and Carlos can see the bleeding is substantially slowing down.

“It’s working, it’s working,” Carlos sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments and taking in a deep breath, his shoulders slumping forward.  

And now it’s time to figure out where they ended up and how to get back to the campsite, into the truck and to the hospital as fast as they can. Carlos knows the tourniquet isn’t a permanent solution and he’s worried about infection setting in.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and prays for even one bar of service, but disappointment settles in his stomach at the words no service glaring at him from the top of his screen.  

He sighs, turning back to TK.

“Hey, TK, still with me, baby?”

TK gives him a weak nod.

“Listen, I have to go back up to get the backpack, you need to hydrate and the map and compass will help us get back to camp,” Carlos explains, hating that he has to leave TK. “I need you to keep holding the tourniquet in place, to make sure it doesn’t get undone. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Be…careful,” TK replies, closing his hand over the stick when Carlos places it there.

“I will be,” Carlos responds and leans down to brush a kiss to TK’s forehead.

It takes every inch of strength Carlos has to pull away.

“I’ll be right back, baby.”

Carlos rushes back up the hill, trying to be as quick but as efficient and safe as he possibly can, not wanting to leave TK alone for long. He faces some difficulty climbing up but manages to avoid slips and falls.

He’s panting when he finally makes it to the top, grabbing a hold of the backpack and then stops for a second. He pulls his phone out again, praying for service and rejoices at the one bar of service he finds.

He puts the phone to his ear and his heart thumps in his chest as he waits for it to connect. After what feels like an eternity, it starts ringing, and another lifetime after that, Owen picks up.

“Owen?” Carlos speaks, his voice tight. “Owen, can you hear me?”

“Carlos?” Owen replies but his voice is so far away.

“Owen, we need help,” Carlos continues, praying that Owen can hear him over the line scratching between the words.

“Carlos—you’re breaking—can’t—”

Then the lines goes dead.

A glance at his phone tells Carlos the one much-needed bar of service is gone.

“Damn it,” Carlos growls with frustration, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

He’s back at TK’s side a few minutes later, and finds his boyfriend barely holding onto consciousness.

“Hey, TK, I’m back,” Carlos announces, kneeling next to TK once more.

He notices that TK’s hold on the tourniquet has loosened a bit so he tightens the knot to control the bleeding again and his heart sinks at the almost lack of response from TK.

Shock, that voice in his head speaks again. He needs to get TK out of here right this moment.

“TK, you with me?” Carlos says as he digs out the compass and map.

TK mumbles something in return.

“Good, stay with me, baby. Didn’t I tell you that I don’t recommend tumbling down a hill? You had to go and try it yourself, huh,” he attempts to lighten the mood with their familiar playful banter but doesn’t quite succeed, his voice coated with fear and worry.

“Take it up with that hill,” TK murmurs back.

A short wet chuckle escapes Carlos, at least TK is doing his best to reciprocate. It’s a small victory in the battle to keep TK awake.

Carlos swallows before continuing, “I almost managed to get through to your dad on the phone,” he says, hoping to keep TK engaged until he figures out how to get back to the campsite. “It was only one bar, though, and it cut off before he could properly hear me.”

He feels his own disappointment mirrored back at him from TK when the younger man frowns.

“Okay,” Carlos nods, getting their bearings and finding the direction they need to move in. “We need to head west, and if we stay on this trail, it should lead us back to camp.”

Carlos moves so he’s behind TK to help him sit up. He places his hands below TK’s shoulders and very slowly and gently starts pushing him up. TK tries his best to help with his weight, but it’s no use, all his energy has been drained. With a hand still steading TK, Carlos reaches his other into the backpack and pulls out a water bottle.

“Here, you need to drink,” he hands it to TK.

TK accepts it with shaky hands and lifts the bottle to his mouth after popping the cap open, taking a few short sips.

“Ready to get up?”

“I’ll try,” TK replies, his voice hoarse.

“I got you,” Carlos promises.

Looping TK’s arm around his shoulder for a better hold on him, Carlos pushes himself up, taking TK with him. TK groans as soon as he’s standing still, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness takes over and pain starts pulsing up and down his injured leg.

“No, no,” TK shakes his head. “It hurts.”

Carlos glances down and curses. Just the mere movement of TK standing up has caused more blood to pour out of his wound, and he knows more movement will dislodge the tourniquet even more.

Carlos shoulders the bag and then wraps an arm around TK’s waist, pulling him towards him.

“TK, I’m gonna need you to put all your weight on me, and absolutely no weight on that leg, okay? I’m going to get you out of here.”

TK distributes his weight on his good leg and on Carlos, dragging his injured leg as he pretty much hops along the way Carlos leads them.

“We’re not that far from camp,” Carlos pants. “I’ll carry you there if I have to.”

And he does. As soon as TK grows even weaker in Carlos’s grip around the halfway mark, the younger man’s muscles deflating, he does exactly that and carries TK the rest of the way.

Once they finally arrive at the site, Carlos carefully lowers TK down on a blanket near the extinguished campfire. He’s about to move to collect their important things when TK’s hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.

“Carlos,” TK heaves. “Carlos, we…we have to stop the bleeding.”

“The tourniquet is in place, I’ll make sure it stays that way…”

But TK is shaking his head. “It didn’t completely stop the blood, even when it was first applied,” he swallows. “Movement will cause more bleeding…and already lost too much blood…nearest hospital is a few hours away, can’t wait.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Carlos asks, the panic in his voice breaking through.

TK takes a deep breath before answering. “Cauterize it.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and then Carlos’s eyes are going wide. “What? You mean, you want…”

“Need. I need you to do it, babe.”

“What? No, no, TK, I can’t—I can’t do that,” Carlos vigorously shakes his head, eyebrows drawn together. “There has to be something else, another way—”

“There isn’t,” TK matter of factly responds. “That is the only way.”

“No, TK, I…” Carlos’s voice breaks.

“Hey, hey,” TK reaches his arm out to Carlos. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk you through it.”

Carlos moves so he’s in TK’s reach and takes his hand. He knows there’s no time to argue—that there’s no need to argue. He has to do this to save TK. TK trusts him and needs him to do this. And even though Carlos is scared out of his skin, he knows what needs to be done. Knows TK needs him now more than ever. He pushes his fear down and wills his heart to calm, ready to do whatever it takes to save the man who has saved him.

Carlos takes a deep breath and nods, sniffing. “What do you need me to do?”

“Need to get the fire going and grab one of the kitchen knives we packed…”

*****

TK slumps backwards, working on catching his breath as his hands go to wipe the tears that had streaked down his face during the agonizing procedure. Carlos is almost done wrapping TK’s thigh with a sterile bandage from the first aid kit after cauterizing it. TK feels Carlos’s lips against his forehead a few moments later.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers against TK’s skin, heart in pieces at the pain TK had just gone through.

“You did everything right, babe,” TK reassures Carlos with a quivering breath. “I knew it was going to hurt.”

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his water bottle. “Drink some more water while I gather our important things and we’ll be on the road soon.”

“There’s time to pack everything,” TK says. “I’m okay.”

Carlos studies TK for a moment. “Are you sure?”

TK nods.

Carlos throws on the first t-shirt he finds and makes quick work of taking down the tent and gathering their stuff. He haphazardly piles everything into the back of the truck, not bothering to pack anything properly. As long as everything is secure, that will do.

Less than ten minutes later sees Carlos helping TK into the passenger seat then getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He sighs when he sees there’s still no service and TK can read the tension sitting in Carlos’s shoulders and in his squared jaw.

“Carlos, babe, I’m okay, the worst is over,” TK holds Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

Carlos turns to look at TK, taking in his pale complexion and clammy skin. His expression morphs into one of heartbreak and worry. “You can still get an infection, you could still have a concussion,” his eyes travel to the cut on TK’s head. “And there’s no telling what kind of damage that fall did to you internally.”

“All things we’ll deal with one at a time,” TK says calmly, although he wouldn’t be able to speak any louder even if he wanted to. “Take a breath, baby, it’s okay.”

Carlos takes a few moments to gather himself, preparing himself to drive and getting his nerves under control. Once he’s ready, he shifts the gear into drive and they start moving.

“Just don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” Carlos tells TK, his focus on the road.

“Okay,” TK replies.

“Play music if you want, and can you keep an eye on the service bars? We’ll call your dad first chance we get.”

TK opts to play a calmer playlist than the one they listened to on their way to the campsite. This playlist helps to relax him, which in this situation may not be the best of things, but TK also knows that Carlos needs to relax too, and upbeat and loud music will most definitely have the opposite effect on him. So TK settles for it, and pushes past the wave of sleepiness it cloaks over him.

The world passes by in a blur as TK stares out the window and replies to Carlos when the officer makes sure he’s still awake.

“There’s two bars,” TK says when he checks for service again, immediately calling his dad, his phone connected to the car’s bluetooth.

Owen picks up after a few rings. “TK! It’s good to hear from you, Carlos tried calling a bit ago but we got disconnected.”

It’s Carlos who replies to him. “Owen.”

The fire captain immediately picks up on Carlos’s shaky voice. “Carlos, what’s going on?”

“We’re on the way back, TK got hurt on a hike. He’s doing okay now but we’re going straight to the hospital,” Carlos explains.

Owen draws in a deep breath and needing to hear TK’s voice, he calls for him. “TK, son?”

“Hey, dad,” TK replies weakly. “I’m okay.”

“Everything is going to be fine. Which hospital are you going to and how long until you arrive?”

“West Park Memorial is going to be the closest and we’re about an hour away,” Carlos responds.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Be careful on the road, please.”

“Will do,” Carlos promises.

“I’m so tried,” TK mumbles after they hang up with Owen, shifting in his seat.

“I know, baby,” Carlos replies without taking his eyes off the road. “But I need you to stay awake for me, we’re almost there.”

TK manages to stay awake until they’re ten minutes away from their destination. Carlos calls for him but he doesn’t answer, giving into the impending darkness that’s been threatening to take over for hours now.

Carlos feels the panic stirring in his gut when TK doesn’t respond, doesn’t move.

“TK, baby, you gotta stay awake,” Carlos tries with no success. “TK, please,” he then uses a hand to take hold of TK’s and realizes with a pang in his chest that TK’s skin has lost some of its warmth.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, his own body and face heating up. “TK, you have to wake up, babe.”

The following ten minutes were some of the longest of Carlos’s life. The further he drives, the farther the hospital got, or so it seemed. After what felt like three eternities, the hospital finally comes into view and he honks a few times as he drives up the ramp leading to the ER entrance.

A doctor and a couple of nurses emerge with a gurney and Carlos jumps out and moves around the truck to open the passenger door.

“We were camping and he fell down a hill and cut open his thigh, he was losing a lot of blood and the tourniquet wasn’t stopping the bleeding completely. He’s a paramedic with the 126 and said we had to cauterize it so I did,” he explains. “He also might have a concussion from the fall. And he can’t be given opioid-based medication.”

The doctor nods while the nurses lift TK from the car and onto the gurney. “How long ago?”

“A few hours,” Carlos replies. “He lost consciousness about ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, we got him now,” the doctor reassures Carlos while performing initial tests on TK. “I need you to park the truck and then fill out some forms while we run a few tests. I’ll leave word at the ER front desk. What’s his name?”

“TK Strand.”

“He’s in good hands,” she nods before retreating through the sliding doors.

Carlos watches as they wheel TK into the hospital, the doctor giving orders as they moved. He starts to feel his own knees growing weaker as TK disappears down the hall and the doors slide shut. It feels like a part of his heart has just been torn from him.

He repeats he’s going to be okay over and over in his head as he climbs back into the truck and until he’s striding into the ER, a mantra to keep him calm.

“Hi, I was told I need to fill some forms for TK Strand. I just brought him in,” he says to the charge nurse at the front desk.

She nods and hands him a clipboard with a pen attached. “What’s your relation to the patient?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Carlos replies. “And I’m his emergency contact.”

She gives him a soft smile. “They took him into an exam room to check him over and to run some standard tests. I’ll have someone take you to him once you fill out the forms.”

Carlos nods and begins filling out the empty spaces.

He’s lead to TK ten minutes later, following the nurse to where TK is being examined. She stops in front of a closed door and turns to Carlos.

“He’s right through there, his results should be in soon,” she informs him. “Just press the call button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Carlos nods and slowly opens the door as she walks away.

And he could cry tears of joy when he’s met with hazy green eyes once he steps into the room.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos softly breathes, relaxing a little at seeing TK awake.

“Hi, baby,” TK replies, a small smile forming on his face.

Carlos is by TK’s bedside in three strides, taking his boyfriend’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Carlos says. “You gave me quite the scare.”

TK winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. It’s okay, baby, I’m just worried about you,” Carlos runs his thumb over TK’s skin that thankfully now feels a little warmer than earlier, courtesy of the IV fluids TK’s been given. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little out of it and tired, but the fluids are helping,” TK replies.

Carlos’s response to that is interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Hey, Owen,” Carlos answers.

“Carlos, I tried calling TK but it went to voicemail,” Owen responds.

Carlos can tell that he’s power walking by the way his voice wavers a little. “We forgot it in the car. We’re in the ER.”

“I’m walking in now. Which room are you boys in?”

“Oh,” Carlos pauses, realizing he’s not exactly sure which way he was lead. He must have zoned out then, he thinks. “Um, ask for TK at the front desk, a nurse will show you the way.”

“Okay,” Owen replies. “I’ll be right there.”

The door is pushed open a few minutes later, revealing a worried Owen, his face crunched up in concern. He breaths a sigh of relief when he sees TK awake but his eyes still radiate the fear bubbling in his chest at his son, once again, landing in the hospital.

His eyes move from TK to Carlos as he steps into the room, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and squeezing there before moving to TK’s side.

“Hey, son,” Owen gives him a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little better now,” TK replies after clearing is throat.

Owen’s eyes survey TK, noticing the butterfly bandage on his forehead and then his eyes widen when he spots the bandage on TK’s thigh.

Turning to Carlos, he asks, “what happened?”

“He took a tumble down a hill, he lost his balance, most likely on wet mud. He rolled down and his thigh probably got cut by a wooden stick or log. We tried a tourniquet but it didn’t hold well, so we…” Carlos pauses, his eyes moving to TK then back to Owen. “We had to cauterize it.”

Owen’s eyes go impossibly wide at that, digesting everything Carlos had said. “It was that bad?”

Before Carlos can reply, the door is opened and the doctor walks in.

“Doctor, this is Owen, TK’s father,” Carlos introduces. “I was just telling him what happened.”

Owen extends his arm to shake her hand. “How’s TK doing?”

“As well as expected,” she replies. “Any headache, nausea or double vision, TK?”

“No, just a little hazy and feeling a bit out of it.”

“That’s to be expected, I don’t think you have a concussion but I’m going to take you to get scans on your head and stomach to make sure everything is clear.”

TK is being wheeled out by a couple of nurses a few minutes later, but not before Carlos brushes a kiss to his forehead.

Owen and Carlos are sitting in silence when the officer’s voice cuts through it.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Carlos sighs, hands fidgeting with each other.

“What are you talking about?” Owen frowns.

“TK’s fall. I know the place, I know how an area can appear stable but it isn’t, I learned that the hard way but I never had a fall this bad. And the blood, he was bleeding so much when I found him and…” Carlos trails off, drawing in a shaky breath. “For a moment, I thought we weren’t getting out of there. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose him.”

“Hey, Carlos, look at me,” Owen says.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze from the floor to meet Owen’s.

“This wasn’t your fault, this was an accident. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. And you didn’t lose him. You got him out of there.”

“I just keep thinking if I had maybe said something a moment earlier…I wouldn’t have had to…it was so hard to do that. I was terrified,” Carlos admits, remembering how his heart hammered against his ribcage during the procedure. “And seeing the amount of pain TK was in…”

Owen places his hand on the back of Carlos’s neck and gives him a supportive squeeze there.

“Listen to me,” Owen says after a moment. “You did everything you could for TK, you took care of him, you pushed through your fear for him, you got him here…you did everything right,” Owen echos TK’s words. “You saved his life, Carlos.”

Carlos swallows and sniffs. “I’d do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

“I know,” Owen nods. “And I’m so incredibly grateful for that. He’s going to be fine, you both will be.”

Carlos knows there’s more than a few nightmares lingering ahead in the wake of TK’s injury, but as long as they’ve got each other, they will be okay. He just needs to know that the worst is truly over.

TK is brought back into the room twenty minutes later, Carlos and Owen getting to their feet as he’s settled in again by the nurses.

Owen sits on the chair while Carlos sits on the edge of the bed, taking TK’s hand.

“I’m okay,” TK gives his boyfriend and father a smile.

Carlos nods, returning the smile through unshed tears, the weight of his conversation with Owen still heavy on his bones.

The doctor appears half an hour later, holding a few files.

“The good news is that all the scans are clear, no head or internal injuries. But I’d like to admit TK for observation, so we can keep a close look on the wound for a couple of days and watch out for an infection,” she explains.

“Whatever you think is best, doctor,” Owen nods.

“Alright then,” the doctor nods. “I’ll get the paperwork started and have TK moved to a room upstairs shortly.”

TK knows it’s for the best, because he honestly feels like crap and doesn’t want him and Carlos to deal with an infection at home, but he can’t help the groan he pushes out.

“It’s okay, babe,” Carlos reassures him, cupping his cheek. “Just to make sure everything is alright, only for a few days.”

TK nods, leaning into Carlos’s touch, the officer grounding him.

*****

They’re thrown another curveball when TK develops a fever overnight.

A cot was set for Carlos in TK’s room while Owen had gone home, making Carlos promise to call or text if anything changes. The officer was awake when TK’s fever was discovered by a nurse. He had to inform Owen with a hastily sent text while keeping up with what the nurse was saying, writing it out in the message. He watched as the nurse administers antibiotics into TK’s IV line and starts him on some medications to reduce the fever and clear out the infection.

TK stirs in bed, the fever taking a toll on his body and making him uncomfortable. He groans and peels his eyelids open to the sunlight gently streaming in through the blinds.

Turning his head to the side, his momentarily blurry vision clears to reveal Judd in the chair by his bedside.

“Judd,” TK whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Hey, brother,” Judd smiles. “Do you want some water?”

TK nods and takes a few sips out of the straw when Judd holds the cup for him.

“He’s getting coffee,” Judd says without TK needing to ask, knowing what’s on the younger man’s mind by the way his eyes darted around the room. “Looked like he needed it, too.”

TK nods. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago, sat with Carlos for a bit. Your dad called this morning and told me what happened and I wanted to see how you’re doing,” Judd gently pats TK’s shoulder. “You’ve been in and out for a while.”

“Yeah,” TK clears his throat. “This fever is really kicking my ass.”

“I, uh, you had me worried there for a second when I heard,” Judd sighs.

“I’m sorry, it was a freak accident. I was scared, too but I’m okay, Carlos took great care of me.”

Judd nods. “You’ll be better in no time, brother,” he reassures him. “Get some more rest,” he adds, seeing the way TK’s eyes drift close. “Your man will be back when you wake up.”

True to Judd’s word, Carlos is by TK’s side the next time he opens his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos smiles when he sees TK awake. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” TK replies, his body feeling more at ease. “You look better, too,” he points out, taking in Carlos’s appearance.

Carlos nods. “Knowing you’re getting better helped. Your fever decreased and the doctor thinks it will break soon. And they’ve been monitoring your wound and changing the dressing and it looks better, too. They think the infection will clear out by tomorrow.”

“And I’ll go home?”

“And you’ll come home,” Carlos confirms with a smile, carding his fingers through TK’s hair.

TK feels lighter at Carlos’s words, feeling that the worst is truly over now.

“Thank you, ‘Los. You literally carried me and put me back together.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

TK stays silent, knowing there’s more on Carlos’s tongue.

“It just…it felt like you were slipping away from me and…I was so scared,” Carlos closes his eyes and unshed tears shimmer when he opens them a moment later.

“You helped me hold on, Carlos, you gave me strength. And I knew it was going to be okay because you were by my side. I know what I asked wasn’t easy and I know it will take its toll but you did it. You saved me. And I’ll always fight to come back to you,” TK vows.

“I’ll always be right here,” Carlos vows back, brushing a kiss to TK’s temple. “Oh, and mom and dad send their love and well wishes. They were really worried but I told them everything is looking up now. Mom made me promise that we’ll go over for lunch as soon as you’re well enough. She’s probably setting the menu now.”

TK chuckles. “I’d love that. It shouldn’t be too long, though, I’ll be taking some antibiotics for a while and my thigh will be sore but only for a couple of weeks. It will scar, but…”

“Hey,” Carlos squeezes TK’s hands. “Scars show what you overcame, what you survived.”

“What we overcame and survived,” TK corrects. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against TK’s and takes in everything that is TK. Carlos easily lets himself get lost in TK’s scent, a reminder that TK is here and that he’s okay.

And seeing TK sitting up and talking, having regained most of his color now, Carlos can finally properly breathe again since watching TK fall.

*****

When TK suggested they go camping again, Carlos was hesitant at first, his once beloved spot now tainted with the memories of TK getting hurt. But TK reminds him of what that place means to him, not wanting the memory of the accident to be Carlos’s most recent association with the spot. He tells him that going back can help them both, reminds him of the strength of his connection to that campsite and Carlos eventually agrees.

And when they return to the campsite a couple of months later, TK is proven right, in more ways than one.

They go back after TK has fully recovered and Carlos no longer jolts up awake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, heaving with TK’s yelled name on his lips.

Carlos is standing by the water, enjoying the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun on his skin when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and hold him close. He smiles, leaning back into TK’s chest and rests his head against the younger man’s shoulder.

“Still as beautiful as ever,” TK whispers against Carlos’s ear.

Carlos nods. Still, however, a part of him can’t fully enjoy it anymore, the memories of TK’s accident too evident in his mind.

With a kiss planted to Carlos’s temple, TK pulls back and the officer turns to follow a few moments after.

And when his eyes land on TK, who’s down on one knee in front of him, Carlos draws in a deep breath while his eyes go wide.

Tears spring to Carlos’s brown eyes as TK opens the red velvet box in his hands, revealing a stunning silver ring sitting inside.

And the identical bright specks glittering in their eyes when TK asks and Carlos answers with, yes, a million times yes and the lighting surging through their bodies at the kiss that follows…

Well, their love is cosmic, after all.

And now, standing by the lake Carlos had painted for TK before, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they both start to fully heal, souls uplifting, their hearts lightening and beating as one.

With that, this place no longer carries the scars of almost losing TK and everything they are and could be, but now serves as a reminder of the strength of their love, mending the scars and holding the promise of a brighter future ahead.

[alreadyblondenow]

He loves me, he loves me not | Jung Sungchan

❤︎ Sungchan x female!reader ❤︎ Fluff, Smut, ❤︎ 4/4 for LOVE MONTH SERIES: Boys Don’t Cry One is a big number

One is a big number | You and your words | Sweet | He loves me, he loves me not |

Summary: The famous Jung Sungchan asked you out in front of his friends out of nowhere and you coldly turned him down but he didn’t take no for an answer. He proved his seriousness to you until you decided to give love a chance and so is Sungchan... but that didn’t take away your doubt. Until an ugly fight almost ruined your relationship.

Word count: 2,835k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, virginity loss, making out, fingering, swearing, self doubt, trust issues, couple fight, shouting at each other, mentions of break up. The smut is avoidable, btw.

A/N: PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. This is inspired by nothing, haha I just want to write something for him. This is hella short bc I didn’t want to go crazy on my first fic for sungchan haha. But I will def write more for you. Also this is reposted, bc tumblr... -_-

Supposedly for KPOPSCAPE’s Love Fools but I want to finish my Boys Don’t Cry Series already :(( huhu

Jung Sungchan is like a perfect movie. Not because it’s where you first met, but because he’s too good to be true.

Captain of the soccer team, lead the team to championships basically his whole high school life, smart, very creative, gentleman, and every girl’s dream guy.

That’s why when he asked you out, you thought it’s some kind of a joke that you turned him down right then and there in front of his friends. Even though he looked harmless and he asked you politely, still, he’s Jung Sungchan. Why would he waste his time on you?

But just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is surprising.

After you turned him down and set your mind on the quiz you’re about to take in ten minutes, he grabbed you by the wrist and did not take no for an answer.

“Okay fine, I completely understand you. Don’t say ‘no’ too soon, and let me earn your time” he said with a desperate tone and hopeful eyes and finally lets go of your hand.

“I have no idea what you’re up to Sungchan, but fine. I-I have to go to class” you said and walked as fast as you could to your next class.

On the following days that soon became weeks, Sungchan proved that he’s serious and showed it to you through pursuing you without giving you pressure, tagging along with you and your friends and instantly creating your own world together, and remind you about his intentions to you almost every day.

Eventually, after many weeks of trying, you became friends that are comfortable enough with each other. Though he’s bold with his actions and words while you continue to convince yourself that Sungchan is serious, “Just... go with it for now. I’ll wait for you to get used to us, I got all the time in the world” he says, putting strands of hair behind your ear while looking at you lovingly. He never fails to make you feel shy and secure at the same time.

“Tomorrow is a big day for me,” he breathes in deeply before he finishes his sentence and makes a big request, “I would like you to come watch me play, but only if you’re comfortable of course. If not, then at least call me after the game-“

“No no. I’ll watch you. I’ll cheer for you, wouldn’t want to miss seeing you win... again” you said and let out a shy giggle. Sungchan never asked you for anything, and you think watching his game is a good way to return the favor.

“So... you watch me play, huh?” he smirked and swing an arm on your shoulders as you walk closely together towards the field.

And just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is not perfect. Good, but not perfect.

Sungchan and his team lost the game.

You wish you could do something to cheer him up and turn this night around for him but you’ve never seen him like this and quite frankly you don’t know what to do.

He stopped looking at the crowd and stopped smiling at you the moment they started to lose. You saw him get irritated in the field, scream and shout at his teammates, get scolded by their coach. It must be really hard for him and his team.

After the game, you waited for him to come out of the men’s locker room but you were told that he’s really disappointed in himself right now and it might take some time. “If you want, you can go inside. I know you two are not yet together but, comfort him. He needs you” Shotaro said, pats your back, and said goodbye.

Of course, you went in even though you’re not sure what exactly to tell him. But when you saw him sitting on the bench with his head down, your heart ached in an instant and suddenly you know what to do.

“Hey” you greet him quietly.

“Hey- I was just about to meet you, sorry” he flashed a smile like he didn’t look so hurt just a few seconds ago. Now you don’t know if he’s actually happy to see you or he’s faking a smile.

“You know, if we’re going to be together we should start showing different sides of ourselves and start trusting each other. Right?” You said and sat beside him.

What you said made him happy sincerely but the weight of losing tonight is just too much at the moment. So he told you the truth, “I’m a failure” he says and covered his face, trying to hide his frustrations.

“You’re not. Losing tonight doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Losing is part of the game that you love to play so much. And I think you’re not going to stop playing just because there’s a chance of losing” you soothe his back and massaged his shoulders.

You and Sungchan talked for some time in the locker room. He told you what he was thinking and feeling while he was on the field with a losing score, everyone was frustrated, and “suddenly I can't hear the cheers anymore and my worries are eating me up and ruining my game” he says almost in tears again.

And after that heart-to-heart talk in the locker room, he brought you home safely and thanked you for being the only good thing that existed tonight. He undid his seatbelt and reached for your hand to kiss it. He kissed you there because he knew you wouldn’t let him kiss you. Not yet at least.

But he’s wrong. You undid your seatbelt too, reached for his face, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Good night,” you told him and kissed him again before you get out of his car.

After that life changing kiss, just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is charming, tender, powerful, hilarious, silly, and dramatic.

Your life changed when you started dating Sungchan, but still, you doubt him about his feelings for you.

Nonetheless, you enjoy the relationship. Slowly you become bold and confident with your actions towards him. You’re not afraid to show him that you care, you show him how much he makes you happy, you don’t lie to him whenever you get disappointed with something he did, and sometimes if things heat up quickly, you two fight like there’s no tomorrow.

And just like a normal person, Sungchan changed. Though you saw it coming already because nothing is constant in this world, still it hurt you. You miss the old him and because of that, your doubt about his feelings for you grew and grew until you can’t take it anymore and you decided to break up with him.

“What happened to showing different sides of ourselves and start trusting each other, Y/n? Okay fine, I admit it, I changed. But I have a reason for that and not because I don’t love you. What were you thinking?” He asked sternly, gripping the stirring wheel hard as he drives you home. You didn’t answer his question so it was quiet the whole time until he reaches your house. And the moment he stopped the car, you gathered your stuff and did not want the night to be longer than it already is... but of course, Sungchan will not let you.

He locked the doors of his car before you could even get out. Which made you angry instantly. “I’m not letting you break up with me” he said calmly while you’re anger add up every second.

“I’m not taking it back. My decision is final” you said, covering your face so he won’t see you cry. Leaning forward towards the dashboard and massaging your forehead.

“Why do you doubt my feelings for you? What else do you want me to do? I changed because I can feel that you’re not happy anymore with what we have, so I distanced myself from you to give you space. But I never even once thought of breaking up with you, I want to try and I hope you do too! That’s how much I love you. What did I ever do in the first place to make you doubt me like this, huh?”

“Well then everything’s clear!”

“What is?!”

“Maybe I don’t really love you and that maybe what I feel for you is the problem, not you!” Lie.

“Psh. You’re just telling me that because you’re mad right now!” but it did hurt him that he’s is close to tears.

It turned silent again for a couple of minutes. Maybe it’s his way to stop you both from shouting at each other. He turned his body closer to you and reached for your hand.

“Just don’t break up with me tonight. I'm sorry we shouted at each other,” he pulled you close and kissed your temple, “I just- don’t know what else to do to prove my love to you and you may not see it but I’m scared to the bone. I'm scared of losing you”

After hearing those sincere words without doubting him for the first time, you accepted his apology and said your sorry to him too. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m sorry," you said and wiped his tears away.

Thankfully the night ended peacefully with long kisses and tight hugs before he walks you to your front door.

Just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is the greatest plot twist of your life.

After graduating high school, you and Sungchan spend your remaining time together over the summer before you part ways for college. Now that you’re about to face long distance relationship, you both feel stupid about the fights that you had during the earlier days of your relationship.

“I should’ve kissed you longer than usual and told you I love you instead of screaming at you, you know?” He says while playing with your fingers.

Today is one of those days where you and Sungchan sit at the top of his car, your back against his chest and you in between his long legs while watching the sun go down and watch the city lights.

“Then say it now” you said, turning your head on the side and cup his face.

“I love you” he said and planted a soft kiss on your lips, “and don’t you dare doubt it this time-“ he says and tickled your sides to make you giggle.

When you two arrived at your house with a box of pizza for dinner, your mom texted you last minute that they will be out will probably be home very late. Great you murmured because you don’t want Sungchan to go home just yet.

“They’re out and probably will be back by midnight. Can you stay a little longer?” You pout but your boyfriend kissed it away.

“Of course,” he said and smiled at you.

And after a few minutes of flirting while eating pizza, you two decided that you’re not hungry anymore and proceed to make out in your room already to maximize your time of being alone together. Giggling and touching each other wherever you want while your lips touch and kiss each other deeper. Making little sounds just for the two of you, whispering sweet nothings, and listening to what each other wants.

Sungchan removed his hoodie because he’s starting to sweat like crazy, but you sat up and asked for more. Slipping your hands inside his shirt and kissing him as you remove it and throw it away. Still surprised at your recent move, your boyfriend let out a small laugh and reach for your chin as he returns your kisses. “Why are you just showing me this side of you now?” He said and pushed you back on the mattress and quickly removed your shorts and spread your legs so he could lie on top of you while in between your thighs.

Slowly he raises your shirt which you get rid of immediately while he kisses you from your lower abdomen and all the way up until he reaches the valley between your boobs and unclasps your bra effortlessly.

This is his first time seeing you very much exposed for him. And he loves it. So without warning, he sucked your nipples and made you arched your back and ask more. Nibbling and pinching your now swollen nipples, licking and biting your boobs, and covering it with spit. Oh you love what he’s doing.

“One more item of clothing left for the both of us, if I remove yours I’m afraid I can’t control myself” he whispers beside your ear and went back to kissing your lips.

“Let’s do it then,” you said in between kisses, swinging your arms around his neck and moving your hips to show him how eager you are. In return, he put his thumb on your damped panties and draw circles on your clit before he removes it finally.

“I’m so hard right now,” he went back in between your spread legs, kissing you with want while his fingers play with your slit. He touched you hundreds of times already but every time his fingers made contact on your pussy, it feels like the first time again.

“You too, not fair” you whine, slipping your hand inside his underwear and feeling the smoothness of his butt while biting your lips. Of course he gave your request immediately, pulled away from your body and exposed himself to you for the first time.

Knelling in between your spread legs, he pumped his cock while looking at your virgin tight hole and diving into lust even more. He checked your slit if you’re wet enough for him, yes. He asked you if it’s okay to fuck you raw for the first time, yes.

“This will feel goo- ah, fuck” he moaned out when he slides his cock on your wet slit for the first time, feeling the rawness of the activity you’re about to do.

“Keep doing that, fuck it feels good” you said while watching his cock slide up and down your slit and sometimes poking your hole which makes you jolt and giggle. And when he accidentally poked your hole and pushed his entire head, you told him, “Don’t pull away-“ you hiss and finally feel a small stretch from his cock, and as he slowly pushes in, the stretch becomes even more intense that you had to stop him from time to time before he continues to push in.

When he finally rolled his hips slowly, you’re suddenly out of breath and you feel so full. All you can do is grip his arm to show him how good he makes you feel, try not to close your legs whenever he hits a spot, and kiss his lips until the stretch is replaced by pleasure.

“This is what we’ve been missing the whole time- oh!” He said, grunting and moaning so good while fucking you at a slightly faster pace than earlier. Bodies away from each other, both of his hands are gripping your waist while watching your boobs bounce up and down, and of course watching his cock go inside your pussy.

You reach for your clit too and tried stimulating yourself because you’re so near but your boyfriend removed your hand and replaced it with his and suddenly your moans became higher and you’re gripping the sheets so hard.

“C-cuming” you tried telling him but too late, your legs are shaking and so is your whole body, you tried curling yourself but you can’t because your boyfriend is still fucking you. Harder this time.

And right before he hits his high, he pulled away and pumped his cock away from you and took care of his own mess. While you, on the other hand, can finally curl and catch your breath while you wait for your boyfriend to come join you again.

“You okay?” He asks, cleaning your sensitive pussy with a damped towel and helped you wear a clean underwear. “There, so I won't ask for round two” he said and kissed you on the cheek before he joins you under the covers.

“Do you know what I was thinking while we were at it?” He asked, you came closer to him and started kissing him softly. Waiting for him to tell you something sexy, or dirty.

But

“You’re worth the wait, and I’m definitely happy that I didn’t let you break up with me” you stopped kissing him. You didn’t expect he’d say something serious and sweet after fucking your brains out for the first time. “We both know you’re not easy. I’m glad we chose to love each other” now he’s the one who initiated the kiss.

Soft. Cotton-like kiss.

“Now, I feel bad I gave you a hard time” you said in between kissing. “You do love me so much” you added, he chuckled.

“Again, now that you believe that I love you. It’s all worth it”

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Perfect Harmony - Alive!Luke x Reader

Warning: Does include Smut, and various amounts of inappropriate language

A/N: Let me know if you want more work like this.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Stepping into Luke’s world was a gift, he was the most talented man you had ever met. His music was like a gift from god, he had music just flowing through him. He always had from the moment he could pick up his guitar. He was your whole world and had been for years. It had always been you and him against the world, until Julie entered the picture.

 She was this fresh breath of air into his life, and the band. She made him a better writer, she brought out sides of him you never knew existed. All too soon your world was filled with blown off dates, and forgetful anniversaries. Eventually your world was no longer filled with Luke, but also with Julie. She was the forefront of his mind and music, not even sparing you an apology.

 While she was writing songs left and right, about Luke, about her experiences. You were upset with Luke, only confiding in Alex about your hurt. Luke had given her Bright, normally it wouldn’t bother you when he gave away songs, but that song was for you. He wrote it for you as an anniversary present the first year you were together. It had touched you in ways that you could never explain to Luke. He gave you the world in that song, and now three years later it was Julie’s song.

 You and Alex had begun sneaking away, holding conversations where the tears ran down your face. Where you wanted to hit something so bad because you were so angry.

 “Alex, how could he do that? That’s my song, our song. He gave that to me as a gift, and now he is just handing it off to some other girl like I am not here. I am standing right here, and it is like he looks right through me some days.” You cried as Alex attempted to comfort you.

 Alex knew why you were so upset; Luke should have been thinking when he gave Julie that song. But instead he is about as dumb as a tree when it comes to his songs. He would never intentionally hurt you, but he is too oblivious to realize he already had.

 You both just sat there in silence for a while, before hearing music coming from the garage. It was a tune you were quite familiar with; it was the song you wrote for Luke. A song that you poured your love and sweat into to make it perfect for your anniversary that he had forgotten weeks prior.

 Unraveling yourself from Alex’s comfort, you made your way to the garage. Ready to confront not only Luke, but Julie. You were getting tired of being the second pick, no matter how much he loved this band. The deal was he would always love you more, and clearly that was not the case anymore.

You stood in the opening of the garage, watching Luke look deeply into Julie’s eyes as she sang the second verse, your verse. The anger behind your eyes was clear, as Luke made eye contact with you. He was trying to deceiver what had happened when you and Alex stepped out of practice. Your lyrics feel swiftly out of her mouth, as tears began to pool in your eyes,

 I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah

 You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah

 I never knew a love so real (So real)

 We're heaven on earth, melody and words

 And when we are together we're

 In perfect harmony…

 You couldn’t contain yourself any longer as you walked over, ripping the lyrics out of Julie’s hands, bringing them close to your chest. You didn’t care who went through your journal and found the lyrics, but they had no right to play them. You stepped back from Luke’s outstretched hand, shoving the papers in your bag before running out of the garage, ignoring Alex’s saddened look.

 You could hear Luke as he was hot on your heels as you made your escape from the garage, more so the escape from him and Julie.  He was supposed to be yours, but it was clear to you that Julie wanted him just as bad. He finally caught up to you, grabbing your hand, whipping you towards him.

 “Baby, what is the problem? It was just a song one minute you are fine and seem happy, and the next you have flown off the handle and sneaking off to have little conversations with Alex.”

 You scoffed at him, you could feel your anger escalating inside of you, “Seriously? The chemistry in that room is unreal, and everyone can see that. You are supposed to be my boyfriend and the look you give her is as if you are undressing her with your eyes, Luke! You don’t even see it.”

 You were beyond mad, as hot tears began running down your face. He had blown you off before over Julie and now... now he looks at her the way he used to look at you. Now it was all about her and you were shoved off to the side.

 It is clear where your standing was in his world, it was under Julie because now she was his number one. You heart broke at the idea of Luke no longer being yours.

 You were ripped from your thoughts by the anger in Luke’s voice, “Are you serious right now? I am focused on the band, not some girl. You are the one who I want, not her.” Once he finished talking, he began pacing, running his calloused hands through his hair.

 You scoffed at him again, catching his attention, “Seriously, you want me? Luke you have blown off our dates for this girl, you forgot our fucking anniversary because of her. So yea sure, you have a funny way of showing me that you want me.” You began, catching your breath as more tears threaten to fall.

 “Luke, you gave her Bright. That was my song, you wrote that for me, do you not understand you gave me the whole world in that song. And now it is her song, with her name on it and her own twist on it. You did not even think to ask me if I was okay with her singing it, I found out about it at some show you guys were playing. I was not mad, just upset that you forgot about me in the crowd. But now, now I am beyond pissed. You went through my journal and took my song. Luke you took my song, I wrote that for our anniversary as a surprise, but you never showed, you blew me off like every date we have had planned the last few months. And that song is filled with words that were meant for us, not you and Julie. It was never meant for anyone else but us, and you took that from me.” You finished, your chest rocking with sobs.

 Catching his eyes, you could see they were filled with tears, threatening to fall. He never knew how much you were hurting; you always hid your emotions so well especially when you were hurt. He was reaching out to you, and all you could do was flinch away from him.

 “Luke... I need time. I don’t- uh- I don’t think we should do this anymore.” You said, not giving him a chance to answer before hopping in your car and driving back to your apartment. In moments like these, you were happy you lived alone with no parents or roommates to question the crying and pain you were feeling.

 In that moment, you felt like your heart was breaking all over again. You had thought Luke was the one, and now- now you had no idea what he was to you. All you wanted to do was put on your pajamas, which included sweatpants and Luke’s Sunset Curve shirt.

 But the moment you got home, not only did you put on your pajamas, but you also picked up your guitar. You wanted to play your song, the song that Luke took from you. It was the only thing keeping you from running out the door, and back into his arms. Your pain, your anger, your sadness was all caused by him. But how can you stay away from the one?

 You began strumming your guitar, singing the lyrics meant for the two of you.

 Step into my world

 Bittersweet love story about a girl

 Shook me to the core

 Voice like an angel, I've never heard before

 Only making it through the first few lines before sobs began racking your chest, you had been so involved in your music that you missed the door opening. You were scooped up from your spot on the floor, being held close to someone’s chest. You knew it was Luke, as much as you hated him in this moment. You loved him more than any ounce of music could express.

 “Luke… why are you here?” You managed to squeak out between sobs, afraid of his answer.

 “I am here because I love you, you dork. No matter how much we fight, I am always going to love you with every ounce of me. That is why I was put on this earth. We were meant to live life side by side, or as you put it in perfect harmony.” He said, placing a swift kiss to your forehead. It was his way of reassuring you everything was going to be okay.

 “I am really sorry about Julie; I didn’t realize how out of hand the band was getting. I didn’t realize about all the dates and our anniversary, I don’t even know how to make anything up to you at this point” He said, burying his face into your hair.

 You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, “I know you can make it up to me…”

  ~18+ MATERIAL UNDERNEATH~

 IF YOU A YOUNGING, IT’S TIME TO BOUNCE.

 You could see the smirk erupting on Luke’s face as he brought your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but the sense of hunger was clear. His hands began roughly grabbing at your thighs, as you straddled his lap. His attention was clear for what he wanted, he wanted you and that was not going to change.

 His kisses began to travel down your neck and onto your breasts as you shifted your hips against him. Making him groan at your sudden movements. He was pressing against you like you were his lifeline and he needed you to live.

 Slowly articles of clothing were being discarded, first your shirt and bra, then his shirt. You were pressed up against him, feeling his heart thumping against your breasts. You carefully got off him, leading him to the bedroom.

 No sooner did you make it in the door, did your pants leave your body and you were thrown onto the bed. You could hear Luke making his way to you, crawling up the length of the bed. You were a withering mess as he settled on top of you, placing small kisses to your sensitive areas.

 He was teasing you, and you were not in the mood for any kind of teasing. You wanted him now. Not in 5 minutes, right this moment. You attempted to move, but Luke was sucking on a certain part of your neck and you could not even begin to formulate words. So instead a soft moan escaped your lips, only egging him on more.

 He grinned down at you from his hovering position, “Oh did we like that baby”

 You squirmed under his grip, bucking your hip in response as he began teasing you again, making it clear you were going to orgasm before he was even inside of you.

 He began licking up and down your slit, keeping his eyes trained on your face as he began entering a finger or two into you as he sucked on your sensitive nub. With your eye rolling back into your head, and the building in your lower stomach, you knew you were going to burst.

 Reaching down, grabbing Luke’s hair, you began to ride out the orgasm he so desperately wanted to give you. “Fuck Luke, if you keep teasing…” He just smirked at you before grabbing a condom out of the bedside drawer (WRAP IT KIDS).

 In all the years you had been together, Luke was always able to take you breath away as he entered you slowly, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. His name escaping your lips as he buried himself deep inside.

 He gently caressed your face as he began moving back and forth repetitively, making sure each thrust was the same as the last. His name was the only thing continuously falling from your mouth, he was your everything.

 You began moving your hips to meet his thrusts, which only emitted more pleasure through your body as he began hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only causing another orgasm start to build deep in your stomach. You could feel yourself on the edge,

 “I-uh-I Luke… I-I am close” you squeaked out between his thrusts, he just nodded. He was close too; you knew that by his face. He was scrunching his face together like when he gets mad but this- this is all pleasure.

 Your orgasm began to take over your senses, washing over you as you spasmed under Luke. He kept his grip tight on your hips as he unloaded himself into the condom. Taking a few breaths before pulling out and discarding the condom in the nearby trash.

 He laid back on the bed with you pulling you close, placing a kiss to your temple. You could feel sleep starting to overcome your senses but not before you heard Luke murmur in your ear.

 “I guess we do fall into perfect harmony baby, I love you so much”

@calamitykaty​ @parkeret​ @all-in-fangirl​

[bytheangell]

Hi!!! If you still accept requests could you do a fic with Gabriel and Christopher Lightwood? Matbe when he was little? I think that when he found out his second child was going to be a boy woukd have been impctful as what he had to bear with his own father

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before (And I Didn’t Like the Ending) (Read on AO3)

Gabriel isn’t sure where the sudden feeling of anxiousness comes from after Cecily has their second child, a boy they name Christopher. He hadn’t been this nervous when they had Anna, and he hadn’t been particularly worried leading up to the birth… but now that Christopher is here Gabriel can tell that something is different this time.

He just can’t quite place what that something is.

It isn’t until he’s holding Christopher one night, allowing his son’s tiny hands to explore and pull at pieces of his clothing with wide-eyed curiosity, that Cecily says something that makes it all click.

“He’s going to idolize you, I can tell,” Cecily says the words with a smile, obviously meaning them as a compliment.

Instead of smiling back, Gabriel blanches. The realization comes immediately

“I don’t want him to.”

Cecily frowns. “What?”

Gabriel shakes his head back and forth emphatically. It’s suddenly very obvious why he’s felt different with Christopher, and honestly, he isn’t sure why it took him this long to piece together.

“I don’t want him to,” he repeats.

“Whyever not?” To her credit, Cecily looks confused, but not upset.

“I idolized my father,” Gabriel says, the words a mere whisper.

And there it is. The reason Christopher is different is that he’s a son: a boy, who will turn into a young man meant to take after his father. To learn from him. To grow up and follow in his footsteps.

Except everything Gabriel’s experienced of how a father raises a son is selfishness, deceit, and self-indulgence. It’s raising a child to serve and reflect your own interests - a name to carry a legacy. What if he’s just like his father? That’s nothing to idolize. That isn’t--

“You’re not Benedict, Gabriel,” Cecily says gently, her words cutting through his quickly spiraling thoughts. She walks over to place a hand on his arm, her expression kind as she glances between him and their son, her smile soft and reassuring. “You’re a good person and a wonderful father. Just look at Anna.”

“She has you to look up to,” Gabriel points out.

“And so will Christopher. But that doesn’t matter, because she still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for her, and rightly so.”

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes he did. He raised us to be heirs, not individuals. I clung to that for so long…”

Cecily knows about the sort of man Benedict Lightwood was, before he wasn’t a man at all. Gabriel told her most of what she didn’t hear on her own because he wanted her to know exactly what she was getting into when they started seeing one another romantically - but Cecily always took it in stride. She always supported him and every difficult step he took away from his father’s legacy.

“And then you let it go when it mattered most,” she reminds him. “If you won’t believe in yourself, then believe in me. Christopher is going to turn out just fine - because of you, not in spite of you.”

Gabriel looks down at Christopher, such a tiny bundle in his arms, and nods slowly. “I won’t let you down, Christopher. I promise.”

---

It takes a while for Gabriel to find a sense of balance with raising Christopher, often trying so intensely to not be like Benedict that he isn’t quite himself, either. But he gets there eventually, stepping into his own in ways he never imagined possible before.

He’s doing well, until the moment he isn’t.

It’s a bad day. One of those days were little things seem to go wrong one after another, mostly minor inconveniences until inevitably one of them becomes the tipping point for a proper explosion of the frustration that’s been building all day.

Unfortunately, that final straw comes in the form of Christopher coming home with violently green skin less than an hour before they’re due to set off for a formal dinner in Idris. Gabriel is upset enough when he thinks it’s another one of Christopher’s experiments gone wrong, but something in him snaps when he finds out it was actually a spell gone wrong from a warlock girl Christopher had been playing with, one he met in the Shadow Market the other day.

“It’s bad enough Tatiana’s stirring up trouble again, and now you’re going to show up looking like this and positively reeking of magic! Must you spend your free time consorting with Downworlders?!”

“The spell was harmless! She wouldn’t hurt me, father,” Christopher says.

“I don’t care how harmless the spell was, it’s how it looks, don’t you see?”

But of course, Christopher doesn’t see, because he’s Christopher. He’s trusting to a fault, and too eager to see the good in people that he never stops to question whether or not they may have ulterior motivations.

“I’ll tell the people at the dinner what happened, once I explain I’m sure-”

“No!” Gabriel feels an instinctive panic at the idea of anyone finding out what happened, putting him even more on edge. “You will not tell anyone what happened. In fact, I don’t want you spending time with that warlock girl anymore.”

“But James-”

“I don’t care what James does. He isn’t my son - he isn’t a Lightwood! People expect certain things of us, Christopher, and we need to do better!” Gabriel is only vaguely aware that his voice is rising and his words are turning sharper.

“What does being a Lightwood have to do with anything?!” Christopher asks.

“It has to do with everything!” Gabriel snaps, and then realizes what he’s doing.

Christopher looks upset and a little shaken, and it’s obvious that he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction from his father. Gabriel catches a reflection of his face in the glass of a curio cabinet and sees more of his father in himself than he ever has before.

Christopher turns and stalks to his room without another word, just as Cecily comes in after hearing the commotion.

“What was all that?” She asks, brows furrowed.

“I-” Gabriel begins, but words fail him at the moment. He realizes he’s a bit shaken up as well - he’s never fought with Christopher before, not like that.

“I messed up, Cece.” Gabriel looks down the hall after his son with a weight in his chest. “I said things I shouldn’t have. I’ve just been under so much pressure lately, and he came home green for Raziel’s sake, and I…” Gabriel sighs, long and heavy.

“You took it out on him.”

It isn’t a question, so at least he doesn’t have to answer it out loud.

“I’ll talk to him later. I should go to this dinner, would you mind staying home with them?” Gabriel knows better than to think Anna will come with him after he’s upset Christopher - she’s fiercely protective of him in all the best ways.

“Of course. Go put in your appearance, I’ll handle things here.”

“Tell him I said I’m sorry,” Gabriel adds, turning to leave.

Cecily shakes her head. “You tell him yourself when you get back.”

He will. He absolutely will.

---

Once he’s in Idris, Gabriel can’t shake his foul mood. It doesn’t take long for Gideon to call him out on it.

“I shouted at Christopher. I told him,” Gabriel huffs. “That we have to hold ourselves to a different standard because we’re Lightwoods.”

“You’re not wrong. You and I both know we’re going to be undoing Father’s damage for the rest of our lives.”

“Are you ever afraid you’re too much like him?” “ Gabriel asks, unable to help himself.

Gideon shrugs. “He wasn’t all bad, you know. He did love us, for what that’s worth in the end. He never wanted us to want for anything, and he always pushed us to be the best versions of ourselves. Those wouldn’t be the worst traits to emulate.”

It’s a fair point. Gabriel is so focused on not turning into the monster his father became that he overlooked the parts of their childhood that were good.

“It’s just, sometimes I see him in myself when I lose my temper and… honestly, it frightens me. It’s like I blink and suddenly all the progress I’ve made all these years is just gone.”

“If all that progress were gone, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me now,” Gideon points out. “One mistake doesn’t undo years of good. Not if you fix it instead of letting it consume you.”

Some of the tension Gabriel’s felt since he yelled at Christopher eases ever-so-slightly, and he manages a small smile.

“Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”

“I can’t take all the credit - it’s something Sophie told me once. Guess it stuck,” Gideon admits. “Now get out of here and go home. I’ll cover with the others.”

---

Gabriel leaves Idris early to make sure he’s home before Christopher falls asleep. He goes straight for his son’s room, surprised by the slight nervousness he feels. But that’s good, he reminds himself. It means he cares, and not just about himself, but about what really matters.

“Christopher, are you awake? May I come in?”

There’s a short pause, and Gabriel wonders if he’s too late and will have to wait until morning. Then he hears soft shuffling noises before the door swings open.

“I’m sorry-” Christopher starts immediately, obviously expecting a lecture, but Gabriel holds up a hand to stop him.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not always right, Christopher. And I need you to understand that. I don’t want you to grow up blindly following in my footsteps, okay? You’re allowed to question me. And you’re allowed to tell me if you think I’m wrong - because I might be. I just might not always see it.”

“You were wrong to be mad that I’m spending time with Downworlders,” Christopher says slowly, as if testing whether or not he’s supposed to actually question his father or if that bit was just a trap to see if he would.

“I was,” Gabriel agrees. “The unsupervised magic could be dangerous and that’s something we’ll have to talk about, but not tonight. Tonight I just need you to know that I don’t want you to be different, or better, or anything other than your perfectly curious, kind self. I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you too.”

This isn’t the first mistake Gabriel’s made as a parent, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He’s trying to be better than his father before him. Sometimes he fails, sometimes he succeeds, but every time he learns from his mistakes and picks himself up to try again… and he’s finally starting to realize with the love, forgiveness, and encouragement of his family, that he doesn’t have to be perfect so long as he’s trying to be better.