#every sound is so loud and ive had a headache for a week and my ear has been ringing for longer louder

[villageoracle]

iced coffee and bong and three tylenol and two ibuprofen i love you

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || XII

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Introducing....David’s king 😏🥰

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX || PART X || PART XI

PART XII of XX

Translations:

не против - Don’t mind

ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот - You’re my family, in this life, and the next.

Count: 5,633

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"Ah..."

The sound made you stop, pulling your mouth away as you stood straighter while licking your lips. 

Wanda stood in front of you, breathless as she leaned against the wall, unable to move too much with the tight space. Her hands drifted from your neck to rest on your biceps. Turning, you look at the mirror before you. 

Eyes red with stained lips, you internally sighed, feeling an uncomfortable pit in your stomach that told you everything felt both right and wrong. 

"I think that's enough..." You say quietly so Wanda can hear, but you don't attract too much attention outside. You turn to grab some paper towels from the dispenser as you wet them under the sink to wipe your mouth. 

Turning to Wanda, you notice you hadn't closed up the wound on her neck and purse your lips. The brunette seems to realize as well as she tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck to you once more before she grabs the edge of your bomber jacket and pulls you back against her roughly.

"Wanda," you call her name in warning. Though you are a seasoned vampire, you weren't looking to dance along the edge with the newly feeding you have to do.

"You should finish me off before you say you're done at least," Wanda says, and you feel yourself biting your tongue at how suggestive she sounds.

You wonder if she's doing it on purpose. 

Nonetheless, you sigh, leaning your head down, careful to not brush yourself more against her than you must. You lick at the bite wounds, tentatively but quickly, watching the wounds close after.

You pull away, Wanda letting her grip go on you. You use the wet towel to wipe her neck clean of the bloodstains before you throw it down the toilet and flush.

Though feeding gives you energy and revitalizes you, you can't help but feel drained from the experience. 

You're about to leave again when Wanda pulls you back.

"Wanda," you say in a more serious warning this time. She's been a little more daring the past couple of days, and you're both intrigued and frightened by it. 

Luckily for you, Wanda seems to know where the line is. 

"Relax," Wanda cocks her brow. "Your eyes are still glowing red. You should wait until it subsides before you go out."

You look back in the mirror, eyes glowing red brightly, and you sighed. Your body was overly excited about feeding again, and it would take time to adjust.

The two of you idly stand in the small space. You could hear people coming back and forth to check if the washroom is empty.

"So, how often is often?" Wanda asks.

You stand stiffly, cursing at how small airplane washrooms are.

"For now, once a week," you answer her. "But let me know if you feel unwell, and I will check to see if it's my venom."

Wanda nods, blinking languidly.

"I'm sorry," you say when you notice she looks tired. "I promise I will find a way to fix this."

Wanda gave you a tiny smirk. 

"No rush."

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When you returned to your seat, you sat down with a sigh.

"You alright?" Natasha asked as she grabbed your hand. You turn to look at David. He was clutching his legs in tighter so that Wanda could squeeze past him to her seat. 

"Yeah, sorry for taking so long. The red in my eyes are still adjusting to fresh blood," you apologize to Natasha, pulling her hand to kiss the back of it gently before you settle in your seat.

It was just you and Natasha in the aisle, a small moment of peace that you're thankful for. It's been rather quiet between you and Natasha the last few days. When David had located Leo's descendant, he wanted to book the flight for the next day, but you insisted on taking a couple days to get your things together and rest. 

The days that followed were simply being in your home with Natasha, quiet as it seemed like Natasha was working through her own emotions and things she seemed not ready quite yet to speak to you about. 

And you were okay with that. 

"Have you been to Nashville before?" Natasha asks as she looks out the window, the city getting closer in view as it lowers. 

You nod, rubbing your thumb idly on the back of her hand. "Yes," you say, "In fact, David and I lived there for a few years."

"Oh?" Natasha smiles. "Did you like it?"

You shrug. "It's a little too country for me and not the good parts of Country culture." 

Natasha nods, and you take a moment to put your head on her shoulder, deeply inhaling the scent of vanilla and dry leaves. Natasha leans her head over, pressing her lips to the side of your head, causing your heart to flutter.

"I think I want to be in Bora Bora or maybe the Maldives," Natasha says softly after a moment. 

You turn your head upwards slightly, peering up at Natasha's face.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," you say as Natasha smiles, head lowering as she presses her lips against yours.

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It seems like autumn is also coming to an end in Nashville, the air smelling a little crisper for winter arrival. 

Pietro has called Wanda again once her plane landed. He was a little upset that he couldn't come along, but Steve said he could use the help with locating Bucky, and speed would definitely be helpful.

At first, Pietro declined, but then Wanda insisted that he go with Steve. If they were going to make up for the things they've done and be a part of the team, this was the time to show it.

And so, they parted ways for the first time since, well, ever. 

"How are we getting there?" Wanda asked as she looked around the airport. Her face held a thinly veiled layer of discomfort that she was trying to hide, though poorly.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as she looked at Wanda, seeing through the tough act.

Wanda stared at Natasha, and for a moment, you don't think she's going to answer.

"Yeah," Wanda says finally, licking her lips and swallowing. "I'm just a little tired...and there's a lot of people here. It's...loud."

Natasha looks around and notes that it seems to be prime time for flights. People are bustling around trying to get to their gate on time, and families have gathered to meet people coming off the plane or say goodbye. 

"I can't do anything about the loudness," Natasha says, digging into her pocket. "But, here." Pulling out a hard candy wrapped in transparent paper, she gives it to Wanda.

Wanda holds the candy in her palm, tilting her head slightly before she looks back at Natasha. "Thanks."

"Might help with the tiredness," Natasha shrugs before she tells you she'll go grab the bags and walks off with David following her. 

Wanda is opening the candy from the wrapper, popping the little thing in her mouth as she sighs, eyes fluttering close as she rubs her temple. 

"Headache?" You ask her, garnering her attention.

Wanda nods with a frown. "Yes, more so lately, and it's worse in a crowd. I can hear everything in people's heads, and in a crowd, it's a jumble."

"Turn it off," you tell her with a shrug, and she gives you a look.

"It's not that easy."

"It is," you tell her back. "You're like a radio picking up every station is the available area. It gets easier with time and practice to distinguish the noise, but if you can't handle it in such a large crowd, turn it off."

Wanda merely stares at you as if she doesn't know whether or not to believe you, but she supposes because it's not like you're a stranger to her powers, she sighs.

"How?" She asks.

You come to stand closer to her, blocking her view of anything behind you.

"Focus," you tell her, "You only need to be hearing one voice, and that's your own. Focus on the space within your own mind. Live there."

Wanda gives you a look where it tells you she doesn't quite think it will work but closes her eyes with a sigh and takes a deep breath.

"I...I can't focus," Wanda says frustratingly. 

"Relax," you tell her. "Try again, but this time, focus on my voice."

You go on to talk about miscellaneous things like the color of the walls, the scuff marks on the ground, the man with an obstinately ugly hat. And before you know it, the stress lines on Wanda's face begin to fade.

"Better?" You ask when she opens her eyes.

"Yeah," Wanda says breathlessly with relief, "Thank you."

You don't say anything else as Natasha comes back with David.

"So, how are we getting there?" Wanda repeats.

"We rented a car. I'll go grab it and pull it up front," you walk off before anyone say anything.

The ride is silent, with just a radio playing quietly in the background. It's you and David in the front as David helps you navigate and discuss details with you.

But that leaves Natasha and Wanda in the back. The two girls are on opposite ends, looking out the window. 

You sigh internally as you focus on the road in front of you.

"What's his name again?" 

David pulls up a file. "Robert," he says after a moment. "Devayan. He is Leonard's great-great-grandson. He's the priest for a church in his neighborhood. Well-known and respected in his community. He's got a wife, two kids, and a dog—very American dream with a picket fence and all."

You hum. 

"Does Leonard's descendants know about...?" Natasha asks as you look in the rearview mirror. 

"Us being vampires?" You supply for her helpfully with a smile as she nods. "Yes, they do, but the secret is only passed to the child who has the greatest alchemy affinity, which most kids won't show until they're at least 13."

"That being said," David jumps in, "we haven't really kept in touch because we only go to a descendant when we have another vampire entering a coven because they have to get the searings to be able to go into the sun, amongst other things. And as you can see, we haven't added anyone new since me."

You turn into a bright community. The sound of children's laughter and dogs barking make their way to your ear. It's a lively little suburban neighborhood, and you wonder if this was something you would have ever wanted. 

"Leonard seemed to be really close to you, to be willing to do so much," Wanda comments as she continues to stare at the window at the children playing. 

You pull up to the house, putting the car in park with a sigh.

"He was family."

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"Sorry, the wife and kid's are out shopping right now."

You look at the man before you. He was a young priest, and there were hints of Leo that you recognized in him, like the subtle ginger hair. 

"Didn't want to tag along?" David asks, and Robert laughs.

"Goodness, no. Can't say that's how I like to pass my time." Robert sets down a tea tray for the four of you, and Wanda takes up the task of pouring it. Putting in a splash of milk and two and a half sugar cubes, she gives a cup to you.

"Thanks," you say, scrunching your eyebrows initially. But it was your favorite way of taking simple tea, and you took it with ease. 

"не против," Wanda mutters as she continues on with pouring tea for Natasha and David, but leaves them to put in their own condiments.

"So, what's this about?" Robert asks as he settles into his seat. 

You shift in your seat a little, licking your lip before you clear your throat and bring his attention to you. "Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is a mystery, and today, I have you..."

Robert just stares at you wide-eyed and mouth gaped open. He seems to regain himself and clears his own throat.

"Until the days run out..." he breathes.

"ти си моето семејство, во овој и во следниот живот," you both complete the passage. His Slavic being much rougher than yours, but still, he completes it.

"Huh," Robert grunts in the back of his throat. He slumps in the back of his chair, blinking as he clasps his hands together. "You really exist."

"Did you think I didn't?" You cocked your brow at him. 

Robert gives a short, humorless laugh. "To be fair, no one in my family has seen you for a very, very long time. It's not like we have a family photo of you just lying around. I thought my grandfather was lying to me, and my father was not a believer either."

"Well," you shrug, "It gets hard to keep up with visitations when there's no reason to really."

"Even though the passage literally says we're family?" Robert cocks his brow.

"Leo was my family. By that extension, yes, you are somewhat family, a wonderful legacy Leo left behind that I promised him I'd take care of," you try to delicately tell the man before you that no one could ever be family the way Leo was.

"Kind of hard to take care of us when you're not around," Robert says, but not in an unkind way.

"Being around is not the only way I can fulfill my promise. You truly think your family's trust fund just comes out of nowhere?" You rest your jaw against your hand. 

Robert seems surprised at that like he had no idea his entire family line was sponsored by you. 

"So it seems," Robert smiled softly before clearing his throat. "So what can I do for you?"

You lick your lips.

"I'm looking for you to find a way to break my curse, or at least, find a counterspell to suppress it until I can find another way," you tell him.

Robert stares at you. It takes a long moment, but he gives another small smile, sighing deeply as he grasps his temples. "Hah..." he lets out. "Figures the one time you come to see us for help, and I can't even help you. I was hoping you just needed a place to stay."

"What do you mean?" David asks, frowning. "You haven't even tried."

Robert looks up again, staring at David before he turns to you.

"I don't have the affinity for alchemy."

Silence ensues after Robert reveals his lack of gift. 

"You...don't have the affinity..." David says slowly.

"Guess it decided to skip a generation. My father wasn't much of a practitioner either," Robert pursed his lips together. He gets up, walking over to the kitchen, grabbing something off the refrigerator before coming back and passing the item to you. "This would be the person to go to if you're looking for help on that."

You look at the postcard in your hand with an address from Vermont. 

There wasn't anything else but a name and a short message.

Liam Bai I have settled in. 

"And who is this?" You frown. The idea of having some outsider know your secrets was not ideal. 

Robert sighs.

"He's my adoptive brother."

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The annoyance of traveling all the way to Texas just to go to Vermont, an hour away from New York, irks you slightly. 

David pulls up a file on Liam on the way, but not too much is found. 

Chinese descendant. 26. Tattoo Artist. Adopted by Robert's grandfather when Liam was 17. 

He seems to run a small tattoo shop in Vermont, a decent following on his Instagram. Other than that, it seemed Liam prized his privacy and peace. No tickets, no personal social media accounts, a minimal online presence. 

"Jeeze, this guy gives me serial killer vibes. Only weirdoes have such a small digital footprint," David curls his lips. 

"We all have virtually none too, David," you cock your brow at him.

"Case and point," David smirks back at you while Natasha and Wanda chuckle.

Liam's house is a little away from the city where his tattoo shop resides. There are houses but quite spread apart, and it only reaffirms how Liam likes his quiet. 

The trees are bare with autumn colored leaves on the ground. The air crisp and cleaner being away from the city. When the four of you approach Liam's home, it a quaint house, wider than it is taller, and painted a deep burned orange. 

Hopping up the steps, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently, turning to look at the open space while Natasha rang the doorbell and knocked on the door with her knuckles.

You hear footsteps within the house, stern steps as they lazily make their way to the door. 

When it opens, you turn, and your eyes widen along with everybody else's.

This man, at least six feet tall, towers over everyone as he casually lifts his arms high to lean against each side of the door with his left leg crossed lazily over his right. 

He wears a muscle shirt, most of the top part of his body exposed. 

Tattoos. 

Everywhere.

A large black ornate religious cross tattooed on his throat, while you could see most of the creations of hands branded across his front chest near his collarbones, fingers just about it meet at his jugular notch. Each arm had a full sleeve tattoo. 

His left arm was designed with a twisted snake going downwards, a bitten apple in its mouth, shrouded with leaves and vines. His right arm were things you didn't quite recognize but could guess it was alchemy spells, fully tattooed elaborate circles and symbols. Even his hands and fingers had symbols and shapes. 

He looks like belongs in a gang rather than the adopted grandson of a long line of priests. 

"Well," his voice is somewhat low but soft. "You must be the visitors my dear brother sent my way." The way he says dear brother has the slightest tone of amusement, and you're not sure what to make of it. 

You stare at him a bit longer because his face is much clearer than the photo David pulled up. His skin is fair with a cool complexion, thick brows, and tousled black hair that seems to be perfectly styled that way with his fringe cascading just above his eyebrows, parting to reveal his forehead. His almond-shaped eyes showed a deep dark brown, like the rich soils of the earth, but yet hold no warmth. 

He looks somewhat familiar, but you're not sure if it's just because you recognize those eyes in yourself once upon a time.

You look over to David, who has his jaw hanging as he stares at the man before them. You nudge him, drawing him out of whatever trance he was in as he coughs to clear his throat.

"Er, yes," David stutters before he rambles off everyone's name quickly. "Can I--can we come in?" David blinks, and Liam turns his head slowly, locking eyes with David. A moment passes, and you're about to speak up again when Liam stands straighter and turns to walk back into his house.

The four of you follow the man inside, looking at the place around you. Antique furniture, just like yourself, but there are shelves upon shelves of books. 

Liam walks into his kitchen, putting on a pot of hot coffee as he pours himself some, but doesn't offer any to anyone else. He then walks into his study room and leans against his desk, half-sitting on the edge.

"What are you looking for help with?" He asks, neither sounding reluctant or eager. 

"Robert mentioned you were adopted into the family because you had an affinity for alchemy," you say. "I'm assuming you know--"

"That you're a vampire?" Liam cuts in. "Yes."

"You don't seem surprised by that," David interjects slowly. "Even Robert was taken aback."

Liam rolled his eyes lightly. "You can spare me the details. Robert and I both went through the spiel with his grandfather. Robert doesn't have the affinity. I do. Belief is different when you are different too."

"His grandfather...?" You raise your brow.

Liam puts his coffee down beside him. "You must realize that though I've been adopted by them, I'm not an actual descendant of Leonard Devayan. It was clear that I was brought in to help fulfill the promise between you and Leonard. I get financial support from them, but I'm not entitled to your trust fund to them, nor can I inherit the church."

"That's kind of fucked up, considering you'll be doing all the work here," you frown. 

Liam shrugs. "No need to feel sorry for me, I have zero interests in their money or inheriting the church, and Robert is annoyingly persistent that I visit them during the holidays. Besides, you can probably tell, I don't quite look like the regular priest."

"Actually," you give Liam a small smile, "Leo was rather similar to you. He liked tattoos as well. Though, just on his hands. He wasn't as adventurous."

Liam gave a small smirk but moved on. "So," he takes a breath, "What exactly are you looking for help with. Robert wasn't clear on the phone. Are you looking to turn more people and need searings for the sun?"

"No," you breathe, "I need you to help figure out how to end my curse."

Liam stares at you for a moment. The curse wasn't discussed in great length to him as not too much information was passed down because Leonard believed you wouldn't try to ask to remove it again. 

Still, he eyes you before he turns and studies Natasha a bit before Liam looks at Wanda.

"You bit her, spreading your curse to her," Liam deduces. 

"How do you know it's Wanda?" Natasha asks with a slight narrow of her eyes.

Liam licks his lip as he stands up, using his fingers to gesture everyone to follow up. He walks up to his bookshelf and pulls a book down like a lever, and the entire bookshelf splits and makes way into a secret room.

Inside the room, there are rows of tables filled with papers and things you would find in a science lab: beakers, stirring rods, mortars and pestles, and chemicals.

"In some ways, alchemy is a derivative from a witch's spells or magic. What do you think alchemy is?" Liam asks. 

"Leonard always said it was a power given to them by God to be able to protect themselves against the supernatural," you recall.

"Kind of, not really," Liam says as he walks over to grab a black chalk and begins to draw circles and symbols on the ground around Wanda, motioning her to stay in place. "There are different types and levels of alchemy. Alchemy, one on hand, can also be a science. It's changing one thing to something else. Anyone could practice it. Even Robert could to a degree."

Liam finishes drawing and drops the chalk to the side as he dusts off his hands. 

"But to have the gift for alchemy," Liam lifts his thumb to his lips, "Means your DNA has an affinity to the sun, the moon, the wind, or the earth." 

Liam bites down on his thumb hard enough to break the skin, blood rushing out, the smell assaulting both you and David instantly before Liam presses his thumb against the line of the circle. 

The air changes. 

A white, hot electric buzz fills the air as the alchemy circle flashes a bright blue for a second before returning to normal. The chalk drawing underneath Wanda disappears.

"What...happened?" Wanda asks slowly as she looks at her hands and the rest of her body, but she doesn't find anything amiss. 

Liam gestures at Wanda to check where her sternum is. Pulling the front of her shirt at the neck, she peers down. 

"What..." Wanda mumbles. 

Both you and Natasha looked at each other before moving forward to check, Wanda holding her shirt open for the two of you. Wanda's bra was blocking part of the view, but her sternum now visibly bore the curse's inscription. The black words on her skin and then dark-colored veins prominently spreading outwards from her sternum.

"What did you do to her?!" You whip your head towards Liam, snarling at him.  

He holds his hand up to calm you down.

"Nothing dangerous, relax," he cocks his brow at you. "As I said, Alchemy is about changing one thing to something else. I used the chalk as a medium to bring the curse to the front of Wanda's body so it can be visibly seen."

When you realize Wanda's not in any imminent danger, you pull your snarl back, and the red from your eyes fade away. 

"This will help you tell when the curse is spreading. Wanda's veins will darken and spread as her cells deteriorate. Don't EVER let the dark veins spread past her chest. If you do, the curse is meant to collapse her sternum and pierce her heart. She will die." Liam warns sternly, eyebrows furrowed together, and lips in a straight line. 

"How do you know?" David asks with a slight frown.

"As I said," Liam looked at David, "Alchemy is a derivative from witch's spell or magic. The inscriptions are alchemy transmutation spells. If an alchemist has an affinity for alchemy, they can tell when it's been used on someone." Liam turns to you. "That's how I know it was Wanda that you bit."

You nod curtly. You think about how the veins were just barely protruding from her sternum, so Wanda would be relatively safe for a while since you just fed on her during the plane ride to Texas.

"What did you mean that your DNA has an affinity to the sun, moon, wind, or the earth?" Natasha asks.

You turn your attention back to Wanda, trying to inspect if she was indeed okay. It wasn't that you didn't trust Liam, but you couldn't help but worry.

All of this was your fault.

The fact that Wanda was cursed with potentially no way of getting out of this.

And the complicated mess you know would only hurt everyone in the end, so you needed to get this shit sorted out.

"It means," Liam interrupted your thoughts. "I have an extra DNA strand."

You blink.

"Honestly, I don't blame people in the past, believing alchemy was a gift or power given by God," Liam shrugs. "In a way, I guess they're not wrong. Alchemy's affinity comes from people who have an extra DNA strand from one of the natural elements. The sun, the moon, the wind, the earth." He uses his fingers to count as he speaks. "Having an extra DNA strand is a...mutation. The deformity being able to perform alchemy as a power. As you can guess, depending on what extra DNA strand you have, that's the alchemy you have an affinity to."

Natasha nods thoughtfully as she holds her chin. "I see. So the sun would be fire, the moon would be water, the wind would be air, and the earth is well...earth."

"Exactly," Liam nods.

"Leonard must've been fire," you say pensively to yourself, reminiscing. 

"What are you?" David asks Liam, licking his lips.

Liam tilts his head to the side.

"I have four extra DNA strands."

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Something has been putting you on edge since you've arrived in Vermont.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asks softly, catching you look out the window for maybe the millionth time now. 

"Yeah, sorry," you breathe, uncrossing your arms. "It's just...something feels off," you tell her quietly, as to not attract the attention from others.

Liam and Wanda were currently looking over his books and scrolls to see if he could find anything that would help Wanda while David helped them.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asks as she takes a seat on the couch's armrest, pulling you closer, so you were between her legs. She rubs your arms up and down, hoping to comfort you.

"It's just..." you start to say before you turn sharply at the window again. Natasha's brows furrow, but she has no time to ask as you barrel into her while David tackles both Liam and Wanda to the ground. 

The glass of the window shatters as a body breaks through. It happens so fast, you hardly even have time to move, but you do. 

You smell burning flesh because there's still sun out, though it's setting. A snarl rips through the air as the intruder turns and leaps toward Wanda. David gets up, forcing his feet to push off the ground as he launches towards the vampire. The two of them collide into a blurring mess. 

Natasha starts to get up, but you hold her in place.

"What--"

"Don't," you warn her. "If that thing collides into you, your body will tear apart, enhanced, or not."

You get up, running over to David as he's pinned to the ground as you rip off the vampire. 

Even with his fleshed burned, he was strong. 

Liam scrambles to get up as he grabs another chalk nearby and starts drawing another transmutation circle on the ground as fast as he can. 

You're trying with David to get the upper hand on this vampire, one locking him into place while the other tries to rip his head off.

"Wanda," Liam calls, and she turns to him with worry in her eyes as she stands in the corner, unsure of what to do. "I'm creating a prison for him. You need to use your powers to place him in here and keep him down."

"Okay," Wanda says determinedly. 

You look at David, who nods in sync with you. You both let go of the vampire at once, and Wanda lifts her hands, casting her powers over the vampire to lock it in place.

He tries to thrash in place, but it's impossible to move with Wanda's vice-like grip on him. She wobbly moves him until he's in the middle of Liam's transmutation circle. 

Liam bites in the same place of his thumb earlier, breaking the wound once more, letting a single drop of blood fall in. 

The ground starts to shake slightly as the floor where the vampire lies crumbles, giving way. The outline of the circle lights up, and suddenly, vine-like branches with spikes shoot out of the ground. It wraps around the intruding vampire, the spikes piercing his body. He screams out in pain, trying to move, but is unable to due to Liam.

The light fades, leaving the vampire bleeding out as he's trapped in his spot.

"What...was that?" Wanda asked, everyone clearly knowing that he was after her.

You help Natasha off from the ground, checking her for injuries. You find nothing other than a tiny cut on her cheek from a stray glass shard.

"I'm okay," Natasha assures you, more frustrated with herself for being unable to do anything. 

You frown, wiping off some of the blood with your glove before you turn to the offender on the ground. 

"That was so cool," David breathes as he looks at Liam, who is giving him a tiny smile.

With the vampire immobile, you could finally take a good look. 

He was somewhat sickly pale. His eyes were red, a dark red, meaning he wasn't hungry when he lunged for Wanda. 

But the thing that stood out the most to you what the prominent veins underneath his eyes.

And you've seen that before. 

"No," you frown in denial. 

"Where did you come from?" You demand, but the vampire just smirks.

You want to leap in to strangle the thing, but Liam holds your arm to hold you back. 

"Anything that steps into that circle will be roped in just like him," Liam warns.

The vampire continues to bleed out as it laughs.

"Wait--" David says, "he's actually dying. Look!"

Everyone looks to where David is pointing at, and you clench your jaw. As a vampire, the only thing that could kill you was wood from the Methuselah tree. Yet, this vampire was disintegrating, turning to dust at his toes.

The vampire looks at you, and you feel a chill down your spine.

"How cute," he tells you, voice raspy as he's disappearing. "Looks like you have everything you've wanted."

You furrow your brows at him.

"Do I know you?" You say, but the vampire doesn't even seem conscious of the fact that he's speaking. 

"My love," he says, looking at you, and while you revolt, there's something familiar in the way he says it. 

Like you've heard it before.

"It seems you've learned how to want more," he smiles cruelly. "But if it's not more for the right things...then I'll show you what it's like to lose everything you have."

Your heart drops.

"Wait!" You shout, trying to somehow get him to stay, but before you could say anything else, the vampire completely crumbles to dust, leaving nothing behind.

All of you stare at the empty space. The shackles that were holding the vampire in place disappears along with the transmutation circle.

"No," you start to say quietly. "No, no, no, no--"

"Hey!" David grabs you, trying to keep you calm.

"This can't be," you say slowly.

"What? What's wrong?" David shakes you by the shoulder a little. 

You look at him.

"That was her."

Silence.

"What?" David says, not understanding. 

You look at the ground where the vampire used to be.

"I don't know how...but that was her," you say.

"That was Tatyana."

PART XIII

[cafedanslanuit]

summary: be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. and the only thing you can do is not give them the chance to do so.

pairing: nishinoya x reader

warnings: mentions of depression

words: 1.2k

notes: i really loved writing this one c: thank you @tmkki​ for reading this and giving your opinion <333

i.

Sometimes I close my eyes and I see her. My mom sitting on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as she rips apart photographs where my dad appears. Loud music is playing and now I think maybe that’s why I don’t like harsh noise. I approach her and she yells at me to leave her alone. She tells me I look like him and I wonder if I still do. It’s been twelve years since then, but every time I look at the mirror I wonder if I have the face of the first man that hurt me.

“Don’t trust men,” she cries, as I bring her a painkiller and a glass of water. “They will rip your heart apart.”

“I won’t,” I promise, and I spent the next years doing just that. Whenever someone would smile at me, I always closed my eyes and went back to that moment. The nauseating ring on my ears from the loud music, the ripped photographs scattered on the floor and the image of my mother crawling into bed every day with a bottle of wine and a lost look in her eyes.

Be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. And the only thing you can do is not give them the chance to do so.

ii.

His existence was like the sun. 

Every morning he entered the classroom, he shared his warmth and brought light from within his eyes. It was almost terrifying how much he shone, to the point that I thought he could burn me if I dared to touch him with my cold hands. Nishinoya always laughed with his mouth wide open and his eyes closed, never caring if anyone was watching, just basking in his own happiness and glee. I believed he truly never questioned himself, always talking as if he wasn’t afraid of saying something wrong, as if he was so sure of himself no one could bring him down.

Just like the sun, I settled with watching him from afar, hoping his warmth would reach me. I searched for his light on my dark days, chuckling as I saw him prank his friends and listening intently when he spoke passionately about volleyball.

I had always thought he was good on the eyes but never expected him to look as beautiful as he did the first time I contemplated him talking about serving. The way his cheeks were flushed and his words tumbled with each other, I could have stared for hours. His grin became wider, his brown eyes became golden and for those few moments, I forgot about the dark clouds hanging over my head.

I wondered what loving as intensely as he did felt.

iii.

Nishinoya barged in front of my desk on a Tuesday morning of our first high school year, trying to catch his breath as he explained he was about to be banned from the volleyball team if he didn’t ace the exam we had on Friday. He claimed his friend had told him I was smart, and a vague memory of me handing out my notes to said friend came to my mind.

He continued rambling for several more minutes, stressing the importance of the match was and how he didn’t know what else to do. It took him to stare at me arching his right eyebrow for me to register I had been quiet the whole time. I nodded and tried to smile, hating how unfamiliar it felt on my face. Thankfully, Nishinoya’s smile outshone mine and before I knew it, he was making arrangements for us to meet after his volleyball practice.

And for a moment, I forgot. I forgot about the eviction notices, I forgot about the sleepless nights and the constant headaches. As I swam into his chocolate eyes, my mind was only filled with the sound of an unknown tune that filled my heart with peace. He thanked me once again for agreeing to help him with the exam, as if I ever had the chance to deny his warmth.

He left with a smile and I felt hungry for the first time in the week. 

iv.

If he ever saw the empty wine bottles near the trash bin, he never commented on it. He also made his case to never question why my room always looked like I had just cleaned it, a sharp contrast with the dull mess of the rest of the house. Not once did he ask about the bags under my eyes or the days I missed school. When getting out of bed was more than I could handle, getting notified with a text message from him wishing me to get better soon always brought a smile to my face.

All I knew was that every time I leaned on the opened gym’s door frame during one of his practice matches, he always kept his unspoken promise of walking me home after he was done. I can still remember his stories, one after the other without a pause, never failing in making me look at him in awe. He would always make convincing arguments to take detours to get some food, my mood improving after having my first meal of the day. No matter what we did during those walks, the one thing that never wavered was the huge smile on his face as he said goodbye.

I always asked myself if he somehow knew. If, by any chance, he could tell it was raining on me on those days. He must have known he couldn’t stop it, but always did his best to make sure I danced a little in the rain, even if it was just for the short while it took us to get to my house.

v.

The night came and the sun had to set.

It had been three years since we had met, but time always feels so short when someone has to say goodbye. Nishinoya had mentioned his desire to discover the world and experience everything life had to offer, so it was natural for him to set on a long trip just after graduation. He was so enthusiastic about it I couldn’t help but find solace in my own turmoil of emotions. For a usually impulsive person, he had his bag packed for a week before he actually had to leave. I still remember how he bounced up and down as he told me about it the last afternoon we spent together, and I wished he would keep his smile forever.

Was it selfish of me to not want the sun to be taken away? Was it delusional to even call him that? I touched my arms seeking the warmth he left after his last hug but it was long gone. He had promised to send a postcard, and even if I knew I would treasure it, I also understood I shouldn’t cling to it. My heart knew that was the last time I would ever see him. And it was okay. Some people aren’t meant to stay.

Be it by want or instinct, people will always end up hurting you. But, if you got to be truly happy by their side, you will always be thankful you gave them the chance to do so.

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

The Forgotten One (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)- CHAPTER 3

a/n: first, i wanna wish everyone a happy thanksgiving from my family to yours! please take the time to thank everyone you are so grateful to have in your life, especially god, for letting us live and for all the blessings he gives us. do not take anyone for granted.

next, so sorry for the holdup!! finally, chapter 3 is here! we’ll see what abby feels about the attack, her and ethan conversing, and a surprise ending. read, like, and let me know your reviews! forgive me if there are any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist and as always, enjoy (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

summary:  Louise Ramsey, the mother of the famous, brilliant diagnostician Ethan Ramsey, is back into his life. However, Louise holds many secrets, dangerous secrets, that could harm him, Dr. Abigail ‘Abby’ Chacko (my MC), and the very few lives he actually cares about. It is up to Ethan, Abby, and their friends to save each other from what is about to come.

pairing(s): dr. ethan ramsey x f!mc (dr. abigail ‘abby’ chacko) || dr. sebastian chacko x dolores hudson (YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT)

warning(s): angst, and then it’s pure fluff, and then a surprise ending (you’re gonna die die dieeee :)))

word count: 4289

catch up here :)

______________________________________________________________

Abby’s POV

When she wakes up it is with a headache, a throat ache and side pain. When she looks more closely at her nose, she sees an oxygen tube through them. When she looks more closely at her surroundings, she realizes she is in a hospital bed.

Lying down. Wearing a sky blue hospital gown. With an IV through her accessory cephalic vein. 

Jumping Jehoshaphat, what happened this time?

Abby spent many times in the hospital during her childhood. Most of them were due to the number of cuts and bruises she got from her father, in which some of them were very serious injuries. One time she was admitted to the hospital because...

No, Abby. Don’t relive through that phase. It’ll wound you more.

There are many types of pain. Many of her pains were physical, but some of her pains were emotional. By far, she can tell the emotional pain is the hardest to get over with.

Sure, she has been cut with a knife, raped by many of her father’s friends, and whipped with a belt. To her it was normal, and she had gotten used to it. To others, the pain is insufferable. 

Heartbreak hurts. Too much. It can rip people from the inside out, and change them. For better or worse.

Her father caused her many heartbreaks. In return, she studies, skipped five grades, graduated from high school when she was 13, and graduated from Hopkins when she was 21. Some might say she took it too far, but she knows it was just what she needed.

What she needed to prove to her father that pain doesn’t break her. 

What she needed to prove to her horrid patients that she is not dumb.

What she needed to prove to the whole world that she is not as young and innocent as everyone thinks she is.

Death, betrayal, and pain were her three companions, with some delectation in between. She cherished those jocund moments.

And she thanked God. Seb. Jazmin. Ethan. Herself. For all the hard work. 

But what happened right now? Why is she in this bed? 

It feels as if she has fallen into a cactus, her heart being punctured by tiny pins and needles. It’s starting at the bottom of her stomach, and it’s slowly growing. 

The anxiety.

The depression.

It feels like some kind of vaccination, where the shot doesn’t really hurt but the aftermath feels disastrous, cataclysmic. It’s leaving her breathless, as if she is running away from a ghost from her past. It is leaving a certain kind of exhaustion on her.

It’s heartbreak. But why? Why does she feel heartbreak? What could have possibly gone wrong-

Everything. Everything is going wrong. Bingo. She knows what is happening. But she can’t even speak the name out loud. It’s petrifying her. Really well.

 Louise Ramsey. 

Ethan’s mother who claimed to come for him and Alan.

Louise Ramsey.

The one who tricked them, including her.

Louise Ramsey. 

The one who stabbed her. The one who she trusted. 

The one who she believed had a change of heart didn’t have a change of heart at all.

She fooled everyone. She’s a liar. She is manipulative. She is every dark sin written across this universe. She is the next generation of Sat-

Wait. Wait a long moment.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

How is Abby supposed to tell this to Ethan of all people? How is she supposed to let him know his own mother tried to harm her? 

But she had to.

Moisture is falling from the tip of her index finger, even if the bed sheets feel cool. Sweat is dripping from her forehead, even if the hospital room is air conditioned. An imaginary shock travels through her body. The sharpness of the pain is unequivocal and indisputable that it sends shockwaves through her bloodstream. If it wasn’t for the bed, she would have crumpled to the floor.

She is currently holding the bed frame with a white-knuckled grip.

The young doctor scratched her arm nervously, mindful of the IV, as she let that horrifying memory fly through her.

Louise stabs her in the side, blood spilling to Abby’s legs and on the floor. She couldn’t say anything, words failing to come our of her mouth, every second making it harder to breather. She starts to lose consciousness, hearing the sounds of the patients in the room screaming for security.

Louise whispers into her ear, “The game has begun.” 

The last thing she sees is Louise running towards the exit and nurses coming towards Abby, before her world evades into darkness. 

That’s what happened. That’s why she’s in the hospital bed, feeling like crap.

That’s why she feels heartbreak, of all the emotions she can feel. She has heard of brother cheating on brother and father cheating on his wife. But a mother disowning her own husband and son, but then comes back only for her to clown them? 

That goes all the way back to Rebekah and Jacob in the Old Testament of the Bible, if you ask me.

She is back to the question on how she is supposed to tell Ethan. 

Does he know? If he knows, how does he feel? Does he feel depressed?

She sure hopes not.

When something happens to Abby, he always blamed on himself. Whether it was his fault or not. She reminisces on when Ethan apologized and was filled guilt when he found out about the trial.

Or when he came back from the Amazon. He didn’t really apologize for that, but the regret and remorse lurking beneath his eyes was the only thing she needed to know. To know that he was feeling guilt. Dismay. Lamentation.

Or when he opened up his bottled-up feelings concerning his mother. He said that he wasn’t planning on ‘dragging’ her into his mess. 

Or when she was in that decontamination room. She remembers his words clearly, words that were etched into her heart.

I wished I hadn’t asked you to stay away.

Or now.

If he knows. 

She knows what will happen if Ethan blames himself for this. He will be a different person. He will start becoming cold-hearted to people he cares about. He will push her away. Again.

Because he tends to believe that it is all his fault that accidents happen to the people he cherishes the most. He thinks that he is a curse. A malediction. An imprecation. She remembers the night when they connected for the first time. What he said.

This is The Ethan Ramsey. The man who can save anyone except the people he gives a damn about. Not Dolores. Not Naveen. And not you.

She was torn by what he said. Not because he said he couldn’t save her, but because he couldn’t love himself. 

The young doctor hopes he already knows what happened. Who stabbed her. She couldn’t even bear the thought of seeing his face crumble. The man who was stoic. The man who every one recognized as an imbecile. The man who every single doctor is head-over-heels in love with.

Ethan told her to tell him everything. Everything that makes her angry. Everything that makes her sad. Everything that makes her happy. 

If he doesn’t know what happened, she will tell him. She promised him that.

*Flashback*

It's normal for Abby to have a panic attack. Keeping her inhaler with her was vital for her to go through the day. Especially this week.

It’s been one week after the incident. That incident. That incident that took two innocent lives. Danny and Bobby. It’s all her fault. 

If Danny was alive, him and Sienna would’ve been a couple, loving each other. Now, she sees a Sienna whose eyes are haunted. Grave. Not filled with any giddy or joy. She doesn’t see her smile anymore, the once blushed cheeks with her beautiful grin that shows off her dimples, gone. Lost. Thrown away.

If Bobby was alive, he could’ve bought his daughter the new car. It was what he always wanted to do. Instead of enjoying his time with his daughter in her brand new car, he’s under the cold earth. 

Rafael is now going under therapy, but he also feels less confident from Rafael the paramedic. She misses the way he smiles. He does smile now, but there is no joy beneath his eyes.

And for Abby, she is not okay. She wishes she died. But she knows she couldn’t. There are people rooting for her. Her brother. Her mother. Her friends. Ethan. Ethan.

When she was informed that the gas in her body was maitotoxin and there was no cure, she accepted her fate and was ready to die. She glanced at Ethan, and his expression wasn’t betraying anything. But the eyes held more feelings than ever. They were pleading. They said, “Please don’t give up.”

She then realized that if they can find a cure within one day, she’ll try and survive. If not for me, then for Ethan and all the people I love, she thought.

Abby starts passing through that hallway. That one hallway. That one hallway that changed her life. No, that one room. And then, she passes through that room.

It’s clean, all the seals, the beds inside with new blankets and pillows. But she can’t see any of that. She can only see her, Rafael, Danny, and Bobby in that room. She sees Bobby dying. She sees Danny being taken away. She sees Rafael and herself being unable to breathe. 

Suddenly she runs away. She can’t take it anymore. You stupid, why would you even come back to the hospital when you’re not ready yet? she scolds herself. Because of Farley. Damn it.

Abby is flooded by her own thoughts when she accidentally runs into someone. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I-”

Only to know that someone is the one. 

She hears his baritone voice calling out to her, finding comfort and solace in it. 

“Abby? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Ethan wipes something off her cheeks, and she realized that she was crying the whole time. She was so lost in her emotions that she didn’t a single drop falling down to her right cheek. 

“I-” The young doctor tries to speak but couldn’t. She can’t breathe.

“Rookie!” Ethan quickly drags her to the nearest supply closet. He asks her where her inhaler is. 

“Left... pocket...”

He hastily grabs and places it into her mouth. 

“Deep breaths, rookie. Deep breaths.”

She does as she is asked and takes deep breaths. After a few long moments, her breathing level starts to go normal. 

“Rookie, you weren’t ready for your first day back, were you?”

Abby starts to argue. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you panic attack right now seems to prove otherwise.”

She sighs. He’s right. She wasn’t even ready to set foot into the hospital. The only reason she did was because of Farley’s rash, and she thought it was life threatening.

Ethan sighs, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Go home, Abby, you’ve had a long day.”

Abby is about to snipe back when he stops her by raising his hand.

“On second thought, I’ll take you to my house. We’re gonna take a day off.”

“But Ethan, we both have patients-”

“Who will be taken care of by the other doctors in this hospital. If you think I’ll be leaving you anytime soon, you’re wrong.”

Hearing his words makes Abby feel lighthearted. She is stubborn just like him, but he’ll always be there for her.

After getting a confirmation and a wink from Naveen, they are in the car. It’s 1:00 P.M., and Abby sees couples sitting on the chairs in the outside booths of a restaurant, smiling, one couple holding hands. She dreams of these moments with Ethan, but their relationship is still uncertain.

The car stops at a red light, and she turns around to look at Ethan, who is lost in thought.

“Ethan, are you alright?” she asks him, concerned.

The mature doctor cracks a dry smile towards her. “I should be asking you that.”

“Ethan...”

“Abby... are you having suicidal thoughts?”

Abby was astounded by his question.

“Ethan! Why would you think that?”

“I’m just asking. If you ever feel that, come talk to me immediately. I can’t...”

It hit her on what Ethan was thinking about. He doesn’t want her to leave. As much as the question made her a little frustrated, she couldn’t help but think about what he was feeling throughout the whole ordeal n the decontamination room.

Abby takes a deep breath. “Ethan, I’m not suicidal. I never have been. I was just uncomfortable, that’s all.”

Ethan looks at her deeply into her eyes. She can literally feel him searching for any lies at her statement, his body relaxing when he didn’t find any. 

When he stops the car, she realizes that they’re here. Before Abby can take off her seatbelt, Ethan’s hand on hers stops her from doing anything. She looks up with a questioning expression.

Ethan speaks in a very stern but concerned way. “If you ever have anything irritating or frustrating you-” he kisses her on the forehead.

“Anything that brings you pain-” He kisses her on the nose, making her scrunch it.

“Anything at all, that makes you want to cry out-” He kisses her on both cheeks. 

“You come and tell me. Promise me” He finally kisses her on the lips.

As the final words come out from Ethan’s lips, she wonders about how she is so lucky to have him. Tears were burning in the back of her eyes, but this time, they were tears of gratefulness. To Ethan. For being her best friend. She cracks a smile.

“I promise.”

*Back to present*

“Hello? Ma’am? Doctor?” she is interrupted from her thoughts by a male nurse. When she checks his tag, his name is Caspian Chapman, and he has a light British accent. She hasn’t seen him before. Abby suddenly feels embarrassed. Who knows how many times, he called her like that.

“Hi, I am so sorry,” she says shyly. “I was lost in thought. Were you speaking to me this whole time?”

Caspian gives her a wide smile. “Nope! I just came in! My name is Caspian, and I will be your nurse! I am new here so...” he trails off.

The young resident laughs, despite the pain on her left side. “Haha, don’t worry! I’m not one of those Karens! Now tell me, how long will I be staying here?”

“From the stab wound you received, you will probably be admitted here for a week.”

Abby inwardly groans, wanting to just go home. Of course this would happen. Even if she’s disappointed by the news, she knows that it is vital for her to recover.

“So, did the stab wound affect my liver or...” she winces at her left side.

Caspian sighs. “You are correct. They brought you to surgery quickly, or who knows what would have happened.”

“Wait, how did you know I’m a doctor?” 

Caspian smiles again. “Are you kidding me? You are Dr. Ethan Ramsey’s protege and in the diagnostics team! Not only that, you helped him save Dr. Naveen Banerji! You are also popular on Instagram. Anyone would kill to be in a spot and reputation like you.”

Her cheeks grow red. 

“I suppose so...” she trails off. 

The new male nurse speaks. “Anyways, I should let Dr. Ramsey, Dr. Banerji, and your family know that you are awake! They will be at relief.”

Wait, what? Ethan is here? Naveen is here? My family is here? They must’ve found out the harsh truth. 

As Caspian turns to leave, Abby stops him. The nurse turns around.

“Yes? Is something the matter?”

“I just wanted to know if they knew who stabbed me.”

Caspian grimaces. “Yes, they are well aware. Do you not wish to speak to them?”

Oh no. Ethan knows. What will she do? Should she call in her family first? No Abby, he'll think that I’m mad at him! She inwardly slaps herself.

Okay, Abby, deep breaths.  She took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and exhaled. 

“Can you do me a favor and call in Eth- Dr. Ramsey first?”

“I will,” he replies back.

______________________________________________________________

Ethan’s POV

He is terrified. Terrified to go and see her. Terrified to talk to her. But he has to. He has to let her know he loves her. He has to let her know that he can’t live without her. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Seb.

“Ethan, buddy, remember what I said. Tell her you love her. Make yourself happy. Make her happy. And she will never blame you for anything that happened. She’s a very reasonable girl.”

He looks into Seb’s eyes, and sees that there is something he didn’t tell him. Some kind of sadness, but there is happiness mixed in. He will find out later.

The older doctor turns around and sees the support written in their faces. Seb. Jazmin. Naveen. They are smiling broadly.

Naveen claps him on his back. “Now go get your woman, Ethan.”

Ethan smiles back. “Thank you, guys.”

He took a deep breath and opened the doors.

There she is. Abby. At once, she turned her head around, and at once,  dusky brown met ocean blue. She looks tired, her body a little weak, but she still gives him a wide smile that sends his heart swooping forward. Oh, he has it bad. 

“Ethan. Hey.” Abby welcomes him and pats at a seat on her bed. He, however, was hesitant to do so.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you...”

She rolls her eyes. “Ethan, I was stabbed, not hit by a truck. Now, be a good boy and sit on the bed.”

He does as he is asked, sitting on the edge, eyes never leaving hers. “How do you feel?”

“My side’s kinda sore, but I’ll survive... How are you?” she asks hesitantly.

“W-What do you mean?” he stutters. Ethan Ramsey never stutters.

“...I know who the perpetrator is, Ethan.” So she does know.

Before Ethan can say anything, Abby replies. “I know you are blaming yourself for what your mother did. But I will say it again and again until it gets through that smart head of yours. It’s not your fault, do you hear me?”

His eyes are shining with tears, his heart all the way up to his throat.

“Abby... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He blinks, and a droplet fails to stay in his eyes, escaping from the confinement.

The young resident suddenly sits up, wincing a little at the abrupt movement. Her eyes are full of alarm.  “Ethan, c'mere.”

And he does. He hugs her tight, mindful of her side, his nose nuzzling his neck. Abby wraps her arms around him and strokes his hair. The motion gives him a sense of peace. His eyes drop a few more tears. I will tell her.

“Abby, I love you.” She tenses. Before she says anything, he cuts her off. 

“No, Abby, please listen to me. I’ve loved you since the first day you’ve stepped foot into this hospital. I love how you’re always a colossal pain in my ass. I love how your eyes sparkle every time you hear good news. I love how your dimples pop up when you smile. I love how you bite your lip when you think about something. I love everything about you. Your courage. Your admiration. Your passion. I love you body. I love you face. And i now know, that I never want to let you go again.”

When Ethan pulls back and cups her face, he can see the tears glistening, failing to hold still and dropping down onto her cheeks. She half-sobs and half-laughs.

“Ethan, I love you, too.” And that is all he needs to hear.

He kisses her cold lips gently and pulls back, finding his sense of relief. She, in return, kisses his forehead. He promises to himself one thing: he’ll never let her go again.

______________________________________________________________

Seb’s POV

Seeing them crying of happiness makes him smile, his heart feeling elevated with joy. They deserve this joy. They both’ve been through a lot lately, and confessing their love for each other was their first step towards recovery.

“Psst! Seb!” Amma. Behind her is Naveen.

“How is it going there?”

The surgeon smiles triumphantly. “Our plan worked.”

Quiet cheers came out of their mouths. 

“Finally!” Naveen sighs. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months. Ethan’s too damn stubborn for his own good.”

Seb laughs quietly. “That he is.”

Amma scratches his wool sweater. He just realized the feeling of itch on his skin because of the wool. And he can’t wait to take it off. But they won’t be leaving Abby’s room for the next two days. Not him, at least.

“Will it be alright if we go in and interrupt them?” Amma asks hesitantly. “I have an urge to hug my daughter after the incident.’

“I am sure that will be alright.”

Amma knocks the door. After hearing an acknowledgment, all three of them walked in. 

“Hi Ethan, is it alright if I hug my daughter? I do not mean to waste any of your-”

Ethan looks at her incredulously. “Why would you ask me if you want to hug your own daughter? I don’t mind at all.”

The famous doctor looks at Seb with a questioning look, who shrugs.

Mother rushes forward and hugs Abby carefully, sobbing as she kisses al of her face. The resident sighs.

“Amma, look at me.” Abby forces Jazmin’s face to her. “I. Am. Fine.”

“Sorry, Ladoo, your mother was just very worried when we got the call. I won’t try to cry, alright?”

The Chacko smiles easily. “now that’s what I wanted to hear from you. My Amma is strong.”

Abby sighs and looks at Seb and Naveen, smiling cheerily. “Who’s next in line for cuddles?”

Seb comes forward, finally at ease when he kisses her forehead gently. He hugs her as tight as he can, the injury preventing him for hugging her more. 

“Please, for the love of Pete, please never scare us like that again.”

She laughs lightly and cuddles closer to him. “I’ll try not to.”

Seb looks up and sees Ethan with a light smile on his face. He finally feels light, free.

He then hears Jazmin’s stomach grumble lightly. Abby laughs hearing this. “Why did you guys not eat? All of you need to get food. Now.”

“I’m not gonna leave you this time around,” he replies. 

Seb’s sister groans. “I knew you would say that.”

The surgeon has an idea. “How about I get all of us some burgers from a nearby restaurant? Since I doubt Ethan’s gonna like what he gets from the cafeteria.”

The famous attending shrugs and then grins easily. “You know me so well.”

“Only for you.”

Abby is on a strict water diet for two days, so he considers buying a cup of chocolate pudding for her. As he leaves the room, he sees Naveen hugging Abby, which brought some emotions to the Chacko. Naveen is like the father he never had before.

Seb is really joyous and filled with triumph at the love confessions between Abby and Ethan. He only wishes it could happen to him.

But it can’t. Because he lost the love of his life last year. Due to a seizure. While she was giving birth. All of their promises. All of their hopes and dreams. Gone. Forever 

I miss her... I miss her a lot.

Suddenly, he hears a whistle. A familiar whistle. It sounds like her. 

When she was alive, they used to whistle a lot. it was a form of their communication. The whistle that heard now was a way of saying, “Turn around.”

No, Seb, he thinks. You’re just letting yourself get too emotional. Stop hallucinating.

But then he hears it again. And it’s behind him. A little far away from him. 

He’s afraid to turn around. He can’t move. 

He forces himself to turn around, like the whistle had told him to.

And then he sees her. He sees her. He actually sees her.

No way, it can’t be... Suddenly, Seb speaks.

“...Dolores? Is that really you?”

She smiles. That smile. He missed that damn smile. Her face and hands are covered with small bruises.

And she talks. “Yeah, Seb. It’s me. Dolores Hudson. I’m alive. I really am.”

______________________________________________________________

Mystery Man’s POV

I give Louise some cash that she was looking forward to. 

“Great, thanks!” she says with a smile.

“Anything for my wife,” I reply, with an emphasis on the word ‘wife’.

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t call me that. I married you to destroy them, not to love you. Now where’s that manicure you promised?”

Louise is annoying as hell. Sometimes I wonder how her former husband Alan dealt with her. What a man, I think. 

She gives me a mischievous grin. “Now give me a kiss.”

I groan, and I quickly give her a kiss, not wanting it to last for long.

Then, I feel a vibration in my pocket. It’s my phone. I pick it up.

It’s one of my guards. And I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I bark him an order. Blood rushes through my veins, and for the first time in a long time, I feel fear.

I hang up the phone and look at Louise, whose eyes held confusion. I decide to answer her questioning glance.

“Missing captive alert. Dolores Hudson has escaped.”

______________________________________________________________

a/n 2: hope you liked that ending!

a/n 3: i know dolores died of a seizure while under an emergency c-section, but in this au, i refuse to believe so :)

tags:@missmiimiie​ @aylamwrites @starrystarrytrouble​ @udishaman​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @queencarb​ @choicesstan1​ @newcolonies​ @arcticrivers​ @angela8756 @takemyopenheart​ @rookie-ramsey​ @ohchoices​ @ohvamsey @ohramsey @natureblooms24​ @drariellevalentine​ @maurine07​ @lucy-268 @thanialis

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

[reniplier]

hi, so,, ive been having a pretty bad time lately,, would it be ok to request a wilford x reader with some comfort? its alright if not! thank u anyway! im a big fan of urs btw 💕

Warnings: Being naked, self deprecation, overworking yourself a headache and slight crying

Pronouns: None

Paring: Wilford Warfstache x Reader

A/N: Apologies for being so late, I've been kinda mentally drained lately so I kinda wrote this for myself also

Your head was pounding as you ploppped your body on the bed with your arms spread out.  Today had been awful just like the rest of the week. All you wanted to do was sleep off your headache for the rest of the weekend. You heard footsteps walk past your room before they came back. They got closer to your bed and you felt a hand run through your hair.

"Bad day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Suddenly, two hands cupped under your armpits and lifted you up. You were face to face with the pink mustached man as he observed your features. Dark circles gathered under your eyes and a loud pounding echoed in your head. Your lips cracked due to the lack of hydration and hair stuck to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as he saw how worn out you really are.

"Aw hunny bun, Let's get you fixed up. Stay right here!" He put you back down on the bed before running off into a different room. The sound of running water could be heard through the house. You chose not to inspect it as you let your eyes rest.

You weren't sure how long you slept before Wilford called you into the bathroom. When you entered, the tub was filled with pink bubbles and lit candles were placed anywhere they could be.

"Ta-da!" You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you saw all the effort he put into this. "Take a dip in the tub, but don't get too comfy! This is only the beginning of what I planned!"

You were a bit nervous at this plan of his but considering how nice this was, you were willing to do anything for him. You began unbuttoning your shirt as you realized Will was staring at you. A wave of heat rushed over your face when you both made eye contact.

"Oh! I suppose I should be going then." His cheeks also stained red before you stopped him. "You can join me, if you want."

What were you saying!? He'd have to see you naked! Of course you both had been dating for some time now but you still haven't made it past the aggressive makeout stage.

"O-oh! Sure!" You two began undressing as both of you tried to avoid eye contact but not before sending glances at each other. When you were done, you couldn't help but get a better view of Will. His chest filled with hair and his muscles were so beautiful you could've sworn they were trying to make your own jealous. He sent a glance at your body just before your face flushed and you hid your most insecure parts from his eyes. 

He walked towards you before stopping. Not even an inch of space between you both. He looked you dead in the eyes as he removed your hands from covering your body. You relaxed your arms not putting up a fight as it would be pointless.

"If you don't wanna do this, that's okay. But if you're backing out because you think I'm judging you, I'm not! I love you, and I'll be damned if your body is the thing that makes me stop."

He plants a small kiss on your forehead before he crawls into the pink liquid and gestures you in with him. You crawled in and rested your back on his chest. The water was above warm but not scolding hot, the bubbles covered your chest and if they were any higher they'd cover your face also.

A squirting noise could be heard behind you right before Wil began massaging your head.  Your headache soon became nothing but a memory as your hair was filled with foamy shampoo. He then scooped the water in his palms to rinse it out and began to wash your face. His fingers made patterns around your cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. It was a bit embarrassing to have someone else have to wash you, but at the same time it felt really nice to let someone else do it. His hands began to squeeze your shoulders and rub them to ease the tension and stress before wandering further.

"Snap my neck if I touch you somewhere you're not ok with."

"That's a bit much, I'll tell you though."

He let out a small hum of content. "That works too."

His hands ran up and down your arms for a while before his hands rested on your chest. You both sat in silence as you sat in the warmth of the water before it faded. You exited and felt cold air strike your body. The candles flames had lost energy some time ago due to the humidity of the air. You shivered as you looked for a towel. Wil placed a hand on your shoulder as he stopped you. He pulled out a towel and pastel pink pajamas that you assumed were for you.

"I could've had you just put on your regular pjs, but where's the fun in that?"

You dried yourself off and put on the night garments. It was a little big on you, as the sleeves probably could fit two more arms in there but it was well made. They had a beautiful silky shine on them where the light could reach.

"You look so cute, Jellybean!"

Blushing at the nickname and compliment, you covered your face in the sleeves right before Wilford pulled them away.

"No hiding that cute face of yours just yet, Sugarplum! There's still one more thing I need to show you.

You were led out the bathroom with your eyes closed into a completely different room. Wil uncovered your eyes and what you saw almost made your heart stop. All of your favorite foods and pastries were laid out on fancy platters for display. A short gasp escaped your lips as Wil smirked. Pride filled his chest at the fact he was able to give you such a great surprise to distract you from the week. Originally, his plan was just to kill all the people that gave you so much stress, but using their credit cards to pay for everything will due. For now at least.

You trotted over to the table and looked at amazement at how perfectly they all looked.

"I hope you enjoy it, if anything doesn't meet your standards I'll-"

He was cut off by you tightly hugging him with your head against his chest. "Thank you, Wilford" Tears swelled in your eyes at the displays of affection. He pulled your face up so that your eyes met. "No problem, Pudding."

You both grabbed a plate of the delicacies and sat on the couch. The TV  came on and began playing a hilariously bad romantic movie. The treats were prepared amazingly and soon you and Wil found yourselves getting seconds, thirds, and fourths.

While you and Wil were eating, your attention stayed towards the movie and you began pointing out flaws in it left and right. Laughing at every break of character and line of bad writing. Eventually, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you lost focus on the screen. Your head rested on Wil's shoulder and you closed your eyes. 

You felt everything grow dark and quiet for a while until you woke up, this time in Wilfords arms. He was carrying you to your room and gently set your head down on the pillow. It was different though, softer and supported your neck. Not that you were complaining. He crawled in bed beside you and wrapped his arms around you as your legs tangled together. You turned around so you were facing him, or his chest rather. One of his hands creeped up into your head as he drew circles on your scalp. You found yourself dozing off again but right before you heard him mumble something.

"If you liked today, you'll love tomorrow."

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: “Girlfriend Material.” (Brick/Blossom)

February Fic Prompt #21 - Author’s Choice

For the wonderful @carriedreamerx, a fellow Reds die-hard and all-around A+ lady. Also can be read as kind of a part 2 to an earlier one-shot called Shook.

Summary: Blossom is having a bad day. Brick accidentally makes her feel better.

xxx

The four most dreaded words in the English language haunted Blossom after Julie’s party on Friday. They’d ruined the night, causing her to leave at nine p.m. alone, she didn’t want to drag Bubbles home early just because of her. They’d ruined her weekend plans—movie night with her sisters and Robin, studying at her favorite table at the public library, and Sunday family brunch. Through it all, Blossom was quiet and morose, and no one could get her to talk about why.

Why.

Those four stupid, little words.

They were just words, sticks and stones, as she often would tell Bubbles whenever she got upset about teasing that went too far.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four words.

xxx

Monday’s alarm went off at six a.m. sharp, and Blossom rose on autopilot to brush her teeth and get ready for school. She was halfway through applying a bit of mascara when she realized Bubbles wasn’t awake, and the Professor hadn’t called up to announce breakfast. And then she remembered.

Fall Break.

Blossom slumped over the sink, heavy and lethargic, the tube of mascara limp in her hand. How could she forget they had a whole week off from classes? Where was her head?

Her reflection was washed out and pale in the morning gloom through the bathroom window, and she looked ridiculous with only one eye made up. Sighing, she hastily did the other one, put the mascara away, and went to get dressed. Bubbles slept like a rock on her stomach even through Blossom’s alarm. The girl could have slept through an earthquake, no doubt. Buttercup, however, shifted in her bed.

“Going somewhere?” she called in a raspy, sleep-addled voice.

Blossom smiled and smoothed her sister’s mussed bangs. Even though there was no longer any visible trace of the many injuries she had sustained fighting Butch on Friday, Buttercup would need a couple more days of rest to get back to her regular shape. The IV drip next to her bed held a bag of Chemical X, nearly drained as it fed her through the night little by little.

“I forgot we’re on break,” Blossom said softly so as not to wake Bubbles.

“You nerd.”

Buttercup’s eyes drooped, but a smile tugged at her chapped lips. Blossom grabbed her half empty glass from the nightstand and refilled it in the bathroom sink.

“Go back to sleep,” Blossom said, leaving the fresh glass of water on the nightstand.

Buttercup turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head. “Way ahead of you.”

That was that. Blossom floated to the window and quietly unhooked the latch. The Professor was moving around downstairs, but she didn’t much feel like talking to him right now. No doubt he would press her about Friday again, as he’d tried several times this weekend. The sun was rising steadily in the distance, casting the suburbs in a strange, dewy glow.

“Hey,” Buttercup called.

Blossom paused.

“Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you. You’re a badass.”

Blossom bit her trembling lip. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She glanced back at Buttercup, but she was under the covers with her back to her. Even so, Blossom could not bring herself to speak. If she did, she might say too much.

She slipped out of the window, pulled it closed behind her, and flew towards Townsville.

xxx

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Blossom flew over Townsville waking up. It had rained last night, and the fog was thick over the bay as it battled the encroaching sun. She’d read a short story once about monsters in the mist. Gruesome, Lovecraftian horror, the type she never sought out but couldn’t refuse when it was a recommendation from her English teacher. There were no monsters in the mists shrouding Townsville of course, but she imagined them all the same, lurking voyeurs.

One day, she wouldn’t even remember this morning, this feeling, the quiet so high up insulating her from the city sounds far below, tires screeching and jackhammers crunching and a thousand feet scuttling. Logically speaking, none of it mattered.

But it still hurt.

She wasn’t hungry, and she wasn’t cold. She was rarely cold, being a block of ice herself. The ice queen. An unoriginal and lazy moniker, but one that stuck among her peers. Smart, studious Blossom. Commander and the leader, it’s lonely at the top. Come down from your snowcapped throne now and again to walk among us poor plebeians, why don’t you?

They weren’t all like that. The ones who mattered, mattered. Usually it didn’t bother her anyway. Sticks and stones, as they said, but they also said the pen is mightier than the sword. So which is it?

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Logically speaking, people told themselves what they needed to hear to make themselves believe everything was fine.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four paper-thin words.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four soul-crushing, little words.

xxx

Logically speaking, there were no monsters in the mist.

xxx

Brick wasn’t sure why he went.

Up at the ass-crack of dawn because his alarm was set to repeat and he’d forgotten to turn it off for the Fall Break week, there was no going back to sleep now that the damage was done. Boomer flung his pillow at Brick’s bed to try to kill that screeching alarm, hit him in the face, and suffered a very hard, very warranted shove off the sofa.

“Dude, what the fuuuuuuck?” Boomer whined from the floor in his boxers.

“What the fuck do you mean, what the fuck?” Brick demanded. “Why are you sleeping on my couch?”

Boomer rubbed his tired eyes. “Butch’s snoring is so loud since he started that X drip and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Not my problem.” Brick went to his closet to pull on a fresh shirt. Fuck, it was cold this morning. He grabbed a hoodie from a hanger.

“Briiiiiick,” Boomer whined. “I’m so tired.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I’m going out. You better not be in here when I get back.”

Boomer was already crawling back onto his couch as he left his room to use the bathroom though. Whatever, it was too early to deal with Boomer’s crap. The two-bedroom apartment was claustrophobic this morning, like the walls were closing in on Brick, and he had the immediate urge to get out.

After he cleaned up, threw on his cap, and grabbed his keys, he took off into the early morning sky with no destination in mind as long as it wasn’t home.

Fall Break. What was he supposed to do for an entire week? At least Butch was out of commission paying for the consequences of his hormonal jack-assery. Boomer had his friends to hang with, but he could get clingy when the brothers were confined to home without a schedule. And Brick was pretty sure he remembered Wes saying he was going to be out of town with his folks, so that left Boomer best friend-less for the foreseeable future.

Hence, Brick wasn’t sure why he went to the ruined Shankaplex lot. Only, his head was full of all these useless thoughts and he wasn’t thinking straight and anyway it was hard to miss with that enormous fucking crane they’d brought in to help clear up the remains of the movie theater parking lot Butch and Blossom had completely demolished in their fight.

She was already there.

Her red hair cut through the grey of the broken asphalt and concrete like the sun through the rain-cold fog, but little about Blossom was warm. Brick frowned at the thought. He hadn’t seen her since Julie’s party, and even then only for a few minutes. She’d left really early.

She sat alone on the roof of the neighboring Cooper’s Market watching a team of construction workers in orange vests slowly working to clear the mess of tree trunks forcibly uprooted during the fight. They were scattered like dominoes on the asphalt. Brick’s eyes traveled from the back of Blossom’s head to a particularly deep crater where she’d stood towering over Butch, cowed like Brick had hardly ever seen him before, her eyes red with power as they lifted to meet his.

He barely touched down when she sensed him and turned. Her eyes were red, like before, but not with power.

Blossom hastily wiped her puffy eyes and the few tears wetting her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

Brick froze where he stood. Every instinct in him told him to flee, get the fuck out of there, her tears were not for him to see. Heart pounding in his ears, he clenched his suddenly clammy fists because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them. “Nothing,” he said, like a total idiot.

Fuck, she’s fucking crying, what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still in full-on idiot mode.

Oh thank god, she’d turned away. He couldn’t see her crying anymore, but that little sniffle sent a chilling pang down his spine that was almost painful. He suppressed a growl at the sensation.

“My alarm woke me up,” she said glumly. “I forgot to turn it off for the week.”

Brick stood petrified behind her, and it was a wonder that she couldn’t hear his heart hammering loud enough to give him a headache. Her banal words were a lifeline he clung to through the noise, and he swallowed hard.

“Me too,” he said. “Habit.”

She nodded, as if the effort to respond was too great, and it was the respite he needed to calm the fuck down. He considered just leaving, but she’d acknowledged him, and leaving now would look like running. Brick didn’t run, especially not from her.

Feet leaden, he shuffled to the edge of the roof and sank down a respectable arm’s length away from her. She said nothing, and their legs dangled over the edge overlooking the red and white striped awning. A big, neon sign advertising the grocery store buzzed and glowed yellow at the other end of the roof. Brick took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Still, she said nothing, so he glanced at her.

She was in jeans and a plain, white tank top, no frills and not even her usual pearl studs she always wore. Her hair was long and loose, draping her shoulders. Brick shivered just looking at her. Wasn’t she cold?

“How’s Butch?” she asked.

It took Brick a moment to comprehend her question. She was looking right at him. Despite a little residual puffiness, her eyes were dry as a bone.

“Sleeping it off,” Brick said.

She nodded and went back to watching the construction workers.

Brick racked his brain for something to say to her. “It’s actually kind of nice having him out of commission. Everything’s quieter.”

She hugged one knee to her chest and shrank in on herself, and he bit his tongue.

Great.

He’d never had a problem talking to Blossom before. She was just Blossom, the uptight, annoying, micromanager he had to put up with in all his classes and at some social functions where their friend circles overlapped. She was just always there, always shrewd, always ready to shut him down if he so much as breathed at her funny. But this was like pulling teeth. What had changed?

Well, he knew exactly what had changed. Right there in that crater, in fact. He could picture it so clearly, could hear the pride in her voice as she exuded her total and absolute control like she’d been born to do it, and he’d never quite noticed before. How had he never noticed before? She was always right there.

“Can I ask you something?” She tugged on her hair. Nervous habit.

Why is she nervous?

Brick dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Am I girlfriend material?”

He stared, waiting for her to crack, but Blossom never cracked.

Oh.

She was serious.

“Girlfriend material?” he repeated. It took every ounce of his incredible self-control to keep his voice neutral as he studied her impassive face.

“Girlfriend material,” she confirmed.

And damn, could she be cold when she wanted to be. Not even her tears could shake her now as she watched him, waiting on his answer like they were at war and it was go or get out of the way.

“To a specific person?”

“Objectively speaking.”

“That’s not an objective question.”

“Sure it is.”

He frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Western beauty standards would suggest otherwise.”

“So you want to know if you’re hot?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But it’s the standard you’re basing your question on.”

She wrung her fingers in her hair. “I guess it’s related. But that’s entirely my point. There are certain traits or standards that inform what makes someone girlfriend material.”

“Objectively speaking.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Brick considered her. She was nervous, fucking crying when he’d found her. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what had probably happened, even though he was, in fact, a genius and she was completely transparent right now, besides.

Is she messing with me?

If she was, the crying was some Olympic level acting he’d never known her capable of. Blossom was many things, but she wasn’t duplicitous.

How was this nervous, self-conscious girl the same one who had completely dominated Butch in a fight and loved every minute of being seen doing it?

Brick cleared his very dry throat and sat cross-legged to face her. “You mentioned traits and standards. What are the others?”

“Others?”

“That make someone girlfriend material. We already established that number one, she has to be hot.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say super model hot, but probably conventionally attractive.”

He waved her off. “Fine, whatever. Next?”

Blossom thought about that. “Well, I guess she should be nice.”

“Fine, but she can’t be boring.”

“Being nice doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

“It does if that’s all you are.”

“Of course that’s not all I am.”

Brick snorted. “No, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.”

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. She should be smart.”

Blossom looked like she wanted to press him, but she refrained. “I agree. Intelligence is attractive.”

“But not too smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“And social, but not annoying about it. She should be able to keep up and complement you in any situation, but not overshadow or steal the spotlight.”

Blossom flushed in anger. “You realize how incredibly misogynistic that is, don’t you?”

Brick shrugged. “You said objectively speaking.”

“Oh, and you think all guys want is a party girl with above average looks and below average brains to stroke their egos?”

“No, I think your premise itself is flawed and I was proving my point. There’s no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend. That’s bullshit, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” He watched her avert her gaze like a timid little bird. “Anyone who tries to meet such a bullshit standard is also an idiot.”

That got her attention, and she turned angry, pink eyes on him. “I’m the last person on the planet you should be calling an idiot.”

“I was speaking objectively,” he sneered.

Okay, that was petty, he could admit that to himself. But it was worth it to see the indignation on her pretty face. She got up in a blaze of pink. He was not far behind.

“This was a mistake. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you of all people.” She began to walk away.

He followed. “That makes two of us.”

The sun was up now, and more construction workers had shown up to operate the crane. Even up on the roof, it was beginning to get a little noisy for anyone with sensitive Super hearing.

Nonetheless, they remained on the roof.

xxx

Conceited jerk, Blossom fumed on the other side of the roof with her arms crossed. Why do I even bother?

The conceited jerk didn’t know how to take a hint.

“You’re not actually upset,” Brick said.

Blossom glared back at him. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you get to dictate my feelings?”

“No, obviously. I meant why are you upset?”

Her lip trembled, but she bit down on it hard enough to hurt. No way was she going to cry in front of him again. Bad enough that he’d surprised her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you care.”

Red sparks crackled on his skin. Blossom felt the sudden push of his choleric power like a punch to the gut, but she held her ground. It was over so fast that it left her breathless.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “This is so fucking stupid.”

For once, Blossom was inclined to agree with him.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“At Julie’s party. Whoever told you that you’re not girlfriend material. Who was it?”

Blossom shook her head, stunned. “That’s not… You weren’t even there—”

“You ran outta there like the place was on fire right after I got there,” he interrupted her. “So who was it?”

Blossom continued to stare at him. Angry Brick she could handle. Smarmy, arrogant, crass Brick she was used to brushing aside, loudly challenging, or ignoring completely depending on the mood. But this—no, not concerned, certainly not, more like curious Brick—was a subtle beast.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Just tell me.”

Without Blossom realizing how or when, something had shifted between them. She had never been afraid of Brick, not even when they were kids and literally trying to destroy each other to no avail, and she wasn’t afraid now. But something in his countenance, in the casual way he rested his hands in his hoodie pockets, the power to crush mountains kept at bay with frightening ease, gave her pause.

Logically speaking, there are no monsters in the mist.

None that could hurt her, anyway.

“Just…some girls,” Blossom said in a voice she hardly recognized. “Just some mean girls.”

Just four little words that hit like bullets.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Blossom could not begin to understand why, but standing there on the roof with him as the construction workers hammered away below, she was struck with an overwhelming sadness as bleak as the fog that settled in the streets. If he were anyone else, his pity would have shamed her. But Brick had never once pitied her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. She was bullet proof. She’d faced monsters and demons and nightmares alike. Buttercup may be the toughest, and Bubbles may be light in the darkness, but Blossom was always in control, and control was power. It was everything. She could even face Brick’s chaotic brother on a Chemical X bender, and it felt good. She’d felt good. But this, these four damning words, hit her where she was weakest and most vulnerable, and she just couldn’t help it.

For all her power and control, she was just a seventeen-year-old girl who wanted to fit in.

She hugged herself close, wishing someone else would. “I don’t get it all.”

“I know.”

Blossom looked up. She’d forgotten Brick was even still there, but there he remained, stock still and staring off into the distance, his jaw set.

“You…”

“I mean, I get it,” he snapped. He scowled, but not at her.

Bewildered, Blossom could only stare as Brick became even more uncomfortable than she was. And then, it hit her.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I’m just saying.”

She stepped closer, unsure if she was hallucinating. “Why?”

He took off his cap and roughly carded his fingers through his short hair. “Because it’s fucking stupid. Not you, but you being so upset. Not like that—” he preempted her protest that never came, “—just that they could make you feel so shitty when you’re so…” He gestured to her.

“So what?”

His face flushed in anger. “You know, you.”

Blossom frowned. “I don’t understand—”

“You’re you. Class president, smart as fuck, you know, future Time Person of the Year type of shit—”

“That’s not—”

“—so beautiful and you know it. Hey, don’t make that innocent face. You’ve always known you’re gorgeous, you’re just too busy being nice to the morons in this city who couldn’t tie their goddamned shoes without whining for help to make a big deal out of it—”

Blossom matched his flush. “Just because people need my help sometimes doesn’t make them morons—”

“—and it just pisses me the fuck off because you’re this force of nature who can make my psychotic brother eat a dick one minute—”

“Oh my god—”

“—but then you fall apart because of what a bunch of obnoxious high school girls say to you drunk at a party? Jesus fucking Christ, Blossom.”

Blossom was so livid that she didn’t hesitate even a second to get in his face. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

Brick leaned down so close their noses nearly touched. “Like what?”

“Like you’re so above it all when you just admitted to me that you’re not.” Pink sparks materialized upon her skin as her temper flared to match his. How dare he try to play her for a fool? He of all people knew better.

Brick’s fingers on her cheek were the last thing she expected, and she recoiled with a gasp. Her power danced between his fingers, caught and mingling with his, and he made a slow fist one finger at a time. Blossom watched, mesmerized and unable to fathom why, but her eyes were blown wide and her lips parted.

Brick’s gaze flickered from his fist back to her, and she bit her lip. He had never looked at her like that before, except…

Except when she shoved Butch into the ground, exhausted and sore, and found Brick watching her like she was all that was worth looking at in this world. Shock and awe, she’d chalked it up to surprise at her actually beating Butch. Of course he’d underestimate her just like his brother, like everyone else. But no, that wasn’t right. This close to him, that heated look was unmistakable now.  

The moment passed like the sun dipping behind a cloud, and he pulled back. He slipped his hand back into his hoodie pocket and smiled in that subtle, diabolical way he’d perfected years ago. “Much better.”

Blossom swallowed hard. Had she… Had she imagined it?

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her stomach growled, excruciatingly loud to her Super hearing and his.

Brick burst out laughing.

Mortified, Blossom blanched and covered her mouth and wished she could just disappear. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And she would have flown right out of there if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. Still grinning, he tugged her back. “No, don’t leave.”

Blossom squeezed her eyes shut and wondered why the universe hated her so much. “We’re really done here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

The initial embarrassment faded, and she was left to wonder at his very odd choice of words. “What?”

“There’s a 1950s style diner I like a few blocks from here. I skipped breakfast too.”

He wasn’t laughing at her anymore as he waited on her acquiescence.

His hand was fire around her wrist. For the first time that morning, she started to feel the chill.

“All right,” she said.

“All right.” He let her go and began to float. “This way.”

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

Especially not pain.

Blossom sipped on the best vanilla milkshake she’d ever tasted as Brick rattled off dish after dish to the flabbergasted waitress who could not be blamed for not knowing the curse of Chemical X-induced inhumanly high metabolism.

“Hey, Brick?”

Brick looked up from their feast of eggs and bacon and pancakes. “What?”

Logically speaking, he’d only called her gorgeous and smart and amazing because she was those things, objectively. But there was no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He flushed and played it off like it meant nothing. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Logically speaking, nothing lasts forever, but they took their time anyway. What was the rush?

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

The Intern | Part Three

Summary: You move to New York to focus on your art but end up working as an intern at Stark Enterprises

Chapter Summary: its the morning after the night before and Tony wants to see you in his office 

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader (friendship)

Word Count: 2523

A/N: for the purposes of this story Stark Enterprise is set out like an office building in New York and the story does not follow the same timeline as the movies. Reader does not know Peter is SpiderMan. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Two | Masterlist

- - - - -

The next morning when you got up for work you remembered why you don’t really like drinking wine. You took some painkillers to ease the headache, got ready and left your apartment. 

You got off the train and found Peter waiting for you as he usually does. As you walk with him you tell him about the night before. 

“It was actually really nice. We ate pizza, looked at art, and I taught him how to bake brownies”

Peter looks at you confused.

“It’s a long story. Thing is, we’d both had a bit to drink and when we were baking we ended up having a kind of food fight with the flour. Then one thing led to another and... we almost kissed”

“You kissed Mr Stark?!” Peter blurts a bit too loud which causes a few glances from people around you. 

“Shh, Peter, keep your voice down! No, we didn’t actually- we almost did, he backed away before anything happened and then he just left. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now”

“If nothing happened then that’s okay right?” Peter asks innocently. 

“Yeah but something almost did. Am I supposed to pretend nothing almost happened, or do we need to talk things through? What If last night has completely changed things? ugh! Never drink wine Peter, never!” You say bringing one hand up to your head. 

“It will be fine y/n. Mr Stark probably doesn’t even remember” Peter tries to reassure you as you both walk through the main doors into the reception. “I’m sure nothing has changed- who is that?” He says as you both notice the new girl sitting at the reception desk. Your reception desk. 

Suddenly Happy appears in front of you. 

“Ah miss Y/L/N, I’ve been waiting for you”

“Who’s that?” You ask, pointing at the desk

“the new intern.”

“But..” you start to speak but Happy interrupts

“Mr Stark wants to see you” he gestures for you to walk with him.

You look at Peter who just shrugs sympathetically. 

“Now!” Happy shouts back to you already ahead of you so you have to do a little jog to catch up with him. 

“I’ll see you at lunch then” Peter shouts after you as you walk up the stairs. 

— — — —

You could feel your anxiety rising with every step as you followed Happy down the corridor toward Tony’s office. Happy opened the door and waited for you to step inside before following you in. 

“Ah just the girl I’ve been waiting for” Tony says sitting behind his desk, flicking through papers “thanks Happy” 

Happy nods and steps outside, closing the door behind him. You don’t move, you stay stood by the door anxiously. 

“Well come on in, take a seat” Tony says, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of the desk to him. You do as he says and sit looking at him, waiting for him to speak. But he just continues looking down at the paper. 

“What’s going on?” You ask cautiously. 

“Oh, you’re fired” he replies casually and you feel a huge wave of panic sweep over you. 

“What?! Why?” 

“I’m kidding!” He says finally looking up at you “I’m sorry that was mean”

You breath a massive sigh of relief. 

“Okay you really cannot say things like to me, my anxiety can’t handle it” you shake your head letting out a nervous giggle. 

“Yeah I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist” he gets up from his chair, walking around to lean against the front of his desk right in front of you “although technically it wasn’t a complete lie. You are no longer an intern at Stark Enterprise. BUT don’t freak out, I have something better lined up for you”

You look at him confused and he smiles at you. 

“I want you to come work for me”

“But I already work for you” you reply blankly. 

“I mean, WITH me. I’m offering you a job as my personal assistant”

“I don't understand. I thought Happy was your personal assistant?” You ask and Tony laughs. 

“Don’t let him hear you call him that. No, Happy is my head of security and chauffeur. But lately he’s been taking on some personal assistant duties and, well let’s just say that does not make him Happy.” 

You look up at him trying to process what’s happening. He smiles down at you. 

“So? What do you think?”

“I think there are a load of other people who have been working here way longer than me, and are far more qualified than me, that would kill for this job.” Tony nods his head as you speak. “So why me?” You ask. 

“Because they’re not you.” He says sincerely and takes you by surprise “I’ve never met anyone else in this building who cares as much as you do about doing a good job. You’re always one of the last ones to leave this building, and you always have a smile on your face. You’re hardworking and honest and talented. And I know you worry a lot but you never let that stop you. Just look at the way you chased that guy through the building the other week. You’re braver than you think.” He leans forward, putting his hands on your shoulders to look into your eyes

“Ive seen something special in you Y/N, you have the potential to do great things and I want to be the one help you get there.”

You look into his eyes and you can tell he’s being genuine with you. A smile creeps onto your face and you start to nod. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

“Yes” you start laughing, “yes I’ll take the job”

Tony jumps up, grabbing your hands and pulling you up into a hug. It feels nice, comfortable. Then he pulls back suddenly to look at you again.

“I’m glad you said yes, I kinda already filled your old intern position...”

“Yeah, I noticed.” You giggle.

— — — —

You spent the morning with Tony, filling in some paperwork while he explained the sorts of things you’d be doing as his new PA. It sounded perfect. Double the salary you were on before, and Tony promised you’d have plenty of time to work on your art. 

On your lunch break you decided to head down to the reception desk to collect a few of your things you’d left in the desk drawers. Thankfully the new intern was also on her lunch break, you didn’t really feel like awkwardly explaining to her that you used work on that desk. As you’re putting the last few things in your bag Peter comes running up to the desk speaking a million miles an hour. 

“Why are you packing your things away? Oh my god y/n did Mr Stark fire you? Or did you quit because of the almost kiss? Y/N please don’t leave-“

“Peter! Relax! I’m not going anywhere. I’m just not the intern anymore.” 

Peter stops talking and just looks at you.

“Im Mr Stark’s new PA.” you smile and Peter’s face lights up

“Y/N! That’s amazing! Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.” Then he stops smiling and looks like he doesn’t know how to ask you the next part “...Do you think this had anything to do with.. you know.. last night?”

You think for a moment then smile slightly. 

“No. He told me the reasons why he's giving me this job and, I believe him. He didn’t even mention last night at all. I don’t know if he was drunker then I thought, or if he’s just choosing to ignore it but either way I’m fine. Now can we please go get some lunch, I’m starving” 

— — — — 

A week later. 

You walk into the coffee shop you’ve now become a regular at since taking on your new job. It’s Tony’s favourite and he sends you there pretty much every day to collect drinks so when you walk through the door the server behind the counter recognises you instantly.

“hey y/n”

“hey MJ, how you doing today?”

“cant complain. I’m guessing Tony wants his usual?”

“yes please” you say with a smile

“coming right up” she says as she puts your order through the till “I hope he pays you well for treating you like a slave”

“he doesn’t treat me like a slave” you laugh handing over the company credit card Tony gave you “I actually like doing the coffee run, its nice to not be stuck behind a desk anymore”

“plus you get to see your favourite barista” 

“oh of course, highlight of my day!” You grin at her and she hands the card back

“i’ll bring your drinks over in a minute” she says before turning around to make them and you move to the end of the counter to wait. As you stand waiting you look up at the pieces of art spread around the walls of the cafe. Even though you see them everyday you still love studying them while you wait, they make you feel inspired. 

“hello y/n” a voice behind you startles you and you spin around to see the man who had come into Start Enterprise a few weeks ago. The guy you’d chased into Tony’s office. He gives you a sinister smile. “I hear Tony’s promoted you, congratulations!”

“how did you know-“

“I’m sorry where are my manners? We were never formally introduced were we? I’m Professor Randall, but you can call me Charles.” He presents his hand for you to shake and you look at him cautiously. As your about to reach out to shake his hand MJ calls that your order is ready and you turn round to see her stood holding your drinks waiting for you to take them off her. You turn back to the Professor and point over your shoulder. 

“I better be going” is all you say before turning to walk over to MJ. 

“of course. I’ll see you again y/n” he says and you look back to see him walking out the coffee shop. 

“thanks MJ, you're a star” you say as you take the drinks from her and give her a smile, trying to cover up how shaken you are from that small interaction. 

“no problem” she says smiling back “hey who was that creepy guy? Ive seen him in here a lot recently but he never actually orders anything. Just sits and stares at people. He’s really weird”

“I don't actually know him. It’s a long story but, look I better be getting back to work before Mr Stark sends out a search party for his coffee. See ya” you say and turn to walk out the cafe. 

“see you tomorrow” she shouts behind you. 

— — — — 

When you walk back through the doors of Stark Enterprise building you bump into Peter who spots the coffee cups your carrying and instantly knows where you’ve been. 

“hey y/n? Is MJ working the counter today?” He asks pointing at the cups in your hand.

“yeah she is. Let me guess, you gonna go there for lunch today right?”

“uh, maybe yeah” he blushes which makes you smile “You wanna join?”

“not today no, got a lot on. Speaking of, I really gotta-“

“no no, of course yeah carry on. I’ll see ya later”

As you pass Happy in the corridor you pass him his coffee cup and he gives you a small smile of thanks. You walk into Tony’s office and put his cup down on the desk in front of him. He says thank you but doesn’t look up from his work. You take a seat on a chair over by the window and take a few sips of your drink. You soon find yourself looking out the window daydreaming, rerunning the conversation with the Professor through your head. Was it coincidence he was in the cafe or had he followed you there? And if so, why? Tony had said this guy had tried to get his attention a few times, what was his plan? What did he want?

“Y/N?! Hello?” You suddenly realise Tony is calling your name and you look up to see him staring at you from his desk. 

“what? sorry, I was daydreaming” you reply sheepishly.

“hmm I noticed. I was just saying that we need to get the guest list together for the fundraiser next week” he says, eyeing you with concern “where were you then? I could see in your eyes you were somewhere else completely”

“nowhere. Like I said, just zoned out for a minute. I cant even remember what I was thinking-“

“y/n.” Tony interrupts as he stands up and walks over to sit on the chair next to you “I’ve spent enough time with you lately to know when something is bothering you”

You look down at the floor. 

“you don't have to tell me anything, but you can talk to me anytime”

“honestly Im okay. It’s not even a big deal, I just bumped into Professor Randall at the cafe and he was a bit weird. That’s all.”

Tony’s eyes go wide for a second when you mention the Professors name. 

“what did he say to you?” Tony asks, a hint of worry in his voice. 

“Not much. Just that he’d heard about my promotion and then he introduced himself”

“anything else?”

“no” you shake your head “as soon as the drinks were ready he said he’d see me again then he left”

“he said he’d see you again? Those were his exact words?” You can tell he’s getting more and more worried. 

“Yes. Tony, whats going on? Why does it matter?”

Tony looks at you and he can tell he’s stressing you out. He takes a breath and smiles trying to be reassuring. 

“It’s probably nothing, but I just want you to be safe.”

“why wouldn’t I be?”

“no you are. It’s just. The Professor isn’t a nice man, and I don't want him harassing the people I care about the way he’s being harassing me. From now on Happy will accompany you on all trips outside this building and we will be driving you to and from work every day” he stands up and goes back over to his desk, picks up his coffee and has a drink. 

You watch him, thinking over everything he’s just said. You cant shake that uneasy feeling you’ve had since you left the cafe. 

“Tony?” You said standing up from your chair and Tony turns around to look at you. “I need you to be completely honest with me now.” 

You pause as Tony gives you a small nod. 

“Am I in danger?” You ask quietly. 

Tony walks to you and puts his hands on either side of your face, looking into your eyes. 

“no. I promise you, I will keep you safe” he says sincerely. 

You give him a small smile and he kisses you on the forehead before taking his hands away from your face. 

“right, let’s get to work on this guest list” 

Part Four 

Taglist: @brownbuble​, @star-trek-is-my-lifesource​

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind  Part IV - Khamseen

DAY14

The energy shrouding the air of Godspeed’s is much different from what it was for Induction Rave a couple weeks ago. The place is still one of high spirit but the loud euphoria that permeated each of its nook and cranny in celebratory cheers, is now replaced with liquor-prompted laughters and light conversation melting into a mellow background noise. The music seems to have taken the same cue, its lowered volume simply adding to the mesh of sounds of the bar and no longer pulsing baselines into the heart of its patrons. Even the number of clean tables surpasses that of sticky ones for once; a rather improbable phenomenon for such an establishment.

Sitting in a corner booth as he nurses a bourbon in his hands and a scowl on his face, Harry is the embodiment of sulkiness. Feeling drained despite having the rare day off, his shoulders are stuck in a permanent hunch. They bear the pressures of being in the most competitive Navy pilot program in the world only to be met with disillusion once partnered up with someone who traded trust for contempt wherever he was concerned. Not to forget, he is still grieving the loss of his best friend. The sharp memories of the accident have yet to depart his mind whenever he closes his eyes or sits in a cockpit alongside a certain daredevil lady. A lady who haunts his nights by dragging him out of whatever peaceful place he’s escaped to, her crestfallen face appearing just as Morpheus’ arms reach out to him. And Aella always wins his attention no matter the weariness in his bones or how appealing a good night sleep might be.

Entranced in a meticulous reenactment of their last mission, involving pistachios as makeshift aircrafts, Dazzler and Tigger are seating across their subdued friend. They brushed off Harry’s taciturn disposition as they’ve come to be familiar with it, and instead proceed to do as usually ever since the accident: offer friendly companionship whether he decides to actively partake or silently tag along. He’ll start sharing again when he’s ready, they figure. No use in prying and pocking; any person who’s ever been around Harry would know. A closed book he may not be, but rather, he remains selective as to who can leaf through his essence and more importantly, what they may uncover as well as when they get to do so.

"Need a refill?" Dazzler asks Harry as he comes to a standing position hovering over the table, two beer-less pints in hand. The person of interest looks down at the drink cajoled in his hold, a couple sips away from dryness. A nod and a soft ‘please’ is all he offers his friend before returning his focus on the glass in his hands. 

As Dazzler approaches the bar effectively out of earshot, Tigger turns to the laconic man seating as his table. For once, his instinct tells him to candidly check on his mate, the absence of Dazzler’s overjoyed nature perhaps giving the moment a tone better suited for confidence. "Got a lot on your mind Styles?" He asks as softly as his voice will let him.

Harry’s eyes lift from their aimless target on a crack of the table to finally land on Tigger’s inquisitive face. They remain unwavering for a second too long as if gauging whether now was the time to exteriorize some of his sorrows. Wasn’t the headache throbbing hard enough already? Didn’t he reach his last thread when Aella and him both shot their last chance at a peaceful partnership? Be that as it may, there is so little space left in Harry’s brain for pondering purposes, he’s just desperate to get some sort of leeway.   

"You could say that, yeah" he says to his bourbon with a humorless chuckle.

"Anything involving a certain someone?" Tigger tentatively inquires whilst inconspicuously fiddling with the nutshells scattered across the table. They both know the identity behind the certain someone, and the mere mention is apparently enough for Harry to warrant another mouthful of inebriant. The gesture effectively empties what was left of the liquor, but it’s all the troubled pilot needs to open the floodgates of his censored mind.

"She’s driving me nuts, Tigger. We can barely stand to be in the same room, how are we supposed to fly together?" The piercing green eyes always had this magnetic pool to them. In friendly conversation, they were meant to make the narrator feel like the center of the universe. But right now, under the bar’s dim lights, their glow is shaded by an unhinged quality as if this time their owner was looking at the sun because his world had fallen off its axis and needed fixing.

"Maybe…I don’t know…have you guys tried talking about it?" Tigger doesn’t have much faith in the anticipated answer, but he’s a firm believer that communication can resolve anything. Proper communication, that is.

"Right." Harry looks at his poised friend unimpressed. "All the ‘talks’ we’ve had end in the same way. We scream at each other till we’re blue in the face and we say stuff that leaves us worse off than how we were." His mind takes him back to their last squabble 3 days ago, the way they had completely blown off at each other’s scowling face with crude words escaping their mouth. Like a reflex, he reaches for his drink in a vain attempt to erase the taste of malice still lingering on his lips, only to be met with a teasing drop idling around the rim.

"That doesn’t sound like talking Harry." Tigger retorts with a pointed look. His friend his better than that. Better than the excuse no doubt about to come is way if Dazzler wasn’t making a reappearance with two foamy pints and a bourbon.  

"Oi, what’s the chitchat about?" He asks with a beaming smile at the idea that his tortured soul of a friend is finally coming out of limbo, or - at least - back to his talking self. The grin is enough to reprieve Harry from his tiresome thoughts for a second as he looks up to Dazzler and thanks him for the amber liquid placed in front of him. He’s always thought that Dean earned his callsign because of that particular smile: all around contagious, and well, nothing short of dazzling…

He is quickly brought back to the matter at hand by Tigger though. "Just talking about Harry and Aella’s inability to hold a civil conversation together and their propensity to rip each other’s head off." He says, not beating around the bush whilst watching with a raised brow as the seemingly defeated man across from him promptly indulges in his replenished drink.

"Right Styles, what’s got you so riled up about our lovely Aella anyway?" Dazzler bluntly asks once he’s comfortably back in his seat. The term of endearment is not lost on Harry’s ears, however, and the reminder furrows his brow some more.

"Fuck, I forgot you lot were friends with her." He sighs. How is he supposed to vent to his friends about another friend of theirs without coming off has an asshole? He’s positive that ship has already sailed though, without much to be done about it. "Look I’m not saying she’s a bad person, but you guys don’t have to work with her." He tries to soften the blow with a subtle deflection but in his defense, he says it all genuinely so. 

Harry doesn’t really know Aella. Doesn’t know what kind of friend she is, how caring she might be with those she cares for, or how witty her words become when prodded by the right person. He does know, however, that any compatibility they may have ends at the gate of any Navy base. He knows she’s more daring than she ought to be when she’s high above the clouds and high on adrenaline. And he knows she can be downright contentious, not to say bitchy when she doesn’t get her way. So no, Harry doesn’t consider Aella to be a particularly good pilot, at least not in a tandem set up. She’s too quick to set his nerves on fire like she does everything else, to make him think otherwise.

"Damn straight I don’t work with her! Coz Tigger’s stuck with my annoying ass until the day it’s too flabby to sit in a Tomcat. But I still don’t get it, man. From what I’ve seen, she seems pretty fucking brilliant to me." Dazzler once again shows his luminous colors as he senses the conversation is about to get much somber. 

"Completely reckless you mean. Half the time she’s suggesting moves that’ll send us crashing faster than I can say emergency ejection." Harry has abandoned any cushioning tactic at this point. His resentment has taken control of his speech and his body tightens in accordance: jaw so defined, the contracting motion could be spotted from across the bar, his shoulders stiffen underneath a slightly oversized shirt and his knuckles turn a few shades whiter at the pressure exerted around his already half-empty glass.

The look his two comrades share across the table in silent conversation does nothing to alleviate his frustration. Instead, it makes him feel like a kid about to be given a talk by his parents. And the way Tigger hesitantly speaks up next, voice as easeful as he can muster, makes Harry think he’s not so far off the truth. 

"Harry, do you think you might still be processing what happened with Fox?"

The mention of his deceased best friend sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, an indescribable coldness seizing his body that no alcohol could shake off. On the defensive, his guard soars up and the same chilling tone is now clouding his words. 

"And what’s your point exactly?"

Dazzler is quick to elaborate on his friend’s suggestion as tactfully as one Dean Marshall  is capable of. Subtlety was never his strong suit. "Come on, mate. It’s kinda common knowledge that Fox was a bit of a stuntman himself. But that’s what made him such a great pilot, Harry."

"It’s what got him killed." The retort comes harsh, triggered by an array of emotions still festering in every far enough corner of his being, because he can’t quite fathom how to face them yet. It’s an out-of-body experience in a way, a disconnection between body and mind, that makes him a mere bystander of his knee-jerk reactions. Surely the words are not his. Surely some kind of demon is hijacking the headquarters of his mind and turning him into a sourpuss who can’t reign in his spreading misery. Pretty ironic for someone who used to spread kindness every time he was given the chance.

"Now, you know that’s not the whole truth." Dazzler tries to reason, admittedly slightly shocked by his friend’s outburst. The things grief can do to one’s temper…

"Whatever. She’s still impulsive and she doesn’t know how to fly with a partner." Harry’s quick to dismiss the subject of Fox, he’d rather have a slumber party with his new nemesis before reminiscing the circumstances of his friend’s premature death.

"That’s probably because she’s used to flying solo." Tigger rightfully points out. "See, you’d know that if you two talked like decent human beings."

"Well, she doesn’t have to be a bitch about it." Somewhere, a muted part his brain is considering Tigger’s statement, but it’s not enough to sweeten his bitter thoughts. It’s not pride getting in the way; Harry’s not a prideful person, or at least not in the ways that would blind him from admitting any wrongdoings. His mind is just too fuzzy to reason from both exhaustion and the booze he’s been continuously sipping on this evening. The mockery seems to be the last straw for Dazzler, however, and for once the wrinkles on the usually chirpy lad’s forehead are not caused by laughter.

"Jesus Harry! I love you mate, you know that. But stop acting like a prick, it doesn’t suit you." Green eyes immediately widen at the admonition, and before he can even think of defending himself, he’s being told off some more. "And before you say anything, no I’m not on her side. I just want to help you. Both of you. And believe me, she’s been given the same speech a handful of times, but I’ll be damned if one of you listened for once." 

"Daz, you’re getting carried away." Tigger says, once again acting as his partner’s counterbalancing act. He also doesn’t want to end the night with a fall-out. Losing another friend is the last thing Harry needs.

"Damn right I am." Dazzler quips back, his index finger pressing on the table. "I’m tired of your childish antics. Fuck! Since when am I the most grown up of the bunch?" He asks in disbelief, not able to resist throwing humor in an otherwise tense conversation. "I’m your friend Harry, and sometimes friends are here to kick your butt when you’re acting like one." He gets up from his seat before opening his arms wide in a taunting gesture. "So watch me Styles. This is me kicking your goddamn butt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re out of pistachios." And just like that, he’s off on his new quest for a fresh bowl of snacks. They all know it was more so a way of withdrawing from the conversation before it got too heated. And perhaps to prevent Harry from having a chance at a comeback, but he wouldn’t admit that anyway…

"He’s right you know." Tigger softly breaks the silence that had filled the space. "You two need to sort your shit out because we’ve still got 3 weeks left and I know for a fact you’re not a quitter. Besides, TopGun is not the kind of program you can just give up on. You can still make it, Harry." 

He can’t quite figure out if his hopefulness has reached the moping man on his left, especially when all he gets in a response is one more bourbon sent down the drain, followed by a "fuck, need anothe’." 

DAY 15

Leonie Forbs was born to teach a group of overzealous navy pilots about the riveting matter of astrophysics; or so is Aella convinced. She is poised, calmer than the sea before the storm, yet when a bunch of bullheaded students does storm in her class, her collected and no-taking-shit nature still prevails. Quite the paradox for such a frail looking woman, but she’s made it clear since their first session that her place at TopGun was not to be questioned and that she could not only handle herself but also the 16 adrenaline-driven aerialists sitting in front of her. Aella admires that a lot; she can only dream of receiving the same kind of respect around base these days. 

Even more baffling to her, is how Leonie still inspires kindness and confidence within her students. Mastering the rules of the universe in no cakewalk, but with every explanation and encouraging word she provides, Dr Forbs has managed to make it that little bit easier on them. Come to think of it, she somewhat reminds Aella of Berks and his fatherly yet firm lead. The way they both seem hellbent on making her feel welcomed without giving her any free pass either, is enough of a sliver of hope to outweigh all the anguish Rex’s clique has been giving her since she joined the program. 

She doesn’t know if it can counterbalance her own partner’s though. 

"Last point we need to discuss before your test today comes from the Pentagon itself," Leonie declares as she leans back against her desk, arms casually crossed around her middle.  "Intelligence services have discerned a flaw in the Russians’ new MIG 22 flight tanks system. Their negative G push overs are out, so they operate zero to one G only." She scans the room, watching as they all process the new information.

"What happens if they don’t?" One of the students Mason Homes - or Ace, as commonly called around base - bluntly asks.

A pregnant pause ensues before Aella promptly answers her fellow comrade in a bored tone. "They risk flaming out."

"That is correct." Leonie interjects with a quick glance toward her star pupil, before turning her face back to Ace. "Even below one G, the internal fuel tanks are placed too far off ahead the plane’s center of gravity to keep it stable." The explanation immediately falls out of her lips, concise and simple to comprehend, before her attention extends to the whole class. "Now that this precious intel has been handed to us, we need to exploit it. So what’s your take on it?"

Harry is the first one to speak up as everybody seems to mull over the enigma formulated by their professor. His voice is poised, the answer definite and confident. "Concentrate on low altitude, push boosters to +3.5Gs and negative Gs alternatively."

"Very good." Dr Forbs praises in a smile, uncrossing her arms for her hands to hold onto the desk behind her. "Much like their predecessor, MIG 22 have excellent fast-climbing interceptors, so keeping it low will put their tanks at high pressure. Their endurance is very limited, so you would also be right to keep them on their toes and make them really work for it. Chances are they won’t be able to pace up or they’ll run out of fuel."

"What about using after-burning turbojets in inverted thrusts?" Aella challenges. While she doesn’t deny Harry’s tactic would prove adequate, she thought of a different way around the puzzle. Once again, the conventional route didn’t cut it in her opinion. It was too predictable, something she makes sure to always stay clear of.

"I guess it could work on paper, but your range and scope would be infinitesimal." Leonie responds truthfully after giving the proposition a thought. In the past couple weeks she has come to understand and appreciate Aella’s unorthodox thinking. She knows it comes from a knowledgeable place as opposed to one of attention-seeking. Aella doesn’t defy the MOs of traditional naval aviation to drop jaws or get a round of applause. She’s simply driven by her own curiosity and in all straightforwardness, it’s just the way her brain operates. Conjures up the unexpected first like some kind of survival instinct, but in her book, predictability is the first step towards failure. And in her profession, failure usually means death.  

"Not if you push the compression to 50%, then their scope is smaller than yours, and that’s enough to put you on their six." Once again, Aella made the laws of science her greatest ally. The plan may be venturesome but her calculations make it also airtight.  

"Very avant-garde of you, Lieutenant Lonethorne, I shouldn’t be surprised." The professor admits with a knowing smile and glowing eyes. "If well-executed then yes, the maneuver would prove successful. However, Lieutenant Styles’ approach is just as valid and much less risky." She adds for good measure. Even though she values Aella’s mind dexterity, her purpose is not to bring this groundbreaking side out of her students. Harry’s answer is the one she had expected all things considered. 

"But more time-consuming." Aella retorts to drive her point home. She doesn’t think outside the box for the hell of it. There’s always a reason, a worthy advantage that her partner always seems to overpass because of the riskiness of it all.

"I won’t deny that. Both tactics are absolutely potent in their own way; what matters is the situation in which they come to play. And that’s your job to determine." Dr Forbs reminds her fervent student that being a navy pilot can be a long list of pros and cons at times. What maneuver will result in what outcome and for what gamble. Knowing all the possibilities at any given moment is a great skill to have, one that Aella seems to have down to a T. But the real excellence of a pilot shows in the way they can make the right choice out of those possibilities.

"Alright, I’m gonna pass these exam sheets around. Once you’ve been handed yours, you have  two hours to complete them. Please don’t forget to provide explanations to your calculations, this is not a math test." Leonie explains with a pointed look before sharing an encouraging smile. "Good luck to you all." 

The next two hours are then filled with the sound of pencils scratching paper and frustrated sighs that only increase in volume as the clock ticks closer to the impending time allotment. As there is only two remaining questions waiting to be completed on his exam paper, Harry breathes deeply and takes a look around the room. Most of his fellow classmates are immersed in deep reflection, various level of frowns hardening their face depending on their advancement on the test. His green eyes then settle upon his co-pilot. She’s scribbling furiously on her paper as though her fingers are straining to put her racing thoughts to ink. Whirlwind on paper, is what he thinks.

His musings are further strayed away from applied physics as Harry recalls his conversation with Dazzler and Tigger the night prior. He certainly did a lot of thinking since then, but his mind is still fuzzy when it comes to Aella. He’s been juggling with the thought of giving her a chance, talking things out as Tigger suggested, but for some reason the idea has him terrified. Certainly a repeat of history would crush him for good, but at the same time he knows he’ll never be the pilot he longs to be again if he keeps being the person he is with Aella. They decidedly need to find a way to be at their best together, because this bringing-out-the-worst-of-the-other business is not doing them any favor. 

Harry is about to refocus on the problem at hand when Aella suddenly stands up, all 6 papers of her exam gathered in her hands in a neat pile. She cooly makes her way to Dr Forbs as quietly as she can, as to not disturbed her class, before handing her work to the teacher. Their exchange remains silent but Harry doesn’t miss Leonie’s small head gesture and yet another smile she addresses his partner. It’s not the first time he’s noticed one of his superiors showing that kind of recognition for her work. Time is running against him though, so he shoves the note in a far corner of his mind and goes back to the task at hand. Partner differences is a can of worms that will have to wait to be opened. 

The ocean has almost entirely enveloped the setting sun as Harry wanders along San Diego’s Crystal pier. Few people decided to roam the promenade, probably too busy on this brisk and not to mention, week night. Harry is just glad the urge to come here wasn’t sprung on him on a Saturday evening. The experience would have included much more elbowing and people dodging than tolerated for reflective purposes. But as his feet tread the wooden structure, gaze glowing over the breath-taking view, his mind feels clearer than it has been in weeks. 

He’s let it go too far. The angst, the animosity, this bottomless gap edged between Aella and him, as well as between his truthful self and the bad-tempered doppelgänger that seems to have replaced him. He’s become almost desensitized to it, too riddled with grief to really care, but the way Dazzler put him in his place the night before served as a good wake-up call. This petulant and dismissive person isn’t him, or as his friend no-so-gently worded it, he is better than that. 

He can’t ignore the pit forming in his stomach though. Can’t blindly hand over his trust, forget about his doubts, and relinquish the reins to the woman that put said doubts in his mind in the first place. And that leaves him one only option really: talk to her about it. But while Harry’s never been one to shy from divulging his feelings, usually the person at the receiving end of his disclosures is already part of his trusted cycle.

Just as a runner passes him on the side, he lets out a long sigh at the prospect of such a heavy conversation. How is one meant to deliver the most vulnerable parcels of their character on a silver platter to the person they are the most scared of? Harry can’t help to see it as yet another test the universe is kindly throwing his way. The only thing stopping him for cowering away is the fact that she might have to shared equally vulnerable parts of her in the process. Perhaps it’s the only way they may align to finally be a working team: weaknesses and susceptibilities all out in the open.

The end of the pier is slowly coming to view, a couple of benches providing the perfect front row seat to the Pacific’s show. The sun has now completely gone MIA, faint lanterns scattered along the path dispersing small beacons of light that pale in comparison to their predecessor, but it’s enough for Harry to notice a silhouette standing ahead. Based on their movements, they seem to be caught up in a yoga or stretching session, one foot placed upon the wood railing as their upper body folds over the extended limb. Harry distractingly takes note of their suppleness but as he finally reaches the end of the dock and the mysterious athlete stands back up, he quickly realizes the soul he’s sharing the pier with tonight, is not so mysterious.

The uniform has been traded for a light hoodie, combat boots for a pair of neon trainers and long legs usually hidden under protective layers are now bare to any curious eyes as the only piece of cloth ‘covering' them up is a pair of light running shorts. Harry comes to a sudden halt as he realizes the very reason of his torments and spontaneous walk is now standing a few feet away from him. He finds himself at a bit of a crossroad: he can either stay and get on with what feels more and more like the only option he has, or turn around and delay the inevitable for one extra night. The choice is stripped from him anyway when Aella turns around as though guided by a sixth sense and her eyes cross his in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" She can’t help but ask.

Harry is at lost as to what to say, he didn’t expect to confront her so soon after deciding confrontation was their only saving grace. All he can do, is look at her questioning eyes that for once, are void of any hurt or resentment. He’d like to keep it that way if possible, no matter how unlikely it might be. 

"Just walkin’, enjoyin’ the sights I guess," it almost comes out as a question. 

"Oh. Well, I was just gonna go so…bye" She has trouble meeting his eyes as she nervously readjust her running attire and prepares for a quick escape. 

"Wait!" She’s interrupted by Harry’s voice and her whole attention is brought to his tall figure awkwardly standing in front of her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. She raises a brow when he takes too much time elaborating on his request for her presence. "I just…thought we could…talk, you know? Like, we kinda need it, don’t we?" His stance is not the only thing manifesting awkwardly it seems.

"Um, right now?" Aella suspiciously inquires, her eyes swiftly bouncing to the sea on her right and back to Harry.  

"’S good time as any, innit?" Is all Harry says in response.

Aella seems to gauge him for a second as if becoming aware of the meaning of this upcoming conversation. She knows it might be a tipping point in their partnership; if they want to make it work, that is. And the moment took her by surprise sure, but will there ever be a right time? There usually isn’t, after all. "Right then" she agrees with a quick tilt of her head towards the benches as an invitation to sit. For a minute or so they remain silent while they try to figure out a way to start the conversation.

"I’m not the sexist prick you think I am." Harry eventually says, looking at his hand on his lap.

"Right." She answers not convinced. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to make her think otherwise.

"I’m not, I swear." He briefly looks at her before settling back on the lathes paving the pier. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to think so, but I don’t have anything against you as a woman." 

"Ah my bad. You just think I’m a worthless co-pilot then." Aella spits out as she stands up, ready to run back to the safe space of her home. This was a terrible idea…

"You remind me of him." The words immediately bring her to a halt, half because she’s intrigued by their meaning, and half because of Harry’s searing pain obviously laced through their utterance. She turns around and looks at his hunched body, elbows now resting on his knees, glossy eyes still fixed on the ground. "You remind me of them both."

Aella swallows the lump in her throat before hesitantly asking "and who would they be?"

At that, Harry looks up and painfully answers,"my dad and Fox." 

Taking her time with the new information Aella takes a deep breath, drawing strength from the two blue immensities surrounding her. Slowly, she goes back to her seat next to Harry, though she leaves a decent space between the two of them. "How come?" She encourages.

"Fox was my partner before you came into the picture. But he was also my best friend." He starts explaining without losing an inch of his composure much to his surprise. 

"I know about Jonathan." Aella softly answers and Harry momentarily looks sideways at her from his bent position.

"You know of him, but you don’t know what kind of person he was." He argues with a shake of his head, short curls fluttering on top. "Fox was passionate. He was the strongest force to be reckoned with and he was fearless. And he was my best friend, but one day he took it too far and we got into an accident." Pause. "I survived, he didn’t." It surely is a condensed version of the whole story but that’s all she needs to know at the moment. 

Aella is slightly taken aback by the confession. She knows lieutenant Evans lost his life as a pilot, but she didn’t think Harry had been part of the equation, picking himself up as he watched his best friend stay down. She can’t really fathom the trauma that comes with such an incident, having flown in tandem for a very short period of time and with someone she isn’t particularly sympathetic with. Until tonight maybe. 

"Harry, I’m sorry about what happened…but I’m not him." She tries to reason.

"I know, I know." He is quick to acknowledge, taking his face in his hands before brushing them through is hair. "But the way you fly, or want me to fly is just…" He struggles to find the right words. "Look, I let him take all the risks when we were partners and he died for it. I’m not about to let that happen again. To you, me or anyone that sits in the same airplane I do," is what he settles for.

Aella doesn’t know what to say. Her brain is the one running now, faster than she ever has, as it pieces together the puzzle that is Harry Styles. She doesn’t necessarily approve of his conduct but she understands it better now. Understands the moody attitude and the resentment at her expend. Most of all, she is relieved that his supposed hatred for her has nothing to do with her gender nor her person and everything to do with his troubled past. It makes it somehow easier to stomach though she’s not about to mold herself up to his safety-appreciative standards. 

"What about your dad?" She asks instead, redirecting the subject at hand. Once again, the inquiry has Harry looking back at her. Except this time, he unfolds his torso to let it lean against the backrest of the bench, crossing his arms instead. Aella tries to overlook the way his biceps seem to pop out underneath the sun kissed flesh. She’s positively compelled away when he lets out a long sigh and dives back into the night’s confidences.

"I actually don’t know much about my dad," he starts with a humorless chuckle. "He was a Navy pilot too, gone most of the time, but he was a hero at home. He died a hero too. Left for a mission one day and never came back. I was 12." He pauses, needing a break and when he turns back to assess the weight of his words on her face, he’s only met with compassion and her undivided attention. "And all I’ve ever from anyone the wiser, is that he went into an ambush, knowingly, because he thought he could save a comrade. See the pattern?" He asks bitterly before he can help himself, but Aella knows it’s not really aimed at her. 

"I get it Harry. You’ve been through some trauma, and I’m just a breathing reminder of it. But I know what I’m doing." She says its conviction as her eyes cling onto his emerald versions. "I would never suggest something that would put you in danger; not matter how much I want to kill you most of the time." That earns them both a chuckle, and the weight on Aella’s heart is alleviated some, upon the realization that this is it, this is their turning point. The moment that can break or make their duo, seal their fate and pave their path. And by the sound of it, the future looks promising finally. "I know it looks like I’m crossing the line at times, but I spent the last 10 years of my life up to my neck in books. I never got to do the fun stuff during Navy School. The parties, the raves, the bonding… I was just the girl deluding herself into thinking she could make it, stealing a perfect spot from a more adequate man to take. And since it was just me, I studied all I could, and then when I run out of books to read I studied some more anyway." It’s now her turn to gaze at the ground while Harry listens carefully. "My choices up there, they’re not a way for me to prove myself. They’re just the possibilities I got from all the things I’ve missed out on since I enlisted because of who I am. And that’s fine. I’ve always been fine with that. But now, I have a partner and I can’t do my job properly if he doesn’t accept the possibilities he doesn’t see yet."

They both look at each other then, letting the words resonated into the night, in tune with the sounds of the crashing waves. The cards have changed, weakest ones at last laid out on the table whilst they still hold onto their kings and aces. But their fate is yet to be determined. Letting go of their blatantly mutual distaste might bring them one step closer to being a unit but they’re still ways from flying as one. 

Rome wasn’t built in a day though, and Aella still has half a run to complete. She figures it’s best not to push whatever progress they made that night, so she calmly stands up, about to resume her training when Harry softly calls out to her.

"See you tomorrow partner." It’s faint and simple, but Aella understand every ounce of its meaning. 

It’s a peace offering, an olive branch shyly extended from the tip of his fingers; a vow to try and figure this all thing out not as co-pilots but as equals. And that’s all the promises Aella needs to mutter back a ‘goodnight Harry’ and run back to her place in record-breaking time with a smile etched upon her face. 

Tomorrows have finally regained their wonder.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part six) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±1900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part six: Y/N is getting lost in the feelings that she’s developing for Dean, and it doesn’t take long before Jo takes notice. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Okay, maybe the tequila last night wasn’t such a good idea. Neither was that margarita the previous night, or the drinking game the night before that one. Or was it the other way around? Y/N cannot seem to recall, but today is Friday, so at least tomorrow she can sleep her way through the headache. Never ever did she drink as much as she did this week. Normally that would bother her, especially considering she’s not here on Spring break. But when the drinks are offered in a time when she needs a little something to stop thinking about that damned Dean Winchester, she couldn't care less about the increase of alcohol consumption.

     She found the balance quite quickly, too. Intoxicated enough to let go of the complexity that comes with growing fondness of the head wrangler, but sober enough to stop herself from doing anything stupid. The consequence is, however, that on this morning ride, her brain feels like it’s trying to expand beyond the size of her head. Thank God her stomach isn't acting up, because Joplin is trotting under her nervously. Seems like Y/N is having trouble finding the ‘walk’ button this early. The hot-blooded mare fails to respond when her rider asks her to slow down by saying ‘ho’ with a calm voice, but when Y/N breathes out, relaxes her legs, and shifts deeper in the saddle only by a fraction of an inch, the black horse transitions to walk.

     “Good girl,” Y/N compliments her.

     Three days without riding were more than she could handle. Meadow needed some time to recover from the long journey and to get used to her new home, but Y/N needed to restrain herself from climbing on the mare’s back anyway. She imagined this was a glimpse of what it would be like to kick an addiction cold turkey, going into withdrawal from the lack of her drug. As if not being able to train her own horse wasn't enough, it took another extra day before Y/N got onto any horse at all. It wasn't until yesterday morning that the supervisor decided that she deserved a shot at proving herself as a wrangler. She had to earn that by mucking, shit scooping, cleaning tack, and turning horses in and out. Which she gets, of course. Dean and Bobby wanted to see what she is made of before they let her ride one of their animals. But boy, was she frustrated. She even got to the point that Garth almost caught her muttering a promise to herself that if she had to clean up some horse’s massive dump one more time without a reward, she would be out of here.

     Yesterday she finally got to accompany a few guests on a trail. It was amazing to feel the horse move under the saddle again, the experience of the communication that she established within a second, and how the perfect fit on his back felt like home. Apparently, she did well, because on this morning ride, she is allowed to come along too.

     Content, she looks ahead at the large group of inexperienced riders, who find their way down the hill with some difficulty. The respect Y/N holds for the trail horses has grown, because their patience and ability to keep their clumsy passengers in the saddle hasn't ceased to amaze her. Bruce, a draft horse mix, has halted several times already, waiting motionless until his overweight German load has pulled himself back into the saddle after slowly tipping to one side. It's quite entertaining to watch.

     As she smiles at what’s playing out in front of her, the sound of hoofsteps close by on the rocky surface reaches her hearing. When she glances over her shoulder, a beautiful buckskin is just about to transition to an easy walk after catching up. Her eyes glide up until they meet his rider.

     “So, how are you this morning?” Dean wonders, a playful smile on his face.      It takes a short moment for her to answer, taken aback by her body’s response to the sight of the wrangler. A whirlwind starts to twist in her stomach, yet the headache suddenly doesn't seem as tormenting as it was a minute ago.      “I'm okay,” she claims.      He grins. “Sure about that? You had quite a few drinks last night.”      “I can handle myself,” she returns defensively, narrowing her eyes at him a little.      “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

     He chuckles, the warm and low sound rumbling deep in his throat triggering Y/N to peek at him from the corner of her eye. Was that a nervousness she detected? Did she just make him uneasy? He looks down, his lips drawn in a small smile. The sun from the east outlines the sharp lines of his jaw, edged by a scruff; apparently he didn't take the time to shave this morning. Boy, is she glad he didn’t.

     “Okay, I'll admit,” she says, trying to take away his insecurities. “My stomach might be a little… unsettled.”      Y/N isn’t lying, although alcohol has nothing to do with the butterflies that came to life inside of her. He doesn't know that, thankfully, yet he keeps a hold of his intern’s gaze for a little while longer, reading her. As if Dean’s horse wants to help love a little, the Quarter sways closer to her horse Joplin, the two of them now riding stirrup to stirrup. His knee slightly brushes against hers every other step and despite that it's barely a touch, she’s highly aware of the physical contact.

     “Don't throw up on your horse if you want to leave a good impression with me. Believe me, it ain't pretty,” Dean half jokes, half flirts.      She throws her head back in a laugh. “Don't worry, I won't. But please don't tell me you have seen that happen.”      “More than once, I'm afraid,” he remembers, turning in his saddle to face his younger cousin. “Ey, Jo?”      The blonde cowgirl, who is about thirty yards behind them, throws him a confused look, since she hasn't picked up a word of their conversation. Puzzled, she watches, inducing the riders further up to laughter.      “No way!” Y/N cries out.      “I ain’t kiddin’,” Dean sniggers. “I'll save that story for another time. Y’know, when your stomach isn't ‘unsettled’ by the same tequila that started Jo’s tale.”

     He spurs his horse, who canters forward to meet the group of guests up ahead. She observes Dean as the morning sun portrays the cowboy and his horse in a romantic light. Out here, away from the city, the Arizona landscape would have anyone believe that they traveled back to the time, when the Wild West was still the real deal. Cacti surround them, peculiar mountain peaks shaped by ten thousand years of wind erosion obstruct the far edge of the world. And in this perfect portrait rides a handsome cowboy, one with his horse, clouds of dust in their wake. An amused smile allows a glimpse of Y/N’s true feelings to shine through. There it is again, that tingly sensation in her belly. Sure, Dean. Blame it on the tequila, she thinks to yourself.

     “What the hell was that?”      Now that Dean left his spot next to her, Jo has caught up, gently pulling the reins as she sits back to bring her horse’s pace down.      Feeling caught, Y/N looks at her, brought off balance by the spite in the cowgirl’s voice. “What do you mean?”      “Oh, c’mon, Yankee. I wasn’t born yesterday, and neither were you. You just completed your master in business, don't act like you're stupid,” Jo counters. “You and Dean, what’s going on?”      The cowgirl eyes her in shock, her jaw dropping unpleasantly surprised. Was it really that obvious? How is she going to talk herself out of this one?      “I - I don't--” she stutters, blood rushing to her face. “There - there's nothing--”      She’s not sure if it’s her shameful expression or the fact that she lost her tongue, but Jo knows enough. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply.      “Y/N…” her friend starts, a mixture of disappointment and pity present in her voice. “Please don't go down that road. He will hurt you so bad you're gonna wish you never gone on that flight that got you here.”      Now the intern sighs too. Denying will not do her any good. Jo is smart enough to see right through it.      “Listen, I really like having you around. You're good company, you're a hard worker, you're great with the horses, and I don’t wanna lose my sis,” the ranch owner’s daughter says genuinely. “I would hate to see you leave because of my heartbreaker of a cousin. I've seen this play out so many times already, don't walk into that trap.”      “I think that ship has sailed,” her friend admits out loud.

     The words startle the woman who speaks them just as much as they stun Jo; she didn't intend to share that with her new friend already. But now that the comment is hovering between them without a way to take it back, a part of her is glad it’s out there. Dean has been about the only thing on her mind since she first saw him. Not being able to talk about that with anyone was driving her mad. She needs to vent to someone, someone she can trust.

     Shocked by the bombshell that Y/N just dropped, Jo turns her head to orient her big eyes towards the man in question. That son of a bitch..      “Well, that didn't take long…” The cowgirl shakes her head, then looks her in the eye after her confession. It's clear she feels sorry for her friend. “I'll talk to him.”      “No! Jo, please don't. Look, I didn't forget about your warning and I’m surely not going to act on these... feelings,” she guarantees, barely able to get out the word. “But I can't shut this off. It caught me by surprise as well.”      “He tends to have that effect on women,” Jo mutters.      “I won't do anything stupid,” Y/N assures her.      Jo glances at the intern from under her hat. “Promise?”

     She looks backs at her new friend. Honestly, she isn’t sure if she’s strong enough to resist Dean, but this agreement might help her stick to the plan. The plan to complete her internship successfully and return home to start her own ranch. It's all she ever wanted, it has been her life goal for as long as she can remember. Is she really going to let some cowboy stop her from fulfilling that dream? A very handsome, sweet, and utterly irresistible cowboy, but nonetheless. She will reach for the stars and she will have her wish, nothing will stand in her way, not even him. And so a reassuring smile forms on her lips.

     “I promise.”

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

[purplellamanator]

Please do anything for 6, 22 or 49. 😁

Yay!! Thanks for sending me a request! Its been to long since Ive wrote anything. 😭 Since this is from you, I'm assuming you wanted ShinRan ;) Sorry if there is any mistakes, I did this before I had to go to work. Also, sorry this took me forever 🤦‍♀️The ask box is still open for this so if anybody wants to send a request from that drabble post, feel free to send me one :D

06. I want to let someone who keeps asking me out down easy, so I blurt that I'm in a relationship and things sort of got out of hand

oOo

He had to admit- he was disappointed. When the rumors started circlating around.

Mouri Ran had a boyfriend.

The news had taken over their school by storm. After all, even though she herself didn't realize it, she was the talk of many high school boys' conversations. Namely, Hondou Eisuke's conversations.

It was no secret that the high schooler was infatuated with Ran. It was almost embarassing how obvious the former made his feelings and intentions known. And every single time, Shinichi had to wonder and glare at why Ran just wouldn't tell him no. To tell him to back off. It was obvious to him and everybody else around that she wasn't interested. And it was also obvious to him and everybody else that if she didn't just admit that, Hondou Eisuke would forever pine over her.

She was too nice. Unlike the company that she kept, she was too concious of other people's feelings. Numerous times he had overheard Suzuki scold her friend for not being honest and upfront.

"Tell him their's somebody else," Suzuki rolled her eyes as she was turned in her chair and facing Ran.

Ran bit her lip as she looked at her hands in her lap. "But that would be lying," she said meekly.

"Doesn't have to be if you'd just confess," Sonoko retorted easily.

All at once, Ran's face erupted crimson and Shinichi felt his ear perk up at the turn their conversation took. He wasn't big on girls gossiping. It usually gave him a headache considering it usually was from his fangirls but . . . confessing? Ran wanted to confess to someone?

"S-Sonoko!" the girl with the steaming red face sputtered. When her eyes began darting around the room as if to make sure no one heard, he quickly diverted his gaze to the book in his hand.

"Oh please," Sonoko huffed. "You're acting as if you would be turned down. That nerd trips over himself from you just looking at him." Her response then spurred on an argument that would clearly give him a headache if he tried to decipher it. Already, he was stuck on the one relevation.

Ran wanted to confess to someone?

Unconicously, his heartbeat steadily increased as did his curiosity.

Ran wanted to confess to someone and according to Suzuki, the feeling was mutual.

Shinichi was let down. He was admittedly, disappointed. Shinichi had wanted to confess to her but after realizing how many Red Days had passed them by, it hardened the point that the two had only ever really had one interaction where they hadn't been forced to speak to each other. Besides the occasional group project, Ran and him hadn't had a real conversation since he headbutted that bully for crumpling her nametag in cherry blossom class.

When they were four.

It was quite sad honestly when it had been love at first sight for him and it clearly hadn't been for her. In fact, he had always thought Ran hated him since in the midst of that first meeting he had also called her a crybaby.

Smooth, he thought broodingly at the reminder.

"Sonoko," Ran chastised softly. "Someone might hear you. . ."

"Good," the Suzuki heiress snorted. "Hopefully Eisuke-kun and-"

With a small scream, the other girl jumped up from her chair and slammed both hands over her friend's mouth, smothering whatever it was she had been about to say. All the comotion had the room silencing and a few other students turned to face the pair. Noticing all the attention she had attracted, her face went an even more vibrant shade and she slammed back into her chair, eyes zeroed in on the wood of her desk and not daring to look anywhere else.

Sonoko had smirked at first at the embarrassment she caused her friend but once everybody moved on and was no longer looking at them questioningly, she sighed. "Look- all I'm saying is that it's time to be honest. And sometimes that means having to hurt someone." Her voice was significantly more gentle than her earlier teases. "But the longer you wait, the harder he'll take it when you finally do confess to the one you want."

That being said, the teacher chose that moment to enter the room and address the students. As he continued to watch Ran, he took notice of how she was still staring hard at her desk and also of the small frown that was tilting her lips slightly down.

Suddenly her gaze moved to his and too caught off guard at the fact he'd just gotten caught, all he did was stare back with wide eyes. She looked slightly surprised that he was already looking at her and though her cheeks slowly began to darken again, she didn't look away.

oOo

And thus the news spread like wildfire. It was all anyone was really talking about. Even students from other grades who likely didn't even really know her were talking about it.

Shinichi didn't care about any of that. All he could think or wonder about was when in the time span of 24 hours had Ran got a boyfriend? Did she really already confess in such a small amount of time just from being hounded by Suzuki. He couldn't believe it but it had to be true especially after he saw how Hondou looked that day.

He looked . . . distraut- disappointed. Much how Shinichi was feeling but luckily he was much better at hiding his emotions.

Any hope that he had of being the one Ran wanted to confess to was squashed. He felt stupid for even considering it. Sure he had a fan club. He probably got more chocolates on Valentine's than any other student in their school. But he never got a single one from her. Ever.

Then as time passed and a week went by, slowly things began to calm down and everybody moved on. That is. . . until a new craze took over the school.

Who was Ran's boyfriend?

Shinichi would admit, he was curious as to who it was as well. He had probably been the first to notice that no one had actually seen her with said 'boyfriend'. Cause he had been bursting at the seams to figure out just who the hell had her blushing so madly when talking with Suzuki the other day.

It had been a week since she apparently began dating someone yet no one had seen or even heard the name of who this mystery guy was. She still walked around school with the same group of girls. She arrived and left school with the same people and at the same times.

In fact, the only thing that changed was . . . Hondou bothering her . . . But suddenly that even stopped. It seemed his curiosity had yet to ebb and he outright heard the high schooler question who this mystery bachelor was.

It had sent Ran into a blushing and stuttering panic until Sonoko stepped in and voiced what was the truth.

It wasn't his buisiness. It wasn't anybody's buisiness. No matter how much Shinichi felt like he deserved to know, Suzuki's snappy retort made him realize that it wasn't his buisiness either.

Not until. . .

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Shinichi's eyes bulged practically out of his head as his face erupted red and he thought he might combust. When Ran asked to speak with him after school, this wasn't what he had been expecting.

Taking notice of his gaping mouth and the fact that she just shocked him into a frozen statue, Ran's already scorching face went brighter.

"I- I thought you were already dating somebody," Shinichi found the breath to say and practically had to force the words out.

Now a new emotion seemed to take over the high school girl and it made him frown.

It was shame.

Slowly, she began to shake her head without meeting his gaze anymore. If anything it was staring blankly at his chest that was just at her eye level. "I . . . actually don't have a boyfriend. . . “ she trailed off slowly and he could see how embarrassed and ashamed she was by the confession.

And that's when it all clicked for him. Why no one had seen or even knew the name of this supposed boyfriend. Why Ran looked so upset and just humiiated anytime someone questioned her about it.

"Your talk with Suzuki," he said slowly but with revelation but all it did was make Ran look even more mortified.

"You were listening!?” Her voice raised in horror and probably at the reminder of everything they had said and admitted in that conversation.

Thinking it best not to lie, Shinichi simply nodded his head.

All of a sudden she looked like she wanted to cry. “How much did you hear!?" she asked in a panic.

Maybe it wasn't the best thing to think about all that he had heard in that particular conversation. Granted they had been talking in a public setting but it was rude how much he went out of his way just to hear them. But it also reminded him of things that he didn't much like thinking about.

With a small scowl and a half-lidded glare, he shoved his hands firmly in the pockets of his school uniform pants. "Enough to wonder why you're not asking the boy you actually like to be your fake boyfriend," he grumbled while looking away to glare at anything he could lay his eyes on. He just didn't want to look at her because he knew what his words would mean. They were so obvious. They were laced with jealously and just so much bitterness that he knew it wouldn't be a secret anymore.

He liked Mouri Ran. And he didn't want to see that rejection he had felt when he first realized Ran didn't like him. It just hurt. He didn't want to be her fake anything. And it was so insulting that she'd even think to-

"I am."

Her voice sounded so tiny and meek but it resounded loudly in his chest. Suddenly he could hear the loud pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears as he had no choice but to snap his gaze back to hers.

He felt winded.

He felt like the world was spinning.

He felt. . . confused.

"W-What?" he said so eloquently.

"I- I meant to say something sooner. Before those rumors started spreading," she said with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. "But one day Eisuke-kun just ambushed me and I just-!" With a noise of frustration she covered her face before running the hand through her long brown hair successfully making it tangled. Sighing, she shook her head again. "I know it was wrong to do- to lie to him like that but Sonoko got that idea in my head and I just blurted it out!"

After her confession, it was dead silent between the two. He couldn't help but stare at her as if she'd grown two heads. And she seemed content to let him just comprehend all of what she just said. That or she was simply feeling too humiliated to say anything more.

And then finally. . . .

"You were going to confess to me?"

His words startled her and obviously caught her off guard. It had her blinking, surprised by what he just said. Was that all he had heard?

Probably.

"You mean . . you're not upset I lied . . . ?"

Upset?! He had never had such a hard time reading a person before. He'd like to think he was good at it, being the amazing detective that he was. But no one had ever confused him or been more difficult to understand than Ran. And he knew that was likely because he couldn't ever think straight when she was involved.

Ignoring her ridiculous question all together, he got a small smirk on his face and a new idea.

“So then, is this you asking me to be your fake or real boyfriend?”

[anzu2snow]

It’s been a long time since I simply wrote something on here, instead of shared a link to my blog. Since it’s a little difficult right now to blog through blogger for me, I might just write stuff here.

I don’t think I wrote about my cancer directly on here before. I was diagnosed with metastatic or stage 4 breast cancer back in April. I had no other cancer diagnosis beforehand. People tell me I’m too young for it. I’m 36. (Was 35 when diagnosed, but had my birthday in November.) Younger than even when the mammograms are supposed to start up. I’ll always have this. There’s no beating stage 4 breast cancer. It’s spread to my bones (all over my skeleton) and skin.

Found out about the bone mets (lesions) first before they found the cancer. I had fallen in the shower back in March and broke my right shoulder. A month later, as I was recovering, ankle/leg swelling wouldn’t go down so I went to Urgent Care to get checked out. They found the bone mets in the imaging. They weren’t exactly sure that’s what they were at the time, and ordered a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsies of both breasts. They found out that it’s in both breasts, too. My type is hormone positive (all of them), and her2-.

I was put into my insurance’s palliative care program in April. It’s helped me a lot. I have a cane, hospital bed, walker, a home aide that comes by to give me a shower twice a week (the broken shoulder still isn’t flexible enough to shower with), a nurse that calls once a week and sometimes meets face-to-face at home, a social worker who calls once a week, a doctor that deals with meds for the symptoms part of it, and more. I was supposed to start physical therapy through them, but haven’t yet. There’s a lot more to the program than I thought at first.

I had a radical hysterectomy back in July. That took care of the hormone powerhouses which were feeding the cancer. Had more problems with swelling afterwards. It’s been bad off and on since then. Pretty good right now, at least.

I’m on Ibrance for chemo. Luckily, it’s just an oral pill and not through an IV. Also, taking anastrazole for the hormone part. Started taking zometa recently. That is actually through an IV once every 3 months. It’s a bone-strengthening med for people like me where it’s in the bones. I was told it could give me flu-like symptoms after that 1st dose. Sure enough, it did. Had a fever, came close to throwing up, etc. the next day for 2 days after. They said that only happens the 1st time. I hope so. I’m not taking it anymore if I end up that sick every time. So, we’ll see. I take a lot of meds now for things like pain, nausea, cramps, swelling, and more. I have what looks like a little pharmacy in the dining room with all that stuff. I hate taking it all, but if I don’t, I can’t function at all.

I’ve been having a weird symptom lately. I feel like I’m going to faint/slip away sometimes. I told my new oncologist about this and she immediately said it sounded like brain mets. She quickly ordered a brain MRI to see. I just had that done yesterday. The last one I had was back in April, and my brain looked fine. I didn’t remember that there was a contrast for this one. It was louder than I remembered, too. Despite having ear plugs and mufflers on either side of my head. Ended up with a mild headache because of the constant loud thuds. They kept asking if I was ok. I love tight enclosed spaces, so I was fine. I had to have help with the gown and robe, which was kind of embarrassing. They said I should get the results by Monday. Much sooner than I expected.

On Monday, I’m getting both a full bone scan and CT scan. My last bone scan in September indicated progression. I hope it doesn’t this time. I hope it hasn’t travelled to other organs with the CT scan. However, knowing how aggressive this cancer has been, it wouldn’t surprise me if it has spread to another organ somewhere. It’s going to be a long day.

[babywarg]

Drpepperony Prompt: Pepper gets sick/injured and Tony calls the hospital demanding they send their absolute best doctor. Leaves Pepper to answer to phone and walks back in on the most handsome man ever taking care of Pepper.

hello! took quite a few liberties with your prompt here (again 😅), but i still hope you like it 💖

set shortly after Iron Man 2 and before the first Avengers movie.

[10/03/2019: NOT ACCEPTING NEW PROMPTS AT THE MOMENT. Thank you for understanding 💕]

***

One day without Ms. Potts was manageable. Barely.

Two days was hell.

Three days got Tony inquiring after the state of her health.

When he learned she was in the hospital recovering from extreme fatigue, he dropped everything to race over to said hospital.

His first impulse was to use the Iron Man suit. It would have taken him there faster.

But it was a hospital. She (as well as everyone else there) would not have appreciated the loud and flashy disruption. Therefore, a car would do.

Extreme fatigue.

She had only said she was under the weather. He was imagining she was sitting at home, bundled up in blankets or in a fluffy robe, sniffling cutely while nursing a mug of hot cocoa she’d made for herself.

At worst, it would be the flu. She would still call. Assure him and all other stakeholders that way that everything was going to be fine.

But it had been fatigue, not the flu. She had collapsed as she was walking to her parked car three days ago, on her way to work. Other tenants of her apartment building found her and rushed her to Metro General.

The hospital Tony was rushing to get to.

He hadn’t thought about bringing her anything. That was why the balloon he’d bought at the hospital lobby, when Shit I’d forgotten to bring her something finally crossed his mind, said “It’s a boy!” instead of “Get well soon!” (he was in a hurry and had grabbed the wrong balloon).

He hadn’t even thought about calling ahead. Which would have been a wise idea.

It would’ve spared him the shock of finding her smiling and laughing with a cute, young, blue-eyed doctor as she lay in her hospital bed, hooked up to an IV.

Tony didn’t know what he had been prepared to find. Ms. Potts still unconscious, maybe? Emaciated, barely able to move, like a damsel in distress?

But she looked fine. Just a little pale and weak, perhaps, but stunning as ever. Certainly strong enough to flash her billion dollar smile at a total stranger.

And the doctor she was with…looked fine.

“Don’t worry, sir, she’d asked for the best doctor in the hospital,” the nurse rushed to tell his anxious ass at reception, but he didn’t stay to hear the rest of it.

So this was the best doctor in the hospital.

“Tony!” she greeted breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

She looked genuinely surprised to see him. The doctor standing by her bed, however, seemed unimpressed.

“I, uh,” he began. Man, that doctor had pretty eyes. “Heard you were sick? Thought you may appreciate seeing a familiar face.”

All things considered, she really did look glad to see Tony. Which was a relief.

“Of course,” she said softly. “Thank you. And I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I didn’t want to trouble you.” She glanced over at the doctor. “I was going straight to the office to take care of everything after getting discharged tomorrow.”

“Hold on, Ms. Potts,” the young doctor sternly interrupted, in a deep baritone that flowed over to Tony like melted butter. “First of all, I haven’t signed off on that yet. We still have a couple more tests to run and I may decide to keep you here another night.”

“That’s why I got the best doctor in the house,” Ms. Potts argued, in a lightly flirtatious tone that did not escape Tony. “I have no choice but to get better fast, and I will.”

“Second,” - completely ignoring said flirtatious tone - “you’re heading back to work as soon as you get out of here? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“That’s right, Ms. Potts, you’ve got to be kidding,” Tony immediately echoed. “You’re going to stay and rest for as long as you need to.”

He stepped forward to hand the “It’s a boy!” balloon over to his former executive secretary. Who seemed amused and discreetly weirded out at the gift.

“Really,” Ms. Potts muttered, one corner of her lip raised. “I seem to recall you are no longer the boss of me.”

Tony made a playful warning gesture with one hand. “I made you CEO. I can take that back, you know.”

She smiled. Gosh, how he loved when he could make her smile. He was going to have to tell her that someday.

“I’m sorry, you are - ?”

This was from Doctor Hottie at her bedside. The question made Tony pause. Or maybe it was the way the doctor’s eyes seemed to look right into his soul.

“I’m her - ” What? Significant other? Ex-boss? Biggest headache? “ - friend.”

Ms. Potts’ eyebrows rose upon hearing that…though she didn’t overtly dispute it.

“Right,” the doctor answered, incredulous - apparently every bit as perceptive as he looked. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, Ms. Potts’ attending physician. I was in the middle of discussing Ms. Potts’ test results with her. This is normally information reserved for the family and the patient herself, so I’ll continue if Ms. Potts allows me - otherwise I’ll come back later. I do have other patients to see.”

Uh, wow. Self-important, much?

“Okay, Doc uh…” Tony fumbled for the name. “…Strange, is it? Can I talk to you outside for a bit?”

Strange looked over at Ms. Potts. Ms. Potts nodded, giving him permission.

He stepped out of the room with Tony without further argument.

Tony wasted no time in introducing himself properly - Tony Stark, president of Stark Industries, yadda yadda - and asking Dr. Strange what the deal was. And Strange was no-nonsense about it, which Tony appreciated.

Ms. Potts had not been sleeping. She’d been neglecting drinking fluids and eating healthily. She had been going to the gym, but without proper rest and nutrition, she had just been pushing her body past its limits. Her stress and anxiety levels were through the roof. And all of it had been going on for months.

Tony’s quick-working brain translated it as this:

Ms. Potts getting sick was his fault, for forcing her into a promotion.

They’d known each other for a while now. He should have known that the perfectionist in her might push her to be harder on herself than she actually needed to be.

Lots of company heads barely did any work. But Ms. Potts was always a hands-on manager. She would never be that kind of CEO.

“She needs rest,” Dr. Strange emphasized. “Bed rest. At least a week of it. Two would be ideal.”

“Two weeks,” Tony thoughtfully repeated. “There’s…no way to speed that up, is there?”

An eyebrow shot up. “Eager to get her back to the grind, are you?”

“No.” Asshole. “I just know her well enough to know that there’s no way in hell she’ll take to two weeks of staying indoors. Stark Industries is her baby. If she’s not with her baby, she won’t be able to rest anyway.”

To Tony’s surprise, a note of compassion entered the doctor’s voice.

“I’m not recommending so much downtime on a whim. The fact of the matter is, Ms. Potts’ body badly needs to remember how to relax. When was the last time she went on vacation?”

Tony tried to think back. And came up blank.

“I…huh,” he remarked. “I don’t think she’s ever taken a vacation since she started working at SI.”

“You say you’re her friend,” the doctor said. “The best thing you could do for her as a friend is to convince her to listen to her doctor. And try to ease her burden.”

Tony thought for a second.

“I do have a place upstate,” he mused aloud. “A lakeside log cabin…nice little place, perfect for an extended vacation. She ought to be able to relax there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Strange agreed.

“It’s about a two-hour drive from here. How much to book you for regular home visits?”

The question seemed to take the good doctor aback.

“I’m a resident, Mr. Stark. I don’t do home visits.” He sounded genuinely offended, and just a tad amused. “And you can’t ‘book’ me, I’m not a taxi.”

“Wrong choice of words.” Tony threw his hands up in apology. “I’m just saying…she seems to like you. And I want her to get the best medical care while she’s recovering. Money’s no object.”

The doctor looked Tony up and down. Man, how could he look so handsome while being so annoying?

“In that case,” Dr. Strange responded, smirking, “we may be able to arrange something. Call my assistant.”

This seemed to conclude their conversation. Without so much as a by-your-leave, the annoyingly hot young doctor left to resume his rounds.

Tony let him go; his mind was already buzzing with plans to accommodate Ms. Potts in his lakeside cabin for two weeks. He had better make sure he was with her for those two weeks, just to make sure she really was resting, you know, and not on her phone stressing out and trying to run things by remote control.

And he had better be around for when Doctor Sexy came to visit.

You know.

Just to be safe.

[spartanguard]

sick of love (3/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

CS Soulmates AU | Rated M | 10.6k | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3

A/N: LAST CHAPTER AH. I meant to have this done sooner, but I didn’t get much writing done at camp—so here we are on Friday! It ended up much longer than anticipated, but this is where it earns the M rating. I hope this was worth the wait, and thank you for sticking with it!

As stated before, this story was inspired by this tumblr post. Thank you again to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this awesome event and to @sherlockianwhovian for making that AMAZING art up there!

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

More wrong than any other time in her life. 

That first night after the collision on the train, she got drunk on Sam Adams and blamed that on why the barrage of text messages from Killian mysteriously disappeared from her phone.

By Thursday, Henry had asked why they hadn’t yet had dinner with Killian that week. “Because you have school now, mister,” worked as an excuse.

And thankfully, she managed to hide her sigh of relief when Killian wasn’t at dinner at the Nolans, supposedly because he was called into work.

Halfway through the next week, Henry asked if they had a fight or something. “Yeah, or something,” was her lame, mumbled response. “It’s an adult thing.”

That was enough to get him to stop asking questions, though he had plenty of comments after the following Friday’s dinner—she decided that would be the best time to track her latest skip and dropped Henry off to stay with Snow and Dave for the night, and her resolve hardened when she saw the Chevelle in the driveway.

“You know, Killian seemed kind of mopey,” Henry told her when she picked him up the next morning. “Kind of like he did when we first met him.”

“He just gets like that sometimes; maybe it was something at work.”

“Maybe; I dunno. It seemed different. He says hi, though.”

He’d said more than that in the texts she kept deleting. Though those were usually something along the lines of Please, Swan—just talk to me.

What she wouldn’t admit was how much those broke her heart.

She wanted to; she really did. She missed him, dammit. But that would mean acknowledging whatever had passed between them as something real, that the whole idea actually had merit, and she wasn’t ready for that level of anything yet. She wasn’t even ready to kiss him, for fuck’s sake; even the title “boyfriend” held more weight than she was ready to carry.

And part of her still was in denial, sure that she’d imagined it because of that little romantic part of her that wanted something more.

She’d learned long ago to ignore that small voice, and she could shut it up again.

She didn’t do soulmates.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

A couple more weeks went by and fall arrived—her favorite. She wrapped up in a scarf on that first day, inhaling the chill in the air and making sure to stop for a pumpkin spice latte. Part of her wondered what kind of scarf Killian was wearing, if he even had one on—and then the rest of her put that idea to rest. 

His texts became more sporadic; she never saw him on the train. He hadn’t been at Snow and David’s the last couple weeks and apparently had been stuck on the night shift for the last month. She was getting better at not thinking about him, but her mind generally wandered in his direction without her realizing it had.

There was a near run-in a week ago at the Chinese place; she saw his name on the receipt of the bag next to hers, and never paid so quick in her life. But otherwise, she’d been Killian-free for a month and was feeling just fine.

See? Nothing to worry about, she assured herself. Maybe in a couple more weeks, she could seek him out again, apologize, and they could carry on like that scare never happened.

But that thought got delayed when she came down with a cold a few days later.

She had a headache that wouldn’t go away and was tired a lot more than usual. The kitchen lights seemed especially harsh and there was a lingering bit of nausea that never quite sent her running for the toilet, but was definitely annoying.

“Are you feeling okay, Henry?” she’d ask every day, checking for a fever and his skin for any clamminess. She just needed to touch him, to make sure he was okay; or maybe she was being clingy because he had just started middle school.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he’d say, shrugging her off. “Are you?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Part of her wondered, when the nausea continued for a week without abating, if she was somehow pregnant again. It felt a lot like the early stages. But immaculate conception had only happened once, to her knowledge, so she had probably just picked up the flu somewhere.

She tried to power through it—even going on desk duty at her bail bonds firm (which she rarely, if ever did), but then her hands started cramping up from all the typing and kind of stayed that way. And good lord, that was terrible coffee in there, but she was so parched that she’d take it. She complained about it to Snow, who gave her a sidelong glance that fell somewhere between pitying and knowing, but amazingly gave no lecture. She just gave her a box of rose-flavored tea and a hug. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d been sick in Henry’s lifetime—no one had that good an immune system—but she felt terrible that it was putting her so out of commission (in addition to, you know, feeling terrible).

“What kind of flu did you give me, kid?” she asked, voice hoarse, when Henry brought her tea in bed on her birthday. 

“Maybe it’s something worse, Mom,” he said, and she could see how scared he was. “Maybe you should go to the ER?”

Cold dread washed over her at the mention of the place (or maybe it was just a chill resulting from the recently developed fever; it was hard to tell). “No; I’m not that bad,” she promised, despite how awful she sounded. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go to urgent care.”

There was one on their block, but she didn’t even have the energy to walk that far. Just getting to her car was draining. Her hand struggled to cooperate with the pen while filling out forms, which included firmly checking the “no” box next to the question asking if she had lovesickness. She had the flu—that was it. 

(Not that lovesickness had any true treatment; even at hospitals, all they could do was put a person on an IV of fluids and pain killers until it was done. So there was really no point in an urgent care even asking. Jerks.)

The doctor asked the usual questions—symptoms, how long she’d had them, and a whole bunch of other stuff that was already on the forms—before actually reading what was on the clipboard, squinting, then looking up at her skeptically. “Are you sure you don’t have lovesickness?”

“Positive,” she snapped back. 

He gave her another incredulous look, shook his head, and wrote her a prescription for a generic antibiotic—which was all she needed, she was sure, and not the judgment of some two-bit doctor with bleached hair. 

She felt better the next morning, after medicine and rest; good enough to go to work, so she started to get ready. See—she’d been right! It was just a bug. Nothing crazy or earth-shattering, just a run-of-the-mill thing. 

Or, at least, that was her last thought before the world turned on it’s axis and she passed out on her bed. 

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

“Emma, are you sure I can’t take you to the hospital? You passed out, for crying out loud!” She could always count on David’s brotherly instincts to border on paternal. 

“I’ll be fine; I promise. I just need to ride it out some more.”

David huffed, clearly not pleased with the situation. She wasn’t thrilled with it, either, but she wasn’t fit to be Henry’s mom until this thing had ran its course, or the antibiotics stopped making her dizzy—whichever came first. Henry was the one who found her unconscious, though she roused quickly; but it shook him enough that she didn’t want him around while she was still this sick. She’d never forgive herself if she got him sick, too. 

“And you’re sure it’s just a bug?”

“Yes! Oh my god,” she rasped out, though it didn’t sound as convincing with her weakened voice. “Go! Have fun! Make sure he gets to school on time, does his homework, et cetera.”

David sighed again, but she could tell from the slump of his shoulders that he’d relented. “Alright; but make yourself some tea and get some rest. We’ll check in on you—no complaints. And if you don’t answer your phone, we’re coming to get you.”

“Fine,” she huffed; that was fair. Henry shuffled out from his room then, with an overstuffed duffel. For a moment, it reminded her of being a kid and her entire life fitting in one of those as she was moved from home to home; her eyes watered at the memory, but she—and Henry—knew he had a home to come back to; this was temporary. “Be good for your aunt and uncle,” she told him, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead (which seemed a lot closer to chin than it had the day before).

“I will. Please get better soon, Mom,” he said, worry in his voice and his big brown eyes.

“I will. I promise.” 

She couldn’t get worse, right?

Why did she keep saying that? Famous last words, no doubt. 

Because she’d hardly settled on the couch after they left before another wave of vertigo struck and she nearly spilled her tea (of course, Snow had sent another box over). Though it might not have been that bad if she had, because she was also feeling awfully chilled, despite having two fleece blankets draped over her. (If she just gave it an hour, she’d be dealing with a manic hot flash instead.)

But this was better, she knew—Henry would be looked after and she’d be able to heal without anyone bothering her. And it was kind of nice having the apartment to herself for a couple days; that didn’t happen often.

It got dull fast, though. And quiet, oddly enough, even though she was able to watch whatever she wanted on Netflix (Henry hated Outlander; she didn’t).

It was...lonely. Again. Possibly more than ever in her life. It was one thing to not have anyone, like she had when she was a kid. But now that she had people—David, Snow, Henry...Killian, she had to admit—the solitude felt bigger without them there.

And, really, she had no one to blame but herself there. Old habits die hard and all that. As much as she tried to tell herself it was better if they weren’t around her germs, she could also really go for a hug right about now; wrapping her arms around herself didn’t quite cut it.

But this was her bed (well, nest of blankets on the couch) and she had to lay in it until this all passed. At least she had Jamie and Claire to distract her.

So she pulled the blankets a little tighter around her and settled in.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

The next few days passed in a haze of tea, takeout, and the Scottish highlands, though she had to rewatch multiple episodes due to her worsening state and the fact that she kept passing out in the middle (always right before the good stuff, annoyingly). She managed to reply to all of David’s messages fast enough to not cause worry on his end, but that was almost all she had energy for. Bless whoever came up with Door Dash.

And she wasn’t just tired in general—she was tired of being sick. How much longer could one body take to fight off...whatever this was? It had been nearly 6 weeks, all told. The antibiotic script ran out without taking the illness with it. The tea helped a bit, but getting as far as the kitchen to make it was a challenge with the nausea, vertigo, and tunnel vision she was fighting against.

Thank goodness she had an escape on the TV. 

(There were a few strange instances, though, where her foggy mind twisted Jamie’s Scottish brogue into Killian’s accent; and damn did their blue eyes look similar, even if the rest of them didn’t. She may have had a couple of vivid dreams along that line, though.)

But then Jamie and Claire both got lovesickness in season 3. And art started imitating life a bit too much for her liking.

Annoyed, she turned off the TV and pulled herself up from couch so she could shuffle into the kitchen and get more tea.

Fucking Outlander. Fucking sassenach. Fucking soulmates. Fucking lovesickness. Fucking Killian.

Not that kind of fucking, though.

Wait, why did her train of thought go there?

Trains...soulmates...lovesick...Killian.

Dammit.

She shook her head as she plopped down on the floor of her kitchen, still wrapped in blankets while waiting on the tea kettle. That was probably a burned bridge, if she was being honest. She hadn’t heard from him in at least two days, so she had to assume he’d given up; it wouldn’t be the first time someone did that to her, but it was probably the most deserved. Try as she might, she still hadn’t forgotten what happened on the train, and she still had no logical explanation for it...save for one.

The kettle was starting to hiss but she ignored it. Had she overreacted? In an effort to avoid what she’d feared for so long, had her own stubbornness and walls just pushed her right into it? Was she really in the same position she’d just seen on her screen...was she lovesick?

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts, though; it was probably the pizza delivery. She wasn’t even really sure why she’d picked that to order, though it probably had something to do with Killian being on her mind. It took some struggle to pull herself up off the floor, her stiff muscles protesting each movement, but she managed to get upright with only a minor amount of vertigo; maybe she was getting better, after all?

There was another knock. “I’m coming,” she tried to shout, but her voice could only go so loud. As fast as she could manage—which wasn’t very—she limped to the door, brushed her hair behind her ears in a weak attempt at looking presentable, unlatched the lock, and opened it.

But she wasn’t greeted by the smell of dough and melted cheese, or by an annoying teenage delivery boy—no, that was taking its sweet time, as usual. Her heart actually stopped for a brief moment, because on the other side of the door was Killian.

And he looked as awful as she felt. 

“Emma,” he breathed, a faint smile pulling at his weary features, but it faded fast as a cough took over and nearly rattled him off the door frame he was leaning on.

“Killian.” She nearly choked on his name. “How...how did you find my address?” They’d somehow never been to each other’s places.

“David,” he answered. Normally, he would have shrugged, but it probably hurt too much right now. Like her, he had dark circles under his eyes and sheen of sweat on his forehead that his hair was clinging to. He had on a pair of scrub pants and a black sweater under his usual leather jacket, under which his chest was heaving after no doubt climbing the three flights of stairs to her apartment. Oddly, he didn’t have his prosthesis on. “Can we please talk, finally?” 

Even the blue of his eyes was faded, and that was probably what broke her the most. She nodded and stepped aside, leaving a wide path for him to come in.

He stumbled in and she pointed him towards the couch. “Tea?” she offered, trying to be a good hostess.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he fell against the cushions.

As she poured the tea, she didn’t let herself think of the implications of him being as sick as her. Her walls started to go up and she began to rationalize—he probably picked it up at work; god only knows what kind of stuff he was exposed to there. Maybe she’d gotten it from him when they had their collision?

Very carefully, she moved into the living room and set his mug down on the coffee table, before gently sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “So, you pick up a nasty virus in the ER?” she started, then took a sip.

He cast her an almost annoyed look before reaching for his cup. “I think we both know that’s not the case, love.”

“You don’t know that,” she murmured. “It could be anything.”

He took a sip, then stared at the tea in disbelief as he swallowed. “Where did you get this?”

Now she was the one confused. “Snow; why?”

He snorted derisively. “And it makes you feel better, right?”

“A bit, I guess.”

“Emma, don’t you know what rose tea is for?”

What the heck—did he come over just to fight? She’d understand if he was angry about her ghosting him, but to be so combative? Her hackles were rising. “No, I don’t, Doctor Jones; enlighten me.”

He cautiously set down the mug and then scooted a bit closer to her; she reflexively tried to melt into the arm of the couch. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but said to ease lovesickness.”

She shut her eyes and turned her head. That couldn’t be it—it just couldn’t. Whatever personal revelation she’d been having before his arrival had ran away, buried under her blankets and armor where it belonged. 

She didn’t do soulmates...right?

“You can deny the truth, love, but that won’t make it any less real. And like you just said, I’m a doctor—I know what’s going on. Has anything else helped?”

Not opening her eyes, she shook her head. She didn’t know if she could handle whatever emotion was likely simmering in Killian’s gaze.

“Just what do you think happened on the train that day?” he asked softly, though it didn’t sound like he had another volume.

“I don’t know—maybe we said it under our breath,” she tossed out half-heartedly.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “Well, what if I don’t want it? What if I don’t want the universe telling me who’s right for me—what if I want to be chosen instead?”

Despite their dulled color, a spark of fire ignited in Killian’s eyes. “What are you calling the past few months, then?” he spat. “I don’t know about you, but those were some of the happiest of my life, and it was all because of you and Henry. I want to be chosen, too—you know that. But you can’t tell me you’re so dense that you didn’t notice us doing exactly that. And you can’t deny you’ve been happy, too; you’re too much of an open book.” 

He had her there—it was impossible for her to refute it. Even now, despite the distance she was trying to keep between them, she could feel the pull towards him—she’d missed him so much. But was it just because something was pulling strings somewhere out in the cosmos? Could she trust her own feelings? 

“Tell me, love: were soulmates not even a thing, would you hesitate like this?”

That took her by surprise—but then again, everything about Killian had, since the day they met. She couldn’t deny the thoughts and fantasies she’d had about him; those were decidedly romantic in nature. But in her decision to rebel against the entire system, she’d never considered a scenario in which it didn’t exist. There were plenty of people out there who fell in love without it and were happy, but given what she thought she’d had with Neal, she figured it’d be all or nothing for her.

The longer she thought about it, though, her answer became clear: “No, I wouldn’t.”

Cautiously, he smiled, and it looked like he was blinking back tears—but that could have been due to her own fuzzy vision, and she wasn’t sure if it had to do with her emotions or current physical state. “Then why fight it?”

“Because,” she said in a small voice. “What if it’s wrong?”

“Darling, I think we’re well past that.”

She was scraping for excuses now, she knew, and could feel her walls crumbling under his sweet gaze. They weren’t gone yet, though. “What about Milah?”

His brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else.”

He slumped a bit, but she couldn't tell if that was due to physical or emotional duress; probably both. “Aye, I had thought for a long time that I didn’t want anyone else, that I’d never be capable of letting go of my first love, of finding someone else.” He chewed on his bottom lip and then looked up at her. “That is, until I met you.”

Her breath hitched. There was no going back from a confession like that.

Silence settled over them for a long minute, during which the revelation washed over her. He wanted her—and had for a while, before they made skin contact and ended up here. And the more she reflected on it, she wanted him, too.

She wanted...all of it. Soulmates, happily ever after, the whole shebang.

Oh, who was she kidding? She fucking loved him.

But she was terrible with words—sincere ones, at least. How did she tell him that?

Gingerly, she shifted closer to him; he flinched a little, likely out of the same reflexes she’d honed over the years, but didn’t back away. His right arm was closest to her, and though he was still wearing his jacket, his hand was uncovered. It was a handsome hand, she had to admit—long, graceful fingers, with well-trimmed nails and fine dusting of dark hair on the back. She wondered if the rest of his was just as good-looking. And now, she was determined to find out.

She reached out and tentatively touched the back of his hand; there was an immediate spark at the contact, though, and she pulled back quickly in shock.

Killian’s eyes grew wide and he stared at his hand for what felt like forever; time seemed to freeze around them. But then, slowly, he turned up his palm and looked at her with an encouraging nod and a soft smile.

Emma sat up straighter, as if that would somehow firm her resolve, and took a deep breath. She could do this, totally. (She hoped.)

With a bit more confidence, she again reached for him, and this time, wrapped her delicate fingers around his broad hand. There was still a jolt, but she was ready for it and held tighter instead of retreating. It was immediately followed that same surge of emotion she’d felt on the train: concern, a bit of fear, but most of all—love.

Though she had no idea how this thing worked, she gave it a try. «I love you,» she thought, intensely holding Killian’s stare.

His eyes somehow got even bigger and his mouth parted in surprise, but it only lasted a moment before he was grinning. «I love you, too, Emma.»

Okay, now she really was crying. She never thought she was that kind of sappy girl and usually made sure her tears were reserved for moments that deserved them (Henry’s birth, Snow and Dave’s wedding, and maybe a handful of TV episodes since then). But now? When she was staring at her apparent true love, once she stopped fighting it? All the waterworks.

«Come here,» she heard over their connection, and he pulled her tight to him—though she may have also launched herself at him at the same time, resulting in an audible oof from both of them as they collided against the cushions.

She nestled her head into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. He smelled faintly of rose tea, a lot like sweat, and then, just...Killian. She couldn’t describe it—it was just...him. And it felt like home.

«You smell good, too.»

She winced. «Oh, shit. You weren’t supposed to hear that.»

«You were thinking it rather loudly, love.»

«This is definitely going to take some getting used to.»

«Aye, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.»

«Definitely.»

She sat up, breaking the connection—and found herself immediately missing it. She hadn’t expected that. As soon as skin contact had been broken, her aches and pains began to come back; she hadn’t even noticed they were gone. But that was how it worked, right? The more intense the lovesickness, the longer it took to go away, even when you reconnected.

She was probably going to have to get him naked, wasn’t she?

While the idea of that, and seeing what hid under all those form-fitting layers, was more than appealing, it also made her panic. It’d been so long since she did anything like this; god, did she even remember how to kiss?

Killian had been watching her intently and must have noticed the panic creeping across her face. Cautiously—as if he was approaching a wild animal—he reached up and caressed her cheek. «It’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.»

She huffed. «I don’t even know what I want. It’s been so long; I’m rusty with this stuff.»

«Well, that’s convenient.» He gave her a gentle smile. «So am I.»

She took a deep breath and relaxed a bit, but there was still an urge to do—something. It itched under her skin, the desire to be close to him, especially after he let his hand fall away. 

So, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. 

There was no hesitation on his end; his lips were firm and insistent against hers, and warm—so warm. Any lingering chill from lovesickness melted away at the brush of his soft lips and the feel of his solid form next to her. Which, if she was being honest, was too far away. Using more energy than she had in weeks, she shirked her blankets and moved to straddle his lap. He groaned at the movement, but made no effort to pull away or stop what they were doing. And really, it gave her a bit of a self-satisfied thrill that she could draw that reaction from someone; guess she did still have a bit of game.

«You have plenty of “game,” love—I assure you,» he told her as his tongue flicked against their pressed-together lips.

«Okay, that was a little weird,» she thought; talking and kissing at the same time would definitely take some getting used to.

«Good weird, I hope.»

«Duh.»

They continued to snog like teenagers on the couch, just like she’d once imagined, until the pizza delivery actually did show up. She pulled away to catch her breath, but left her forehead connected to his. «Hope you feel like Pizzeria Regina.»

«With you, darling—anything. Actually, I’m famished.»

«Who knew making out worked up such an appetite?»

He chuckled out loud and it seemed to reverberate through her entire body; that was something that bore revisiting. But she was starving, too, so she hopped up to get the door before the kid inevitably left.

In the few minutes it took her to pay and get plates from the kitchen, she could feel the lovesickness settle back in at an almost alarming rate. She thought it was just the lingering fatigue, but she must have turned to fast after getting dishes from her cupboard because the next thing she knew, the world was spinning and she was on the floor. The nausea was back full-force and food was the last thing she wanted to think about; all she wanted was—“Killian,” she called out, but it was more of a weak moan than a yell. 

From her prone position where the living room carpet met the kitchen tile, she could see him hop up from the couch, alarm tensing his entire body. “Emma!” he shouted, voice similarly weak, and took long strides to get to her—but she could see the moment it hit him, too, when he had to grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.

He took a deep breath but then fell to the floor, seemingly intentionally but she couldn’t quite tell—her vision was swimming again, and she closed her eyes against the blur. She could hear him, though, and a moment later felt his rough palm cupping her cheek. 

He was speaking out loud, but she could feel his panic through their connection. “Emma, love, are you alright? What happened?”

She blinked a few times before staring up at him; he was hovering on all fours, his eyes darting as he looked her over for injury. The longer he touched her, the better she felt; she wasn’t surprised, but damn, they needed to kick this bullshit.

«Agreed,» came his the echo of his voice in her head, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. «Don’t scare me like that again.»

«I’ll try,» she said, «and I’m sorry.»

«You couldn’t help it, love; no need to apologize.»

«No, not just for that—for everything.» The truth of it was that it was that moment that sealed the deal for her. Other than her family, no one had ever worried about her like that, and the surge of love she felt—both from him and her own feelings—when he gave her that gentle kiss was greater than she’d ever felt. «For ignoring you, for fighting this, for letting us get like this. I’m sorry.» A tear started to fall down her cheek; god, she was officially a sap now.

«Oh, Swan—don’t.» He relaxed down to the floor to lay next to her. «I get it—I nearly did the same a few times, too.»

«You did?» She was surprised how much that shocked her; she was used to it from most people, but not him.

«You should have seen the tests I had my friends in the lab running. Everything from cancer to mono.»

 «I nearly bought a pregnancy test at one point,» she giggled. «Don’t we make a pair?»

He smiled back. «We do, love,» came the soft voice, and he ran a hand through her hair. «We do.»

She couldn’t help it anymore: the combination of his emotions and thoughts were mixing with hers and threatening to drown her; she hadn’t felt anything this intense since...well, since Neal, but now she realized how wrong she’d been then. Killian was coming to a similar conclusion, she could tell, but she didn’t want to think about anyone else right now—just him.

So she hitched a leg over his hips, closed the space between them, and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of him. And maybe grind up on him a bit. (Was that still a thing people did? God, she was so rusty.)

«I don’t know, and I don’t bloody care as long as it’s something we do.» Even his voice in her head was wrecked, to match the way he was panting. He tangled his legs with hers to bring himself closer, mirroring her gesture; she forgot how good dry humping felt.

Hell, all of this—it was like her body was coming back to life after a decade of disuse. Killian’s touch, minimal as it was through the layers of clothes they still had on, was sending those same sparks from earlier through her whole being, inside and out. She wanted to feel everything he could make her feel—she needed him, desperately. And if the growing bulge his scrubs failed to hide was anything, he did too.

«Only if you want to,» he assured her, taking a break from their game of tonsil hockey to catch their breaths, but he still pressed his forehead to hers. «I know you wanted your pizza,» he teased.

«To hell with the pizza.»

She held him tight with her leg one more time, feeling the press of his growing erection against her core—where a fair amount of those sparks had settled—before pecking his lips, sitting up, grabbing his hand and forearm, and somehow managing to untangle their legs without hitting any sensitive areas. He followed her to standing, and she quickly tugged him down the hallway to her bedroom; if she giggled a bit at the idea of having a boy in her room after so long, well, that would stay between them.

They’d no sooner crossed the threshold than she was back on him, pressing him against her dresser on the adjacent wall and probably knocking some books or something off, but that was the last thing on her mind; she was too caught up in finding the perfect way to grip his hips and the way his fingers were toying with the hem of her baggy T-shirt, grazing the skin underneath. She was starting to understand how a sparkler felt, with the way his every touch drew a spark.

As they continued to kiss, her hands began to wander, too, and found the edge of his sweater (she had no idea when he’d ditched the jacket, but that was also low on the list of concerns at the moment). His palm was resting warm and heavy on her waist, so she followed suit, letting her touch slip under fabric to his skin, and started to slide upwards.

To her shock, though, he flinched away, putting distance between them—though not enough that she couldn’t still see the way his chest was heaving under his (extremely well-fitting, she saw now) sweater. His eyes were cast on the floor and he was clenching his jaw nervously. 

«Hey, what’s wrong?» she asked gently, but didn’t want to make a move if it might jar him more.

«It’s nothing; it’s just that...no one has seen me like this since...since the accident.»

Oh, god—she hadn’t even thought about that. Here she was worrying about her own skills when there were much bigger issues to be dealt with—on both ends, probably. «We don’t have to.»

«No, I want to,» he assured her, finally meeting her gaze again. «I just remembered all of a sudden, and...I’m afraid it’s not all that pretty.»

Well, she knew a thing or two about having scars. But she hadn’t given them much thought until now; they didn’t really bother her all that much. Which, she supposed, meant only one thing. 

«Then let me go first.»

He tried to protest, but she ignored it as she guided his hand up her side, encouraging him to go higher. They both stilled when he reached her bare breast—she’d forgotten she hadn’t bothered with a bra in several days, and he wasn’t expecting the lack of obstruction when his thumb grazed her nipple. She sensed an odd combination of panic and thrill coming from him, and a polite apology started to form, which was when Emma found the lone downside to having an almost telepathic connection with her soulmate: she couldn’t shut him up with a kiss.

«But you can keep trying,» he suggested, winking terribly. His deep chuckle echoed in her mind and goosebumps rose on her skin.

He left his hand on her breast while she shimmied out of her top, moving only far enough away to slip it off and toss it aside. The cooler air plus her growing arousal were evidenced by her peaked nipples, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze drifted south.

And in one swift motion, she slid off her oversized pajama pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving her completely naked.

His hungry gaze darted around, scanning her body, and for a moment, the same self-consciousness he was feeling slipped in—no one had seen her naked in ages, either, not since before Henry was born; she was by no means out of shape, but pregnancy had left its marks, in addition to all the other ones she’d acquired over the years. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhat exposed—but the feeling evaporated under his reverent stare.

«You are bloody stunning, love; every part of you.» He pulled her closer and placed yet another soft kiss against her temple; she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of those, or the accompanying wave of love that threatened to drown her with each one. He took a deep breath, then, «I suppose it’s my turn, then?»

«Only if you want.»

He swallowed. «Lend me a hand?»

She giggled. «Of course, but you have to promise to never make a hand joke again.»

«We’ll see.»

She could kiss the smirk off his face, at least, and proceeded to do so as her hands made their way back to his waist and slipped beneath his sweater. Slowly, she dragged upwards, his sweater bunching at her wrists as she uncovered his stomach. She was curious to look, but didn’t want to pull away until she needed to.

Her fingers were the first to discover the hair on his chest as they slid through it; it was thick and soft to the touch—a contrast to the firm muscles beneath. Despite all her dreaming, that was a detail that never quite worked its way into her fantasies—she’d never much cared for it before—but now, it seemed to perfectly fit him. And she was anxious to see it.

She’d gone as far as she could on her own, her hands coming to rest on his collarbones, her thumbs settling into the dips there. Killian took over then, lifting his arms to tug off his left sleeve above her head and not breaking the kiss until he was pulling the shirt off altogether—and then her breath was nearly stolen.

Killian may have said she was stunning, but he was fucking gorgeous. He wasn’t one of those ripped gym rats, like she had once thought he’d be, but he was clearly strong—a solid core and lean muscles, with biceps that looked like they could both hold her hips tight in the throes of passion and then cuddle her close after. Dark hair perfectly covered his pecs and drew a trail down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the scrubs that he absolutely needed to take off. And there were scars, yes—scattered around his upper body, but most obviously at the end of his left arm—but if anything, they just made him more...real.

«Did you doubt I was?» he ribbed. (Which, speaking of ribs, she could just see the outline of his, and knew hers were on similar display—a reminder of how bad things had gotten for both of them; never again, though.)

«I dunno; this all kind of seems like a strange dream come to life.»

He stepped closer and placed his hand and wrist on her waist. «A good dream, I trust?»

«An incredible one, but one that I never really dared to hope for.»

He placed his forehead on hers—another gesture she was coming to adore. «I know the feeling.»

For a long moment, they just breathed each other in and floated in the swirl of their shared emotions going back and forth; she was starting to lose track if the love she felt cresting in her heart was her own for him or his for her. It seemed endless, though, so as long as it never ran out, it probably didn’t matter what belonged to who.

«I can assure you, it won’t run dry.»

«Good.»

She reached for his shoulders again and pressed against him, finding his lips for what felt like the hundredth time—and she hadn’t had enough, not at all, nor would she likely ever. But, as she arched her pelvis up against too many layers of cotton, she knew she’d had enough of these damn scrub pants.

His laughter rang in her head as she ignored any rules of propriety and ran her hands down his back until she hit the elastic band of his pants and dipped under them, right to his bare (well, slightly fuzzy) cheeks and gripped. That brought him even closer to her, his chest hair brushing against her nipples and his erection pressing into her core. 

«These really need to come off.»

«There’s nothing stopping you.»

«Thank God.»

She wasted no time in slipping them off his narrow hips, barely waiting for them to hit the floor before she was changing their direction, only pausing long enough for him to step out of the legs lest he trip, before she was pushing him in the direction of her bed. The back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he tried to sit, but she stayed on top of him until he fell back against the bed with her straddled over his hips. She could feel his cock pressing against her waiting entrance, but not at all in the way she wanted—no, needed him.

«Can’t I properly lavish you, my love?» he enquired coquettishly as he massaged her breast with his hand and brought her closer to his level with the other arm. «I want to make you feel good.»

God, that sounded amazing, and she wanted to reciprocate. But him pulling her flat to his chest had just made it more painfully obvious that he wasn’t inside her, and that was all she wanted. She was more than ready—he had to be aware of that—and logically, she knew that was the fastest way to dispel whatever was left of their lovesickness. (That, and she’d gotten a good look at his shaft when she’d pulled his pants off and—damn.)

«Next time—I promise.» She was panting with want. «But right now, I need to feel you.»

He nodded; he was just as breathless. «Okay; where do you want me?»

«On top.»

«As you wish.»

Smoothly, he flipped them over so that she was flat on her back and he was hovering above her, propped on his left forearm. He placed one last, long kiss against her lips, then sat back on his haunches to ready himself.

A bit of nervousness snuck in here—she really hadn’t done this since...well, probably not since Henry was conceived. She knew she needed to lift her hips up a bit and would need to help him out, but did she remembered how to set the rhythm? How to meet him thrust for thrust?

«We’ll figure it out together, love,» he said with a soft smile and gentle caress of his blunted wrist on her thigh. He was a bit nervous, too, but knowing they were in the same boat made it all the easier.

And then she watched as he stroked himself and anything other than desire faded away. Her own fingers unconsciously drifted to her clit and began stroking, needing some sort of relief.

When he was ready, he shifted forward into the open embrace of her legs. «You ready?»

«So.»

«Can you…?»

“Yeah,” she breathed out loud; it still took some conscious effort to communicate nonverbally and her brain power was becoming increasingly limited. But she sat up enough to take her own hold of his velvety cock—one she could not wait to take in hand and mouth at a later date—and guided it to her entrance, circling it gently.

They were both a bit anxious about what came next—would it feel like the first time all over again?—but she nodded at Killian to go ahead, and he slid inside in one smooth motion.

Oh, God—she’d forgotten what this felt like. Yeah, she had her toys, but nothing could replicate the feel of the real thing: the heat, the smell, the emotion. This was exactly what she needed—exactly who she needed.

«You feel bloody amazing, darling.» They hadn’t even started moving and already, he sounded wrecked.

«So do you, oh my god.»

She pulled him down by the neck to kiss him again, taking a long moment to get used to the feel of him, even though in some ways, he felt familiar—like he was a perfect fit.

«I mean, we are soulmates,» he reminded her.

«Yeah, but I didn’t think that applied to body parts, too.»

«I fail to see any negatives here.»

«Oh, definitely not.»

He turned the attention of his lips to her neck, tickling her with his stubble, which made her squirm—and then gasp, because it drew just the slightest bit of friction where they were joined together. And it felt incredible.

«That good, eh? We barely did anything.»

She wrapped a leg around him and pressed her foot against his ass, moving him again. «No more teasing; just move.»

It took longer than she’d care to admit for them to figure out the right pace—being soulmates didn’t mean they were automatically in sync (which was probably descriptive of their entire relationship)—but they eventually got there, to a point where she could meet him at every push and he found the perfect angle to hit every sensitive point inside. He groaned when she clenched, and she moaned whenever he pressed hard enough to brush her clit. And in no time at all—but also possibly forever? Time was weird—she was near the edge of release, so close to falling off. 

«Let go, Emma; I want to see you come.»

«I want you to go with me.»

He let out a deep exhale. «I’ll try.» 

He picked up the pace and her already racing heart struggled to keep up with it, but in the end, she couldn’t; she reached her peak and crested it with a shout, fireworks going off behind her eyes as he continued to thrust into her.

It didn’t take much longer for him to follow her, though, and even though she was caught up in her own rapture, she could feel him stutter as he climaxed and spilled into her. (Good thing she still took the pill, if only for the cycle regularity.) He was dangerously close to collapsing on top of her but still, she held him tight with her legs, as if he might disappear if she didn’t.

But he was done depressingly soon, and her legs were no match for the dead weight that was leaning against them as he fell to her side on the mattress. Every part of her was tingling, as if each cell in her body was renewed after that. She cracked an eye open, and despite the dim light coming through her bedroom curtain, Killian was nearly effulgent as they lay there in the afterglow. She knew they needed to clean up, and probably text David so that he knew they weren’t dead, but that could be dealt with later; right now, she just wanted to soak this in.

Killian reached across the short distance between them and pulled her tight to his chest; she was right—those biceps were perfect for being held. «How was it?» he asked shyly.

«Only the greatest orgasm of my life; how about you?»

He smirked. «Roughly the same, I think.»

She placed a gentle peck on the scar on his cheek. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.» He sighed and snuggled into her neck. «Now what?»

«We’ll deal with that later,» she sighed. «Right now, this is perfect.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

«You were wearing this when we met,» he thought as he wrapped himself around her from behind, adorably resting his chin on her bare shoulder.

She was getting dressed—after round 2, where they did get to lavish each other, then round 3 in the shower—into a very familiar blouse and rather unseasonable pair of shorts; he’d only gotten as far as his pants. 

«Mhmm. This is what I was going to wear, until I found out some random guy was gonna be there. Couldn’t run around exposing myself like that, now could I?»

«I don’t know; might have saved us a lot of time.»

She turned in his arms and hugged him tight, loving the feel of his warm skin under her palms. «No, probably not. I was nowhere near ready then.»

«And now?» he asked; even if they weren’t communicating verbally, his facial expressions—including the signature quirk of his eyebrow—remained the same.

«Ready for anything.» She emphasized it by rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. «But if you don’t get a shirt on soon, David is gonna send a search party.»

«Let him,» Killian smirked, and made a move to plant a kiss on her neck that she narrowly dodged, only by jumping away; of course he’d noticed she was ticklish there.

“I’m serious, Killian!” Now that she was getting used to their telepathic connection, it felt like was the first time she’d used her voice in ages; at least she was laughing as she chastised him. “I walked in on him and Snow enough and as much as I might like the idea of revenge, I do NOT want to subject Henry to that.”

He brushed a tendril of hair off her shoulder, but left his hand there and gave her a beyond cheeky smirk. «It’s bound to happen at some point.»

She just rolled her eyes. «Put your damn shirt on.»

Somewhere in there, they had let David know they were alive and would be heading over shortly. They made no mention of the other, though; Killian would join them later, after he went home to change, and honestly—they just wanted to see the reaction, especially from Snow. She did worry a bit about Henry, but knowing how good they were together kept her concern to a minimum. 

After Killian pouted some more but eventually complied with her request for clothing (one of the few times she’d ever have to ask, she hoped), she drove him over to his building—which really was close, but he’d taken a Swyft to her place. They shared a quick kiss goodbye and then she was alone. 

It was surprising how quickly that empty feeling came over her again now that she was by herself—how quickly she’d gotten used to his presence, particularly over the last few life-changing hours, but the past months as well. Hopefully, the cops weren’t around, because she pressed the gas pedal a little bit harder—she couldn’t wait to see everyone again. Now that she knew for a fact there was someone else on her side—that she didn’t have to isolate herself anymore—she didn’t want to at all. 

At least it was a short drive, and Henry was waiting for her on the front porch when she pulled up to the house. “Mom! I missed you!” he shouted as he ran for her, then grabbed her in a bruising hug. God, it seemed like he’d grown half a foot in the last few days. 

“I missed you too, kid.” But it took the same amount of effort as usual to kiss the top of his head, so at least she hadn’t missed anything. 

She did feel a bit guilty that she’d still managed to succumb to the one thing she’d worked so hard to avoid, but at least she knew it would never happen again. 

“You’re all better now?” he asked in a hopeful voice. 

“Yup; all better. And I promise to not let myself get that sick again.”

“Good. I was ready to sick Killian on you.”

She snorted; that was not something she was going to try to verify nor dispute. And he didn’t notice, thank God; it was bad enough he knew what cockblocking was. He just dragged her to the backyard, where Snow and Dave were waiting. 

Their immediate grins turned over to a bit of shock, probably at her outfit; she was definitely dressed for summer, and while it was unusually warm for the last week of October, it was barely 70 degrees. But she hadn’t felt the breeze on her skin in so long, and hey—she had a point to make. 

“Well, don’t you look...summery,” Snow assessed as she gave her a hug; David was, per usual, at the grill. “Oh, but I forgot to tell you: Killian’s coming too.”

Snow was a terrible liar: she hadn’t forgotten at all. If the not-so-hidden gleam in her eye was any hint, this was yet another matchmaking scheme. But Emma could play along this once. 

“Oh, okay,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I’ll keep my space.”

Henry was catching her up on what he’d learned at school that week and the latest drama with his friends when Killian arrived. She was trying her damnedest to keep up with what Henry was telling her about his science class, but Killian’s presence was exceedingly distracting—especially with the way he sauntered in wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that both hugged his biceps and revealed a peek at his chest hair, and khaki shorts that showed off his calves. Even though she knew what lay underneath all that, she could still feel the pull of arousal.

She turned her focus back to Henry as Killian greeted Dave and then Snow, trying her best to play it cool. If that was a thing she could still do (probably not). But it was like every part of her was in tune with him now, and couldn’t help but react when he made his way over to the table they were sitting at.

“Is this seat taken?” he enquired, nodding at the chair next to Emma.

“Go ahead,” she said, unable to keep a hint of a smile off her face.

But he didn’t get a chance to sit before Henry had hopped up and wrapped him in a hug, too. Any lingering worries about Henry’s potential reaction immediately disappeared as she watched the tender interaction between them, on both their ends—they’d both clearly felt the absence of the other, so now she was feeling a bit guilty instead.

Like she’d told herself earlier, though: it wouldn't happen again.

They took their seats on either side of her—Killian on her left, Henry on her right—and Henry relaunched his stories. Aside from some light footsie, they hadn’t made contact yet, though his arm resting on the surface of the table was only inches from hers. Eventually, Henry realized that all the parts of Killian’s prosthesis were exposed, so that gave her an opportunity to make a move, when Killian was leaning over the table to show it to Henry.

Surreptitiously, she let her forearm touch his, where he was bracing himself on the table with it. The only indication he gave that he noticed was the brief straightening of his spine, but she immediately sensed his emotions again—happiness, a bit of hunger, but mostly love.

«I missed you,» he told her while Henry was inspecting the mechanics of the prosthesis.

«It wasn’t even an hour,» she teased.

«Are you trying to tell me you don’t feel the same? Because I can tell that’s not true.»

«No, I definitely missed you, too.»

The connection was broken when he sat back down—when Snow brought the food over. She proceeded to mother hen them as she distributed the food, making sure they were both feeling better—and asking some pointed questions about the rose tea.

“Yeah, it did help a lot,” Emma gushed.

“Aye; thank you, milady,” Killian added, ever the gentleman.

Snow seemed pleased, but there was still a level of concern in her manner that anyone could see; she didn’t think her plan was working, to which Emma hid her smirk in a bite of hot dog. (She could see wheels turning in Henry’s head, though.)

She and Killian continued to act cool to each other through the meal, save the occasional brush of the leg under the table (which was mostly to laugh at Snow’s matchmaking attempt).

Finally, Snow left with Henry to take the dishes inside and David cleaned up the grill, leaving them alone. She put her shin against his leg again while pretending to look at her phone.

«Do it when she comes back?» she proposed.

«Yeah, but wait for her to set the pie down; I’d hate for her to drop it.»

«Good point.»

And so, casually, once Snow had brought the pie to the table and made the first cut, Emma wrapped her hand around Killian’s and waited for everyone to notice. 

“Emma, do you want ice...OH MY GOD.”

There it was: the reaction they expected from Snow. She’d dropped the serving knife, which landed with a clatter on the table, and was staring at their joined hands with wide eyes and jaw hanging open. Eventually she blinked and slammed her mouth shut, but continued to stare at them. 

“But—you were—” she stammered, a pointed finger drifting between the two of them. “I thought—I didn’t—”

Emma was trying really hard not to laugh and could feel how amused Killian was, too. David just looked confused, and Henry was a bit slack-jawed, though she could tell it was in a good way.

Then it was like a lightbulb went on in Snow’s head, and she turned to David. “I called it! I totally called it!”

She then fell into girlish squeals while David, instead, levied a wary eye on Killian. “Is this why you wanted their address?”

“Um, yeah.” 

David squinted. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Killian answered.

Henry piped up. “Do I wanna know?”

“Absolutely not!” Emma cut in.

All eyes were on Henry, though, as he stood and walked around Emma’s chair to Killian.

“Do you love my mom?” he asked, with all the severity a 10-year-old boy could muster.

“I do,” Killian said, and it almost sounded like a vow.

“And you promise not to hurt her, or to run away on us?” She didn’t miss the way he said “us”; she was a little surprised they hadn’t discussed it, but Killian knew he was getting a package deal—he had from the beginning.

“I’d rather be sent to the depths of Hades.”

«Drama queen,» she told him, but Killian’s eyes only flickered over to hers for a moment as he continued to hold Henry’s stare.

“Okay then,” Henry nodded, then seemed to think for a moment before launching himself at Killian again. “Welcome to the family.”

She didn’t need their connection to know how that made Killian feel: his eyes grew wide for a moment, but then they closed and he returned the hug full-force. She’d had the same reaction when she was adopted all those years ago; and though this was a totally different situation, it was still the same emotion.

Snow wanted all the details, obviously, and David and Henry wanted none, so they complied until the sun set and it was time to go home, both of them feeling the chill in their weather-inappropriate wardrobes. 

They stood by their cars, locked in an embrace—both because of a desire to stay close and desire to get warm. 

«Well, that went reasonably well,» he decided.

«Yeah, pretty good. I expected a bit more screaming though.»

«Same,» he chuckled.

«When can I see you next?» This was the part she wasn’t looking forward to; they weren’t in any danger of lovesickness again—not if she had anything to say about it—but there was still the reality that they had different jobs and different homes. (For the time being, at least.)

He shrugged. «We never got to enjoy that pizza. Maybe we try again tomorrow night?»

«Sounds perfect.» She underlined it by rising to her toes to place a lingering kiss on him.

“Are you guys gonna be like this all the time now?” Henry called out from the other side of the Bug, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“Yup,” she yelled back. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbled, but it was half-hearted; she could hear the happiness in his voice.

«Well, we shouldn’t try to scar him too much.»

«That’s a change in tone from earlier.»

«I didn’t have his approval yet. Didn’t you hear? I’m part of the family now.» She could really fell his joy at that now.

«You already were; you know that, right?»

«It’s nice to have confirmation.»

«Yeah, I know.» She kissed him again. «And I hope you never doubt it again.»

He was the one to pull her close this time, stealing her breath with a kiss that she hoped would get her through the next day. «Not as long as I have you. I love you.»

«I love you, too,» she sighed. «Onto the next adventure?»

«After you, love.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

It wasn’t like a switch was flipped and they were just happy-true love all the time. There were still bumps in the road, they had their share of fights, and their past fears and walls still haunted them on occasion.

Several months passed before they moved in together—months that didn’t look all that different from the previous ones, save for the regular sleepover. They couldn’t decide whose apartment to move to, but Henry was the one to quash that dispute when he found a house for sale a couple streets over from Snow and Dave.

They were almost always touching when they were together, and even more so once they lived together—and their connection only grew. She didn’t realize that it could, but the longer they were together, the more impossibly in tune they became.

And she finally got to experience shared dreams—for real this time. And it was mostly amazing, but people with baggage like theirs didn’t only have sweet dreams; they had nightmares, too. More than once, she saw the crash that took Milah, and Killian saw Neal’s death several times. The worst ones were when the two became melded together and they dreamed about losing each other; those were the nights they came together to make sure the dreams weren’t real—to feel the other there.

Granted, that wasn’t the only time they got it on—they did that fairly regularly and with vigor, which was probably why their daughter, Hope, came along sooner rather than later. 

(But not before Snow got to plan their wedding, at least. They’d been right: she started the binder the day they met.)

All told, it was...perfect. It was both everything she expected and nothing like it, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it had taken her so long to warm up to the idea.

«You just hadn’t met me yet,» Killian teased, standing behind her on their patio and looking out over their backyard. Snow and David were there, with their son Leo toddling after Hope and Henry chasing them both around. Maybe it was a cliche, but she was pretty sure this was what happily ever after looked like.

«Nope, I hadn’t,» she confirmed, and pulled his arms a bit tighter around her. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks@mryddinwilt@cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @fergus80@pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls@effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @distant-rose @athenascarlet @kmomof4@ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose@snowbellewells@idristardis @scientificapricot @let-it-raines @shireness-says@courtorderedcake @its-okay-killian @captainsjedi @a-faekindagirl

[aestheticseungmean]

Memories-Ateez

Synopsis- After an accident causing you to be chained to the hospital bed makes you forget your memories, soon you’ll remember each member.

Warning: This is 𝑛𝑜𝑡 accurate.

Colors are the memories

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The wires trapped you to the bed. The tubes made your nose sore but you needed them so you could breathe. The IV made you unable to move your arm much and the constant in and out of sleeping exhausted you. The raspy sound of you breathing and the steady beeping of the monitor were the only sounds in the room. But that sound was soothing to the people who visited you because it meant you were still alive. Blinding lights gave you constant headaches all the time. Words came out of your mouth but they were weak. “Mingi?” He looked up at you hopefully. “Yes?” “Can you turn the lights down?” Happily, he turned down the lights.

Slowly, you were slipping into sleep until a sharp pain shocked you awake and you gasped for air. “MINGI-“ you grasped the bed, your body shaking vigorously. Scared, he called the doctors who ushered him out of the room. “NO. I NEED TO BE IN THERE WITH HER.” He fought and clawed until security dragged him to the waiting room. The boys that were waiting for him had to hold him back. “I know that she’s important to you, Mingi but she’s important to us too.” “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW BAD IT HURTS, SEONGHWA.” Mingi turned towards the doors but Seonghwa turned him around. “BULLSHIT, MINGI. I’M HER BOYFRIEND FOR FUCK SAKE. I LOVE HER SO YEAH, I KNOW HOW BAD IT HURTS. NOW SIT DOWN.”

It was currently 3 AM so nobody was being bothered except the few nurses that remained there. Mingi reluctantly sat down. A few hours later, Seonghwa went to grab some drinks. As he was coming back the doctor came out. “Mingi, your sister has stabilized but…she might have lost some or all of her memory including you guys.” Audible gasps were heard as Mingi dropped down onto the floor and cried. This was worse than when his parents died. Shock froze Seonghwa and he dropped the tray of drinks. The liquid splattered everywhere and tears welled in his eyes. “Can we see her?”asked Jongho. The doctor nodded and the boys followed him leaving the mess for the janitor.

There you sat even worse than ever. You had a new gown and I.V. The medicine wore off and you were awake. You looked with wide eyes at the boys coming into the room. Mingi reached out to touch your hand but you pulled it away. “Who are you?” That’s what it took to make Mingi break down again. His own sister didn’t remember him. You looked around the room and a red-haired boy caught your attention. You knew him but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He softly smiled at you and then it hit you. “Hongjoong?”

Memories flooded your head. Hongjoong washed your cuts and bruises. “I’m going to start calling you Eomma, Joongie. He smiled at you and played along. “Then I should call you grandma because you are prone to accidents.” “Yah! You act like I hurt my finger when I touch you.” Laughter filled the air. “You did remember?” Another memory popped up. “HONGJOONGIE? GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS?” “Is it hump day?” “No.” You pouted. Hongjoong smiled at you being cute. “IT’S. MY. BIRTHDAY!” Each breath, you poked him. “I’m twelve now!” “Old lady! Old lady!” You poked him again and held your finger. “OW, MY FINGER!” “I’ll kiss it to make it better.” He kept true to his word and kissed your finger. “Thanks, Joongie~”

Hongjoong moved towards you and nodded. “It’s me. How did you know?” “Your smile, Hongjoong Eomma.” A loud sob came from the floor and you saw the boy that tried to touch you. He was crying and you couldn’t figure out why. “Excuse me, nurse?” The nurse who was doing your vitals looked at you. “Can you help me to the bathroom?” She nodded and helped you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned to the sink. You looked up and gasped. The slightly less plump lips and a softer nose stood out to you. You had the same features as the boy but softer and smaller. With the nurse’s help, you waddled back to the room.

A few weeks later, you could walk by yourself. The same 8 boys came to the room everyday. Each time, the same boy cried. He was sitting in the chair biting back his tears when you got up and slowly walked towards him. He looked up at you confused. Softly, you grab his hand and held it before asking a question. “You’re my brother aren’t you?” Realization came to him and he jumped up and nodded. You made an m sound with your mouth but you couldn’t continue. His name slipped your mind. “M-m-mi-“ you sighed. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you remembered who I was to you.” You softly brushed away his tears and smiled. “I’ll get it so don’t tell me.” He nodded and hugged you. “Yeosang, come here.” You heard from somewhere in the room. Yeosang you repeated. Yeosang, Yeosang, Yeosang.

A brief memory of you being pushed on the swing on a summer afternoon appeared. You were laughing and smiling with the boy who was pushing you but you kept screaming. “Yeosang, higher.” “Don’t fall.” But you did. You fell and cried. The boy carried you in his arms to your house and you could hear your brother reprimanding him. “SHE SAID HIGHER.” “THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD DO IT.” “SHE’S 18! YOU DON'T HAVE CONTROL OVER HER LIFE.” You stared at the ceiling waiting for it to stop. “EVER SINCE MOM AND DAD DIED IN THAT CRASH, IT HAS BEEN JUST US SO SORRY IF I AM TOO PROTECTIVE.”

Yeosang. You remembered. “Excuse me, um M-Min- argh! I’ll be right back.” Quickly, you scanned the room and saw a boy with a birthmark on his face. You tapped on his shoulder. He turned around hopeful. “Yes?” “Yeosang!” You were sure of it. He looked the same as the boy just older. “You remembered!” He hugged you. “Yeosang, higher,” you repeated from your dream. “That was two years ago.” “I remember though.” They were excited that you were slowly remembering them through memories. Within two weeks, you remembered two out of eight names and three out of eight faces. Even the doctor was surprised by her recovery speed. Thinking of the doctor, he came into the room to deliver news.

“Glad to see you are all awake!” “Hello, doctor.” All eyes and ears were on him. “You can go home in two days, we just want to run a few more post trauma tests. At the rate she is going, she might remember you all by the end of the year.” Cheers and smiles filled the room. Two days later, the celebration began. You walked home to the house that you found out was shared with all eight boys. A “Welcome Home” banner hung over the cake that said the same thing. Mingi hugged you and sat you in front of your cake. “Vanilla cake with the frosting cold, just how you like it.” You took a bite and savored the flavors.

Then it hit you. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear, Jongho! Happy birthday to you.” You could hear Yeosang start the korean version. “생일 축하합니다! 생일 축하합니다! 사랑하는 종호! 생일 축하합니다!” He blew out the candles and your brother served the cake. “I’m going to put my cake in the fridge. I like the icing cold.” “Then I will too because you are the food connoisseur.” You giggled at Jongho placing his piece next to yours. Soon all the boys were following suit. “Now how are we going to tell them apart?” “Mine has any name on it.” “Let’s organize them by age.” You put yours next to Yeosang’s since you were only a few months older. In the meantime, you guys danced to the different songs that were playing on the radio.

“I remember Jongho’s birthday.” “I’m glad my birthday was so memorable.” You looked at your cake intensely. Quickly, you got up and turned the radio on. A song from your memory was playing and you danced along. “Come join me!” The nine of you laughed and danced and ate cake all night long. It was time to head to bed but you found one of the boys sleeping there. Being nice and trusting, you laid next to him and closed your eyes. “Why can’t you remember me? Was our relationship not memorable?” Nothing came out. Frankly, you couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, you fell asleep. When you woke up, you left a note. “I’m sorry I don’t remember our relationship. Hopefully I will soon.”

The first sweatshirt you could find, you threw on. It was a bit big on you and you wondered why. You ran a brush through your hair but you couldn’t do anything with it. You couldn’t remember how to braid or anything else. “Do you need help with that?” A shortish boy stood in the doorway. He had a bright smile and fluffy hair. “Yes please.” Feeling obligated, you lowered yourself. “Ah, thank you.” His fingers intertwined in your hair slowly French braiding it. It felt like Deja Vu. The whole thing felt familiar. The boy’s fingers braiding your hair as he hummed. You slouched so he could reach the top of your head. Him catching your eyes in the mirror and smiling.

“Ahh, too tight!” “Relax, it will loosen up. I didn’t pull your hair that tight.” You looked at him in the mirror wincing every time he pulled another strand. “Wooyoung-ah. I’m going to be bald by twenty-five because of you.” Wooyoung laughed. “You are such a whiny baby.” “Can you sing me a song?” “Which one?” You shrugged. He started humming 𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕄𝕖 by BTS. Not realizing it, you started to sing along to it. As the song ended, Wooyoung put in the ponytail holder. You stood up. “Thank you!” “You whined the whole time and now you’re going to act like you didn’t,” he teased. “Sorry, Wooyoung-ah.” You held a finger heart up and he reciprocated it. “You’re welcome.”

Just like the memory, he finished humming and put in the ponytail holder. Carefully, you stood up and hugged him. Confused, he hugged you back. “Thank you, Wooyoung!” “You remembered me! Was it me braiding your hair for the first time?” “I don’t know but we sung um- I’ll hum it for you.” You hummed 𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕄𝕖 and he smiled. “I remember that day, you were getting ready for homecoming. You were so pretty! Let’s go look at the pictures.” Before you knew it, you were being dragged to the hall of memories. Photos from all family and friend events were littered on the wall. He pointed at one with you in a short, poofy dress. You recognized the boy in it as the one who shared the room with you. The boy was in almost every photo with you and your eyes wandered down the hall.

You made your way to the living room but the picture remained in your head. For the rest of the night, you were distracted. You knew Wooyoung, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Jongho. That’s half the battle at least. Confused from the conversation the boys were participating, you got up. “Where are you going?” You looked at your brother. “Just going to wander around the house.” With nowhere in mind, you wandered back into your room. The pink and blue lacy fabric caught your eye from the closet. Curious, you picked up the dress. Almost immediately, you remembered the picture. It was your homecoming dress.

That night, you laid staring at the ceiling and the boy wrapped his arms around you. The rings on your fingers matched and for a minute you could hear his voice when you got it. “It’s a promise ring because I am so in love with you, it hurts.” A smile appeared on your face. You didn’t know who he was but it felt right. Slowly and carefully, you grabbed his hand and drifted off to sleep. The morning light peaked through the bathroom and onto your face. Annoyed, you got up and started your day. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen making pancakes. A yawn sounded behind you. “Wah, pancakes!” You turned and saw a bright smile.

“I’m hopeless, San. All I can make is scrambled pancakes.” You pouted and he squished your cheeks. “Here, let’s make pancakes together.” When you got scared to flip the pancakes, he grabbed your hand and helped you flip it. Finally, you got a good pancake. “SAN, WE DID IT!” You hugged him tight and jumped in joy. You eventually learned how to make pancakes from scratch and it became the favorite around the boys. Once a week, you woke up and made pancakes and the boys would slowly gather around the table at the smell. “PANCAKES ARE SERVED.” “WAH, PANCAKES!” “You are so dramatic, San.” He giggled at you. “Pancake day is the best day.”

“I don’t know how I know the recipe but I guess it’s pancake day, San.” “Pancake day is the best day!” You laughed and waved him over. San practically skipped over to you. “Here, try this.” You held up a tiny pancake to his mouth and he bit it. “Wahhhhh, just like last time.” Rolling your eyes playfully, you laughed and playfully pushed him. “So dramatic.” The smell of pancakes cooking caused a crowd around the table. Excitement filled the air as the boys looked at the pancakes. “We missed good pancakes.” “Hey!” “Sorry, hyung.” You laughed at Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s banter. “Eat up guys.” No movement was made. “We need a picture of you with your pancakes.” You did nothing but smile for the picture. After that click was heard and an okay came from Mingi, the boys didn’t hesitate to go for the food.

Within an hour, all the pancakes were gone. “That’s yummy in my tummy!” “Aww, San is so cute!” “Stop, Wooyoung!” Wooyoung shook his head no and teased San even more. “This photo will look good up on our wall of memories!” “First photo since the accident.” The boys were chattering happily. “What happened to me?” You whispered softly, almost afraid to ask. The noise died down and the boys looked at you with sadness in their eyes. Mingi spoke up. “You were at a gymnastics competition and you were winning. A girl got jealous and put stuff on the balance beam before your turn. Of course you were last so no one else would get hurt. Going for the final round off and flip to exit off the beam, you slipped and hit your head. At the hospital, you had a seizure and you lost your memory.”

“But you are gaining it back!” Yeosang tried to lighten the dark news. “Yeah, that’s good news…” You put on a fake smile. “I guess.” Deep down, you wanted to cry and have someone hold you tight. “I’m going to go shower.” Everyone looked concerned but you were already off to the shower. The water was warm when it hit your back. You drew with the suds against the wall. Angry, you finished your shower and threw on leggings and a shirt. After blow drying your hair, you put it up and went outside. “Let’s see how much I can remember.” You were stretching when San saw you through the window. “GUYS COME HERE.” Everyone was waiting to watch you, scared. You did a basic cartwheel and it felt good. Then, you did a handspring and laughed. Taking a running start, you did a round off into a back handspring, to a double twist and landed perfectly.

The boys cheered even though you couldn’t hear them. Filled with exhilaration, you got up on the balance beam. Starting slow, you did a handstand into the splits. Flipping yourself back up, you did more flips and tricks. You landed on the ground gracefully and bowed to your imaginary crowd. Immediately you got embarrassed when the boys came out. “Did you see that!” “You did amazing!” Happily, you made your way to the trampoline when your brother stopped you. “You were struggling with the trampoline and kept hurting yourself, please don’t.” “I feel like I have to do this. Just to try it out.” He let go of you and watched you perform tricks perfectly whereas before, you could barely get a backflip in. You landed and stopped yourself.

You did the back twist but couldn’t get your feet down in time so you landed on your stomach. “FUCK!” Once again, you got up to do the trick again. Again, you failed. Sighing, you took a break and sat on the trampoline. A memory popped up in your photos and you watched the video. “You got this, sis!” “Mingi, catch me!” You fell and he caught you. “That was a good back handspring! You’re getting better on the balance beam.” “I did it for you.” Another video popped up. “Now announcing contestant 478.” You powdered your hands and perfectly executed your routine. Now it was time to see who goes to the finals. “And in first place to the finals is number 478!” You ran to Mingi and your boyfriend who kissed you. “You’re so amazing!” Smiling, you put your phone to the side and kept trying until you got the tricks down.

Smiling brightly, you stood on the edge of the trampoline. “I REMEMBER!” You stumbled a bit and couldn’t catch yourself. “MINGI!!” He leaped forward and caught you. “You said my name!” The smile on Mingi’s face was from ear to ear. He sat you down and you walked over to Seonghwa. “In my memory, you kissed me. I remember but I can’t remember your name for now. Please don’t tell me. I want to learn it.” Seonghwa nodded but was dying inside. It hurt him that you don’t remember his name. He wanted to hold you and kiss you again.

After the fun in the yard, you went inside and sat on the couch. Yunho plopped down next to you. “I remember the day we met. You were practicing for your gymnastics competition and you accidentally ran into me. I was new to the area and was nervous. You bought me ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. My favorite part was you introducing me to your friend group. Best decision I ever made was to go to the ice cream parlor with a stranger.” You laughed and listened. It was a cute story you thought.

“Come on, you can do this!” You were encouraging yourself. Then you started to do your practice routine. For the finale you landed and turned right into an unexpected passerby who fell. “ARE YOU OKAY?! I AM SO SORRY.” The boy shyly smiled at you. Politely, you offered your hand to which he took. “I’m ____!” “I-I’m Yunho.” “You don’t look familiar.” “I just moved here.” You perked up. “Let me take you to get some ice cream! To say sorry and as a new step in a possible friendship.” That was the first time Yunho had smiled in ages. “Okay!” The two of you talked until you got to the ice cream parlor. As soon as you had your ice creams, you walked with him to your house. ”I want you to meet my brother.” The door opened and your brother appeared with the trash. “Mingi, this is Yunho my friend. Yunho, this is my brother, Mingi.” There was an awkward silence.

“There was a tension between you and Mingi.” “Ah, you’re remembering me!” He ruffled your hair. “YAH, YUNHO!” Yunho got up ready to run. You chased him around the living room laughing. “Get back here!” “Never!” Out of breath, you both threw yourself onto the couch. A smile covered your face. You couldn’t help it. These boys brought you happy memories and they make you happy, even if you can only remember a few. A movie was turned on by one of the boys and you fell into the film. Dozing off was hard to not do but you found yourself doing it anyway. Finally, sleep took over and you were out cold. Seonghwa bid goodnight and carried you to bed.

You have decided that the sun is holding a grudge against you. It’s like it is its mission to blind you and so far, it is working. Lazy day today you thought. You dragged yourself out of bed and into the closet. The boys had left to go do something so you decided to do nothing. There it was sticking out like a person wearing neon orange. The dress laid alone in the corner almost begging you to put it on. Ultimately, you took it to the bathroom and slipped it on. You twirled and watched the bottom flare out.

“Wah, you are so pretty!” “Thanks, Wooyoung!” Mingi beckoned you over for a picture. You had been going out with Seonghwa for three months and he had asked you to Homecoming. Seonghwa wrapped his arm around your waist and stood beside you beaming. The music was blaring and pretty much everyone was either making out or grinding. You simply danced with Seonghwa. “I love this song.” He grabbed your hand and started to slow dance with you. You were distracted. As the song ended, you looked up. “Seonghwa?” He looked at you. “I love you.” It was as if he’d won the lottery. “I love you too!” Without thinking, he kissed you and the two of you got lost in the moment.

“WE’RE HOME!” You raced out and hugged Seonghwa. “W-What is this?” You said nothing, instead, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. “I fucking love you so much, Seonghwa.” After the shock wore away, he kissed you again. This time deeper. When he pulled away out of breath he couldn’t help but smile. “I love you so much too!” He looked at you again and realized that you were wearing your homecoming dress. “That is my favorite memory of us.” “Mine too, Seonghwa. Mine too.” Finally, you had remembered everyone but you got hit with one last memory. This one had all of you.

Mingi stood there crying and you couldn’t help but let a few tears fall either. The nine of you watched as the funeral home buried your parents. You remembered the fact that they were just home smiling and leaving for date night. “Bye guys. Have fun!” “You too mom except, don’t have too much fun.” Horror hit you as every mean thing you have ever said to them flashed through your mind. How you wished you could take it back. The few tears turned into uncontrollable sobs. You couldn’t stand, it hurt too much. Anger and sadness controlled your emotions and you ran out into traffic. Arms wrapped around you but you pulled away and looked at Seonghwa angrily. “Come back to me. Stay with me.”

[phantoms-lair]

👀

“Easy there Shiro,” Angent Crueller’s voice was quieter, more gentle, but somehow sounded significantly older and more tired than he had a moment ago. Shiro heard a small beep and the headache abated a bit. “I’ve upped the dose of medicine through your IV. The pain should fade in a moment.”

Shiro then heard Agent Crueller move towards the door. “I want to ask him a few questions he may be hesitant to answer if someone’s listening. Would you mind waiting outside?”He didn’t hear the guards response, but he did hear footsteps walking away.

“My apologies, Staff Sergeant Shirogane.” Agent Cruellers voice was still quiet. “Needed to see if there was a reaction.”

“What reaction?” Shiro asked weakly.

“I have not been completely honest with you. To be frank, I already knew the answer to every question I asked. The questions were more to see how honest you were going to be with us. Now it’s my turn for the unadulterated truth. This isn’t another planet in the way you’re thinking. This is Earth, but an Earth that turned out very differently, mostly due to a single factor. Psitanium.”

“Psitanium?” Shiro asked weakly. The pain was receding, but it left him feeling weak.

“An element not natural to this planet.  It’s found in meteors and meteorites. One of the most prolific meteor showers touched down here over a hundred years ago. It’s rare in most of the world, but here you almost can’t help but trip over it. Or trip and get bashed in the head by it.”

“What’s so special about this rock? Is it radioactive?”“Not so much, but it does have an affect on humans, or at least the human brain. One of the big differences between our Earths is that here psychic powers are no urban legend. They’re not common, per se, but prolific enough that most governments have an entire branch of psychic operatives.”“The Psychonauts,” Shiro filled in.

“Exactly. Psitanium seems to affect brain activity and if you’re psychic, it acts as an amplifier for your powers. Sounds good, if that were all it did. Problem is the increased brain activity can exacerbate pretty much any preexisting mental illness exponentially. Long story short, it makes psychics more psychic and crazies more crazy. And if you’ve got a psychic who’s a little coocoo in the coconut, well that’s trouble.”

“I can imagine.” Shiro said dryly. “But why are you telling me this?”Agent Cruller pulled what looked like a first nation arrowhead, only made of a sparkly purple stone Shiro didn’t recognize, with some dried blood along one edge. “This is a psitainium arrowhead, in fact the same one you landed on. If it had been laying like this,” he laid it flat against him palm, “you would have gotten a knock on the noggin, but no long lasting effects. If it had been laying like this,” he pointed it straight up, “you wouldn’t be having this or any conversation ever again. But it was in the ground like this,” he held it so that the bloodstained edge of the arrowhead was upright. “Bad enough to crack your skull, but only barely cut into your brain.”

Shiro shuddered at the mere thought of anything in his brain. “Is there going to be any long term damage?”“From the physical trauma, no. Brains are our greatest resource, we’re pretty good at fixing them up.  The psitainium though...there’s never been direct brain contact with it. Like I said psychics aren’t exactly common, it wouldn’t do to waste one with possibly dangerous experiments. And since prolonged exposure can cause psychosis in non psychics who didn’t have any mental issues to start with, no one’s been in a hurry to expose them. But your little accident upended the table.”

Once again his demeanor changed slightly. But instead of a doddering old man or a tired one, Shiro was seeing the reason his guard seemed so in awe. “As you may have guessed I took a little walk in your mind. You weren’t psychic before coming here, but you just telekinetically demolished the paddleball. This proves that direct contact of psitainium to the brain can bestow psychic powers. And, Staff Sergeant Shirogane, if you want any chance of leaving this facility alive, you are going to help me cover that fact up.”

Shiro tensed at the sudden threat. However between the head injury and the increased drug dosage he could barely move. “You weren’t just trying to help my headache, were you?”“You’re much more physically capable than I am. My mind may be powerful, but my body’s still an old man’s. I’m not going to leave anything to chance, if it comes to that. You’re a dangerous man, in more ways than you know. But between your life and the safety of this world, my choice is already made.”

“And why is it so important this stays secret. I should at least understand what you want me to agree to.” Shiro asked.

“I already told you part of it. The scarcity of psychics make us too valuable to experiment on. Common knowledge is you’re either born psychic or you’re not. No one without powers ever gained them later in life.”

“Until me.” Shiro filled in.

“Until you.” Agent Cruller agreed. “All governments have a shady side, in fact some of them have nothing but. Imagine what would happen if word got out you could create psychics on demand just by drilling a hole in someones head and sprinkling in some psitainium dust? They’d feel a lot better about experimenting on the psychic’s they have, and who knows how many non-psychics they would go through to get the process down perfectly.”

It was a terrifying thought, but it wasn’t too hard to imagine. The Galra would do it in an instant. And, if he admitted it to himself, against an enemy like the Galra he couldn’t completely swear the Garrison wouldn’t use every potential edge it could get either. MKUltra came to mind, as did Project Jedi. No, he could completely understand Agent Cruller’s desire for it to die in this room, one way or the other.

“Then we’re in agreement?”

Shiro blinked trying to remember if he’d said something out loud. Oh wait, psychic. “I’m beginning to hate this whole psychic thing.”

“Oh you’ll learnt to love it soon enough. We’ll start you with basic tomorrow,”Shiro raise an eyebrow. “I thought you said I couldn’t get out of bed for a week?”“Your body can’t, but we’re not training that. It’s your mind we’re working with.”  “Agent Cruller patted him on the knee. “Rest for now, we’ll work out the specifics and get back to you.”

[wennjunwho]

drugs & fallen kings

undisclosed pt. 2

3.8k Words

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.― William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part 2

You woke up to Mingyu’s arm wrapped around you, his breath prickling your neck. You looked down at his hand, the one holding your waist, little cuts adorning his knuckles; you intertwined your fingers between his, your thumb grazing over the injuries. That was the thing about Saturday mornings, as long as the first rays of light were visible you could do this, you could care. “You’re up early.” Mingyu’s voice stopped you in your tracks, your hand dropping his in an instant. It sounded throaty, deep and maybe a little tired, you turned around to face him; his eyes closed, a small smile on his lips. “You should go back to sleep.” You looked at the clock; 8:37 am. “I should get going.” You tried to sit up straight on his bed, the headache kicking in as soon as you started to jolt up. “Shit.” You muttered. Mingyu grinned. “Not even saying for breakfast, are we?” You shook your head. “Your choice.” Mingyu sat down painfully slow, grimacing every few seconds, his feet dangling from the bed evaluating if breakfast was worth the pain of standing up. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m fine.” “I didn’t say anything.” Mingyu brushed past you, walking towards the door, he turned to look at you. Are you coming? You nodded. 

The Kim household always managed to surprise you, especially on Saturday mornings when you felt anything but worthy of it’s beauty. It wasn’t huge, only two people lived there constantly anyways, but it was nice. The ceilings where high, the spiraling staircase was  made of white marble as were most of the floor tiles. It was gorgeous, but not ostentatious, if you squinted hard enough it even looked like a home. “They have risen.” Martha stood next to the breakfast isle, her hair up in a bun. She couldn’t be older than sixty five, her hair had started to gray when Mingyu and you were just children, now it stood like a silver knob on top of her head. She smiled at the both of you, amused, her gaze lingering on your neck for a second too long. “Would it kill you kids to drink water after you go out?” “What’s the fun in not being hungover?” Mingyu replied, hugging her from behind. It always made you a little sad; how much he loved her, how he would never love his real mom like that. You shifted your bag strap over your shoulder. “I’ll get going.” “So soon?” Martha looked over at you and then at the bacon and eggs cooking on the stove. “Mom’s coming home later today;” Martha understood the weight of those words. Your mom flew in from DC once a week to check up on you. If anything was even slightly out of place she might freak out and take you with her. “I have to clean up a bit before she arrives.” Martha nodded, her lips a thin line. “She just wants to get away from me.” Mingyu whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Can you blame her?” The old lady smiled. “Say hi to your mom for me, will you?” You nodded.

 “I’ll see you tonight?”Mingyu asked, relaxing his hold on Martha. You looked at him, confused. “The game.” He said dumbfounded you didn’t remember. 

“You’re not playing like that are you?” Mingyu shot you a killer look, it hadn’t occurred to you he wasn’t planning on getting Martha to patch him up. “Like what?” She asked, not missing a beat. If looks could kill Mingyu had killed you ten times already in the past minute. “I’m just a bit battered up from last night, it’s nothing, really.” He leaned into the kitchen counter, grabbing a toast and biting into it. You could see how hard he was trying not to wince. “You can patch me up before the game.” He emphasized the before whilst looking at you. “I’ll see you there.” You rolled your eyes. “Sure.” The front door was only a few steps away. You waved at the both of them, bumping shoulders with Mingyu on your way out. “Seokmin told me we should bring swimsuits for the after party!” He yelled behind you. You grinned. “What makes you think I’m going?” He didn’t answer, he knew you were.                      ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Vernon:  ITS OUR LUCKY DAY Seen Sat. 12:13pm

You: ????? Seen Sat.12:14pm Vernon: Surprise drug tests in two hours Seen Sat.12:15pm                                              You: Who told you? Seen Sat. 12:15pm Vernon: Wonwoo had the intel Seen Sat.12:16pm Vernon: As always Seen Sat.12:16pm Vernon: Apparently they’re testing all the teams Seen Sat. 12:16pm Vernon: Maybe they’ll finally suspend me Seen Sat. 12:16pm                                        You: 10 bucks say you’ll get two weeks of detention   Seen Sat.12:17pm                                                You: What were you on last night anyways?    Seen Sat. 12:17pm

Vernon: I’d take you up on it but I’m not ready to lose 10 bucks                     Seen Sat. 12:18pm Vernon: That’s for the test results to show Seen Sat.12:19pm                                                You: Fingers crossed for your suspension Seen Sat.12:19pm Vernon: Thank you for the support Seen Sat.12:20pm Vernon: I’ll let you know how it goes Seen Sat. 12:20pm                           ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe it.” Vernon had been dragging his feet as you walked through the school’s parking lot, his gaze straight to the floor. “I could do heroin at this point and they’ll just get me off the hook with some community service.” “I don’t think they would,” Vernon looked up at you. “Picking up garbage might damage your good arm, they can’t risk it.” You grinned at him. “I’m glad you’re finding this funny.” Vernon threw his head back, his hands covering his mouth as he yelled “I can’t believe them.” Hansol’s voice lowered as you entered the football pitch. “At this point I don’t know what to do to get kicked out, he just fixes everything.” He. Vernon’s dad. He had been an NBA player once upon a time, a great one at that; Vernon could never really escape his legacy.

You had met Vernon freshmen year of high school and even then he hated the sport, hated what it did to his family, hated what it did to him. He tried to fail, but something in his DNA wouldn’t let him, and if being bad wasn’t going to work he started trying the second best thing; getting kicked out. “Those tests are bullshit anyways.” You answered absentmindedly as you made line for popcorn. “I mean Seokmin of all people turned out clean.” “That’s bullshit.” It always amused you how bad he wanted his drug tests to fail. Everyone else enjoyed the crookedness of the school; they couldn’t afford to lose their best players, not when half of the school funding came from the sports teams only. “I hate this place so much.” Vernon hit one of the walls with his hand holding it closely to his chest afterwards. “Ugh!” “You done?” You asked, walking towards the bleachers, popcorn in hand. Vernon gave you the stink eye.  “Is Seungkwan here already?” Vernon shook his head. “Minghao is saving our seats.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s doing it because he’s our friend…” He emphasized that last word. “And my supply’s running low.” He continued. Your hand flew, connecting to the back of his head. “Hey I need something to relax.” “Dumbass.” “Maybe he can give you something to fix that frown you’d had on all day.” You elbowed him a bit more harshly than you should’ve as you shuffled towards your seat next to Minghao, the crowd’s chants getting louder and louder as you approached him. Minghao smiled at the both of you, his eyes lingering on you a second too long. He had left early last night, you could tell. He wasn’t a big partier anyways, he just liked providing the party. “You have it?” Vernon asked him, bumping hands. “I’ll give it to you at Seok’s.” Minghao turned to smile at you. “Your hickeys are showing.” There was no indication on his voice as to if it was a dig or a statement.

“So?” You rolled your eyes at him, your voice barely carrying over the loud screams of the crowd, followed by the rip of a banner and footsteps, the football team’s footsteps.

“Is Mingyu not playing today?”  Vernon whispered in your ear. Your gaze flew to the sea of blue running around the field, trying to catch a clear glimpse of the one leading the pack. It took you a flash if his smile to realize his teeth were perfectly straight and white. Not Mingyu, Wonwoo.

You scanned the rest of the team and then the bench, a familiar sense of alertness washing over you. It made sense, you knew it made sense, but still…“He was pretty beat up this morning…” You settled for that. Vernon and Minghao burst into laughter. You rolled your eyes. “Not like that, like actually beaten up, bruised.” Vernon’s smile faded. “What?” His eyes widened. You felt a sea of relief flowing through you followed by uneasiness. He hadn’t told them either, for better or for worse he hadn’t told anyone what had happened. “Did he get into a fight or…?” “No clue.” You answered, biting the insides of your cheek. “He wouldn’t tell me.” Minghao took a deep breath next to you. “How are you so at ease with this?” You weren’t. Nothing about you had been at ease since yesterday night. The insides of your cheeks were starting to bleed from how often you kept chewing on them, your mind had been racing so much that you could barely get a few minutes of sleep last night; not that you would tell any of this to Minghao anyways. “It’s Mingyu, he’s not known for making hell but he’s also no angel.” You looked over at the field, towards Wonwoo; his eyes scanning the crowd just to land on you. You gave him a questioning look.

“Later.” He mouthed.

You nodded, looking back towards Minghao and Vernon. “He probably just pissed off the wrong person.” “I don’t want to think how much he had to piss someone off to not be able to play.” You had thought about it, how bad you had to want to hurt someone to leave those kind of bruises.  “They weren’t that bad…” you lied, knowing far too well they would see through it. “Martha probably just thought it wasn’t smart for him to play in that condition.” Minghao looked at you quizzically, he knew you were lying. You hated that he could do that. “Makes sense.” He said, pursing his lip into a thin line. “You don’t think he’ll miss DK’s party, do you?”

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He wouldn’t. If you knew something about Mingyu was that he would never miss a party. There was once when you thought that might be possible, a time where you thought that maybe, maybe he could sit one out; then he broke his leg junior year.

It was an ugly break, the type of break everyone thought he wouldn’t make a full recovery from. You remembered his leg, bruised and swollen; his face not quite in sync with his body from the shock. You could remember the gasps and the dizzy feeling that over took you. You remember his hospital room, full of flowers and the hospital smell that followed Mingyu for weeks after the fact. You remember how much it hurt him to stand up, how he did it over and over again, until the pain wasn’t more bearable but a feeling he got used to.

It happened on a Wednesday night, Saturday night he was already standing, fighting his way out of the house. His arguments weren’t convincing, you didn’t mention it then, but you knew how much pain he was in, but alas Martha gave up and there he stood, at a party, his leg in a cast. He got so drunk that night it took you, DK and Wonwoo to walk him home.

The leg still hurt when he played, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but you could tell. It was in the way he ran, how he was always cautious of his next step, how he put barely any weight on his right leg before switching to the left. He’d never admit it, and you would never bring it up, because that was Mingyu, he didn’t stop when he had to, he stopped when he wanted to, and something told you he didn’t want to stop just yet.

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House parties dizzied you a bit less. They were a lot like clubs in a way, but they felt more human. You were sure clubs were just social experiments controlled by the government sometimes. You walked around Seokmin’s house, it was a mess, chairs were flipped and drinks were spilled, cigarette burns covered the couch pillows, still looked like a home, a home full of crazy drunken people, but still a home.

You walked towards the kitchen, the music muffling as you walked away from the living room, it made you feel lighter, more in control. You took the cherry vodka from the assortment of bottles, it was almost full. You weren’t going to complain though. You balanced the possibility of pouring it into a solo cup, just to brush it out as soon as you started pouring; no one else liked cherry vodka anyways.

You took a sip directly out of the bottle, feeling the familiar burn of cough syrup going down your throat. “That shit’s nasty.” You heard a voice behind you say. You closed your eyes, awaiting for the voice to come closer.

“You people are just weak.” You told Wonwoo, who was holding a bottle of Jagger to his lips. “Anyways, I should congratulate you, captain.” The words felt wrong on your tongue, bitter.

“Captain.” He repeated. “That sounds nice.” He took another sip of the Jagger, containing a frown. “I have Mingyu to thank for that.” He clinked both of your bottles together.  “Have you seen him lately?”

You shook your head. “He’s not here apparently.”

Wonwoo hummed. “He’ll probably show up eventually.” He smiled. There was something about Wonwoo’s smile at night, it was almost blinding. You always looked at it like a safe point, no matter what club you went to, or how drunk you were, at some point in the night you were bound to see that smiled, and you were bound to hear those words. “Want to go outside for a bit? The pool’s free.”

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Hangovers and cold air didn’t mix well. Cold air and cold water didn’t mix well. Wet clothes and the  cherry vodka on your bloodstream didn’t mix well. It was a recipe for disaster and yet you followed it all too eager, all too prepared to face the consequences. The music was louder than ever on DK’s back yard, whilst the drunk people gathered around in the living room, the back yard was for the tipsy people, the people who could go near water without danger of drowning.

You walked into the back yard, your hand in Wonwoo’s, leading the way. You were laughing about something you couldn’t quite make sense of anymore. Maybe it was Vernon’s stoned thoughts, or Seokmin’s drunken rambles that seemed to go on for hours. All you knew is that without knowing there wasn’t ground beneath your feet anymore, and then there was water.

Wonwoo emerged from the water, his hair falling right on top of his eyes, blinding his vision. He brushed it away with his fingers, a smile on his face. “Aren’t you scared that people won’t find you attractive looking like that.” You pointed at his wet features. He didn’t look half bad. The party lights make his features softer, more approachable.

He laughed. “Like what? Like you?” He pointed at your wet hair, sticking to your cheeks at weird angles, little water drops falling from your eyelashes onto your lips.

“You bitch.” The water hit your face before you had time to react, Wonwoo’s devilish grin appearing in front of you after you wiped your eyes. You pushed some water his way, followed by a wave of water coming yours. Wonwoo kept moving towards you, the music from the party barely audible over the sound of water splashing and your laughter, until you were standing, your back against the edge of the pool.

“Ready to surrender?” He asked. You were tipsy, too tipsy, and so was he. You were on dangerous waters, Wonwoo moved closer to you, his gaze flying from his lips to your eyes. You knew that move too well, he had pulled it so many times in front of you, so many times had he pulled it on you.

Who doesn’t kiss their friends? The little voice in your head answered, and so you did, or maybe he did. All you knew was that Wonwoo’s hands felt cold against your jaw and your shirt was starting to feel like a nuisance.

In that moment, for the first time in forever you thought it was possible. He isn’t nice. Wonwoo was past pretending he was nice, he was past pretending to be good. Wonwoo’s breathing was loud enough to drown your thoughts. The chlorine in the pool masked the absence of weed and cologne, if you closed your eyes hard enough, the coldness in Wonwoo’s skin felt almost welcoming. Wonwoo’s hands grabbed your chin, pulling you away from the kiss just long enough to notice the water droplets covering his lashes. You kissed him again, the water around you rippling from the sudden movement. There were probably over fifty people around you, but you couldn’t care less. He wasn’t nice. He would never be nice. So what if he wasn’t Mingyu? He wasn’t nice, that’s all you cared about.

You were too drunk to even think about Mingyu. Too drunk to remember broken legs, and bruises, and entangled fingers on Saturday mornings. You were too drunk to worry about football games, and drug tests, and that little voice in your head that kept nagging you. You were too drunk to care, too drunk, and yet as soon as you heard his name you noticed how undrunk you felt. How his voice managed to sober you up in a matter of seconds. How it didn’t matter that Wonwoo wasn’t nice because the both of you had done this before and the ending was always the same. He wasn’t nice but he wasn’t worth it.

You placed your hand on Wonwoo’s chest, gasping for air, the cold finally starting to kick in. You locked gazes with him and he nodded. “I told you he’d make an entrance.”

Your gaze flew up towards the pool chairs, Mingyu was on one of them, something not quite right about the way he carried himself. He looked straight at you, smiling. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was bothered, even angry, but you did know better than that.

“Can I get your attention?” His words kept bumping into each other.

 It was magnetic, the way people looked at him, like he was the sun and everyone else was mere planets. Everyone orbited around him, never getting too close. Mingyu smiled, it took you a second to make out the bottle of Cherry Vodka he was holding, you had left it half way full, now it was empty. “I wanted to congratulate none other than your new football captain Jeon Wonwoo for his first win today.” New captain. You tried to retain the words but they floated away, leaving only the claps and cheering going around you. Mingyu locked gazes with you, the shadow of a smirk on his lips. “How does it feel not coming up second best for the first time in your life?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. The words clearly stung. “Pretty great Gyu.” He looked over at you and then at Mingyu. “How does it feel coming up second best for the first time in yours?”

Mingyu walked towards the edge of the pool, close enough for the smell of weed and cologne to fill your nostrils. “It’s not as bad as you made it seem honestly.” He leaned in to leave the empty bottle of cherry vodka on the edge, right next to you, before walking away.

You got out of the pool as fast as you could, your knees and thighs scraped from the cement. The air was cold against your body; your wet clothes sticking to you, making you feel trapped. You followed Mingyu inside the house, leaving little pools of water as you walked. 

“I told you to bring a swim suit.” He said as soon as you caught up to him on the front porch, a cigarette between his thumb and index finger.

“I thought this would be more fun.” Your voice was unsteady, wavering. Your hands were shaking so hard you couldn’t keep them at your side.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, smiling. “Here.” He took off his shirt, the bruises fully visible under the party lights. You hesitated. “I’ll go get another one from DK’s closet, you can’t exactly go upstairs to get one without leaving a mess on your way, can you?” His words slurred a bit, but they were coherent enough, you could tell he was doing an effort to keep his drunken self at bay.

You took your shirt of, quickly putting on Mingyu’s. You felt a sudden warmth wash over you, followed by a rush of cold air bringing you back to reality. “Are you going to tell me why the fuck you weren’t at the game today?” For the first time in the last hours you had let yourself be irritated at him, worried, if you looked too much into it.

Mingyu’s eyes darted from one place on Seokmin’s front yard to the other. “I failed the drug test.” He took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke little by little.

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re not going to answer truthfully, I’m…” you started to turn away from him when he grabbed your elbow.

“I’m telling you the truth.” He looked amused, almost like the thought was too ridiculous even for him. It was. “Ask them if you want.”

“That’s impossible.” The school could risk losing DK, or Wonwoo, Seungkwan and even Vernon before Mingyu. Football gave the school most of its funding, and Mingyu was the football team, he was the captain, it made no sense.

“That’s what I thought this morning.” He turned to look at you; the bruises looked more purple today than they did yesterday, darker, more painful. “But hey, at least I beat Vernon to it…” he laughed, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“They found MDMA in Vernon’s system Gyu, what the fuck were you on that they would…?” consider it was worse.

“Does it matter?” He threw the cigarette butt on the floor, stepping on it. “They probably just wanted me out of the team for some reason. Who cares?”

You did. But the party was starting to make you feel dizzy, the cherry vodka finally starting to wear out. He only quits when he wants to. The little voice in your head whispered. Why would he want to quit? But the answer didn’t come to you then.  “Who cares?” you answered back, the ghost of a smile in both of your lips.