#girl who would punch you and then make you apologize because it broke her nail

[muzzlemouths]

I miiiight just have a favorite counselor 👀

(might finish later)

DOLLYYYYYYY. GIRL OF ALL TIME

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟑 | 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you."

no cw memories of an overprotective prince and high fever. author is blatantly in love with Kirishima. whole apologies, half apologies, wordless promises, technical treason. learning how to speak softly. covering each other's mouths so the truth can't slip out because I want them to kiss as badly as you do. somewhat suggestive. nonviolent touches in the palatial bedroom of a long-dead prince. part ii: fin 6.7k

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Mina Ashido is sick, not like you finally breathing softly on a bed the size of a merchant village, but with guilt. She flicks a bric-à-brac she found on some grand writing desk and Denki punches her shoulder when her nail taps the metal absentmindedly. Click. Thud.

Their eyes dart to the far side of the room across a row of white windows and stop on the knotted body of their prince, folded like a trench soldier on a chaise half his size. His hair shags over his sleeping face and crossed arms but Mina can still see the veins of his jaw, clenched and dreaming of adrenaline.

One loud sound might be it for them– Bakugou would eulogize sleep schedule before skinning them like fish but it’s four in the afternoon and Mina knows it’s actually because your fever broke this morning and he would detonate if anyone disturbed you.

You can lay there like an angel because you never really fall asleep, right? Sick as a dog and dreaming of work. Sero pokes his head inside for a second to check the firewood cache and steps out again. Kirishima wears a path from the kitchen to your new bedroom with his constant lumber deliveries because he knows you wouldn’t want to see him at your bedside. Dead, conscious, or otherwise. All four of them rot.

You make a spectacle of the prince wherever he’s seen with you and this time you weren’t even awake to witness your destruction. Bakugou, dripping wet for some reason, roared through the halls of Takoba at midnight which wouldn’t have been special save for how tightly he held you and how little you moved. Safe but limp in the crook of his neck.

The castle at midnight is so much more lovely than during the day. There are no accusing Takoban eyes to make your Alderan shoulders itch and there was no loss of dignity in practicing her waltz in an empty ballroom. Mina swayed safe and alone and filled with excitement for the impending party. She anticipated Uraraka and practiced her flirtiest glances to deploy when the soldier inevitably found her, as she did every night, and sent her back upstairs. Mina was just a mage after all, not a lord or lady. Not a royal guard.

Boom! Rattled the ceiling from the floor above and where Mina was expecting a round-faced girl she’d gotten a heart attack. She snapped her candle in a startled fist at the first familiar eruption and darted up two staircases to Kirishima’s quarters with the second and third.

The champion was already half dressed. The heartbeat of the castle woke him up, the sound of hundreds of little bees mobilizing at royal orders.

They joined the flocks of servants and butlers in their night clothes all crowding, choking yawns, and rushing through the hallways, up higher and deeper into those frozen parts of the castle where their prince’s fury vibrated. The place no one dared breathe since the king left eleven years ago.

The North Wing was closed forever and someone had lit a spark at its highest point. Maids to her right, butlers and nurses to his left, Kirishima and Mina became insignificant in the river of nightgowns and candles and slippers and whispers. There is always more staff in Takoba than soldiers. Who could he have possibly picked a fight with at this hour? The farther Takobans hiked, the deeper their bones felt the cold in this place no one should be. Death march.

“Katsuki!” Someone rasped. The champion hoisted Mina onto his shoulders when they could no longer force themselves forward up stairs and through archways. Only little Shuzenji’s great big voice called out clearly for the crowd to hear, “Katsuki– you’ll be arrested, this– this is, I mean, you’re– fuck.”

At the end of the hallway, two red doors hung open, one truly dangling by its top hinges. The prince crouched just inside, squat by the light of a beautiful fireplace and its fine tinder. Chairs and ottomans, a writing desk, curtains and rugs, all delicate and silver and crushed and melting and screaming with moisture in a white Alderan fire.

“She needs fresh air and a fucking fireplace.”

You were melting in his arms too, quietly.

Sweating and indifferent to how carefully he supported the back of your head or with what level of self control it took for him to surrender you into the lap of the exasperated Takoban doctor. 

“This is a lot of fuss for a fever, Katsuki.”

“Get useful or die trying.”

Six footmen at the front of the crowd panicked at his words and knelt immediately to collect splinters from shattered furniture. They winced as the crowds continued to push around and above them to get a view of just what the Alderan guest would do with Prince Touya’s long dead bedroom.

He knelt in it. When the fire in its place wheezed, he fed it the dead boy’s gilded furniture and knelt again near you.

He lurched but didn’t strike when you were moved from the floor to the bed and found a seat again. He glared at loud noises from the foot of the bed but sat still as superstitious servants trembled while lighting candles. He rumbled when Princess Fuyumi squeezed herself through the frozen crowd with Uraraka in tow and immediately made an order for fresh bedlinens and firewood because before anything, before she was even a sister she was a saint.

He didn’t do too much more than that. He sat like a threat until dawn while staff and nurses buzzed around to make the North Wing breathe again. He waited for arrest.

He frowned at his Alderan company as they hovered in the doorway and sometimes he let them sit with you when he knew he needed to sleep. He balled his fists as he told them your misunderstanding and nothing else. More than anything he waited for you to wake up.

Prince Bakugou sleeps like a psychopath, you bewilder as you rub your eyes. He’s still pretty, knotted half a million ways to hell on the velvet chaise across the room and seeing him asleep is much more unusual than seeing him surrounded by books like this. There’s a pile at his feet and another at his head and a console table between them for his teacup and a pen.

It’s less scary to think about touching him when he’s sleeping. About rubbing his shoulder with your soft palm and stumbling back to this obnoxiously comfortable bed with his heat at your back– no. About rolling over in this obscenely large bed through morning chill and sunlight to find his magic-worn hands already pulling you against him. Fumbling to tuck every part of you inside his arms half-alseep– slipping under your–

About finally throwing your weapon aside as dust settles, victorious, and rattling his skull with the bloodiest punch you can manage. Breaking your fingers on his golden jaw– about kneeling over his battered body, panting, as he uses the last of his strength to raise his arms, to– no– to trace his fingers over your cheeks– no– and through your hair where you loom above him. About letting him pull you down with the last of his strength to kiss you on the battlefield.

Something outside clatters and crashes and your eyes fly open as you sit up in the room you made in a dream. You rub your eyes, deja vu, and spot your golden prince right where you left him. Scowling, pretty, on a sofa across the room in the afternoon sun. Someone shouts outside and you lurch from an aggressively comfortable bed with the confidence of a person who has just woken up without a question for reality. You are a captain and there’s violence outside the place where your prince is sleeping. No thoughts to your ten-pound beddress or the continental mystery bedroom or the fire that blazes in its white marble fireplace.

“You oaf!” Someone hisses as you pitter-patter pitter-patter and clear the room barefoot to throw open one of two elven doors. That someone is Mina. She is pretty and pink and she stares at you with her mouth open in a hallway cold enough to outline her breath in small puffs of shock.

Takoba is a series of beautiful rooms tied to tall hallways, this one’s no different. Mina is bathed in the warmest sunlight October can offer even in a place like this and she’s hunched and pointing in the middle of scolding Sero who has also frozen to stare at you on his knees halfway through reaching for a log that’s gotten away from him.

“Do you need help?”

Mina reaches for you like the air is too thick to move. You almost call her Lady again before you remember.

“Y/n,” she breathes. Sero is forgotten on the floor because you’re suddenly here in this doorway while the last vestiges of sleep drip off of you, gooey, onto the marble. “Y/n, are you–” she slips your hands into hers when she manages a step forward.

Bakugou and the sea, right? A column of fire in your chest and a trip back home. Was touching him a dream? They’re no lords. I hate you. One lost Alderan earring and two hands holding you. Last time they were golden and trembling.

Mina’s fingers twitch with every word out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“Mina, don’t–” Sero tries to stop her.

“We’re so sorry, Y/n, so so sorry, please gods we’re–” 

“Mina.”

Her body goes rigid but her hands stay soft on yours when she snaps at him, “Like you weren’t in tears two days ago! Don’t pretend to be cool.”

You become aware of your clothes for the first time when you consider their earnest Alderan faces and your tangled hands. Completely unarmed in a quilted dress that drags on the ground. Seashells twinkle when you move.

“Course I’m sorry,” Sero shudders. He rises and your eyes finally adjust well enough to sunlight to catch Kaminari standing statue-still beside a window where it appears you burst onto the scene as he was making to close it, “she’s my captain.”

If you weren’t still processing his lack of lordship you’d order him to his knees for the treason of calling you captain. What purpose does he serve in the castle? A mage like Mina? You cock your head and stuffy nose, and shift to shake away the inconvenient thought that someone’s been calling you captain for weeks with no punishment. Kaminari breathes, “Katsuki told us.”

“We thought you knew– we never meant to–!” And again your attention is on Mina, desperately closer than she’s ever been. Closer than anyone’s dared to hold you gently, “We thought you were playing Y/n, we– I should have said something.”

And of all the things to remember from that night, delirium and immodesty, a humiliating rescue, thoughts that meant to stay inside forever, I hate you, the taste of someone else’s teasweet breath– the one bites the least. They’re not lords.

It’s cold out here, you should invite the lot of them inside to warm up. You should ask them where the fuck you are.

“It’s my mistake Ms. Mina,” you smile pretty like you’ve trained for, “Harmless. Don’t worry.”

Three huge eyes blink out of sync surely because someone thought it was funny to put you in a queen’s night dress and hide your shoes. It’s better they’re not lords to be seeing you in the state.

“We,” Sero starts confidently and trails off with the syllable. Mina’s thinking.

Kaminari speaks beside the window and the three of you turn to his light, “We watched you grow up in that beautiful castle,” he hums. He has spoken with you twice, three times now, and it’s never been particularly affective or affectionate but he’s right that home is beautiful. Aldera is lots of things. You falter in the doorway now that adrenaline has bled from you into Mina’s hands. “You were in my letters class.”

Eight years old and late for Letters in a thunderstorm that swept you to the prince and clobbered you both with peaches. The students gaped when you stepped inside, dripping rainwater and bruised, to take your seat at the head of the class with a weapon still strapped to your back. Kaminari looks as if on the verge of tears which all feels a bit melodramatic for one damp day fifteen-some years ago. “I was afraid of you. Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“I –” Mina releases your hands so she can stand a bit taller, so you turn, “I believed what people told me, Y/n, I’m sorry. I listened in the kitchens and spellhalls when they told me you never eat or sing, I believed them every time I scurried past your post with an errand and back again where you hadn’t moved a breath for hours.” It’s kind that she’s not touching as she speaks but the cold of the hallway is pinching your stupid bare feet. You never cared enough to pay attention to her either, why should she apologize? You never noticed her out of the tens of children that studied with you, worked around you, served you, fell to you in training. 

“When you didn’t recognize us at the start of the trip I thought you were so cool. I thought, no, it was just so cool to be traveling with the only Alderan apprentice– Spear of the Queen– you– I watched you get stronger for years. Sero would come to the potion pantry while Kaminari and I organized and gush about any impossible whathaveyou Jeanist’s Second pulled off in the gallery that day. Any Alderan could recognize you from footsteps, you’re– I– I’m not doing a good job.”

“She’s sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she confirms and hovers between your bodies like she’s warming her hands with your fire. “You’re a hero. I’m just a training mage the prince can’t get rid of and you’ve saved the skin off our skulls more times than there are calendars. Y/n,” you look between Mina who presses no closer and the boys behind her, “I’m a coward, I want to know everything about you.”

You are ridiculous, dressed up in a doorway at noon with no idea how you got there and a hunger that teeters on allconsuming. You are a soldier. You are Jeanist’s soldier, you are his prodigy you should have shoes– 

Something startles your Alderan company, shoulders jumping, and Sero drops to a knee when he registers the dark cloud gathering behind his commanding officer wilting in a nightgown by the sea.

“Wers, there he goes.”

“I am bound by blood and at your service, my captain! My behavior is unacceptable while you have been serving alone in Takoba.”

A soldier then. Mina turns from her friend on the floor to gauge your new reactions while Kaminari presses two footsteps closer. That night comes back in pieces. You reach for your ear and pinch one lobe in icy fingers while the Alderans look on. What part of the dream is this? First Bakugou, his warmth and anger now these three? What will this one melt into? More fevered confessions? Send them away.

You feel the bark in your throat and wait to see which one of them will scurry from you first. Have they heard your soldier’s voice before?

Go on. No one moves because you can’t actually make the sound. Sero doesn’t raise his head. They are mages and you outrank them. Be gone. “Just–” what finally comes out isn’t the voice of a soldier at all, “please.”

“I’ll help you to bed,” Mina tentatively leans forward as you lean exactly back.

“not necessary.”

“Y/n, you’ve been out for three days,” Kaminari closes in too, “We’ll throw some logs on your fire and get out of your hair, but first can we make sure you’re okay? Call the doctor and get you some food?”

You can only lean so far before you need to take a step, and then only so far after that before your back hits the door that has shut behind you. You haven’t been sick because you don’t get sick. You’ve been dreaming, too much, which is worse.

A series of hollow crashes startle the Alderans again half out of their coats but you haven’t been caught by surprise in seven years.

“Y/n,” Kirishima hardly whispers, barely breathes where he’s appeared a little ways down the hall, dropping stacks of lumber from his arms onto the marble. He didn’t grow up in the castle. He showed up a few years ago stuck to the hem of Bakugou’s cape like tree sap and he’s always made every effort to smile. A smile from a stranger doesn’t mean much.

“Y/n,” he whispers again and staggers forward like he’s tried to catch himself from tripping, “you’re–” at first he is relief and then you remember, in a moment of lucidity, that you’re upset with him. “You’re awake.”

His limp hair flounders red in your direction. What right does he have to look so disheveled? Dark circles and a creased forehead, for what? His palms and sleeves are flecked with splinters and filth that he tries to brush off as he steps over firewood– tree trunks really– that now litter the hallway.

Fury gives you the strength to step forward, “You–”

“You,” the distance is closed. Alderans have stopped pressing into you and watch their companion, rosy cheeks, dark stubble, smile lines thrown to the wayside and big, wet eyes, reach, “You scared me.” And on contact he dissolves into a sob.

Kirishima grabs your sleeve first without his usual care and wrenches you deep into his arms. Maybe you’re tired, you don’t strike him as he shakes.

“You, you have to tell someone, Y/n,” you can only hear the words through vibrations in his chest and now the whole hallway smells like sweet Alderan fire. You should be suffocated, furious, you shouldn’t close your eyes. “You can’t just collapse. No one needs to be that strong– it– you– ’m so sorry.” 

The champion’s fingers clutch at the back of your neck and shoulders but you’re too shocked to notice until his warmth, his fire and safety, pulls you away by the cheeks. Kirishima cradles your face in two hands that could crush and tries to speak through agony. Drowning teardrops plummet off his black lashes, “it must have been so lonely.”

And what Mina saw as exhaustion, Sero anger, folds the corners of your mouth like paper, lips trembling, and wets both eyes with a blink.

It is something inexplicable like being thirteen on your way home from Peruro. A day of joy, song dance and feats of strength. Fencing competitions. They don’t give toy swords to soldiers and so you slipped inside the quietest part of the celebrating castletown, victorious two years running, bloodied and something more than tired. Crunch. As you approached the basin in the stables for jockeys to rinse mud from their eyes, you lifted your boot just enough to watch the broken green body of a mantis fall apart between the ground and your tread. One thin arm, little just like yours, remained untouched by your footprint and detached entirely from the creature that was just two more arm’s-lengths too slow.

You were startled for the last time in your glance to the mirror. You usually rinsed muck or sweat off your cheeks in the stables and the horses were here, the smell and warmth were here, but today you were splashed in blood. And so much worse than that, tears ran clean streaks through the filth. When you fall to pieces in your beautiful dress beside the sea it is impossible to hide.

“Please can we help you?” Kirishima blubbers through a smile before you nod, and he pulls you back in tight.

It is so strange to be held and uninjured. A hand materializes at the top of your head and more bodies surround you in the dark of Kirishima’s chest. Splinters poke at your cheeks but you press through them. You hold tight to the fabric of his sleeves and wrap a warm finger around the cold fingers that find yours.

It’s condescending and so unnaturally welcomed. You can’t even cry right. The tears fall and your voice breaks uneven because you’ve forgotten how to breathe with a lump in your throat, how long has it been? Steady arms hold you upright as you try to remember. Anything for you, Majesty. Don’t need a babysitter. Who’re you lookin at? Cover yourself. Captain! Y/n! Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir.

“I’m.. ‘m so hungry,” you sob in muffled fragments and the champion rumbles with true tearful laughter,

“She’s hungry!”

Mina wraps herself around your back and grips the knit of Kirishima’s tunic to keep all three of you tight together. She’s crying too from the sound of it, and rambling as always through the tears, “Don’t just drop dead in the hallway for Kats to collect! Thought he was gonna torch the castle–” she shakes you all, Kirishima as the lighthouse, “my blood pressure’s never recovering from this week snakes on high I know we deserved it but we haven’t had a moment’s rest with that lunatic playing bedside officer,” she is still gentle when she touches you, when she rubs her cheeks to yours, when she leans herself into the champion’s hold to be that much closer, “I’m a much better nurse, Y/n, promise, I promise wouldn’t–”

“Talkin shit?” 

What if someone had found you that day in the stables, instead of clapping you on the back for the day’s bloody victories and ignoring your red rimmed eyes? Bakugou crosses his arms over his golden chest and leans against the doorway framed by fire whipping in the bedroom behind him. It’s subtle, but the heat’s made his ears pink. No one moves.

“A bit..”

Mina stuffs her hand over Kirishima’s wobbling lips before he says anything else to get you all sent to the gallows. You just watch and the prince watches back; over the champion’s soft forearms and part of a filthy cotton coat, and partially through Mina’s hair. Bakugou’s collarbones roll with his breath where they poke out from his soft tunic, same with his stomach. It fills slightly with each heartbeat like he’s still too sleepy to harden himself and his posture.

You’re warm in this October hallway and your heart has been picked open by fruithungry doves. Bleeding down the front of this nice white nightgown, pooling rich at your feet. It’s easier to look at him when you’re crying. You stare through a crack in the hug with stray tears tumbling from your eyes like springs.

I’m not letting you out of my sight.

“Go on then, down mutts.” The prince unfolds and steps forward to pry Mina’s arms apart, “Couldn’t trust you assholes to be quiet if I cut out your tongues.”

His Alderan company thaws slightly at the sarcasm and the hands tying you together unravel at every angle under his orders until you are the only one standing on the stain your bleeding heart made.

Prince Bakugou is not the same as he was when he carried you from the sea. He surveys your heavy beddress and bare feet with a frown but no fireworks and today he’s wearing no jewelry at all. Not a ruby, bone, nor sun in sight. He is still clearly out of place here, golden milk and glowing like coals; two red eyes that love to glare and his lips that called your name as you both choked on ocean foam.

“Hungry?”

You nod and the shake dislodges loose tears.

He grunts and tips his head towards the bedroom door, “Back inside. The rest of you,” and then turns to his company who has stiffly lined up along the wall to try and avoid the punishment their prince laid out very clearly in the event a series of Alderan shenanigans woke you up, “put your pea brains together and track down Uraraka– she’s late. And stop fucking crying.”

The prince would pull rank against a baby. He oozes control and ego and desperation for the self and it is infuriating how much he gets away with and how often he is right. His eyes are pomegranate seeds behind slits that shift constantly towards you in the cold hallway.

“Go on.”

You exchange a glance with your company behind you and each one of them is glowing with life. Mina has cleaned herself up with a smile and Kaminari leans against her, almost behind her, grinning nervously at his hellfire prince. Sero and Kirishima fight back tears and the lot of them hold their breath.

The mages delay their prince’s orders no longer. They file down the hallway. “Welcome back, Y/n!” Mina waves and rolls her eyes at Bakugou’s seething.

“Rest well,” Kirishima smiles and wipes his eyes with his filthy sleeve while collecting the logs he dropped. Kaminari manages a curtsy, which makes you laugh, and they all round the corner with unsubtle exhales.

For all his spitfire, cunning and rage, for all their worry and apology, your Alderan company never objects to leaving you alone with the prince. For all their apologies, for all his harsh words and actions. Is it their trust in you, or their trust in him? Alone and for a moment you stand just two arm’s lengths away from your prince while he looks pointedly down the hallway after their footsteps. His posture is returning. He rakes his hand like a claw through his hair to settle in itch and pauses for one more beat before turning to you. Prince Bakugou saved your life and you told him you hate him.

He cocks his head, “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, Highness.”

One fricative cough like laughter slips out of his chest and his eyes widen a bit, as if surprised by himself, before settling back to a scowl. He’s soft today, sleep deprived. You wipe the last of the salt from your eyes.

“Go back inside,” He instructs as he moves forward and corrals you back step by step.

“Where am I?”

Fury has been replaced by something wet inside of him, doused and smoking like a forest fire. He slips past you inside the white bedroom and marches to the camp he set up around his chaise to collect two books and a pen, which he tucks inside one cover before sticking both volumes under his arm. Prince Bakugou saved your life and slept beside you, and you told him you hate him.

You step toward him when he walks past again, this time out into the hallway, just too quickly for you to trap him with a stare. Your stomach cramps with hunger and your throat is dry from crying.

“Just go lay down.”

He does not get farther than one step over the threshold before you reach though, and clutch the hem of his tunic in a clammy hand.

Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you.

Prince Bakugou saved your life. He turns now when you dare to touch him, and when he looks at you the smoke inside him pours from his ears. The eye contact is not difficult like a spotlight or the sun, it’s more like a candle in the dark that stains the backs of your eyes for many few minutes. He looks like a dream in your delirium. What you must look like beneath him..

He squeezes his books tight under his bicep and fully squares himself to you, “I didn’t,” he starts. It’s a croak. It’s foreign to speak so softly as he speaks now, so softly you drop your hand from him and lean away. His ears are still red. “I didn’t tell them,” he frowns with thought, “about the sea.”

You stare at him like always and today like a void, and melt a little in front of the candle he is. What else is there to say? You nod and move away. His wax will burn you.

“Don’t–” he huffs. You weren’t surprised for seven years, not through contests or training, not under orders, not truly by the queen at the foot of your bed all those weeks ago, not camping with your new company and holding magic in your palms, not by blue fire. Bakugou clutches your wrist, your hand, when you turn away from him and the static shock makes each hair on your body rise. He squeezes your fingers through the goosebumps.

“Don’t ever–”

“Yes sir.”

“– not ever again.”

“Yes–”

“Y/n.”

You look forward unblinking while your prince reels you in like a fish, rolling your fingertips in his palm. You can’t even manage a frown when you face him, all that bubbles up is bitten lips.

You get one more chance to look at him, and when you do he doesn't bark or spit. Earnest red eyes watch under a frown.

“Just a prayer gone wrong, Highness. I promise.” You can’t feel the faint smile. You do not know what makes his eyes widen or scowl fall.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him and the pair of you jump. Bakugou is quick to catch the books that fall from under his arm and you both rush to wipe your hands at your hips. Uraraka. She leans her weight against the door, “Sleeping beauties,” and smiles at you while your prince jerks away.

“You’re late,” he spits and pushes into the hallway.

“High Lords are waiting.”

“Spare me.”

Uraraka preens less than your Alderans but still ushers you to bed and rings a bell on the wall labeled ‘kitchen.” A log falls in the fireplace. Embers spit onto the marble hearth. The last glimpse of gold you catch is in your prince closing the bedroom door behind him, his hand like a claw again violently tousling his hair. You are a liar, you lie and tell lies, and you do not hate him at all.

Embarrassment is replaced with shame when you learn the princess has filled your new dressers with her old winter nightclothes. And when Uraraka tells you about her brother, the late prince, and his palatial bedroom locked away from the world with his mother’s sorrow.

You will find the princess tomorrow and press your head to the floor at her feet, you will kneel to the queen in thanks for her generosity, but tonight you will find your prince.

It won’t take long. Uraraka told you where his meeting was while she braided your hair and only half-heartedly instructed you to stay in bed when you asked for privacy. There is no lame guard stationed outside of this room, a room so high in the castle the fireplace can suck oxygen straight from the night sky above you. Warm like home. It’s easy to keep a fire that excited alive so you tent logs over the embers to feed it while you’re gone. Your white arming doublet blocks the cold– dragontooth brooch glowing– when you step into the hallway lit by torchlight, a gift and invitation from Master Aizawa.

The hallway is thawing slowly from it’s edges to its center and seems to be lined with every flammable item one could think of; candlesticks, torches, candelabrum, chandeliers– if a flame escaped from your fireplace the castle would burn from this hallway to it’s cornerstones like a match.

You smile watching the fire dance in place as you walk past them and into darker parts of the castle. Down staircases and through white hallways lined with their seed-sized carvings. Your temples ache with the change in temperature.

“Office of the King?” You ask a passing footman and they make a point to avoid eye contact before murmuring directions and shuffling away. Deeper you descend and even with rest and warm food in your belly your lungs start to work with great effort. “Office of the King?” You catch a housekeeper this time who is less timid but still keeps his head down like you are noble.

“Straight ahead,” he points and when he bows slightly to leave you no longer register his presence, because a fluffy golden head slips back inside a door in the hallway. You step down the last stair in front of you and into the corridor. Your boots would creak on wooden floors at home but along the marble you are silent.

There aren’t half enough torches down here to adequately light the way or warm the castle from the chill of its many windows. The door your prince tucked back inside of glows when you approach it. This is when you would steady your hand on your weapon, or shift your shoulder blades to feel the weight of your master’s halberd.

Office of the King. You trace the silver details with eyes and fingers because it is beautiful and you have finally found all the places your prince could possibly hide. With your relief you should have considered how to hide from him. The door flies open with too little forewarning for you to dodge and stops just short of knocking you across an already throbbing temple. Bakugou emerges in an air of tempest.

“Knew it,” he crackles like you are exactly who he was looking for and is wholly aggravated by it, “you’re fucking fired, get back in bed.”

He is wearing fine silks from Aldera and their golden fixtures and tassels stop your heart. His hair is soft tonight. It is pushed back with a jeweled comb so that pointed fringes fall barely over his eyes while medals and brooches pin silk in a bunch at the shoulder of his gambeson. He looks more like a general ready for war than a guest in a seashell castle.

The prince simmers, “We’re planning the ball not a coup, I don’t need a sentinel.” And squints when you don’t budge, eyes unfocused. He tuts his head in the direction you came, “Rest. Now.”

“Yes Majesty– Highness,” you snap and reach for a pair of passing maids who squeak when they can’t get past the Alderans fast enough to hide, “one of you, fetch me a chair.”

“Belay that,” he growls and they squeak again, “you’re a fucking handful.”

Bakugou pauses on you for three seconds and rolls his eyes before turning back inside to address someone, “Please continue without me,” with a voice you’ve never heard before.

When your prince walks you back to your bedroom he steers you from just slightly behind and at the exact angle you would use to escort a prisoner to the Hold. The only signs from him are in the thick of his black trousers beside your own legs or a sleeve ushering you up a staircase. When your breathing becomes obvious he slows pace. If you lean the wrong direction his head dips down close to glare and guide you with a trail of smoke. He’s only this quiet when he’s thinking.

What’s the time? Stars twinkle at the highest points of the castle lined with torches and tall windows.

“Ahead,” Bakugou murmurs and waves you forward with an open palm to the red doors around the bend. Your own corner of Takoba. You don’t remember the night that you were brought here. You don’t remember anything past, ‘I hate you.’

The prince clears his throat to answer your unvoiced question, “Shuzenji arranged it. Told the queen you needed a fireplace.” He walks clear through the logical spot to stop and leave you on your own for the evening, and marches right beside you to the doors. Add the doctor to your tour of thank yous and apologies.

“I told that shit apprentice not to leave you alone. You’re the gods' perfect little flight risk.”

It would be easier to stand close together if you still brimmed with unbridled fury. You drift beside him, too tired for any strong feelings one way or another. He does not hint at eruption. Your prince only grumbles and watches to make sure you step fully inside after pushing down the door’s silver handle.

The wave of hot air inside is a cushion at the end of what should have been a simple journey and instead knocked the four winds out of you. They were telling the truth, you must have been fighting something for days. It could be midnight, it could be dusk, your body cannot tell the time past its fatigue. There’s one more thing you have to do before you can give it what it wants.

“Kirishima’s coming to morning meetings tomorrow. I don’t need you both,” the prince speaks awkwardly loud like the thought came out too fast. He is telling you to rest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for summons.”

He’s asking you to trust him.

“Yes sir.” You are too tired to lace the words with instigation and so Bakugou does not flinch like you like him to do when you call him sir. You turn away from the white warmth, fine cushions and curtains and fireplace, back to His Highness still stood stubbornly under your doorway. His headpiece glistens in the moonlight.

You will be his captain and you are not too good for a borrowed pair of greaves. You do not hate him. He can be the first stop on your tour.

Weary in your own little world and surrounded finally by fire, you steady your hands at your side and bend to take a knee. Forgive my…lots of things. “I’m–”

But Bakugou reacts again faster than you can fall. He jerks forward and catches you by both shoulders with his spark-leathered hands. The the last creature alive that can still startle you, not with his hold or speed, not with his magic, but his eyes. He stares through you in distress behind a pinched and stormy gaze. Spilled wine.

“Do not,” his voice rumbles through his touch. He pulls you up to standing and does not back away. Each hint his shoulders give promises that he will close any gap you try to make and so you do not move. He’s warm, his ears are red. Bakugou reaches between the gold clasps of his tunic and pulls out his fist for you to puzzle over in the few seconds it takes him, first to breathe, and then to open his hand.

One tiny sun, no bigger than an apple seed and polished to its core, twinkles like a spark on his palm.

He makes fine magic for you, he always has and you’ve never known it. He breathes again, “I. I’m..”

And you don’t mean to startle him, touch or stop him, but you do all three in rapid succession. Your hand jumps to his mouth because you don’t know how else to stop the birth of a star. You’re not ready for an apology.

His eyes mirror yours in their paralysis, his cloudy, yours panicked. His lips are damp. They part against your skin for a moment as he breathes once more deeply. As he closes his eyes– breathes you in. As you contend with the pulse of his tongue one last shock away from tasting the salt between your fingers. He is soft here. Here and when he wraps his own hand around your knuckles to disarm you. He does not let go when he lowers your hand, he does not let go after tucking the sun into your palm and closing your fist around it. Just for a moment.

Infinity is what exists in the void that replaced your fury and tonight it is full of fruit. Bruising peaches. Falling plums. Sneaking dinner under the Oak to watch his twinkling magic and to hide from crowds. Never questioning why students who told ghost stories about the child soldier never dared to bother you. Ignoring the peculiarity of Jeanist taking only one apprentice.

Inside, your expertly timed fire eats itself up in the silence and collapses to break the trance.

Immediately Bakugou dips away. He pulls back like you were the one holding him in place and leaves you briskly with his heart in your hands. He shakes his head and barks like a startled dog and does not look behind him, “Another time.”

The fire giggles and spits out embers. He hurries down the hallway because something in him died at sea to save you.

As you jump and skitter inside to the smell of smoldering rugs, your brooch and earring lay side by side where you toss them and leave them and try to sleep despite them, safe on the green velvet chaise.

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[bloodyknucklesforme]

Sauvignon Blanc | Guest Check

Tags: Nina first person POV train of consciousness, suicidal thoughts, self harm, substance abuse, it's a heavy one, sorry

The year I was born was the year that the government made it so that paracetamol had to be sold in blister packs rather than bottles. It was meant to prevent suicides as opening up individual packs was harder and gave a person more time to think. I want nothing more than to kill myself every time I have to dig my nail in to pop the foil but whatever. It worked, at least from what I've been told, never bothered to actually look it up.

Paracetamol poisoning is lousy fucking way to go anyways. Very English to choose a slow and miserable death. On par with the other preferred, yet slow, method of alcoholism. Nothing beats a destroyed liver and kidneys, I suppose.

I decided years ago how I'd kill myself. I won't mention it here in case someone gets nosy and gets me sectioned. It's not something I dwell on, but it feels like a back up plan, I guess. Like how some women have a secret cash fund in case their boyfriend beats them, I have my suicide plan.

I don't want to kill myself. More out of not wanting to hurt Kyle than anything else. It also seems like too much work most days. Why kill myself when I can drink a bottle of wine and curl up in bed?

There are rough days.

Like a spring is being compressed inside me and one day it'll release in some violent display against myself. I have to gently release the pressure. Always quietly. Always invisibly. Fear of my father trumped all other emotions growing up.

Plucking body hair (avoid the face!) and skin picking and scratching (avoid face and hands!) being two particular favorites of mine. One pair of tweezers can reliably do both. Sit in the tub to clean away any hair, skin or blood. Come out and present myself like the glossy, red eyed girl I am.

It's my biggest secret, strangely proud of that. Kyle doesn't know, despite once walking in on me aggressively plucking arm pit hair out (Do you not own a razor, you weirdo?). Growing up in the early era of "mental health awareness" that hammered in this behavior was not done for attention. That only made me feel worse as a teen, who fantasied whole heartedly about her father walking in on her, razor in hand, who would then fall to his knees and sob out apologies for not paying enough attention to her to notice. I never good at getting his attention in the first place so feeling like it was faux pas only increased my covert skills.

None of that helps with the post pain shame. The patheticness of it all. If I was a man I could simply punch a whole in the wall and break my fist. I don't want any more pity. My family is already dead.

Everyone looks at me different now. i try to act like it doesn't bother me and most of the time it doesn't. I'm not really friends with the rest of the staff at work.

It's Kyle though. Twenty odd years of friendship and he looks at me differently. I don't know if its pity or something else but I hate it. It's like he gets sad looking at me. I don't want to be that. Sex was never rough rough but now its like he doesn't want to break me, like he's afraid to touch me.

We broke up. I couldn't fucking do it. It was like chewing glass.

The only person who doesn't look at me differently, abiet he rarely looks at me at all, is Simon. Maybe it's why I let him take me home and basically give him free reign.

I don't have to think about it. I don't have to worry about him telling me he loves me. I don't have to worry about disappointing him. It might be because he doesn't actually like me so nothing I do will make him think less of me. I can just lay there. He does the work to make me cum and that's it. Wears a condom without complaint too.

It's easy.

He doesn't stay the night, which is fine, I can just enjoy myself with a bottle of wine in bed.

Tag List: @queen-ilmaree@macravishedbymactavish@gogh-with-the-flow@water-bearz @pvssytrux

[danielxricciardo]

Hi there! I don’t know if you got my ask before😭 but I did sent one about Daniel being jealous type? Like Max is Reader’s ex and got bit too touchy and familiar to the reader at party, and like Daniel and Max got into a fight and where other drivers need to break them up. Angst story please! I wanna see Daniel super jealous and protective over his gf.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I am so sorry for not writing the last request!!! I had an extremely busy period and there will be a few more crazy weeks! At first I tried to write in order but I didn't have much inspiration so I started writing randomly! So sorry again!

Summary: You are Daniel's girlfriend and he is jealous on Max, your ex.

Warnings: angst, a little swearing

Word count: 1.7k

Jealousy is an insane feeling... It comes out when you are very affectionately attached to someone or that even the thought of its possession with someone else creates a rage in your heart.

It can be constructive or destructive depending on how you presume to take it.

For him, in any way, it feels like his heart is in a constant state of dropping, his legs get shaky, he feels a twisting in his stomach and all he wants to do is snap at people. It's a horrible feeling that he feels a lot.

Jealousy can come from the fear of losing one or more of the following: power, love, sex, and possessions. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. It exists for a reason, to protect ourselves, but can cause havoc if left unchecked.

A jealous man who feels insecure in himself believes he’s not good enough to keep another person attracted to him over time. He fears that someone better than him is going to make his loved one reconsider their relationship.

Daniel never showed you that he was jealous. Although you were Max's ex-girlfriend, Max should be the one upset and jealous of the two, right? Because after you two broke up, friendly, of course, you soon got together with his best friend.

"Hey, love!" Daniel called to you from the bathroom. "I know you won't let me see the dress, although it is bullshit to me because we're going to a gala, not to our wedding, but can you at least tell me what color it will be? I need to choose a tie."

"Red." you answer from the bedroom, focused not to ruin your nail polish. "And it's not bullshit. I want to surprise you."

"For all I care, you can come dressed in a sack of potatoes and I will still think you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Mmm I smell bullshit!" you joke.

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is an annual event promoted by Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile which honors the achievements of all drivers over the past season.

Although you are not new to this sport, going to Grand Prix as the girlfriend of a driver for more than 5 years, you have never been present at a gala. Of course, you were invited every year, only something always happened and you couldn't go. This year, however, you wanted to be present, especially since Daniel was going to receive the Action of the Year award.

Daniel left before you, he and the boys rented a limousine with which they would get there, and you and the other girls would arrive, also with a limousine. You're not the type to refuse a limousine, especially since you've never been in one, but Daniel and the other boys had to leave their personal cars at the gala because the limousine won't leave you at home, you'll each go to your homes with your own cars.

You were wearing a beautiful backless, tight-fitting red dress, having almost like a silk texture to it, perfectly shaped to fit your figure, strapless, having a corset that makes your breasts bigger than they really were.

When Daniel saw you, you were sure he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His already large eyes seemed to protrude from his pupils. Your heart had started beating faster, and you had butterflies in your stomach. Even though you had been together for more than three years, you still felt like you were looking at him for the first time.

"You're splendid," he tells you when he helps you out of the limousine. He kisses your hand and you see the dozens of paparazzi flashes towards you.

"You don't look bad either," you answer and enter the building.

Inside were hundreds of people talking to each other and looking like they were having fun. Daniel leads you to your table where you two were seated with Max, Charles, Esteban, and Sebastian with their girlfriends.

"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asks you as he takes off his jacket and leaves it on the back of the chair.

"A glass of white wine."

Daniel kissed you on the cheek and went to get you your drinks. You look around to try to recognize someone and notice that Max is coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! Wow, you're so beautiful!" he says and takes your hand to spin you to see you well. "Daniel is a lucky man."

You giggle.

"I saw Kelly, she's gorgeous too! And you're a lucky man because you have her."

He laughs and takes a sip of his drink.

"Yes, you're right. She looks great," he says and looks after her.

Kelly was talking with two women you didn't recognize. It was as if she felt the two of you looking at her, she turned her head towards you and waved.

"Daniel will receive an award, right? Good for him."

"Yes!" you say joyful. "I'm so proud of him."

Max leans over and lightly touches your cheek. You look at him with wide eyes, not understanding what was happening.

"You had a fallen eyelash," he says. "Make a wish."

Before you even thought about a wish to make, you heard glasses breaking, then you saw Max thrown to the floor by someone. Not just someone. Daniel.

Your head was buzzing and you couldn't hear what Daniel was shouting. But you could hear the sound of his fists and the screams of several people who immediately came to separate them.

"What the fuck? Daniel!" Max said as soon as he was lifted from under Daniel.

Kelly immediately ran to him and took his face in her hands, looking for the wounds. He was going to have some pretty big bruises.

"She's my girlfriend!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately looked at Max, who mimicked your movements. What the hell was Daniel talking about?

"Yeah, and Kelly is my girlfriend too. Are we still getting to know each other or are you going to tell me what the fuck happened to you, dickhead?"

"And your girlfriend, Kelly, does she agree with this intimacy between you and Y/N? And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw you earlier, you almost kissed!"

"Do you hear what you're saying, jerk? She had a fallen eyelash! Get your head out of your ass and realize that no one is trying to steal your girlfriend. Neither I nor anyone else."

You snort and everyone turns to you. Your face had taken on the color of the dress: red. You were angry. You were shaking and you wanted to beat Daniel, but you were at a formal event; although that didn't stop Daniel from punching Max a few times. You take a step towards Daniel and slap him across the face, hard enough to sting.

"In the car. Now!" You command Daniel and head for the exit, all the people who had gathered around you now getting out of your way.

In the car, none of you had said anything. You didn't know if you had to start saying something or you should wait for him. You had so much to say, but how did you get started? You had so many curses prepared for him, but in what order did you tell them? You wanted to die of shame because of the little stunt Daniel did inside.

You snort, probably for the hundredth time in just a few minutes, and get out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Daniel shouted after me.

He's joking? Because it seems so to you. How dare he ask you where you're going, considering that since you got back in the car he hasn't said a damn thing. He even acted as if your presence bothered him. It's like he doesn't care about you.

You wanted to leave. Go home.

It's just a small problem. The building where the gala took place was in a part of town where you had never been before. You didn't know the way back to the house, you didn't have any money with you to get an Uber and you didn't want to enter the building you just left, ashamed, to ask someone to take you home.

Even though you didn't know where you were, you got out of the car and head for the gate you entered by car.

"Y/N!"

You snort angrily and hurry up. You try to keep calm and not run away, although you are sure that you could not run considering that you are wearing huge heels. You don't realize when he got behind you but now he grabs your hand and stops you. You try to jerk, but he only tightens his grip around your wrist. You face him, giving him the angriest look you're capable of, but he doesn't even deserve it.

"Let me go, please."

You frown. Daniel doesn't say anything and doesn't move, as if he were a stone sheepfold. He is tense and slightly agitated. Finally, he withdraws his hand, then passes it through his curly hair, then puts it in the pocket of his cloth pants.

"I am sorry," he says softly and you can barely hear what he said. "I was jealous."

"Jealousy? Why?"

He shrugs.

"I have no idea."

"You do not trust me?" you ask, feeling like you're about to cry.

He nods frantically.

"It's not like that at all... My jealousy does not come from a lack of trust. It comes with the insecurity when I thought that someone may take my place or was trying to take my place."

"But Max and I are in the past, you are my future..." you say and bite your lip. "You had to talk to me, not pull that little stunt inside. Do you realize what the papers will say tomorrow?"

"Do you think you can forgive me?"

"You need to apologize to Max. I won't have the whole face bruised tomorrow."

[liquid-luck-00]

Where There Is Change

Overprotection

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

One week.

One week without her brother is all it took to break her patience.

No, she didn’t break away from her story with the press release that happened literally two days after she started school.

No, what finally broke her was what the students did to her brother, specifically this group of five that were intentionally seeking out places she was that in order to talk about her family.

Sure, she understood why they talked about Damian, he is Gotham's Ice Prince, the person you do not want to get on the bad side of.

But moments that she wasn’t with him, people spoke awfully about him. And mostly about how he was born as a bastard child.

She pretty much assumes that when she’s not around they speak the same about her.

Both of them were conceived without his knowledge, until years later. Sure, it hurts to hear them talk about her dad like that.

But she also understands it to an extent.

Brucie Wayne, is an act he puts up. Brucie Wayne is a playboy the longer someone plays the playboy people, will come to the conclusion of him having several unknown children.

However, she also knows Brucie Wayne is a cover for her father, in the past twenty years or so since the time he pretty much became Batman, Brucie Wayne has been a cover. So much so that even the media plays into.

But what she can’t stand are the remarks her 'peers' make about her little brother, about all her siblings.

The remarks that, she is technically the older biological child. But that she still deserves a chair in the company. She is so mad that they are dismissing all of Tim's work he's put into the company. That they are dismissing her brothers just because she is the first-born biological child, that she should be the next C.E.O. People talk over him as if he isn’t there.

They talk about Jason, how he is the troubled child. That he ruins their father's name.

That Dick is just a novelty for Bruce. The first child he decide to adopt. That he’s no more than that, Bruce Wayne’s first ward.

She hates that they call Cassandra a basket case because she won’t talk.

Or how Duke is yet another charity case, simply because of his skin color.

They forget about her because she looks so American, so white, so European.

They forget that she is part Chinese, because she has such big blue eyes, fair skin, and dark black hair just like her father.

---

So back to school.

Damian was on assignment with the Teen Titans, so she was going to school alone. They said something about Damian getting an awful constant 103 fever, they didn’t want to risk anyone else to catch what he had.

So, she did what she usually did, she went outside like usual during lunch. When all of a sudden, the group of five kids in her year 'seemed' to be strolling past.

She thinks it’s still hasn’t sunk in that there’s a new Wayne. Or that they know but want to haze her. Because they are openly bashing her little brother.

"I’m sorry, but what did you just say." She stood up and looked at them.

"Well not that it’s any of your business, but Damian is such a menace, he is practically a terrorist." One of the boys started.

"Have you seen how angry he gets, I swear he could blow up the school, and he’ll still get let back in." A girl butt in.

"He’s already been expelled twice, but they keep letting him back in because he’s Bruce Wayne’s son." The final boy spoke rolling his eyes and she lost it.

She grabbed him, pulled him towards her, gave him a quick punch in the nose. Forcing him to reel back stumbling away from her.

"Let’s get one thing straight." She spoke, hands clenched in fists. "My baby brother isn’t a terrorist. He may be a menace, but he’s not a terrorist. Can any of you actually tell me the reasons why he got expelled."

Silence, pure silence was heard from the entire group.

"No, you can’t. Because like you said it’s none of your goddamn fucking business." At this point her French accent was slipping into her words, because she was getting really mad. She had to physically dig her nails into her palms to stop her magic from exploding.

"So why don’t you all just mind your own fucking business and maybe pay attention who you’re talking about, around who."

The entire group turned and ran, their tails between their legs and they scrambled to get away from her. She may have been known as the approachable Wayne between the two twins, but they messed with her brother. And they really didn’t know what they were talking about.

As soon as, the bell rang to end lunch her name came across the intercom. She grabbed her things and walked to the office knowing full well what was about to happen.

What she didn’t expect that out of all the people that would have been called the person who showed up was Jason.

If she had to cover the ever-growing grin on her face, or else the adults may have figured out that this was the wrong brother to call.

"We are so sorry to have called you today Mr. Todd-Wayne, but we have to discuss your sister’s behavior." The principal spoke as both of them sat down.

"Ok I'll hear you out, but after you explain what happened she will. And neither of you guys can interrupt the other got it. So, go." He pointed at the principle.

"Your sister has been accused of physical assault of another student."

"Is this true?" He turned to her.

"Yes." She answered.

"Why?" Jason asked as he rubbed his hands down his face.

She knows he has a shit eating grin that was slowly going to be spreading across his face, because his aura was almost giddy.

"You see they’ve not only been talking shit about Damian but Tim, Duke, Cass, Dick, and even you. If you want, I have several forms of video tape and audio proof if you’d like to see those."

"But let’s get back on point. We believe that you may have broken his nose."

"Okay, but I am not going to apologize, seeing as I was protecting my little brother, who is not here to defend himself."

She looked over to her brother and the ass had a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

"Why don’t I sign my sister out for the rest of the day, you know what, what about the whole

week, because I'm assuming suspension is an option?"

The principal however didn’t know how to react to Jason, so he absentmindedly pushed a stack of papers towards Jason and pointing to where he was to sign and initial. And then allowed them to leave.

"We’re not telling Bruce, are we?" She asked quietly.

"Not unless you want to deal with that right now?"

"No."

"Then let’s see how far we can get from Gotham."

"Yes please." She enthusiastically nodded her head, as they left the city.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[moldisgoodforyou]

bahamas (iv)

warning: everyone is drunk ! , sexual references

wordcount: 6k

_________

The next morning, Allie strolled out of the bedroom with a messy braid, a cheesy grin and a blush that started the second James began to whistle. Colin flipped him off immediately, still as sullen as the night before. “Nice of you to show up.”

“I was busy.” She retorted, then immediately shook her head. “Not like - I just showered.”

“Did loverboy join? What’s his name again?” James questioned, sliding Allie a full plate.

“Carloooooos.” Julia sang, laughing as Allie glared at her. “I saw him sneak out this morning. He said hello. Nice guy.”

“He said he had to get to his shift, he teaches scuba lessons during the day. If we’re interested he said he could snag us a discount.” Allie shrugged, popping a blueberry into her mouth.

“Does he teach underwater basket weaving too?” Colin asked dryly, scowling.

“Is that a real thing?” Rafe asked, looking like he was actually considering the activity for a moment.

Sophie glanced over at him, concerned. “Baby.”

“It’s not?”

Julia shook her head at the couple. “I thought we had a boat today?”

“We do. We’re going sailing.” Rafe confirmed, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got an hour, but we need to pack snacks and drinks. Colin, can you help me grab the cooler from the attic?”

“You can’t grab it yourself?” Colin grumbled, pushing away from the table to follow Rafe up.

“No. It’s too big.” Rafe glanced behind him, making sure they were out of earshot of the group as he led him up the stairs. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Colin repeated, immediately getting defensive. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, you’re being a dick about Allie’s hookup. No one would say a word if you brought a girl home.” He coughed as he unlocked the attic door and a small layer of dust flew up, the house unused since the beginning of summer. “Actually, maybe you should get laid, you’ll chill out.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being an asshole to Allie. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Colin sighed, helping Rafe tug the Yeti cooler down from one of the shelves. Once it was down, he glanced over at Rafe. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Sorry.”

“Apologize to her, not me.” Rafe told him, looking Colin dead in the eye like he could figure out some hidden secret if he stared at him long enough.

“I will.”

“Good. Just because you’re jealous -”

“I’m not jealous, just don’t like this guy -”

“Ha!” Rafe pointed his finger in Colin’s face, eyebrows raised. “I knew it! You like Allie.”

Colin froze, immediately looking towards the door then lowered his voice. “You can’t tell.”

“Wait, shit, seriously? I was just trying to get a rise out of you...Colin. Seriously? You mean it?”

“The tiniest of crushes. She’s cute.” Colin affirmed, regretting telling him already. “Just - you can’t say anything.”

“I won’t. Brother swear.” Rafe nodded, extending his hand to Colin. “Don’t you dare fuck with her though.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Colin paused, not taking his hand to shake. “That includes Sophie.”

“Fuck, Colin, for real? You know she doesn’t count.” Rafe whined, running his hand through his hair. “She’s gonna get it out of me. Somehow. She always knows when I’m hiding something.”

“I mean it.” Colin shook his head. “No Sophie. No James, and especially no Julia.”

“Damnit.” Rafe sighed, but grabbed Colin’s hand and shook it. “Fine. You’d better apologize and start making moves or shut the fuck up and let her do her thing, though. No judging.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.”

The door banged open, startling them both as James stood in the doorway. “Yo. You two can’t handle this thing?”

“No, we got it.” Rafe shook his head, lifting it easily on his own to haul downstairs. “They send you up here to check?”

“Yeah, Jules started asking questions about last night and Allie clearly didn’t want to gossip with me around, so Sophie sent me up here to get you guys.” James paused, thinking. “She muttered something about you probably getting stuck in some secret fancy passageway. You gonna tell her this house is your dad’s company house, not some family heirloom?”

“I’m pretty sure Sophie wants to know as little as possible about what my family owns. I think she cried for a solid hour on the first night here.” Rafe frowned, taking each step one at a time.

“You tell her about the deb thing yet?” James asked.

“Deb thing?” Colin echoed. “Sarah’s ball? What does Sophie have to do with that?”

“...No. I’m not sure. I think she’ll either agree or rip my head off, no in between.” Rafe sighed. “Sarah’s getting presented at the debutante ball in the spring, Rose suggested Sophie gets presented as well with me as her escort, and somehow my dad thought that was a good idea. Establish her with high society, or whatever. I don’t think he’s forgiven me for breaking up with Brooklyn a week before her deb ball. Apparently me being her escort would have been good for us. Our family.”

James cocked his head. “She broke up with you.”

“Whatever.”

“Huh. Well. That conversation should be fun for you.” Colin patted Rafe on the shoulder just as they got down the attic stairs. Rafe now sported a thin layer of sweat from hauling the cooler down alone, despite him already having no shirt on.

“Oh yeah. Looking forward to it.” Rafe deadpanned, then put on a grin as they all re-entered the kitchen. He didn’t miss the way Sophie’s eyes trailed over his exposed chest, the way she leaned forward on the counter and bit her lip a little. “Found it!”

“Excellent.” Julia clapped her hands together and began filling it with a selection of drinks she’d laid out on the counter. “Sophie, stop eye-fucking your boyfriend and help me out.”

Sophie snapped to attention as Rafe held back a laugh at Julia’s lack of tact. “I wasn’t -”

“Yes you were. Drinks.”

Sophie shook her head, handing Julia drinks with a rising blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart.” Rafe murmured to her lowly with a grin, trailing his hand down her spine ‘til he rested his palm on her lower back.

“Ew, we just ate.” Allie complained, pushing her plate away from her. “Thank you for pancakes, though.”

“No problem. It’s my specialty.” Rafe beamed, gathering up the plates and sticking them in the dishwasher.

“Only ‘cause you can’t cook anything else.” Colin pointed out, dodging as Rafe aimed a square punch at his arm.

“He’s not wrong.” Sophie agreed, reaching up to kiss Rafe’s cheek.

“Aw. Thanks for breakfast, Mom and Dad.” James grinned, patting them both on the head.

Sophie whirled on James immediately, only held back by Rafe slipping his arm around her waist (more to protect James than her). “Stop. I mean it.”

“What are you gonna do?” James taunted, grinning. “Hit me? Rafe won’t let you.”

“I will, if you don’t shut up.” Rafe replied, shaking his head imperceptibly behind Sophie’s back.

“What? You weren’t pregnant, it was just the flu - hey!” James took off running the second Rafe let Sophie go, who immediately sprinted after him through the house.

“Fuck off, James!” She yelled, chasing him down the hall.

“I didn’t mean it!” He yelped as she threw someone’s flip flop at him, nailing him in the shoulder with surprising aim. “I’m sorry! Rafe! Help me!”

Everyone else watched from the kitchen, thoroughly entertained. “You gonna help?” Allie asked, glancing at Rafe.

“Nah. He deserves it.” Rafe shrugged. “They’ll get tired soon enough.”

“She only likes fighting when she’s flirting anyways.” Julia added. “I swear all your arguments before you two were dating was just foreplay.”

“Doubt it. She could be pretty mean.” Rafe grinned at Sophie fondly as she strolled back into the kitchen with a triumphant smile, then looped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Who’s mean?” Sophie asked.

“You.” James informed her as he followed her back to the group, dramatically rubbing a red mark on his shoulder.

“Okay, both of you, knock it off.” Rafe took charge like always, glancing at his watch. “Everyone go get ready, we’re getting picked up in twenty to get to the dock. Don’t forget sunscreen.”

“You really make it too easy.” Julia rolled her eyes, but chose to refrain from calling him Dad again for the fourth time that morning.

“So everyone knows?” Sophie asked the group, frowning.

“For the record, I was team baby. I think you guys would have very cute kids.” James said, already flinching away as Sophie lifted her hand toward him.

“Yeah. Rafe accidentally let it slip when I asked why you looked like hell that weekend.” Colin confirmed. Sophie had stayed at Rafe’s instead of her house so he could take care of her, and Colin had found her sleeping on the bathroom floor curled up in a ball at 2pm when Rafe was in class. (He decided not to wake her up, thinking she was just wildly hungover, and had texted Rafe a photo instead.)

“Great. Fantastic. But if one more person calls me Mom this week, I’m going to rip your heads off.”

“I told you you’re mean.” James grumbled, clutching his shoulder. “I’m gonna have a bruise. How am I supposed to explain that to whoever I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“Tell her you’re into pain.” Allie suggested, shrugging when everyone gave her a look. “What? It could work.”

“...Alright. Everyone go get ready, I don’t want to hear another word from anyone about their sex lives.” Rafe instructed, shooing everyone out of the kitchen as he and Sophie made it toward their room. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine. I’d be more upset if we actually had a kid on the way.” Sophie conceded with a shudder at the thought. “How much did you talk about it with the boys?”

Rafe thought about it, about how James kept going on and on about how he wanted to be a godfather and how their kids would be adorable, and how Colin said he wasn’t really a huge fan of kids but obviously their kid would be family. He thought about how he shared with the guys how nice it would be to have a big family and know their kids would have several metaphorical aunts and uncles, and how much love and support they’d be surrounded by. It made him excited for the future - the far future, of course, but still.

“Not much.” He finally settled on answering, giving her a small smile. “You gonna wear my favorite suit today?”

“The pink one?”

“No, the blue one with the daisies. The one you wore in Nice?” He grinned. “Or, I guess, didn’t wear?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “I think that one’s dangerous to wear around you with our friends.”

“Any bikini is, sweetheart.”

“Control yourself.” She flicked his shoulder in warning. “I have a surprise for you tonight. Don’t let me forget.”

He perked up immediately, smirking. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Sophie just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

“I’ll see...is it a leave-the-bar-early kind of a surprise? A need-the-house-empty kind of surprise?” He asked eagerly, his smirk broadening as she pulled out the light blue bikini from her suitcase.

She laughed, pulling off her shirt before she fumbled with untangling the bikini strings. “I think you can stay quiet enough that we’ll be fine.”

“Will you be able to stay quiet?” He teased, beaming in appreciation as she stood there shirtless in front of him, tongue in between her teeth as she concentrated on fixing the bikini. (He didn’t bother to help.)

Sophie ignored him, rolling her eyes, but glanced up and caught him staring. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me, you know I will.” He shot back. “I know you brought your film camera I got you for Christmas.”

“The last person I want seeing my nudes is the freshman art student that develops my film in the photo studio on campus.” She replied with an eyeroll. “Though I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

Rafe’s face dropped as he immediately grew protective, grabbing the bikini top away from her and deftly untangled the strings. “Get dressed. We’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She replied innocently, biting the inside of her cheek to hide back a grin.

He paused, considering, then shook his head. “No. Sorry, no, can’t vibe with that. Find a different kink please.”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, James paid me $10 to tell you that.”

Rafe huffed, tugging on his swim trunks and shoved his feet back into his boat shoes, then promptly slammed open the door, striding back to the group. “James! Fuck you!”

________

Later, once everyone gathered their things and made it down to the dock after their driver for the week picked them up, the boat driver helped them all onto the boat, offering his hand. He was younger, around their age or a little bit older, and Rafe scowled as the driver’s eyes lingered maybe a little too long on Sophie’s bikini top. Then the driver politely leaned over to Rafe to inform him that Sophie had the tag sticking out of her top, hanging on by a thread, and he dropped his scowl quicker than it had appeared.

It only took them twenty minutes before they cracked into the cooler, everyone satisfied with a drink in hand, and two failed attempts to go head-to-head in a shotgun contest with James left Sophie drunk within the hour. She had her sunglasses perched askew on her nose, eyes closed as she rested her head in Rafe’s lap, lying down on the seat next to him.

“This trip is good for you. I think this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you all year.” Julia commented, snapping a quick photo of the couple.

“I do feel very relaxed.” Sophie hummed, taking Rafe’s hand and starting to play with his fingers. “Hm. Relaxed. Relaxation. That’s nice.”

“You’re hammered.” Rafe pointed out, but looked down on her fondly. “I want you to eat soon.”

“Snacks.” She affirmed. “You’ll have to feed me. I’m not sure my jaw works anymore.”

James giggled, more tipsy than anything, but still lacked any filter. “Better for dick sucking.”

“Hey.” Rafe warned. “Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. Just came out.” James shrugged, having zero remorse. “Can we go swimming? I wanna see dolphins. Do they have dolphins here?”

“Some dolphins. I’ll take you.” Their driver interjected, changing direction of their boat.

“Dolphins can travel up to 80 miles a day,” Allie informed them, confused when she got weird looks from the groups. “What? I’m from Florida, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer growing up. Everyone did.”

“Aw. You would have been good at that, Al.” Julia told her, topping off her drink. “Sophie, no sleeping.”

“M’ not sleeping.”

“No drunk napping.”

“M’ not drunk.”

“Well now you’re just lying.” Rafe told her with a smile, gently nudging her up. “C’mon, I need you to drink water for me. Have some snacks.”

“Here, Sophie.” Colin waved the bag of Sun Chips under her nose, grinning. “Try some. Yummy.”

She batted it away, frowning as she leaned back into Rafe. “Everyone leave me alone.”

He pushed her back upright immediately, ignoring her frown, and pressed a water bottle to her lips. “Drink.”

“Do the thing.” She lowered her voice, challenging him with a smirk.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna -”

“Then I’m not drinking.”

He sighed, resigned. “Drink water or I’m not letting you go out tonight.”

“Let me? You don’t let me do anything.” She argued, grabbing the water bottle away and took a long drink.

Rafe just nodded, clearly not in the mood for a fight. He knew Sophie was in charge of the relationship, but the second he said he wasn’t comfortable with something, she listened right away. “Okay. Sure.”

“Trouble in paradise,” James sing-songed, only to receive a glare from Sophie.

“You’re still on my hit list.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You and Julia are on it.”

Julia sighed, glancing over. “You’re really still hung up on that?”

Sophie sat up a little more, her eyes lighting up, and Rafe braced for an argument. “I told you no -”

“And we’re both grown adults, Soph, we can make our own decisions -”

“You don’t even like him -”

“Ouch.” James mumbled, shrinking back into his seat as if he couldn’t be seen.

“Hey!” Allie clapped, standing and putting herself in between the girls. “Both of you, let it go. We’re not doing this again. Julia, drink more. Sophie, no more drinking.”

“But -”

“No.” She crossed her arms, staring them both down until they sighed, mumbling apologies. “Thank you.”

The boys all watched in silence, impressed, until Colin spoke up. “Right, well, I’m gonna go swim.” He and James nodded, jumping off the back of the boat, and Allie and Julia took a second but followed suit.

Sophie moved to join in until Rafe grabbed her around the waist, protective as he pulled her onto his lap. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes. I feel good.” She promised, but couldn’t fully meet his gaze and was swaying with the rocking of the boat. “Can we go swim?”

“Will you wear a life jacket?”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“It’ll be more embarrassing if you drown.” He pushed her hair back, out of her face, and kissed her forehead. “You’re way too drunk right now, you’re making me nervous.”

She frowned, placing her hand on his cheek. “I make you nervous?”

“No, I’m just worried something’s gonna happen. Life jacket? Please?” He pulled it from under the seat, offering it to her.

Sophie rolled her eyes but let him put it on, strapping it tight across her chest for good measure. “Now can we go?”

He scooped her up with a grin and stood on the seat, ready to jump. “Now we can go.”

“No, Rafe - wait no!” She screamed, grabbing around his neck as he jumped into the water with her in his arms, plunging down and letting her go to float back up.

James snorted, splashing water toward her. “Nice life jacket.”

“I’d like a life jacket.” Allie interjected, closing her eyes and floating on her back. “Wouldn’t have to do any work.”

“Hold on - Allie, are you high?” Colin questioned, swimming closer and poking her arm. She’d only had half of a drink since they were on the boat, but was still acting strange and zoned out the whole day.

“Carlos gave me an edible. I ate it before we got on the boat.” She mumbled in reply. “I have more if you want it.”

“You took sketchy drugs from a sketchy guy?!” Colin exclaimed, much louder than necessary.

Rafe swam over with a frown, shaking his head like a dog. “Who’s taking drugs?”

“The bartender -”

“Carlos.” Allie corrected.

“The bartender gave Allie drugs.” Colin cut her off. “And now she’s high and probably something else.”

Rafe cocked his head, looking over Allie. “Al? You good?”

“I feel nice.” She replied, moving to tread water and smiled at them. “So nice.”

“Jesus Christ.” Colin cursed, while Rafe kicked him under the water.

Julia swam over, tugging Sophie’s hand to drag her along. “Oh, it’s finally kicking in?”

“You knew?” Rafe questioned, pulling Sophie into his arms as she tried to be subtle and unclip the life jacket.

“Of course I knew.” Julia replied. “Don’t freak out, I looked at it, it’s fine.”

“Oh, you looked at it, great. Thanks, Julia, I didn’t know you were the resident expert on drugs.” Colin huffed.

“Just weed, actually, I haven’t done anything else -”

James seemed to finally realize the whole group was congregated instead of doing their own thing, like he was. He swam under the water, grabbing Rafe’s ankle - who immediately screamed like a child and kicked James in the face. James bobbed up straightaway with his hand clapped to his nose and blood trickling from it like a leaky faucet. “What the fuck?!”

“Why’d you grab me?!” Rafe defended, letting go of Sophie. “This is on you.”

James launched himself onto Rafe, grabbing at him, and the two promptly started wrestling in the water, despite everyone’s protests. Colin stuck his arm in between them to break them up after a few minutes, tugging Rafe off of James and being careful not to hit James’ nose again. “Hey! Hey. Everyone back on the boat.”

“C’mon, Colin.” James argued, but hauled himself back up onto the boat anyways when Colin tapped his watch and reminded them all of their dinner reservations.

Once they all clambered back onto the boat and James had a towel and a can of beer pressed to his nose, the boat driver started taking them back to the shore. Sophie had sobered up somewhat and Allie was asleep with her head in Julia’s lap, with Julia absent-mindedly stroking her hair. “Hey, Rafe? Do you have any good recs for somewhere we could go for dinner?”

Rafe furrowed his brow, confused. “We’re going to dinner tonight, what do you mean?”

“No, no, tomorrow. I was thinking it could be just the girls, you guys could do something else -”

“No.” He replied, firm. “None of you are going anywhere alone. I don’t trust any of you when you’re drinking.”

Allie stirred, finally opening her eyes as she’d been listening in on the conversation. “We could invite Carlos to chaperone,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to tag along. Drag you into some trafficking ring too.” Colin grumbled.

James pulled the towel away from his face, confused. “So that’s a no to guy’s night?”

“No one is splitting up.” Rafe insisted, firm, and reached over to press the towel back to James’ nose.

Sophie cocked her head at her boyfriend. “Where is this coming from?”

“Look, I don’t even let Sarah go out alone here, and we’ve been coming here for years, she knows this place like the back of her hand. I don’t want something to happen to you guys.” He slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Any of you. I mean it.”

“Man, even my own father isn’t this protective.” Julia remarked casually, then immediately regretted it upon seeing Rafe’s wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But that’s final say.”

“Okay, got it.” Julia raised her hands in defense. “So. Back to Carlos. Do you think he’d get all of us drugs if we had a threesome with him?” She suggested, only for everyone to stare blankly at her. “Oh my god, I’m just asking. It’s not like I suggested meth.”

“Who’s in the threesome?” James questioned, cocking his head.

Julia ignored him, barreling on. “That’s, like, an appropriate thing to ask, right? It feels like an island vibe. He’s gotta know where to get something.”

“Something.” Rafe repeated.

“Yeah.” She directed her question back toward him. “Hypothetically, if he could get us coke, would you say no? That’s like a rich person drug.”

“Rafe hasn’t done coke.” Sophie interrupted, assuredly, then frowned as Rafe seemed contemplative. “Right?”

“...No. Had to think. Been in the room, though, so probably got something secondhand.”

“That’s literally not how coke works.” Julia dismissed.

“I wouldn’t. I’m pretty sure that ruins the lining of your nose.” James supplied helpfully - Julia nodded in agreement, considering this newfound information.

“I’d consider doing molly.” Colin added. “But not from him.”

“Oh, like that makes a difference.” Allie deadpanned, always quick with the comeback while the rest of the group registered their surprise, because - Colin? Drugs? Two words that didn’t go together.

“It does, actually, but I get drug tested at NASA every single week, so.” Colin shrugged. “Not worth losing my future job.”

“Right. No one answered my question.” Julia sighed. “I’m open to a threesome with Allie or James. Rafe and Sophie, you’re out. Colin, I -”

“Yeah. Agreed.” Colin nodded, then hurriedly added, “I’m not saying I’m down for a threesome -”

“Hold on, why are we out?” Sophie frowned. “We’re hot.”

“Neither of you would share. It wouldn’t be fun.” James pointed out, only for Julia to nod enthusiastically in agreement.

“Exactly. You two are too, like, in love or whatever. It’s sick.”

“We would be great in a threesome.” Sophie argued, crossing her arms.

“You are too damn competitive.” Rafe mumbled to himself, shaking his head. “No one is having a threesome, no one is doing drugs. Not until we’re back under American laws. I’m not bailing anyone out of jail here.”

“Boo, Dad.” James grumbled, making Sophie lean toward him and raise her hand.

“James -”

“Okay, Sophie, chill, you can be the only one to call him Daddy -”

“Oh god, gross -”

“Home again!” Their driver announced with a grin, bumping the boat a little against the dock. The group snapped to attention, with James and Colin grabbing the coolers and Rafe helping the girls off the boat. He clapped the driver on the back as he was last to get off, murmuring something in his ear and slipped a wad of cash into his hand.

_____

After dinner, the group was dropped back at the house with the same driver they’d had all week, who now knew them all by name and knew way too much gossip about each of them. He knew that Rafe always sat in the front, the girls crammed into the back and James and Colin shared the middle, unless the girls were too drunk to crawl all the way back safely, and the boys would trade. They were all tired from a long day in the sun and agreed to call it with a lowkey night back at the house.

Once they’d all changed into comfier clothes, rather than how they dressed up for dinner, they congregated in the living room, sprawled out on the couches.

“All right, games. I have...uh…” Rafe rifled through the cabinet under the television, coming up short with only a deck of cards. “There’s just this and a poker set. We didn’t exactly play family games growing up.”

“That’s alright. We can play B.S.” Julia concluded, clapping her hands together with a grin.

“Last time we played B.S. it ended in a screaming match, and you and Colin didn’t talk for a week.” Allie reminded her, wary. Drunken card games in their group usually resulted in made-up rules that were only kept on track if someone wrote down the rules to lock down any possible room for arguments.

James and Sophie returned from the kitchen with two bottles of Sprite, two bottles of lemonade, a handle of vodka and six shot glasses. “Okay! Ready!”

“What the - guys, I said a chill game night.” Rafe raised his eyebrows as Sophie passed out the shot glasses.

“Yeah, we decided it’s our only senior spring break so we want to enjoy it.” Sophie told him, smacking a kiss to his cheek. “We’re playing B.S? Whose rules?”

“Normal rules, for the first round. Second round everyone adds a rule as you get away with bullshit.” Julia declared, shuffling and dealing the cards out to everyone with a surprising amount of skill. “Next birthday goes first, and if you don’t get away with it you have to take a shot. Or chug your drink for five seconds?”

“That’s me. And player’s choice, I think.” Sophie decided, sitting up and angling her cards away from everyone, looking a little too contemplative. She placed her card down, and Colin immediately shook his head. “Bull.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Take the shot, Sophie.” Colin insisted, flipping her card to reveal a jack instead of the needed 2.

“Fuck.” She muttered, following suit.

Rafe shoved her cup of water closer to her before she could pour herself a vodka lemonade instead, shaking his head. “You’re not even sober right now. Finish this first.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine.” She waved him off. “You’re next.”

The game continued on, escalating dramatically as they kept playing. By the time the first big bullshit was called, Allie had to accept at least 30 cards, the group had all taken at least one shot, Julia had been banished to the corner for a whole round, James was wearing Julia’s pink sunglasses upside down and Rafe had made out with Sophie three times, due to a rule he’d made up.

“Total bullshit.” Allie giggled as James placed five cards down at once on top of a huge stack. She was rivaling Sophie for drunkest of the group by far, slumped on the couch with her arms wrapped around one of the pillows as she wore a happy grin.

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“Challenge!” Julia exclaimed, setting up two cups at the end of the table and handed them each a ping pong ball. (No one was sure when this was added to the rules, but everyone accepted it easily.) “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand.”

The two stood and took each other’s hands, laughing as they followed the customary pre-pong rule of spinning each other three times before taking their aim. “That was four! That was four.” Allie protested, having to grab James’ arm for balance as the room spun behind her eyes. “You need an extra spin.”

“Wait, dude, you put five down.” Colin pointed out, cocking his head. “Fucking idiot, take the cards.”

“Julia said challenge!”

“But you cheated!”

“The whole point of the game is cheating, dumbass!” James retorted, shaking his head. “She said challenge!”

“I said challenge!” Julia cried out, tapping her shot glass against the glass table to regain order. “Now throw.”

Both of them missed their mark terribly, James’ ball falling short and Allie accidentally nailing Rafe in the forehead with hers. “Sorry! Shit, sorry!”

“Oh, no, baby, are you okay?” Sophie asked worriedly, smoothing her hand over Rafe’s forehead as she combed through his hair with her fingers.

“I’m fine. I’m not sober.” He replied, humming with a smile as he leaned into her touch.

Everyone stared at the two of them with grins as they realized Rafe’s mistake in his own rule that he’d made up. The couple took too long to realize, slowly glancing around at the group. “What?” Sophie asked, sitting up straight. “What happened?”

“James missed the shot.” Colin grinned at Rafe, way too smug. “Pucker up.”

Rafe’s face dropped as it clicked for him - he’d made up the rule that a missed shot from falling short meant that person had to make out with the player who’d gone before for at least two minutes. It was a carefully calculated rule, he’d played pong with everyone in the group countless times and knew that everyone besides Sophie tended to overshoot, almost every single time.

Almost.

James laughed at Rafe’s expression, crooking a finger toward him. “Come here, buddy. Do you want me to get chapstick? Soph, do you have chapstick?”

“Do I have to?” Rafe groaned, standing up and striding over to sit next to James on the couch.

“It’s your rule.” Julia pointed out. Sophie shrugged in agreement, not quite putting together all the pieces.

“I’m really honored to be doing this with you, seriously.” James joked. “Sophie, can I touch him?”

“Just the head.”

Julia snorted, and she and James exchanged equally delighted grins at Sophie’s accidental innuendo.

Colin pulled up the timer on his phone, flashing it toward them. “Okay...alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Fucking hell.” Rafe sighed, but leaned in to make the first move, eager to get it over with. Both of them had their eyes closed and the kiss was relatively tame, albeit impossibly long.

“Oh.” Sophie murmured quietly, unsure how she felt, but uttered a warning “hey” when James’ hand automatically went to Rafe’s face. She decided she felt mainly neutral about it, but would be a lot more neutral if it was James and Colin kissing instead.

Julia was quiet for the first time all night, unable to tear her eyes away as she watched. Allie couldn’t resist a quick photo but giggled, hiding her face in Colin’s shoulder.

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Sophie yelled the second the timer went off, leaning over and grabbing at Rafe’s arm to tear him away. “No more.”

James had his eyes closed and had unconsciously chased Rafe’s lips with his as they were pulled apart, but made a show of wiping his mouth afterward. “Okay. Well. Mark that under something I thought I’d never do.”

“And you’ll never do it again, so I hope you enjoyed it.” Sophie scowled, wrapping her arms around Rafe from behind and pulled him back to lean against her chest. “Stupid fucking rule, Rafe.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” Rafe laughed, clearly unbothered as he tilted his head to press a short kiss to Sophie’s neck.

She grasped his head in both her hands, leaning down to press a sound kiss to his lips, as if it was a mark of ownership. “There. No one kiss my boyfriend again, I’m getting more snacks.” Sophie declared, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m lowkey horny right now.” Julia muttered much louder than she intended.

“Thanks for sharing, Jules.” Allie laughed.

Julia glanced toward James with a desperate look, pressing her legs together. “Are we done playing? Or do you guys want to keep going?”

Oblivious as always, James shrugged, unfazed, moving back to his seat beside Julia. “Whatever you want. I’m down to keep playing.”

“Fuck, I need to get laid.” Julia mumbled much quieter so only he could hear, and he straightened up immediately like a bolt of lightning had shot up his spine.

“Actually, I’m good. Tired, actually. Yeah. I’m gonna - yeah.” He stood, offering his hand to Julia. “You look tired too.”

“Guys.” Rafe warned, glancing toward the kitchen where Sophie was still raiding the cabinet for any leftover snacks.

“Night, y’all.” Julia grinned, ignoring Rafe’s warning as the two strode off hand in hand to Julia’s room, making sure to go around so Sophie wouldn’t catch them.

Rafe sighed, but bit back a smile as he saw a dirty text pop up from Sophie, with a very detailed idea of how they could use up the rest of the whipped cream in the fridge. “Alright. Night, guys.” He promptly got up and left, leaving Colin and Allie alone.

“And then there were two.” The tension hung thick in the air as Allie leaned on Colin, giggly. “Fuck, I am so drunk.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t dare move, especially as she took his arm into her lap and started tracing lines as she connected freckles on his skin.

“I think I’m gonna call the bartender.”

“No you’re not.” Colin frowned, shaking his head. “No. You need sleep.”

She yawned, blinking up at him. “I’m pretty sure my room’s occupied.”

“You can take my bed.” He offered immediately, resisting the weird urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine.”

“Where are you gonna sleep?” She asked, reaching up and tracing her finger along his cheekbone. “Your eyes are pretty, did you know that? You have a freckle in your right eye.”

“A freckle?” He smiled. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

“It is.” She insisted. “I can go in your bed?”

“Yeah, I’ll take the couch.”

“Okay.” She agreed right away, hauling herself up. “I gotta brush my teeth.”

“Good thing your bathroom’s shared with mine.” Colin reminded her, following her down the hallway. “Unless you really want to go into your room while...that’s going on.”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head quickly, stretching and nearly smacking him in the face. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“It’s alright, just be careful.” He laughed, ushering her into the bathroom. “Do your thing, I’ll fix my bed.”

They’d all changed into comfortable clothes and showered before playing the game, anticipating intoxication, but Colin still wished he had a reason to offer her something of his to wear to bed. He re-made his bed, even fluffing the pillow, before tugging on a hoodie.

Allie returned a few minutes later, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Colin.” She touched his arm as she passed, crawling into bed.

“Of course. No problem. Yell if you need something, yeah?” He told her, smiling back before leaving and turning out the light, resigned to a night on the couch.

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 14

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

It wasn’t until Nina was alone, that realization struck her. She’d just agreed to leave Angel. Her Angel. The man who had brought her back to life. The thought struck her like a freight train, and she froze in place, almost literally. Her whole body went cold, and she felt like she couldn’t move for the longest time. The light in the room told her she must have sat like that for at least an hour. Finally able to move her head to look down, she looked at the crescent shaped cuts in her palms from her nails. Something wet began dripping onto them, and she found tears had begun running down her cheeks, without her even noticing it. Forcing her arm to reach for the pillow next to her, she took a deep breath, and held it to her face; before a wail like no other left her mouth. She screamed out her agony, not having felt anything like it since she’d been told that Jackson had gone through with his plan to kill himself. It was as if an actual death had occurred again; but this time it felt like her own.

After a while she put down the pillow again, and got to her feet. She opened the cabinets, and began pulling out he few belongings she’d brought to Santo Padre, and stuffed them in her backpack. Then she made the bed, and went into the small bathroom for her toothbrush. It looked so alone there, as if it missed standing next to Angel’s. She tore herself from the thought, and went to put that into her bag as well. Only the gun and her inhaler were left, and she went to pick them up, when she noticed the phone Bishop had given her laying on the counter by the sink. She picked it up, and sat down on the cot again.

She wasn’t sure who to call. No one could change her situation as it was; but she needed something – anything – to help her through. Just a voice to remind her that it wasn’t all for nothing. Looking at Jackson’s journal and the photo of his boys – which she’d saved for last – the answer came to her. She dialed up the number, praying to god that it was still the same as last time she’d used it. The call was picked up at the second ring.

“Hello?”. “Wendy? It’s Nina”, she said. “Hey, Nina. How is everything?”, Wendy replied. Nina heard a ruckus in the background. “Thomas, no more cookies…! Sorry. Someone decided sugar was a good replacement for lunch... Chibs told me you were going to Mexico”. Nina swallowed thickly. “Yeah… No, not really. I’m somewhere else”. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself. What I’d give for a vacation…”, Wendy said. Nina knew she was just kidding. Wendy had never been happier than since she moved to the farm with the boys and Nero. “Yeah, well; vacation is over”, Nina muttered. “I was wondering if I could talk to the kids for a minute”. “Of course! They miss you”, Wendy said. There was another sound of something crashing in the background. “Sorry, I need to give Tommy a bath. No! We don’t wipe peanut butter on our faces…!”. Another crash. “Goddammit. Abel! Come to talk to aunt Nina while I help your brother… Take care, Nina”. Nina couldn’t help but smile a little, as she heard Wendy chase Tommy around the room. There was a short scrambling noise, before someone spoke again. “Hi, aunt Nina!”, a bright, young voice said on the other end. “Abel… Hi, buddy”, Nina said, instantly falling back into tears; but trying to stifle her sniveling. “How are you doing?”. “I’m ok… But Tommy broke my supersoaker…”. “Aw, that sucks. I’m sure he’s sorry”, Nina said. “Yeah, mommy Wendy made him apologize… You sound sad…”, Abel said. Nina wiped her eyes, as if the boy was right there in front of her. “No, I’m not sad. I just smelled your feet through the phone, and it made me cry”, she replied. “No, you didn’t!”, Abel laughed. “When are you gonna come visit? There’s a mule here, and we named him after you, even though he’s a boy; because daddy always said you were stubborn as a mule. And we have a trampoline, which is really cool, ‘cuz you can jump high. When I stretch up my arms when I jump, I’m almost as tall as Nero! And…”. “That’s great Abel. I’d love to see that…”. Nina sighed and closed her eyes, trying to picture the boy in front of her. He’d probably grown quite a bit, even after the picture Wendy had sent her was taken. “Are you being good for mommy Wendy?”. “Yeah, I eat my broccoli and everything. And I help Nero clean the horse-stalls”, Abel said. “That’s good. And you’re doing good in school?”, she asked, having to wipe her nose a bit. “Yeah… Do you have a cold? Your voice is funny”, Abel replied. “No, it’s still your feet, stinky!”, Nina chuckled. She heard bikes arriving on the lot, and felt another crying fit threatening to attack. “Look, buddy; I gotta run. I just wanted to make sure you were ok”. “I’m ok. Come visit us soon!”. “I promise, Abel. I love you!”. “Love you too. Bye!”. Abel hung up the call before Nina could say anything more. She quickly slipped the photo into the journal, and put it in her bag, before getting to her feet to face Angel.

---

The Mayans all looked to be in a good mood, when Nina opened the trailer door to step outside. EZ, Gilly and Coco went to gather the loaded sleep rolls, while Angel turned to look at her; a bright smile on his face.

Daniella came out of the clubhouse, and stood on the porch. She smiled shortly at Nina, before Angel noticed the blonde, and began approaching her. “Dani, we gotta talk”, he said. “Angel!”, Nina called out. He turned around, and looked at her confusedly. “Give me a minute”, he replied. “No. Now”, Nina declared, and stepped back inside the trailer. The Mayans all looked confused at this point, but didn’t intervene. Angel frowned, and gave Daniella a short look. She shrugged, before looking at Nina; palming her phone. Don’t try anything, she seemed to be saying. “Don’t go anywhere”, Angel said to her, and walked towards the trailer. “I’ll be right here, baby”, Daniella said.

Once inside the trailer, Angel closed the door. “Nina, what the fuck? I was just about to…”. “Daniella’s not the snitch. I talked to her”, Nina cut him off. “You what?”, Angel growled. “Girl talk”, Nina said. “She’s just here for you. Not to sell out your club”. She made herself keep an indifferent face while she spoke. “You should give her a chance”. “I’m not… What are you talking about?”.

Nina sighed deeply, and took a step back. “You and me… That was never gonna work out”. He tried to reach for her hand, but she turned around to throw her inhaler and gun into the bag. “Nina… What are you doing?”, Angel asked. “I’m leaving… Going home”, she replied. “Or somewhere else. I haven’t decided yet”. “You’re not going anywhere!”, Angel exclaimed, and yanked her bag out of her hands. “What the fuck is going on?”. Nina clenched her fists to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. Angel wouldn’t let her go unless she did something drastic. She swallowed thickly, and met his eyes with an indifferent gaze. “You people can’t protect me. I’m safer with SOA; what happened to Camille is proof of that”, she said. The furrow between Angel’s brows was deeper than ever. “I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but I talked to SAMDINO. I’m gonna take up Packer’s offer”. Angel looked like he’d been punched in the gut with a sledgehammer. “Packer… You wanna go be with Packer…”, he croaked. “Yeah… He’s… We’ve got history”, Nina lied. Angel’s expression was growing pained, but in spite of wanting to take him in her arms, and comfort him, Nina had to continue her ruse. “You said I was too good for this life. I’m not. I just want more than what you can give me. Queen of SAMDINO is the right step for me”.

She tried taking her bag back from Angel, but he threw it behind him; and grabbed a hold of her shoulders. “This is bullshit. What happened?”, he said. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to stay here”, Nina replied. “I’m sorry about that year I owe the club, but I’ll try to get some money, and have Chibs pay you whatever Bishop thinks I owe”. “This isn’t about money. You said you love me!”, Angel said, his voice breaking. Nina couldn’t say she didn’t; the words simply would not form in her mouth. She closed her eyes to avoid meeting Angel’s gaze, and let out a deep breath. “This isn’t about whatever I said or… felt”, she finally said. “We should have ended this the night we first slept together. It shouldn’t have gone further”. “Cuervo…”, Angel tried. “We’re done”, Nina declared, and forced his hands off her shoulders, before pushing past him, and grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry”. She almost ran out of the trailer, knowing Angel would physically try to stop her if she didn’t. “Nina!”, he called after her. She looked towards the porch; and through a haze of unshed tears, she saw Daniella smiling as she went.

Before anyone had a chance to stop her, Nina slipped into the front office, and dug out the small cashbox Chucky kept there. She felt bad for taking money from it, but she needed cash for wherever she was going. A few notes in hand, she ran off the lot, and down the road. Avoiding getting found in Santo Padre was difficult, as Nina had spent very little time away from the scrap yard. She knew she had to work fast to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. There was no doubt in her mind that Angel would try to come after her – he was probably already on his way – and if he didn’t, Bishop might, to get her to fulfill her one-year promise.

Once out on the main road, she flagged down a car, and convinced the driver that she needed to get to a bus station; because her brother was sick, and she had to go see him. She was only half lying, she realized, as there was really only one place in the world she wanted to go in that moment. She had to go see her brother.

---

It took a little over a day to make the trip back to north California. The cash Nina had taken from the scrapyard could only get her so far by bus, and she had to hitch rides the rest of the way. Each time she heard the sound of a motorbike, or saw anyone wearing leather, she had the instinct to duck her head. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of. Clearly, her cover wasn’t blown yet. Daniella wanted her alive, and if there was another snitch, they didn’t seem to be focused on her. It might have been the shame of how she’d run; how she’d been too weak to fight Daniella for what she wanted. Then again, that shame would have been greater and even more devastating, if fighting back had meant it would hurt her nephews. Ultimately, she was just distraught; and only wanted to speak with one person – even if he couldn’t reply.

It was just past midnight, when Nina finally made it to Redwood Memorial Cemetery, just outside of Charming. She’d gotten used to the heat in Santo Padre, and it was a cold night. With nothing more than a light jacket to cover herself, she was shivering as she walked down the rows of gravestones. She halted for a moment by a white stone, engraved with the name John Thomas Teller. Taking a moment to brush some stray leaves from the top of it, Nina sent a thought to the man who’d sired one of the most important people in her life; before moving on. Someone had left a bouquet of lilies on Tara’s grave. Her coworkers at St. Thomas, Nina figured. She chided herself for not having visited the grave more often, but coming to the cemetery had been painful the last couple of years. A fresh grave nearby sported multiple flower arrangements, and as no one was around, Nina nabbed a few roses from it, and left them next to the lilies. “Abel and Thomas are loved and safe. Sleep tight”, she whispered to the stone.

The last ten yards she had to walk towards her end goal felt like miles. A cold gush of wind made Nina shudder, and she threw her arms around herself; trying to rub some heat into them.

Jackson’s stone looked lonely, in spite of all the other’s surrounding it. It was like he had been in the last year of his life; surrounded by people, but alone in his pain. At the same time, it was incredibly peaceful; like it should be. He’d found rest from his torment and sorrow. Nina imagined him riding his bike down an ethereal highway; his father next to him, and Tara riding pivot. “Fucking soppy”, Nina chuckled to herself.

She sat down on the ground next to the stone, and ran her fingertips over the lettering. Jackson Nathaniel Teller. “I miss you…”, she began. She chewed her lips, and wiped away a stray tear. After a moment searching for the right words, she finally sighed. “I am so angry with you, Jackson. You left me… And I love you as well. I love you for everything you taught me about being a good person; which just makes me even more angry, because I’ll never be able to live up to the example you set… I fucked up. I took so many wrong turns after you died; even though I promised… I know you expected more from me, and I’m so sorry; but I’m not strong enough to…”. The stray tears had become two steady streams falling from her eyes. “You said, be happy… And I was really happy for the first time in what felt like forever. But I can’t be happy, and also live up to your example of protecting your family… My family”. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if trying to force herself to stop crying. “Your boys are safe, and I’m gonna keep them that way. That means breaking my promise of being happy to you, but I also know it’s what you would do… So, I guess in some way, I’m still doing what you taught me…”. She took a deep breath, and finally the tears stilled.

Nina moved behind the stone, and leaned her back against it; as she had sat back-to-back with Jackson on the roof of the old clubhouse in Charming, before the explosion. She remembered how her whole body would rumble along with Jax’s; as he laughed at whatever ridiculous thing she would tell him about her day – or the time she’d told him she was planning to drop out of high school, and sign up with CaraCara once she turned 18. Yeah, that’s not happening, darlin’. I’ll tie your ass to the seat, until you’re wearing that cap and gown. I don’t wanna see my little sister’s naked ass on camera. It was that conversation, and his response, that made her keep the fact that she’d quit community college hidden for a full week; before Chucky sold her out. A pang of pain struck her heart as she remembered that she hadn’t even said goodbye to the good-humored little man.

After a long moment, Nina began speaking again “I know I can’t live in memories, but it’s the closest thing to happiness that I have now… And I want to tell you about him”. She took a deep breath, almost as nervous as if Jackson would have been able to respond. “His name is Angel… and you would hate him”, she chuckled. “He’s a biker… surprise! Bet you didn’t see that coming… He’s smug, and a smartass; and a horny little shit… He’s also a Mayan… I know! But he’s also… so kind and full of life… and sofucking hot… which is something I guess you didn’t need to know”. She chewed her lower lip, and closed her eyes, seeing Angel in front of her. “He’s got this dimple between his eyebrows when he gets frustrated or confused – which is quite often, if I’m gonna be honest… And he’s so much smarter and warm and lovable than he gives himself credit for. I’ve never felt more loved and cared for, than when I was with him… I mean, I felt that from you, and from Filip and the rest; but… This was different, because I wasn’t just a sister or a friend. I love him. Like love him…”. She frowned. “But it’s over. I had to end it”.

The cold was getting to her, so the shivers from her pain mixed with ones of freezing. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything for more than a day, and she was exhausted. She looked around her, not ready to leave; and not really knowing where to go anyway. Opening her backpack, Nina got out the journal, and opened a random page; running her fingers over the handwritten words. “Know that the decisions that you make effect everyone and everything, along with yourself. It has taken me a long time to realize that, and I wish I would have sooner. And as much as I want to help you, tell you what to do; I can't. Those choices will be yours, and yours alone. The only advice I can give you, is to examine who you are as a person and what you choose as your path in your life. Find your own truth. It will lead you to the things you love”. “I wish you could help me too”, she whispered. “I don’t know what my path is, and I can’t promise to get over this. I can’t promise that I will be happy; and we both know me well enough to know, that I’m not gonna handle this well… So, I’m just not gonna make any of those promises; it wouldn’t be honest of me if I did…”. She clutched the journal against her chest, and fished the .38 out of the bag; holding it in her hand. Nina sat for a long time, just looking at it. “I’m gonna sleep now. And then I’m gonna drink, and smoke, and try to get laid… and do everything else unhealthy, until I can finally become numb enough to… not chose your path”.

She had nothing else to say; simply couldn’t find the words. Instead, she curled up on the cold ground, closed her eyes; and let sleep take her over.

---

“Nina?”. She heard footsteps heading her way. Filip looked down at her disheveled state, and then at the gravestone and the gun in her hand; and his face dropped. “She’s here”, he said. Tig and Happy came up behind him. “Shit, muffin. What happened?”, Tig asked. Happy frowned. “Chibs, why is she here?”. “Not now, Hap’”, Filip said. “Let’s just get her out of here. Get the gun”. One of them scooped her into their arms; she was too exhausted to notice who…

---

The radio was turned all the way up, and she was swaying her hips to the music.

“Nina, get off the counter!”, Filip called out from across the room. He looked almost angry. Nina took a sip of her beer, and stretched her arms into the air. “Why? I thought the party was about to start…”, she laughed. Filip walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, making her fall over his shoulder. “Yes. A children’s birthday party. This is an ice cream shop, you lush”, he growled, and carried her out the back door; setting her down at the foot of the stairs going up to the actual SAMCRO clubhouse. She noticed Rat smiling apologetically at the arriving guests; which consisted of a group of 7-yearolds, and the flabbergasted mother of the birthday-boy. “Tell them I’m sorry”, Nina whispered very loudly to Filip, before looking towards the mother. “I’m sorry!”, she yelled.

Filip dragged her up the stairs, and more or less threw her on one of the leather couches. “Jesus Christ, Nina…”, he sighed exasperatedly. “We do actually need the front of this operation functioning”. “Pfft”, Nina sputtered. “Everyone in town knows what this place is. You’re leather clad bikers who sell guns, for fucks sake! I need a drink”. She went to get off the couch, but Filip pushed her back down, and took the beer bottle from her hand. “You’ve had enough”, he said. “Get some sleep”. “No sleep ‘til Charming!”, Nina sang. “You’re in Charming", Tig said, having come over from the bar area. He snatched her pack of smokes from her, before she could get them from the coffee table, and held out a glass of water. Nina scrunched up her nose. “Fish pee in that”, she said. Tig sat down, and lifted the glass to her lips. “Don’t make me hold your nose”, he said. The water looked a little murky, but Nina accepted the glass, and drank it all, before throwing it into the air. Filip caught it mid-air, and rolled his eyes. “Buzz-kill”, Nina sneered.

She leaned back in her seat, before suddenly, her stomach began rumbling violently. Tig sprang for a trashcan, and held it in front of her; just in time for Nina to hurl a week's worth of alcohol and Happy’s scrambled eggs into it. “What was in that?”, Filip grunted. “Bit of charcoal”, Tig said. “Better than taking her to get her stomach pumped at St. Thomas’”. “I hate you…”, Nina heaved between two streams of vomit leaving her mouth. “I know, muffin. I love you too”, Tig smiled, and stroked her back.

After what seemed like hours, Nina finally had nothing left inside her to throw up, and she curled up on the couch. “Now I’m sober… thanks”, she said sarcastically. “Give me my cigarettes”. Filip went to get her bag, and dug out her toothbrush; handing it to her. “This is all you’re putting in your mouth for now”, he said. “Add toothpaste. You smell like death”. Nina disgruntledly took the toothbrush from him, and got on her feet to go to the bathroom; grabbing the toothpaste from her bag on the way.

Once she’d finished brushing her teeth, and splashed some cold water in her face, she went back into the bar area. “You’ve kept me here for days. I wanna go back to my apartment”, she said. “You can’t. Lyla’s using it as a set today”, Tig said. Nina groaned. “They’re gonna get porn-cum on my sheets”, she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time. What was that fella’s name again…? Kirk?”, Filip laughed, and went behind the bar to pour himself a scotch, and fill a mug of coffee. Happy and T.O. came up the stairs as they spoke. “I just remember him as; Please-god-no-I-swear-I’ll-never-talk-to-her-again-guy”, Tig said indifferently. “I think Opie took care of that one”. “Nah, that was Jax himself”, Happy said. “He’s teaching history in Milwaukee now”. “The history of his once functioning penis, I gather”, Filip muttered and looked at Nina, who’d sat down by a table. “Did he know you were 17?”. “I was 19!”, Nina sneered. “And his name was… Fuck, I can’t remember… Look, call Lyla, and then take me home!”.

Filip sat down across from her, and slid the coffee over the table. Nina took a welcome sip of it. “I don’t trust you on your own”, he said softly. “Is that why you won’t give me back my gun?”, she muttered. “You remind me too much of your brother at the moment”, he replied. Rage and sadness streamed through her body, and Nina got up; kicking her chair hard, making it fall to the floor. “Then give me a goddamn bike, and I’ll hit the road. There are trucks enough out there!”. She speed across the room, trying to reach the stairs; but T.O. got in her way, and grabbed her shoulders. He pushed her backwards into Happy’s arms. He picked her up like she weighed nothing more than a small child, and deposited her on the couch. He looked down at her with enraged eyes, tears forming in the corners of them. “Don’t ever say that again! Ever!”, he growled. Nina was shook, and suddenly her body began quaking. She sobbed quietly, and covered her eyes with her hands. Happy sat down next to her, and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry”, she whimpered. “I know, princess”. He rocked her back and forth, and kissed the top of her head.

Nina looked up, and was struck by each of the Sons’ expressions; ranging from sad, to angry, to pained. “I can’t stop fucking up… All I do is hurt people…”, she sobbed. Filip reached his hands out, and Happy released her to take them, and be pulled into the president’s embrace. “You are pure light, my love”, he said, before cupping her tear-streaked face in his hands. “Stop trying to snuff it out… I’m not talking about threatening to off yourself; we both know that will never happen, because we won’t allow it”. He pressed his forehead to hers. “You have to stop thinking of yourself like a failure not worthy of happiness. Stop killing that flame inside you”. “But I can’t be happy…”, Nina croaked. “If I try to be…”. She halted herself. She hadn’t told anyone of her deal with Danielle. “Tell me…”, Filip said. “I can’t”, Nina replied resolutely. “It’s… life or death”.

She pulled herself out of his grasp, and went for her cigarettes; which Tig had put on the top shelf behind the bar. He didn’t try to stop her. “Everything we do is life or death”, T.O. said. It was the first words he’d spoken since he’d arrived, but they were poignant. Nina lit her cigarette, and hesitantly met his eyes. “This is different”, she said. “If it was just… No”. She took a draw of her cigarette, picked up the chair from the floor, and sat down by the table again. “This is how it is now. I’m home, and I’ll try to… be better”.

They were interrupted by Quinn coming up the stairs. He looked around at the emotional faces in the room, and frowned. “Did you guys watch the Notebook again?”, he asked with a smirk. “Whatever; wrap it up. We got the in-laws incoming”. Nina frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?”, she asked. Filip gave her a half smile. “You wanted to go home; didn’t you…?”.

A roar of motorcycles sounded from outside, and Nina looked out of the window. A group of bikes came down the street, led by a brusque looking man on a roadking – handlebars high as the sky.

---

tag: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

[sweetestlamb]

Fever Dream

Summary: Seojun's perspective on that kiss that broke his brain. Header by the ever talented @ewolfwitchwisegirl. 

He doesn't know how he'll be about to contain his tumultuous desires now, not when he knows how she tastes after she's been crying and how her soft body feels molded against his on the solid wall, the hard surface gratuitously keeping him from dissolving into a puddle of goo on the floor. He can feel the vague shape of her breast pressing into his chest and that's enough to make his thoughts stutter, short circuit, fracture and then reboot.

She was supposed to just be teasing, that glint in her eyes was meant to be a promise for another day.

Kissing Kang Sujin, that was a fever dream that he woke up from too many times to count with the ghost of her lips on his and her debilitating moans still washing over his sliver of self control. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted her, in less than innocent ways at least to himself. Informing her was something different altogether because it was clear that she was inexperienced, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen but he knew that she'd never shared herself with anyone else before.

Not before him, and what had he even done to be this lucky? He wasn't sure but he had no intention of stopping to find out.

So he lets her intrude on his space knowing that she won't cross the invisible line they've drawn, hugs are becoming more accepted as are kisses in certain places- cheeks, brows, chins- but never the lips, that is uncharted waters for them and he's nervous about being her potential first kiss. His first had been at a party and he'd barely sat down before they were spinning a bottle and a girl he'd only spoken to twice was leaning over and sloppily devouring his mouth.

He had been disgusted in the moment, feeling violated but everyone's cheers made him feel as if his feelings aren't valid, boys were slapping him heartily on the shoulder congratulating him on kissing the hottest girl at school and he pushed down the nausea he felt at having his first kiss stolen, grinning and showboating even though he just wanted to wash his mouth out with soap.

First kisses are special, an awakening of passion and shifting of innocence- the two meeting and transforming into something new.

The press of soft slightly strawberry scented lips- the last remnants of her lipgloss- on his own chapped mouth plunges him into a blistering cold vacuum and his body can do nothing but be, swimming in a submerging bubble of unawareness.

It's so delicate that he barely believes that it's happening, surely he fell asleep after school before going to work and he's in his bedroom right now ignoring the sounds of his blaring alarm much to his dismay.

This can't be real.

He stiffens harder when she tilts her head to the side slotting their lips together, hers opening the barest amount and he's still lost in a daze because it feels so real, her skin is warm and smooth and her hair smells like fresh cut flowers and those adorable full cheeks are flushed against his skin and how can a figment of his imagination be this vivid?

Then it's over and he feels light-headed, his body floating like dandelions blown apart in the wind, every part of him reeling and trying to come back down to earth.

He can vaguely hear words through the roaring in his ears and when his eyes heavily slide open she's all motion, a sweep of red along those round cheeks and he reads her rapidly moving lips not trusting his ears to accurately decipher her words.

I'm sorry.

It won't happen again.

That ultimately knocks him off his cloud and he finally looks at her- even if it's a dream he desperately needs it to happen again, several times, still feeling the distant sensation of her skin on his and clarity rings through the fog in his mind piercing through his thoughts like the beams from a lighthouse until he can see clearly, this wasn't a dream or a fantasy.

Terrified to let this moment slip through his fingers, he tightens the digits on her thin back dragging her closer and speaking despite his throat feeling like it's made entirely of sandpaper, "Don't apologize you short circuited my brain, come here."

He's always devastatingly honest with her because he can see the way that doubt looms behind those eyes, he plans to hold on to her tighter too now that he knows she wants this, wants him.

Kissing her is liberating because immediately it's messy and uncoordinated and he can feel her lips spreading into a smile and a chuckle escapes his lungs, there's no pressure to be perfect or to be something sexy and mature that they haven't mastered yet. When he breaks the kiss to smother her in pecks, his heart blooms at the melodic giggle he's rewarded with. This is enough.

So he tells himself prepared to draw back and slip back into the innocent touches they're more used to.

That's why he's unprepared for her to grab his face and tug him closer, back into a kiss but the mood has changed now there's a static charge that hadn't manifested before that is now thick in the particles between them. He struggles not to freeze, hands splayed easily across the slim expanse of her body- she feels so slight and fragile in his arms and he squeezes her harder comforted by the strength he feels in her bones.

She won't break.

She keeps twisting and turning and he's docile in her exploration, no sudden movements lest he break the fragility of this moment.

He's shocked when she growls and pulls away harshly, his lips are still puckered up at her sudden removal.

"What are you doing?" Her annoyance is detectable despite the breathless tone and it makes his body squirm, he's too aware of how close they are right now.

He blinks, "What?"

He doesn't know what's wrong but the scowl on her face tells him that he's going to find out.

"Don't you want to kiss me?"

He blinks again. Then swallows, hard.

Wasn't that abundantly evident? He was trying everything in his power not to overwhelm her with how badly he wants to kiss her, lick into her mouth and taste her tongue, become a flavor on her taste buds and hear the pretty sounds she makes as they succumb to temptation.

"Is this a trick question?"

She peers up at him with narrowed eyes, her lips a distracting plush pink.

"You aren't kissing back, you're just letting me kiss you. I thought you would be an expert." She shifts slightly glancing away from him, a tight line in her jaw.

He preens, internally.

"Why would you think that?" He has an idea but he wants to hear her say it, to see that flush on her pretty face.

She glares at him but it's lacking the usual fire, it makes his body simmer instead of burn.

"This isn't your first kiss, according to the bathroom walls you've kissed twenty-five girls at school and a few guys."

She states this information in a matter of fact tone but he can see the tightness in her face, he smooths his hands up and down her back in languid strokes.

"Don't believe anything you read on those walls. In our bathroom it says that you only kiss older boys, is that true?" He just means to tease her a little but she shifts coyly this time, he watches entranced as she rubs her index finger across her pouty bottom lip. He forgets what question he asked.

"Is that why you're not kissing back? Should I go find someone older?"

He's not stupid he knows exactly what she's doing, but knowing doesn't stop him from reacting or falling into the obvious trap, he knows that he needs to work on his impulse control but the thought of her kissing anyone else makes him want to punch a wall until his knuckles are sore.

"Shut up." It's not the best retort but it makes the coy smile on her face slide off and her eyes widen at his tone, the shock only lasts for a second-lighting fast before she stands taller, somehow towering over him while being inches shorter the oxymoron that she is.

"Why don't you make me?"

It's a clear challenge and he contemplates being the bigger person and not rising to her bait, maybe it's time for some maturity and thoughtfulness.

Her groin bumps into his as she presses harder against him and that small movement chucks his restraint out the window, hurling it down to the pavement. He grabs the back of her skull, his hand big enough to cover her whole head and without hesitation he slams into her, heady when she gasps giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth and get his first taste of her, no longer holding back unable to even attempt.

Her tongue is still in her mouth and he gently coaxes her into moving with him, curling around the nimble muscle and drawing her back into his moist cavern she follows him and it's awkward at first, their rhythm is off- too fast, too slow but then they get it right after numerous failed attempts and she melts into him, her blunt nails scratching at the column of his neck and he hisses at the prickling sensation letting out a grunt of his own.

They kiss long and deep, swallowing each drop of each other and then soft and chaste recovering from the lack of oxygen making it to their brains, she keeps making these delicious little sounds and when he brushes against the nape of her neck she bows into him boneless and he stores that away in a vault in his mind.

He doesn't know who makes the first move but their hips start to move together, chasing something unknown.

They are undulating against each other on the wall and he prays that nobody comes because everything feels too good and he might implode if they have to stop. He almost whines when she breaks away, the loud pop of their lips separating making his head ring.

"You're too good at this. Did you really kiss that many girls?"

He stares at her, glowering at him after her biting accusation and he can't help the laughter that swells in his lungs, grunting when she punches him in his stomach.

"If all that practice made me so good then shouldn't you be happy? You get the benefits."

She pushes him away, staring hard before walking away briskly, her short skirt momentarily distracts him with it's flouting movements.

He takes a moment to recover, adjusting himself discretely before he chases after her throwing his arms over her shoulder and smirking when she folds too easily into his embrace.

"Let me go." He raises an eyebrow as she moves closer to him contrary to her demand.

"No. Where are you going?"

She huffs before looking over her shoulder.

"To get more practice too."

Her words crash over him and instantly he pushes her into the wall unleashing an onslaught of tickles on her sensitive skin, she squeals and tries to escape his attack but he has her right where he wants her.

"Take it back!" He shouts digging his fingers into her sides listening to the staccato hiccups of her full belly chortle.

There are tears streaming down her face, but she still screams, "Never!"

He wishes he could bottle this up and keep it forever.

He calls Chorong on his break, thoughts of the kiss still swirling in his mind he's bursting at the seams to share his happiness. His best friend answers on the second ring, sounds of chewing loudly blasting through the speakers.

"Ah Seojun!"

He smiles at the enthusiasm, it's nice having a friend who is always so happy to hear from him.

"We kissed." He planned on setting the story up more but the words force their way out before he can formulate a detailed retelling.

"What? Already?!" Chorong's shocked exclamation forces him to move the phone away from his ear lest he injure his precious ear drums. He brings it back when it sounds like the other boy is finished assaulting him.

"What are you taking about? We took our time." He argues, he has been waiting to kiss Sujin for weeks now thinking that this day would never come, why the hell was Chorong acting like they jumped the gun?

"Took your time? It's been one day!"

He blinks down at the phone, taking a deep breath before replying with clipped tone, "Who exactly do you think I kissed?" He impatiently waits for the incorrect answer.

Chorong sighs like he's the one acting weird and the answer is obvious, "That girl from school, the one that everyone says you're going to date."

He rolls his eyes up to ceiling taking another breath before responding, "You know I like Sujin why would I kiss some other girl?"

There's a long pause and then he hears a deep swallow and he barely moves the phone away in time before Chorong is loudly replying sounding beyond exasperated, "Well you liked Suho before and you got over him quickly! Your feelings change like the weather how am I supposed to keep up?!"

He sputters at the phone indignant, what the hell was he going on about? Liked who??

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He bellows back, slamming his fist into the counter top.

In the end, he scares away some potential customers as they're walking through the door and his boss threatens to fire him.

He doesn't care about any of it though because he knows what Kang Sujin tastes like.

[maria-scribbles]

loyalty’s all i got | part two

three years ago, you had it all: great friends, good grades, and an almost perfect relationship with your boyfriend, jj. it all came crashing down when your mom relocated your family to california for work and you were forced to trade the outer banks for malibu, leaving your broken heart behind in the place you were just starting to think of as home. now you're back in town for college and to pick up the pieces, hoping to make things right again with your friends and the boy you never stopped loving.

word count: 8.6k+

ship: jj maybank x female!reader, pogue friendship

warnings n stuff: angst angst angst all around (with a happy ending tho!!), the reader being a v. sad girl, mentions of anxiety/depression, failed long distance relationship, drifting apart, self-inflicted loneliness/isolation, the classic trope of 'they broke up but they're still in love with each other' that gives me feels, swearing (it's not my writing unless someone says 'fuck' at least once), reconciliation/mended relationships, traditional cheesy rom-com rain scene 'cause i'm a Dramatic Hoe™

a/n: and here's the second and final part of this looooong two-shot! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the finale even though i low key kind of hate it 🙃. fun fact: surfrider beach is a real place in malibu known for its great waves :) also i apologize for how long this took to post, i dropped my laptop and the screen broke so i had to wait for it to get fixed lmao. unbetaed as usual, any mistakes are my b. 

~masterlist~

part two: like a ghost that no one knew

When you said goodbye to your friends three years ago, you should've known things would never be the same again. You were sixteen, still so young and naïve and full of an almost childlike hope that kept you from seeing the obvious: life wasn't fair. Sometimes, you could be holding all the right cards and still lose the game.

It should've been easy. You had a video chat schedule already figured out, promises of daily texts and Snapchats, a boyfriend willing -enthusiastically willing, in fact- to go long distance and make it work no matter what 'cause you both agreed that what you had was something worth fighting for. You and your friends had weathered many storms together, what was one more? It could've been easy but you underestimated just how cruel California would be.

You traded one coast for the other and watched the sun set over the Pacific alone when you would've given anything to watch it rise over the Atlantic with your friends. It hurt to surf solo but you did it anyway, even though it felt like a damn sucker punch each time you caught yourself scanning the sand for JJ and his proud smile when you successfully caught bigger and bigger waves at Surfrider Beach. 

Long distance was hard. You had days where all you wanted to do was lay on your bed for hours, safely curled up in his arms as he ran his fingers through your hair but you had to settle for his voice over the phone and one of his shirts from your closet instead. You missed everything about him: his pretty eyes that looked like the clearest ocean, the cheeky grin he'd send your way after making a stupid joke that had you affectionately rolling your eyes in exasperation, that adorable flush that spread across his face without fail each and every time you said you loved him. You longed for his constant affection; the way he always wanted to keep you close somehow, his arm around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers entwined with yours; how he could never go a day without kissing you. Being apart was nothing short of torture.

"I fucking miss you." He said late one night during a rare FaceTime session -his phone was a piece of shit so he had to 'borrow' John B's whenever he could- and you smiled despite the knife twisting itself deeper and deeper into your heart as you played with the fraying sleeve of his old sweatshirt you wore. 

"I fucking miss you more, J." You whispered back, giggling quietly when he scrunched up his nose in playful skepticism. 

"Yeah, I don't think so, babe. There's no way." 

"Yes, way!"

Although it hurt like hell, you imagined being tangled up with him in the hammock hanging in the Chateau's yard under the North Carolina sky -the light from the moon would turn his blond hair a pale silver as he grinned down at you and cupped your cheek in his hand, closing that final distance between you for a kiss that'd fuel the fire racing through your veins- and you let that fleeting happiness carry you through the night, long after you said goodbye. You fell asleep with your phone in your hand, unaware that your mother had been listening from the other side of your closed door.

You'd been distant from her and your dad in the months since the move, obviously going out of your way to avoid them both by spending all your spare time surfing at the beach, coming home well past sunset and heading straight to your room without a word. They'd taught you forgiveness wasn't something to be given willingly -it had to be earned- and since neither of them had done anything worthy to deserve an absolution, you simply pretended they didn't exist and let yourself stew in your justified anger.

Until the morning after your video date with JJ, they'd wisely given you your space so you were pretty blind sighted to find them both waiting for you at the dining room table, one of your dad's famous cinnamon rolls on a plate set in front of your usual chair. You paused in the middle of tying one of your boyfriend's worn bandanas in your hair before abruptly continuing toward the front door, acting like you didn't see the hopeful looks on their faces that made guilt slowly start to burrow its way into your chest. 

"Y/N, wait," Your dad sprung from his seat and reached his hand out toward your elbow, his face falling when you instantly pulled back and crossed your arms. "Please, let's just talk for a second."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," You lied and tried for the door again, sighing in frustration when he blocked your path and ushered you toward the table where your mom was sitting, biting her thumbnail. The guilt burrowed deeper: you thought she kicked that habit years ago but there she was, chewing her nail to shreds and it was all because of you (the empty satisfaction you felt knowing you were the cause of her stress made you hate yourself just a little more.).

"Jellybean, don't worry about that. I'll drive you." 

You bristled at the old nickname but sat in the chair your dad pulled out for you anyway. The smell of the cinnamon roll he pushed your way made your mouth water but you refused to eat and kept your eyes down as you played with the stack of bracelets adorning your wrist. "You wanted to talk?" You asked, deciding to just rip the band-aid off all at once 'cause knowing your mom when she was anxious and your dad being allergic to any type of confrontation, you'd have sat there all day until one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Talk, right." Bill said with a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he took a seat and swiped his own cinnamon roll from the pan in the middle of the table. "Uh, how are you?"

"Are you serious right now?" You asked incredulously, looking up from your lap with a raised eyebrow. "All this for 'how are you?'" 

"How would we know?" Your mom finally spoke up as she pulled her ruined nail from her mouth, only to start instantly drumming her fingers on the table. "You're always holed up in your room or at the beach, Y/N. You never talk to us anymore."

You rolled your eyes before fixing her with a deadpan stare. "Hmm, I wonder why."

"Honey, you know I'm sorry-"

"Don't, okay? Just don't." You swallowed thickly and dumped the cinnamon roll back into the pan, blinking away the awful burning pressure building behind your eyes. "I can't listen to some half-assed apology that you don't mean!"

"Y/N, we are sorry. Everything's gonna get better, just give it time." Your dad's reply was muffled by a mouthful of pastry and any other time, you'd usually be laughing at his chipmunk cheeks but instead you just stared back down at your hands again, lip quivering as you tried and failed to hold yourself together. You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not-

"Please, honey." Your mom tentatively reached out one hand like she was approaching a wounded animal, her voice so soft you could barely hear it above the rush of blood in your ears. "It hurts us to see you like this-"

Oh, fuck this shit.

"You're hurt?! Are you kidding me?" Your chair scraped along the tile as you rocketed to your feet, vision blurring when the dam finally broke. "You promised we wouldn't move again until after I graduated and you broke that promise. I let myself make friends for once in my goddamn life -I fucking fell in love, Mom! I fell in love with the most amazing boy who, by some miracle loves me, too despite me being a...a complete loser!" You were rambling now but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about or stop the words flying from your mouth. 

"God, I was happy -so, so disgustingly happy it kind of scared me, okay?" You laughed bitterly and roughly wiped the tears from your cheeks, only to have more immediately take their place. "And you didn't even stop to think before you took it all away from me! So don't even talk to me about being hurt 'cause you have no fucking idea!"

Your dad was frozen, eyes the same color as your own blown impossibly wide in the middle of another bite of cinnamon roll while your mom, two tears streaking perfect twin tracks down her cheeks, looked at you like you'd just told her the world was ending -to her, it just might've been but to you, it already had. Neither of them said another word as you snatched your backpack off the couch and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind you.

Halfway to the bus stop, you decided school just wasn't in the cards that day and doubled back, hiding behind the shed in your backyard until your tears had run dry and both of your parents left -Rebekah to the hospital, Bill to wherever he went while you were in class- before heading inside to change into your rash vest and grab your board. Despite it being early Friday morning, Surfrider Beach was full of life and you welcomed the hustle and bustle as you turned off your phone and buried it at the bottom of your bag, leaving your problems behind on the sand. 

You spent the whole day at the beach, blissfully alone and free to do what you wanted, until the sun dipped low in the sky and you were too exhausted to even think about anything but dragging yourself home so you could pass the fuck out. You caught one final wave before heading back to shore, waving goodbye to the group of other kids you'd surfed with all day (the one thing you loved about California: everyone was so chill) and trudged through the sand toward your things where, just as you expected, your sister sat on your towel, clad in a baggy UCLA long-sleeve with her phone in hand. 

"Bitch, you killed it out there!" She looked up as you dropped your board to the ground and sat down heavily beside her, slipping an old Kildare County High School sweatshirt -the first one you ever 'borrowed' from your boyfriend, much to his delight- over your head. "I mean, look at you go!"

You leaned closer to watch the video she took, the barest hint of a smile on your face when you watched yourself perform a near perfect cutback on the screen. "That's 'cause I had the best teacher." 

Daisy tagged you and posted it to Instagram before you could protest, then tossed the phone back into her bag and turned to you with a forced cheerfulness that kind of made you want to smack her. "So..."

"Mom and Dad sent you to clean up their mess." You finished quietly, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as your sister sighed dramatically and offered a sympathetic wince. 

"As always." She copied your position and you both stared out at the sun sinking over the water, its fading rays turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was typical of your parents to send Daisy after you when you were upset -after all, you'd both been each other's only friend for over half your lives- and normally, you'd be glad to see your sister's friendly face instead of your mom's or dad's. That evening, though? All you felt was...disappointment.

"Guess they really don't give a shit about me." You mumbled under your breath, half-hoping Daisy didn't hear you but from the way she snapped her head in your direction, you didn't get your wish.

"Y/N, that's not it. They're just..."

"Just what? Pretending that they didn't stab me in the back? Acting like everything's all hunky-dory and they actually cared about my feelings?" 

You hastily wiped at your face when your sister silently looped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you against her side, her fingers running soothingly through the ends of your damp hair as you vented all of your frustrations -everything you'd kept locked deep inside your heart- until your voice was hoarse and the sun had long disappeared from the horizon and you had no tears left to cry.

"You have no idea what it's like, being so lonely it hurts to breathe. It hurts knowing Mom and Dad have each other and you have Daniel and I'm alone all the time." You lifted your head from her shoulder and rubbed your red eyes with your sleeve. "Worst part is, they just keep acting like I'll wake up one day and magically be okay and everything'll be all sunshine and rainbows again." 

"First off, I wanna say that I'm sorry for not making more time for you. I knew you were struggling and I'm a terrible big sister for not being here for you like I should have," You squeezed Daisy's other hand in thanks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her voice soft and steady like the waves crashing against the shore. "Second, I definitely don't think Mom and Dad are handling this the way they should, but I think they're trying in the only way they know how. That should count for something, right?"

You sighed and tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. "I guess, but they haven't even tried to see where I'm coming from and they don't get that I'm not the only one they hurt. If I have to hear one more half-assed apology, I'm gonna lose my shit. Again."

"I'm not saying you have to forgive them right away 'cause I sure as hell wouldn't until they say they're sorry and mean it. But..." She said, pulling you to your feet and shaking the sand from the towel you were sitting on, "you shouldn't keep shutting them out, okay? It's not healthy."

You tucked your board under your arm as Daisy grabbed your bag and swung it onto her shoulder before you both started walking toward the parking lot. "What if I'm never ready to forgive them?"

"That's a question I don't have the answer to." She said with a shrug. "You've gotta figure that one out for yourself."

So you followed your sister's advice. You were civil and gradually, your relationship with your parents improved until you could stand to be in the same room as them and even carry on a short conversation, even though you knew you'd probably never be able to fully trust them again. You caught them exchanging glances you could only describe as wounded when you often turned down their invitations to go to the movies or get ice cream or other things you used to love doing when you were younger but for the most part, they took it in stride and you were grateful for their little efforts. Forgiveness wasn't in the cards quite yet but with each passing day, you felt the icy wall around your heart slowly start to melt away.

But every time you thought you were taking one step forward, life pushed you two steps back. Just when you were getting things back on track with your family, the train went flying off the rails when it came to your friends and it was all your fault.

It wasn't like you didn't try -God, did you try- to keep yourself from falling back into old habits but Malibu just had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in you. Your old self, the girl who kept to herself and pushed everyone away, someone you thought you buried in the deepest grave, slowly came back from the dead with a vengeance little by little, so subtly you didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. 

One missed phone call turned into two, texts went unanswered for days or not at all, FaceTime sessions happened less and less. The last video chat had been with Kiara and it ended terribly, after you blew up at her for mending her friendship with Sarah Cameron in the near two years since you'd been gone, spitting words you couldn't quite remember -something along the lines of 'didn't take you too long to replace me, huh' and calling the blonde girl a 'heinous bitch'- but knew you regretted with everything you had and hanging up before she had a chance to explain. You couldn't even recall the last time you talked to Pope or John B aside from the occasional Snapchat and your daily calls with JJ had turned to once a week, if you were lucky.

He was trying, you could tell, and so were you but the deck was stacked against you and you were never very good at cards, anyway. It hurt to try, it hurt not to try, everything just hurt. Nearly two years apart had done their damage and coupled with your debilitating fear of being forgotten that clawed at your chest like a rabid dog, your relationship was on unstable ground and for the first time in almost four years, you were thinking about the end. It wasn't like you didn't love him anymore (holy shit, were you still completely head over heels in love). In fact, you loved him so much you realized that he could do so, so much better than you and the thought rested heavy and bittersweet on your mind, lurking in the shadows until you were ready to bring it to light.

It happened on New Year's Eve. Alone in your room, your hands shook as you answered JJ's call at midnight, his voice tired and a little hoarse from celebrating the new year three hours earlier on the opposite coast and you nearly started crying right then and there when you replied with a shaky "I think we need to talk."

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and said quietly, "Everything."

"Talk to me." The pure concern in those three words nearly convinced you to call it off, to tell him to forget you said anything and that you were fine, everything was just fine but deep down, you knew you couldn't.

"I've been thinking about us and I...I just think that you deserve better than me. Someone who can actually be there for you when you need her and hold you when your dad's an asshole and see you every day. Someone who can laugh at your silly jokes and share a joint with you and clean you up when you get into fights defending your friends-"

"Babe, what are you talking about? That girl is you."

"Maybe I was but I'm not anymore and I don't think I have been since I left. I just can't be the girl you want, I can't be the girl you deserve, J -I'm a total fucking mess and you can do so, so much better than me."

"Y/N."

You didn't know you were crying until you heard the broken way he breathed your name and salt water dripped from your chin onto the bracelet around your wrist. 

"...are you breaking up with me?" His voice was impossibly small, the quietest you'd ever heard it and the exact moment your battered heart shattered into pieces was when you realized he didn't even put up a fight. 

"I think so." The words tore through you like a gunshot as you cried, curling into yourself on the bed in an effort to ward off the worst pain you'd ever felt in your life and you wondered if it was possible to die from a wound that wasn't even physical. 

He was quiet for a long time, so long you thought he hung up without you noticing through your tears, until he sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Guess we had a pretty good run, huh?" He asked with a watery chuckle and you found yourself giving a tiny, shuddering giggle in response -God, even when you were breaking his heart he still managed to make you laugh.

"The best, baby." The pet name slipped out like second nature and you winced, hastily trying to cover your mistake with an awkward cough but from the sharp breath you heard him take, he'd heard it anyway.

("I'm sorry," you said, and it stood as an apology for more than just your slip-up.)

"I love you, Y/N. Probably always will."

"I'll never stop loving you, JJ. That's a promise."

You let yourself believe him as you laid there bleeding from a gash you couldn't see, a wound you knew would never heal, and you hoped he let himself believe you, too, even when you ended the call without another word and threw your phone away from you, not bothering to see where it landed. The sound of your heavy, broken sobs filled the room and you didn't even mind when your mom, who you knew had been listening from the other side of your closed door like always, barged in and took you into her arms, stroking your hair as you cried into her lap.

If you were supposed to avoid getting hurt by leaving first, why did it feel like everything in you was broken? If you were making the right choice, why did it feel so wrong? You didn't have the answers and no matter how hard you searched, you knew you'd ever find them.  

So you tried to stay busy. You joined the surf club at school, got a part-time job at the local aquarium, did anything you could to distract yourself from the hurt and the guilt and the way getting out of bed every morning was the hardest thing to do. Surf club introduced you to Mackenzie, the one girl who was more ostracized at school -an even richer version of the kook academy you hated -than you, her for being freakishly tall and you for your East Coast attitude, and the two of you became fast, if reluctant friends. Mack didn't try to stitch the gaping hole in your heart caused by your absent friends but she numbed the pain just enough to make it bearable and you were grateful for her calm, steady presence at your side, even as you both tried to keep each other at arm's length.  

Later, you found out she was just like you, friendless and awkward with no self-esteem and a tendency to push people away, and that just cemented your friendship through the summer and your final year of high school.

Mack told you all about her life, growing up with no siblings, having height that she never learned to deal with, and a debilitating social anxiety that made making friends near impossible, and in turn you told her about how you hopped from town to town on your mother's whims, the wonderful friends you let slip away, and the beautiful boyfriend you loved enough to let go, and you both cried together for the lives you could've led.

"You two looked so happy," She said during the first sleepover you hosted as she held one of the many picture frames littering your dresser, her lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You gently took the frame from her hands and ran your fingers over the grinning face of your ex-boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your painted lips planted a deep red kiss on his cheek, and the wave of longing washing over you was almost strong enough to bring you to your knees. "It was the happiest I've ever been."

"Do you miss him?"

"So much it hurts."

i miss you.

i'm so sorry.

i still love you.

You'd typed and erased those texts every day but never mustered the courage to hit send and you couldn't decide if that was a blessing in disguise or the worst possible curse. Of course you still loved JJ: you promised you would and even if you didn't, you couldn't stop if you tried. He was your first love, the boy you so willingly gave your whole heart and then some; you still kept his ring on your thumb -the one he gave you at the airport the day you left- and his bracelet around your wrist, his bandanas in your hair and his face in your dreams and you knew you always would.

Before you could blink, your eighteenth birthday flew by and graduation was upon you.

You thought the second you were done with high school you'd be gone, heading straight back to the Outer Banks and the life you left behind but you found yourself stalling on sending in an application to UNC -Chapel Hill until you missed the deadline for the fall semester. On the outside, you made up a semi-legit excuse about getting your basic courses done at a community college to save money but deep down you really knew why you procrastinated: you were terrified to go back. Ever since your break up with JJ, you hadn't spoken to him or any of your old friends other than the obligatory birthday wishes on Facebook and you wondered if the damage you'd done over the years was too much to come back from, even as you tried to work up the courage to find out for sure.

Another year passed: in between earning college credits, you and Daisy took a sister's trip to Disneyland, Mack asked you to tag along on a jaunt up the coast to San Francisco to see Alcatraz, your parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary (your gift was long-overdue forgiveness and they said it was the greatest thing you possibly could've given them). When the time came, you and Mack both sent out your applications to UNC -you for biology, her for chemistry- and the myriad of emotions you felt when you got in was nothing short of dizzying. The old you was terrified, screaming at you to rip up the letter and join your sister at UCLA instead of opening old wounds but the hopeful you, the girl who lived without fear, the girl who fell in love and let herself be loved, screamed louder.

And so you killed the old you once again, burying her even deeper than the last time in a locked chest and throwing the key as far as you could out into the Pacific where you knew you'd never find it. You clutched your acceptance letter close to your chest and took a step east, away from California and toward the place where your broken heart still rested, scattered in pieces across the sand.

Settling in at UNC was surprisingly easy. You and Mack already clicked pretty well as friends so making the transition to roommates was natural and, dare you say it, even a little fun and the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable routine in your tiny apartment off campus in Chapel Hill. Comfortable and yet...that happiness you once felt all those years ago was missing from your life and you found yourself just as restless as you were in Malibu. While you knew exactly what you needed to do, that fear kept rearing its ugly head in the back of your mind, poisoning your thoughts: what if they wouldn't be happy to see you, what if they forgot about you, what if they hated you? What if he hated you?

It was terrifying, picturing yourself turning up at the Chateau with a hopeful smile only to have the door slammed right in your face. Deep down, you knew they'd never do that to you no matter how badly you'd hurt them but when you'd spent your whole life expecting the worst, taking a leap of faith wasn't an easy feat -something Mack just couldn't wrap her head around.

"I don't get it."

You glanced up from where you were lounging on your bed, flipping through your biology notes in preparation for your lab exam the next morning and shot your roommate a confused look. "Get what?”

Mack sat at your desk, her own notebooks lying ignored as she spun the chair around to face you, arms crossed. "Why you haven't hopped on that ferry to go get your man yet!"

You froze for a moment too long before offering a half-hearted shrug as you fiddled with the beads at the end of your bracelet. "It's not that easy. He probably wants nothing to do with me and I don't blame him."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to JJ in over a year, right?" At your tight nod, she continued, "What if he's just like you-"

"Depressed?"

Mack fixed you with a flat, unamused look. "Still in love, dumbass."

You scoffed and propped your chin in your hand as you glanced back down at your study guide, trying not to latch onto that little thought -hope and pain all rolled into one- that sparked to life at her words. He'd said he would probably always love you that New Year's Eve and back then you'd let yourself believe him but now, you weren't so sure. "Yeah, right. No way he's still...still in love with me after I broke his heart."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Your roommate said with a shrug, spinning around on the chair to grab her things. "You'll never know if you don't get over there, track his fine ass down, and talk to him."

You stared down at your notes without actually seeing anything, the slanted letters of your handwriting blurring before your eyes as the other girl flipped her chemistry book closed and stood, shooting you an warm smile that you didn't see. 

"Listen, Y/N, you're my best friend and I want to see you happy more than anything but I can't take that jump for you. Yeah, it's scary and nerve wracking and you might end up hurt worse than before, so what? That's just...life."

Mack left after that, crossing the apartment to her room so she could get ready for a date with a girl from her psych class, leaving you alone with tears on your face and a million thoughts in your head, all of them terrifying and exciting and oh so loud.

She was right, of course -Mack always knew the right thing to say- and as you stared down at the bracelets on your wrists and the ring on your thumb, the pictures on your phone and the too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder, you realized sitting around moping wasn't gonna solve anything; if you wanted your happiness, your friends, the love of your life back, you needed to step up and fight for them with everything you had. And so you wiped the tears from your cheeks and walked to the cliff's edge with your head held high, ready for the fall and whatever came with it. You were ready to fix your mistakes, no matter how badly it might hurt.

Still, you couldn't do it all on your own. You needed some help to make things right again and while you knew just who to ask, you weren't quite sure if they'd be willing to lend a hand. Desperate times called for desperate measures though and you penned a good old-fashioned letter, feeling like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel as you poured all your thoughts -your dreams, wishes, hopes- onto a piece of paper in bold blue ink and sent it off to its destination on Figure 8, your Hail Mary for a happy ending sealed up neatly in a single envelope.

Mack, bless her heart, did her best to keep your spirits up as you waited on a response but even her ever reassuring presence couldn't keep you from worrying as one week passed by, then two. Halfway through the third you'd almost given up, already wracking your brain for another way to make your plan work when your phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.

i'll help you

And just like that, the moment you'd been waiting for was finally within your reach; you told your parents not to expect you for Thanksgiving break, called your sister for a much needed pep talk, and started counting down the days until you'd see your friends again, for better or worse.

When you left the Outer Banks three years ago, it was sunny. You were sixteen, young and in love and scared about the future.

When you returned, it was in the middle of a storm. You were nineteen, a little bit older but no less in love and definitely still scared about what was waiting for you at the end of the road.

Rain pounded against the roof of Sarah Cameron's SUV as she drove away from the docks and toward the Chateau, her fingers tapping along to the music playing quietly through the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked to the bone from your ferry ride from the mainland and shaking like a leaf despite the towel wrapped around your shoulders and the warm air flowing from the car's vents.

"Thanks for coming to get me," You said, wincing at the awkward lilt of your voice echoing in the small space as you spun JJ's ring around your thumb and stared out the windshield at the familiar sights streaking by in blurred shades of green and brown. Being back opened a Pandora's box of emotions in your head, both good and bad, and instead of trying to sort them out, you let them bounce around in your brain like a pinball machine and concentrated on methodically twirling the warm metal ring in circles on your finger.

Sarah briefly glanced away from the road to shoot you a small smile, her kind eyes softening at your visible nervousness. "Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure you hated me so when I got your letter it kinda...threw me for a loop. Sorry it took me so long to reply."

You wished the heated leather seat would swallow you whole as you winced again and wrapped the towel tighter around your shoulders. "For the longest time, I thought I did hate you but I realized I was just...scared of losing my friends and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve to be labeled the villain in my story when I was the one, um, sabotaging myself, I guess." You took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread tickling your arm. "And I'm really, really grateful for your help."

It was more than you wanted to admit out loud -nearly the same words were written in the letter peeking out from the center console of the car- but at the same time, you knew it was what needed to be said and from the way the blonde girl's fingers stopped tapping against the steering wheel, she knew she needed to hear it. At a red light, she quickly tapped out a text on her phone before tossing in back into her bag with another tiny grin in your direction.

"Happy to help. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you were being replaced, I never intended to hurt you or steal your friends or...or, I don't know, usurp-" 

"Sarah, stop. Please," You held up a hand to cut off her apology and offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the one who's sorry. I let my...jealousy get the best of me and I feel so bad about all the shit I said 'cause that wasn't fair to you at all and I hope you can forgive me-"

"Y/N, there's nothing to forgive! We all say stupid shit when we're mad -trust me, I know." She interrupted with a bubbly, contagious giggle that seemed to scare away the gloomy storm clouds gathered over your head for a moment in time. "But I was never pissed at you, ever. I just want you to know that."

Stunned, you settled deeper into the seat and started playing with your ring again as she kept driving on, unbothered by your lack of response. You felt like you were thirteen again, back when Sarah and Kiara were your only friends, before the birthday disaster and the whole pogue versus kook feud that got completely out of hand; it felt...nice and you found yourself hoping that the blonde girl would still want to be your friend again, no matter what the others thought about your sudden return. 

"Thank you."

Sarah gave no indication she heard your quiet confession of gratitude but from the way you watched her smile grow out of the corner of your eye, you knew she did. The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence as you retreated into your own thoughts, your nerves getting worse and worse the closer you got to your destination.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose, feeling like your heart was trying to beat its way through your rib cage. You hadn't been this anxious in a long, long time, so long you almost forgot how much you hated the tightness in your chest, how your palms would start to sweat, the way you'd chew the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood on your tongue. By the time Sarah pulled into an open spot beside the achingly familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the Chateau, you were surprised you were still able to breathe.

The sight of the tiny house, one you spent so many carefree days and beautiful nights in alongside your friends, standing virtually unchanged in front of you was like a shot to the heart and your hands, curled into fists on your lap, began to shake without warning. Shit, you were a godforsaken mess; how the hell were you supposed to do this without having a mental breakdown?

"I'm so scared."

The whispered words, barely audible over the torrential rain against the roof, slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Sarah slowly reached one hand over to give your trembling wrist a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a slight smile.

"Don't be. They're gonna be so happy to see you!"

You turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "How are you so sure they still care about me?"

"I'm sure 'cause I've seen it. My God, if only you could've heard all the times they talked about you -'I wish Y/N was here,' 'remember that time with Y/N,' hell, just straight 'I miss Y/N so fucking much,'" She said bluntly and shifted in the driver's seat to face you head on, smiling wider at the thunderstruck look on your face. "Pretty sure I haven't gone a week without JJ saying that last one at least once." 

"I thought..." You paused, tongue darting out to run over your dry lips as you tried to put your jumbled feelings into words, "I thought he'd hate me -I mean, after all I've done, you think he still..."

"Loves you? Are you kidding?" Her reply was so enthusiastic it was hard not to believe her as she went on, her words like sunshine brightening the darkest corners of your mind. "He's still head over heels, I've never seen him even look at another girl in three damn years. You know he still wears your necklace, the one with the silver star? Kie told me all about it."

"I-I didn't." You remembered giving it to him the day you left, managing a shaky smile through your tears as you carefully clasped it around his neck, your fingers running over his skin as you settled the charm perfectly alongside that little shark tooth you'd grown to love.

('Be careful with this, baby. It's my favorite.' You had said, crying harder when he'd taken off one of his rings and slipped it onto your thumb.

'Well, this one's my favorite so take good care of it, okay?' His voice had been light but his eyes were heavy with unspoken words that you'd heard loud and clear because you knew your gaze said the exact same things.

don't let me go

don't break my heart

don't stop loving me)

You coughed to disguise the fat tears that started rolling down your face, quickly wiping them away with your sleeve but the blonde girl wasn't fooled as she gave your hand another friendly squeeze.

"Come on, they're probably wondering what's taking me so long," She sent a conspiratorial wink your way and grabbed her bag from the center console. "I told them I was picking up some pizzas but I have a funny feeling they won't be too pissed that I lied."

With a desperate grip on the strap of your backpack and your heart racing, you trailed behind Sarah through the rain to the front porch. 

"Ready?" She glanced back where you lingered at the top of the stairs, anxiously shuffling from foot to foot, and shot you a smile that did little to calm your nerves. "Just wait here!"

She knocked on the door before you could reply and yelled loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain, "Hey, it's me! Can somebody get the door? My hands are kinda full."

"Got it!"

Your bag slipped from your fingers and fell onto the porch with a loud thump at the sound of the voice floating through the open windows, a voice you heard nearly every night as you slept, in your dreams of a future you wanted with everything you had. You knew it better than your knew your own, knew every pitch and tone and lilt; quiet and raspy in the mornings when you woke up in each other's arms, loud and carefree during long days spent under the golden sun with the rest of your friends, soft and warm and laid bare at night when he showed how much he loved you with more than just words.

Sarah gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping to the side just as the door opened and you suddenly found yourself struggling to breathe as you stared into the wide blue eyes of your ex-boyfriend. JJ stared right back, one of the hands you used to hold clenched so tight around the doorknob his knuckles were white, the lips you used to kiss parted in surprise, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through falling onto his forehead like always and the familiar, beautiful sight of him standing close enough to touch made your knees weak.

"You're not pizza."

It was such a JJ thing to say and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry as you swallowed thickly and shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Hope flared white hot in your chest at his words but it quickly started to fade, replaced by fear when he made no move toward you, his fingers still gripping tight to the door, and you felt your face start to heat in embarrassment as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. 

God, you were so stupid. What did you expect would happen, showing up out of the blue after over a year of no contact? Everything would fall into place again with just one long, heavy look? Believing it could be that easy turned you into a complete and total fool, tongue-tied and insecure and weak.

"Yo, what's the hold up?" John B's voice asked from inside the house and Sarah leaned down to call through the open window, "Come out here and find out!"

A wave of dizziness hit you like a truck and you took a sudden step back toward the stairs, arms wrapping around your stomach as it twisted itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." You didn't notice the stricken look that crossed JJ's face or the three familiar, stunned expressions that appeared behind him in the darkened doorway before turning away and stumbling off the porch toward the road, leaving your bag behind and you definitely didn't notice how you barely made it off the bottom stair before a set of footsteps hastily gave chase. 

"It wasn't a mistake, Y/N!" JJ's desperate voice stopped you in your tracks, halfway across the yard with more than just rain running down your face. "Not to me, never to me."

His soft touch on your wrist sent shockwaves through your body and you instantly became putty in his hands, letting him turn you around without a fight to face him, watching in fascination as the downpour started to darken his gray shirt and flatten his hair against his forehead. Three years hadn't changed much about him -he was a little taller, hair a little longer, the muscles in his arms a little more defined- and when you met his wide-eyed gaze, beads of rain dripping from his long eyelashes like diamonds, you wondered if he was thinking about the differences time created between the younger you of the past and the you of the right now, too.

"Oh." You repeated dumbly, struggling for something, anything to say that didn't make you sound like an illiterate fool. Even at nineteen, words still weren't your strong suit so you let your actions speak for you as your hand reached out on its own accord to caress the silver star still clasped around his neck, the thumb still wearing his ring brushing slowly against the dip between his collarbones; he shivered, and you weren't really sure if it was from your touch or the cold. 

"Y/N." JJ said your name like a prayer, like he couldn't believe you were there in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when both of his hands slowly, carefully moved to cup your face, his calloused thumbs habitually wiping the tears from your cheeks over and over, even as more instantly replaced the ones he swept away. "I fucking missed you."

You stood there, looking like a damned drowned rat with your hair dripping into your eyes, shivering in your soaked jeans and Kildare County High School sweatshirt, the love of your life cradling your face so gently in his hands, and so many things you wanted to say flooding your brain but only the one that mattered the most managed to get by your trembling lips.  

"I'm still in love with you." 

You noticed a lot when you put your heart on the line: the steady, soothing sound of water falling through the trees, the bright, clean taste of rain on your tongue, how the sun was just barely starting to peek out from behind the stormy clouds, but they all paled in comparison to the little things you noticed about the boy in front of you; blue irises made even brighter by the red rimming his eyes, how he stepped closer on the wet grass until the tips of his scuffed boots touched your worn gray high tops, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly against your flushed face. 

"Well, it's your lucky day 'cause I'm still in love with you, too."

All of the breath left your lungs in one big rush when JJ smiled hopefully -oh, how you loved everything about that smile: his slightly crooked teeth, that dimple in his cheek, the endearing pink blush swept across his nose- and you felt yourself return it without a second thought, your own hope once again burning bright in your chest.

"Even after...everything?" Your voice shook like the fingers you slid into the hair at his nape and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, close enough you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

"I told you I'd always love you, didn't I?"

You nodded, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he tilted his head just so and gently bumped your nose with his. You remembered all the times he did that through the years, a dizzying slideshow of memories that flashed through your mind like lightning, and your fingers wove themselves deeper in his hair. 

"I have so many things to apologize for," You said with a tiny, quiet shake of your head, tearing your eyes away from his in shame and staring over his shoulder toward where the rest of your friends watched from the porch, all crowded together at the top of the stairs with identical enthralled expressions on their faces. "There are so many mistakes I've made and people I've hurt and I have no idea how to even start saying sorry for it all." 

"Babe."

The sound of your old pet name caused your gaze to snap right back to his and your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest when one of his hands trailed down the sensitive skin of your neck and then lower until it traced along the curve of your hip and left a line of fire in its wake.

"We'll figure that out later, okay?" JJ said as his fingers tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind your ear, a coy, ardent grin on his face. "'Cause I've been waiting three years to kiss you again and if I don't get to do it soon, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind."

You smiled -a wide, joyful, elated smile- and rose up on your tiptoes in anticipation. "Then kiss me." 

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips pressed against yours desperately, like he needed you to breathe, like you were the very air in his lungs, religiously, like your mouth was the altar and he was there to worship as he pulled you close, the fingers of one hand tangling in your hair while the others dug into your hip. You kissed him back just as hard and the familiar taste of him on your tongue -mint, smoke, salt- sent that dearly missed spark racing through your veins like wildfire.

It was a little cliché, having your long-awaited reunion kiss in the rain but it was honest and candid and real and so much better than anything you could've dreamed. You lost yourself in his touch like you used to, clinging to him like a lifeline and pouring your whole heart into every fierce brush of your lips against his, both of you pulling away for a moment only to dive right back in each time. It was addictive, intoxicating, and you could've spent the rest of your life standing there in the middle of the yard and kissing like there was no tomorrow if a loud, ear-piercing wolf whistle hadn't come from the direction of the porch.

The two of you broke apart just barely, with foreheads still pressed together and swollen lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling when JJ blindly flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling you back in for another eager kiss that filled your whole body with an exhilarating, heavenly heat that never faded, even after four enthusiastic voices suddenly surrounded you like an excited swarm of nosy, buzzing bees.

"You aren't the only one who missed her, J." Kiara said, smiling widely as you reached out to grab her hand and pull her into a powerful one-armed hug, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, stop hogging all the love!" John B added, throwing himself into the pile along with Pope, who slung an arm around your shoulders as he said, "Great to have you back, Y/N."

Sarah was the last to join and she quietly tucked herself under John B's arm with a pleased grin on her face, nodding when you mouthed 'thank you' in her direction. The six of you stood there in the rain, smiling like fools, and as the sun started to scare away the dark clouds overhead and in your heart, a weight you didn't even realize had been crushing your chest slowly began to lift away with each freeing breath. 

You still had a lot of work to do: wrongs to be righted, apologies to be made, explanations -not excuses- to be given for every shitty thing you did in your past. But as happy tears started streaming down your face once again and you felt the arms of the friends you’d thought were lost to you forever tighten around you at the sight, you knew in your bones all would be forgiven. You knew that after three long years, you'd finally come home.

-

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[heavenunderthemoon]

Growing Pains {Chapter Four}

Warnings: None, I believe. 

Prologue, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

Nevada 1992

"I'm thoroughly spooked, can we go now?"

You rolled your eyes at the ten year old beside you. His whines had risen an octave over the last five minutes, the cause most probably being the increasing proximity to the house before the two of you, all of them had been ignored as you pedaled faster, hoping to reach the dilapidated structure before sunset.

The boy's scrawny arms looped around your waist, tightening to an almost suffocating degree every time you rode over a pothole and almost making you wheeze from discomfort. Spencer's bike was out for repair- 'out for repairs' was just a silly way of saying Spencer had all but begged your older brothers to take a look at the broken chain and then paid them $15 (probably too much, but he was desperate) to fix it. The bike was being looked at now, actually, but that still left the Reid boy without transportation. You had practically had to force him onto yours.

'I hate when you steer, you ride into every puddle you see and I didn't bring my rain boots-'

'Jesus, Sherlock, I'll go around them-'

'But, you don't have a helmet-'

'You can borrow my dad's-'

'Is your bike even registered?'

All of his questions had made you groan, almost pulling out your hair and all but shoving him onto your bike, taking up the front while he stood on the pedestals allocated for passengers in the back. Your bike wasn't anything flashy. In fact, it was a hand-me-down from your brothers, the seat sitting just a bit too high at the moment, though your dad claimed you would grow into it.

You pulled over, your worn tires coming to a halt in the over-grown grass, weeds poking up from every direction and basically engulfing the lawn before you.

"We just got here, Spencer, please, five minutes?" You shot a pleading look to the boy behind you, your father's helmet consuming the entirety of his head. His glasses, cracked from when Peter Thompson had socked him in the lunchroom the other week, slid down his nose and he pushed them back up as he hopped off the bike. His hands went to his shirt, wiping them across the material as he sighed. You liked when he did things like that, kid things.

"Fine, five minutes." He seceded, and you put the kickstand in place before hopping off the bike yourself, leading the way to the sagging building.

1497 Columbia Drive.

The house was practically a local hub for folklore. All ghost stories for the children in your community originated from this house in particular. Your dad said it was all hocus pocus, nothing of substance. It was probably just a bunch of kids trying to get a good laugh out of scaring the little kids, he even lectured you on the history of the house, no murders or strange incidents ever occurring on the property. But still, you had asked Spencer to come with you to check it out.

Your feet crunched the gravel beneath it, poking around the house here and there.

"What do you think you're going to find, Y/N? A ghost hiding under the rock?" His tone was condescending, as it was sometimes. Though, that was something he didn't quite know he was doing. You knew that. You knew that if he knew that he came across like that, like he thought less of you, he would never do that. His attitude was a little bit worse today than usual. His mother wasn't doing too well, her rants becoming longer, her paranoia keeping the boy from hanging out with you on most days. You had taken to climbing into his window to hang out, or sneaking him out when you could. But the tone still stung a bit. "This is stupid." He continued.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you kicked at a rock, shoving your hands into your pockets. "How come everything I want to do is stupid?" It was petty. Petty, and emotional, and a million other things you never were because you liked to keep things in, but your insecurities began pouring out of you like a broken spout. "Why are you even friends with me? I'm too dumb for you, you have to explain things to me a million different times and even then, sometimes I still don't get it. You're gonna go away someday, because you're smart and you're better than...than here. Than this. So, why do you even hang out with me?" The words fell sloppily from your lips, only angering you further because you knew how eloquently Spencer would've been able to express his thoughts.

And this was something that had bothered you for a while. Since you had met him, actually. Because you were different. Spencer Reid was different. And while everyone else in town thought that him being different was a bad thing, you saw it as something good. Good, because he was going to be something. He was going to be something big, something bigger than anything you could ever be, whatever he wanted, whatever he wished for, because he could. Because he was Spencer. And you were just...you. You didn't skip grades or read books super fast or have a photographic memory. You weren't a genius, your brain didn't move a million miles per minute, and how boring it must be for Spencer to have to hang out with you.

Your eyes stung with tears, quickly welling and spilling hotly down your reddened cheeks and you were grateful that your back was still to the boy because he had never seen you cry, not even when you broke your index finger playing baseball two years ago, and you weren't entirely sure that Spencer would know how to comfort you if he saw you crying.

But, he did know. He didn't say anything to acknowledge it aloud, probably because he feared you might turn around and deck him right then and there if he did, but he noticed. He saw the way your shoulders had tightened as you spoke and then began shaking lightly when you finished. He noticed the tremor in your voice, the small sniffles escaping your figure. He noticed your clenching fist, your nails digging into your palm, and the stiffness in your body, as if pleading with yourself to stop. He had never seen you cry. Come to think of it, he had never seen you sad. And it was then that he realized that he had never seen you sad because you tended to turn that sadness into anger. You turned your tears into insults and your wounds into punches because it was easier that way. He realized that you weren't as invincible as he thought. You weren't some fearless, perpetually angry girl who finished every fight she started. You were human, you were vulnerable. And this revelation made him feel better, as much as he hated to say it. Because he had always felt incredibly inferior to you. He felt inferior when he saw you speaking to your other friends at the park or the library. He felt inferior when he saw your family,  two brothers and a father (all of which seemed to speak in grunts and were constantly shoving food into their mouths whenever Spencer saw them). No matter how cave-man-like your family was, they were there. They were present. They weren't grabbing your shoulders, screaming about aliens, or the government, or tiny microscopic societies that he couldn't see- something Diana did often. He felt inferior when you stood up for yourself, or for him, when you weren't afraid to tell people to shut up, or ask for help, which was something he could never quite bring himself to do.

And this, these tears, these insecurities, brought you down to his level, gave you a fall from grace that was just enough to make him brave, even if it was for a split second, to grab your shoulder, and pull you into his embrace. His hug was bony. He smelled like cheap laundry detergent, lemon shampoo, and a bit of sweat. He had begun growing, just the tiniest bit, that year and it was enough to put you both at the same height. Two ten year olds standing in front of that allegedly haunted house, a scrawny little boy with a brain far too big for his own good and a girl who had been previously crying but was now just standing there, stunned, unsure of what to do in Spencer's embrace.

"What are you doing?" And for once you weren't loud. You weren't loud, or obnoxious, or confident. Your voice was tiny, small, and confused, because Spencer didn't like touching, and neither did you, really. You didn't hug each other. You gave each other high-fives, or fist bumps, or small nudges to the other in greetings or farewells, but never hugs.

Spencer didn't move, keeping his stance the same, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his cheek to your shoulder. "Why am I your friend? Why are you mine? Everyone in town thinks I'm weird, and they tease you just for being my friend. Why put up with that? Why be friends with the kid who has to make multiple trips to the library each week and gets upset when he has to return them? Why be friends with the kid who can't even act like a kid. I get along better with adults, and those are the ones who don't talk about me behind my back. Why are you friends with me? Because I'll tell you why I'm friends with you. Because you ask me to explain things to you a million times, because you care so much about what I'm saying that you want to understand it too, even if its boring or complicated. You listen when I talk about nerdy things, and you ask my mom how she's doing- you aren't afraid of her like every other kid in your grade."

Your tears had stopped now, and you weren't entirely sure if it was due to the shock of Spencer hugging you or the shock of Spencer practically yelling as he let go of you, grabbing you by the shoulders and looking you in the eye.

"You're my best friend, and I'm sorry I said this was stupid. I would much rather do a million stupid things with you than be a genius alone."

He was a little breathless at the end of it, eyes still glued onto your face for some kind of sign that you weren't still sad, or angry. But it was blank, and suddenly his mind was rewinding through everything he said. Did he say something wrong? And just as he was going to apologize profusely for hugging you, you were pulling him into your own embrace. You were strong, his body hitting yours with a thud. You smelled like mechanical oil, probably from your dad's garage, and a hint of vanilla. Your hair, collected into a pony tail, though baby hairs clung to your forehead in a pool of sweat, brushed his nose and tickled his nostrils. You squeezed him when you hugged him and he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you in reassurance. He had never had a friend apart from you, never had a person to tell about his day, about his dreams, about the weird thing he read that day. He had you, and he didn't now what life would be like without you, but the thought scared him. It terrified him to think about a future without you in it, and so he clung to you tighter.

"Let's go home. Nothin' special about this house, anyways." You pulled away, elbowing him lightly in the ribs, the tiniest of smiles on your face and he beamed, because he did that. He made you smile.

"Eh, I thought it was pretty cool." Spencer said with a shrug, walking back to the bike.

-

QUANTICO, January 2012

The plane ride back from the case was bumpy, turbulence instantly shaking the large aircraft, causing it to be physically impossible for the team to sleep on the way home- well, unless you were Rossi. You could swear that David Rossi could sleep through just about everything. After grabbing his usual drink from the jet bar, the old man had chosen his usual window seat, only a couple rows back from where you sat with JJ, Derek, and Emily, snoring peacefully within twenty minutes.

You groaned in envy, tilting your head back to rest on the cushion as you did so. The blonde to your left chuckled at your dramatics, having gotten used to your behavior by now, Derek and Emily in tow. The three were the trio you had found yourself most acquainted with on the team, well, them and Penelope. You had a soft spot in your heart for the quirky technical analyst, the woman all but forcing herself into your life by digging through your personal files and inviting herself over for breakfast before long cases. How strange it had been to open the door to your apartment and find Penelope and Derek on the other side.

"Good morning!"

Your hair was sticking up in about twenty different directions, something the two agents found rather astounding, but chose not to comment on. At the office you were...put-together, to say the least. You were professional, a military woman through and through. You showed up to work early, your paperwork was always done, your shirts were always ironed, your laces were always tied. Penelope would argue that she never saw you blink- something that had made Derek laugh and JJ roll her eyes at, but Emily secretly agreed, because, man, did you?

At this point you had only been working for the BAU for a week or so, and still, they knew nothing about you. And so, here she was, gift-basket in hand while Derek carried along three steaming hot lattes that you could smell even from this distance.

Your eyebrows knitted together, head tilting in a manner that was scarily akin to their boy wonder- another thing they chose not to comment on. After that first day, the introduction between the two that had gone very strangely and the obvious avoidance on both of their parts, the team had chosen to skirt around the Reid boy and the Y/L/N girl. Things like that had a way of working themselves out. Besides, it hadn't affected their work and so personal matters were to remain...well, personal.

"Uh, good morning?" You stepped aside, allowing the two agents to enter your apartment. It was a one-bedroom, close to work so the commute wasn't too bad, and extremely empty. Penelope could've guessed it would be that way before entering. Your desk was the same way, only a picture of what she assumed was your dad and your brothers and you in your uniform to adorn your small space. Furniture, a lonely sofa, beige and boring, and a coffee table severely lacking anything other than a newspaper that Derek could see was three days old. The crossword section was flipped open, only three words filled out. Strewn across the floor were boxes, emptied out, mostly, but the few that remained full were labeled 'BOOKS' and 'SUMMER ClOTHES". The latter gave the two agents a headache, the very action of attempting to envision you in anything other than your usual jeans, leather jacket, and boots too difficult for their brains to process.

Your apartment was pristine, another thing that was predictable. It smelled of coffee, and as the three agents ventured further into the apartment, it was apparent as to the source of the smell; a half-empty pot sitting on the marble countertops.

"I'm sorry there isn't breakfast, if I would've known you were coming over I would've made...cereal."

Derek's eyebrows scrunched at the food choice and you let out an awkward chuckle.

"I can't cook. I'm horrible, like, burn down the house horrible." Your hand grabbed the coffee he was extending, giving a grateful nod as you looked to Penelope.

"Sorry for the short notice-"

"No notice, actually." You corrected with a smirk, eyes looking over the rim of the coffee lid as you took a sip.

"Right- no notice. I just, I figured if I gave you notice it would give you a chance to say no, and that's fine! if you want us to leave or anything we can, but we really need more women in the office and you seem like some badass, aviator wearing, leather jacket having, military chick and I really feel like we cold be good friends! I always text back, and I, for one, am I a good cook, so I can help you with that...oh, and I am amazing at remembering birthdays! I brought a gift basket too! I wasn't sure if you liked chocolate, or cheese, or fruit, this has all three-"

"Give her a second, babygirl." The Morgan shook his head, throwing a look to you. It was kind, an understanding look that meant he understood just how overwhelming his blonde counterpart could be but but also pleaded for understanding. Understanding of how Penelope was, of how good of a friend she could be.

But he didn't need to do that.

He didn't need to ask you to understand, or to be patient, or to give someone a chance  He didn't need to because she reminded you all too much of a scrawny little kid with his nose in a book, a mouth far too smart for his own good, and a lack of any defense system.

The paper cup landed onto the countertop gently as you placed it down, arms crossing over themselves.  Your arms were a bit chilled, nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts worn to bed, and a lazy smile quirked at the corner of your lips at the strange, kind, lovely blonde before you.

"I like cheese and chocolate and fruit."  Penelope visibly relaxed at the comment. "Stay, I'm in need of some good friends."

"I'm tired." You mumbled grumpily, chin coming to rest on your hand.

JJ snorted, digging further into the small bag of chips she had managed to snag from the vending machine at the airport before the jet had taken off. "You could sleep."

With a click of your tongue, you smiled sarcastically, nodding your head. "Good idea, I didn't think about that." As another snore reached your ears, you tossed a glare back to the sleeping Rossi, rolling your eyes. "Jesus, does he have to rub it in?" You snapped.

Emily tucked a curl behind her ear, cracking a grin. "You can sleep when you get home, the flight's only three hours out."

"No, because when I get home I have to shower first, the plane makes me feel gross." Your shoulders gave way to a shiver that made Derek laugh. "Should I sleep or should I shower? I could sleep in the shower- but I'm also hungry."

A light tap on your forearm alerted you to the chip bag being shoved onto you, an offering by the Jareau woman. Perhaps if you hadn't known her for as long as you had- which, admittedly still wasn't that long, but you digressed- you would have taken one. Yes, JJ was offering, but JJ and her chips was not a love you came between and if you took one now she would tell you that you owed her a chip bag when you next passed a vending machine and the woman, small and kind as she was, was not as forgiving when it came to being owed chips.

With a tired wave of your hand you stood, stretching your arms for a moment, fingertips grazing the jet ceiling, before turning on your heel. "I'm gonna go find some peanuts or something."

You made your way to the back of the jet, toward the coffee machine station and bar set up. Cabinets above and below the both of them had you suspecting that there was a secret stash of peanuts- or, perhaps, a five-course meal that no one else knew about. Day-dreaming of a roasted turkey and baked Mac and cheese you hardly noticed a person exit the bathroom as you searched the cabinets. At the exact moment they had, the jet hit a spot of turbulence.

Your body, too tired to react quickly enough, lurched backward, directly into the body behind you.

Spencer yelped quietly, reacting on instinct and grabbing your body. The momentum of your body in addition to the swing of the jet had him stumbling into the wall, his hands securely around your waist, body pressed tightly against yours.

His touch wasn't foreign, perhaps that was why you stilled the way you did. As if you were frozen in an instant, neither of you moved as the plane shook for a moment, righting itself almost immediately and leaving the two of you staring, eyes entranced in one another.

For you, it was his touch. His touch that made you still, his touch that made you forget the search for food, the whines of exhaustion, the impatience to go home. His touch, one you knew quite well as a child, one you associated with friendship, childhood, and safety. One you associated with trust, and companionship. One that was returned to you in an instant, a feeling that you forgot after all these years- no, not forgot. You hadn't forgotten his touch, or, at least, your body hadn't. No, your body remembered Spencer Reid quite well. Your body remembered climbing into Spencer Reid's window, your hands calloused and hardened from the long climb to the top of the tree beside it. Your body remembered biking around town with him, thighs and calves burning as you pushed yourself harder, the amount of books he had loaded onto your bike because his couldn't fit all of them on his own weighing you down. Your body remembered bloodied knuckles, busted lips, or black eyes, all of them your victory trophies because you were hotheaded, impulsive, and protective when the other children had something to say about him.

And he stilled because of your scent. As strange as it sounded, it hadn't changed after all these years. Unlike you, his mind hadn't tricked him into forgetting it. He didn't think it was possible for him to ever forget it. Mechanical oil and a hint of vanilla. It enveloped him like a warm blanket, a large tidal wave of the familiar scent hanging in the air, threatening to overtake him until the wave broke and it pulled him under with it. The scent consumed him, filling his nostrils, overtaking his senses and for a moment it was too much. It was too much for his brain to process because one moment he was walking out of the bathroom and the next you were in his arms and he was catching you.

You didn't know what to say. What was there to say? You missed him. You saw him at work everyday, you passed by him when you dropped off paperwork to Hotchner, you nodded at him in passing, and you stumbled into him when the jet hit an air pocket. How could you miss him if you did all of that, every single day?

But Spencer Reid was a person to be missed. Spencer Reid was a person you thought about. You thought about him every day, every hour, every minute, because how could you not? How could you just pretend you didn't know him? The boy who read you Sherlock Holmes on hot summer days, or slow danced with you in your father's basement? The boy who gave you pinky promises and made wishes on stars, and taught you the constellations. A boy you had known was extraordinary from the beginning and had turned out to be just that? A boy who was no longer a boy anymore, because the world didn't take well to boys with exceptional minds and sick mothers, the world turned boys like that into men, men who were different, even if just a little bit. That little bit was enough to let all the fears flood back in, the fears of the ordinary, the fears of not being enough. The fears that were solidified in your not-so-welcome welcoming.

The memory coursed through your veins, activating them as if it had been a shot of adrenaline.

Clearing your throat, you moved, standing up properly, pushing yourself out of his embrace and crossing your arms. "Thanks. Turbulence caught me off guard there."

For a moment he had you, just you and him and then you had turned to sand in his hands and once again he was losing you. Your expression had hardened. In another lifetime he had been the one to soften you, a person who had been able to break down those walls you worked so hard to build, but now he was the one locked out.

"What we really need to worry about are microbursts - a sudden downburst of air associated with thunderstorms - but small craft like this one, if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude..." He was rambling at this moment, rambling so badly he wished he could stop but he couldn't. His hands mimicked an explosion, his voice coming out much smaller, more reluctant. "Get pulverized."

Spencer Reid didn't like being vulnerable. And that's what he was around you, vulnerable. And being vulnerable did things to him, made him say things and do things that make him embarrassed, or ashamed, or even feel guilty. Just as he started to simultaneously feel all three of these things, you did something he hadn't quite expected.

You laughed.

"Jeez, Sherlock, ever so morbid, aren't you?" It was a soft chuckle, a tiny little snort, short-lived and gone in an instant, but it was enough to make Spencer grin.

His lips parted to respond. What he was going to say, he didn't know- something, anything- but, he never got to find out.

The pilot bell dinged over the speaker system.

"Passengers, this is your Pilot speaking. There are rough windstorms ahead, I'm receiving advisement to land immediately, please buckle your seatbelts, this will be a rough landing."

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[mrsseverussnape]

Love Is You - chapter 6

a/n: Are you seeing these posts? If not i don’t wanna spend my time editing the fanfiction for nothing…

    The familiar knock on the door woke Scarlett up in the morning. It was none other than Severus Snape. He was standing there with their breakfast.

"Did i wake you up...?"

"Yeah..." Scarlett murmured sleepily. "Whatever come in."

"Sorry, i thought you'd be awake..." he put the plates on the table.

"The pills make me sleepy all the time... You help yourself, i will be back." She headed to the bathroom.

While he was pouring tea into the cups, she came back and sat down the chair.

"I went to the owlery earlier and there were couple of letters for you so i took them, here."

"Oh thanks."

She looked through them; Leo, Carina, dad... and there was a package. She wondered who sent it so ripped it open since there was no name tag on it. There was a grey cardigan and a note inside of the package, she immediately recognized the cardigan because it was hers. She was very confused, so she picked up the note and read it.

~

I didn't have any thick clothes with me that night and after Sirius and his warmness left me all alone in the cold bed, i had to borrow that from your wardrobe. You lost your husband but you can have your cardigan back.

Love, Arabelle

~

Scarlett took the cardigan and the note and threw them into the fireplace while tears running down on her cheeks.

"How dare she!?" She punched the wall next to the fireplace and fell down the floor crying hysterically. Severus run up to her immediately; he was shocked at her reaction, that was so out of character.

"Scarlett, Scar calm down. What's wrong?"

"I want to kill her!" She was screaming and crying with anger. "I hate her! She ruined everything!" She was digging her long nails into her palms as she clenched her fists.

Severus was so confused and worried at the same time. He hasn’t seen her like this before and he wasn't sure what to do because clearly talking wouldn't work at that moment so he just held her close to calm her down. Scarlett was resistant at first but after a while she leant into him and just cried her eyes out until there was no tear to shed. Sometime have passed like that and finally she was no longer crying and moved away from his embrace slowly.

"I am sorry, that was so pathetic of me..." She whispered while looking away from him.

"There is no need to apologize Scarlett." He stood up and gave her a hand then he led her to the table.

"I feel so ashamed... I can't control myself at all..."

He poured some fresh tea for her and sat back down.

"Why do you feel ashamed? You just express your emotions that way and if it relaxes you, do it."

"I have bad thoughts all over my mind Severus... i don't even know what am i gonna do next. I am scared of myself..."

"Talk through them with me."

She took a sip from her tea and thought for a while. "Did Carina tell you anything? Be honest with me."

"No, not at all. She just said family issues and i didn't question it any further."

"I don't know where to start, so many things happened lately... like i can't perceive them at all." sighed deeply, Scarlett was feeling so distressed she was still shaking from the crying.

"Start with the easiest one for you."

"I am no longer the deputy minister, i quit."

"I read that in newspaper and i was surprised actually."

"It wasn't an easy decision. I love... loved my job and it was a good way to show my abilities but... i had to quit."

"Did you get a better offer from somewhere else?"

"Oh, i wish..." she smiled sadly "I am unemployed right now." She saw the confused look on his face. "And here is the shitty part..." she finished off her tea, hoping it would ease her a bit. But unfortunately, it didn't. She was scratching her hands unwittingly. Severus knew something bad was coming, this was never a good sign.

"He, Sirius, umm... cheated on me..." she bit her lip to stop herself from crying once again but the tears didn't want to stay in their places but run down on her cheeks. "With his co-worker... i caught them in our bed..."

Severus couldn't believe the things he just heard. Sirius literally would kill himself to be with Scarlett when he was young and when he finally had her, he cheated. Severus regretted his decision that he made 30 years ago, he shouldn't have believed Sirius. While he was busy with his thoughts, Scarlett continued.

"We divorced 10 days ago. 26 years of marriage ended in half an hour... and like this wasn't bad enough, after the court i came across with "the girl" and she humiliated me in front of many people. And the package was from her. She has borrowed my cardigan that night because after i interrupted their hot action, she was cold." Her anger was rising, and her face was turning red at the same time. "She wrote me that i lost my husband but i can take my cardigan back." She laughed angrily and then started to cry helplessly once again.

Severus was so angry and just wanted to find Sirius and put him in his place. Seeing Scarlett like this broke his heart into pieces but he didn't know what to do to make her feel any better. He could see her pain through her beautiful eyes. He would give anything to see them shine with happiness again.

"I am standing on a very thin line, if i let myself fall which i am close to... i won't be able to recover from this at all or it will be so hard... I don't want it Severus..." her voice had such a pleading tone and she was literally screaming for help.

"I am here for you Scarlett, whatever you want or need i will always be there to help you."

He was dying to hug her tightly and kiss her pain away. She was the only one he ever loved and his love for her never changed over years.

"Thank you, Severus." She smiled faintly.

He watched her while she was taking her pills with shaky hands.

"Would you like to do something today?" He felt like he needs to take her out of this room, she was stuck between the walls for days and it wasn’t helping her a bit.

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, we can go for a walk to Hogsmade?"

She thought about it for couple of minutes.

"We can do that, maybe being outside will be good for me."

"Good then. I will be in my room, when you are ready just knock on my door." He picked up the breakfast dishes and left.

Scarlett sat on the chair for a while before starting to get ready. She thought about Severus, when he was here with her she felt so comfortable even speaking about such hard topics for her. He always made her feel so calm and peaceful. But another side of her was still hurt by him. She decided not to think about that now, there were already man problems in her life.

Some time has passed, and she was knocking on his door. He opened it with a tiny smile on his lips.

"Sorry it took a little longer, apparently i forgot how to dress up since the only thing i wear was sleeping gowns for weeks..."

"It's okay and you look beautiful whatever you wear." The sentence did slip from his mouth before he thought, he blushed a little after he noticed what he just said.

"Thank you, Severus."

She smiled lightly and the two walked out from the castle to Hogsmade. It was a chill November day, just like Scarlett likes it. She was a total winter person and the cold weather always made her feel better and alive. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.

"I was thinking the old days, i have never imagined that we would be on our way to Hogsmade in our 50s."

He chuckled softly. "But here we are. Just like we used to do while we were at Hogwarts."

"I would like to live a day from those good old times."

"We can live like one. First we go to Honeydukes and get your chocolates then we have our hot chocolates at Three Broomsticks and talk."

"Sounds good to me!"

He was happy to see her all excited about such a simple day. They walked the roads they knew so well, got her favourite chocolates and now they were enjoying their drinks.

"You never talked about your life, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing much. Just working and dealing with dunderheads..."

"I hope you are not calling my daughter a dunderhead." She joked.

"I wouldn't hire her as my assistant if I thought so."

"Ah good to hear that because she really likes you, you were always her favourite professor. She would be sad if you called her a dunderhead."

"Carina was my favourite student to be honest. She was such a good student."

"Like mother like daughter." She grinned proudly and flipped her hair.

"I see you very humble."

She chuckled softly while slapping his arm jokingly. Severus grinned at her, that was his Scarlett and he was glad to see her happy. They kept talking about random stuff and spent some more time at Hogsmade. They were back at Hogwarts before it got dark.

"Thank you so much for today Severus, i feel so much better." She smiled at him before she entered her room.

"It's my pleasure, i am here if you need anything."

"Thank you again, see you tomorrow."

"See you."

He walked into his room as well and laid down on his bed thinking about her. His heart was beating like a teenage boy who was back from his first date. She was right here, so close but yet again he couldn't hold her, couldn't inhale her sweet rose scent, couldn't kiss her delicate lips...

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me know!

[jenchase]

You're the one that I want

Can I interest anyone in a 2k Shoni High School AU in which Shelby plays Sandy in a performance of Grease? Also available on AO3 right here:

Toni is not a musical theatre kid, she is not even a fan. But, well, Shelby is. So when auditions for the spring play production of Grease come around and her best friend unsurprisingly gets the part of Sandy, the pure joy on Shelby’s face is enough for her to know she will be watching every single one of her performances. And when they find out, not a minute later, that Andrew, Shelby’s asshole of an ex-boyfriend, got the part of Danny, Toni without hesitation signs up to help out behind the scenes, so Shelby will not be forced to spend time with him on her own.

The weeks leading up to opening night are both Toni’s best and worst weeks of her life. Shelby only broke up with Andrew shortly before the production started, so Toni takes full advantage of the fact that she finally gets to spend time with her best friend again. However, Andrew is dead set on getting Shelby back and uses every opportunity to rehearse with her one on one. “You know, just so we have the appropriate chemistry on stage.” He claims and it makes Toni want to puke. As lame as Andrew’s attempts are, Shelby always seems to find a way to include Toni in the “scene rehearing processes”, which makes him behave as best as he can. Toni has broken his nose before and at this point, the whole school knows that she is not hesitant to do it again. In fact, there are a couple of times Shelby actively has to keep Toni from punching Andrew, when he makes a particularly stupid comment or claims that Danny should definitely be touching Sandy for some ridiculous reason. Their drama teacher, Ms Klein, reminds him that Danny and Sandy must not touch until the grand finale of the show to build up and keep the romantic tension and Toni cannot remember a time she has been more grateful for their teacher’s artistic “visions”.

The night before opening night Toni lays in her bed, wide awake and anxious. Which is absolutely ridiculous, she thinks, because she is not even going to be on stage herself and all she will really have to do during the performance is check that all the probs are where they should be backstage. But Toni also knows she is not nervous about what she will have to do tomorrow, but rather, what Shelby will have to do. It is her first leading role and Toni really wants her to nail it. Which she definitely will. Toni has seen her act at rehearsals and while she might not know shit about musical theatre, she knows that Shelby is the best actress and singer their school has seen since probably ever.

But fuck, why does the whole thing have to involve kissing Andrew? Toni really thought that her days of being jealous of that asshole were over, but here we go again.

Right before her thoughts can go spiraling down a path of trying to figure out ways to take Andrew’s place instead, Toni hears her phone vibrate on the nightstand.

Shelby: You awake?

Toni: Yeah, but why are you?

Shelby: Can’t sleep, can I call?

Instead of texting her back, Toni calls her best friend who picks up after the first ring.

“Hey,” Shelby says and sounds a little breathless.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Toni asks as she sits up in her bed.

“Nothing, nothing, just… nervous, I guess?” She hears the other girl take a deep breath. “I’m just a little scared that I’ll screw up.”

“No reason for that.” Toni answers quickly and adds with all the certainty in her voice. “Cause you won’t.”

She can practically envision how Shelby is starting to protest on the other end of the phone, so she does not even let her say anything. “And I do know that. You wanna know why?”

It takes a moment before Toni hears Shelby’s hesitant “yeah” over the line.

“Because you’ve rehearsed so much for this that you do not only know all of your lines by heart, but the whole fucking play. You could do all the dances if being dragged out the bed at 3am, which I know because you made me fucking do that to you.”

She hears Shelby giggling quietly and cannot help the smile that spreads over her face.

“So yeah, there is no way that you’ll screw things up tomorrow. You’re so well prepared, there could be an earthquake during the performance and you’d still nail it.”

“Thank you, Toni.” Shelby says and to Toni’s relief sounds a bit calmer.

“And you know what. Even in the one to a billion chance that you do mess up, it’s not going to be a big deal, okay? You’re just human and we fuck up all the time. It’s not going to make you any less of a great performer and it sure as hell doesn’t make you any less of a great person. Puke on stage, for all I care, I’m still going to be your number one fan.”

Both of them stay quiet for what feels like an eternity to Toni. So long she starts to fear she has overstepped the line of platonic love and accidentally let Shelby know that she feels way more for her than a best friend should. Her heart feels like it is beating out of her chest when Shelby speaks up.

“I love you, Toni.”

“I love you, too.” She answers without hesitation but knowing full well that they do not mean the sentiment in the same way. “You think, you can sleep now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Shelby says after a pause.

“Okay, good.”

Neither of them hang up the phone and Toni is just content listening to Shelby’s steady breathing on the other end of the line, letting the familiar sound calm her.

“Thank you, Toni.” She mumbles and Toni can tell she is about to fall asleep.

“Anytime.” She nearly whispers into the phone and waits until Shelby’s breath sounds deeper and there is a little thud indicating that her phone probably dropped onto her pillow before she hangs up and goes to sleep herself.

***

Shelby nails it and Toni even has to discreetly wipe away some tears after watching her perform “Hopelessly Devoted to You” from the side of the stage.

She is so enamored by Shelby’s on-stage presence, she does not even realize when the girl is walking directly towards her after her last solo performance in the play.

“Come on.” The blonde grabs her by the writs and drags her along to her changing room. “I need your help to get into all that leather.”

She trips over her own feet and nearly falls on her face even though this should have not even been a surprise to her since she knew Shelby made her personally responsible to help out with costume changes. Toni tries her very best to not look and keep her thoughts at a best friend appropriate level while she helps Shelby into her leather pants.

Fucking leather pants. Jesus Christ.

“How do I look?” Shelby asks nervously, looking at herself in a mirror and ruffling through her own hair to make it look messier.

“Hot.” Toni answers quickly without thinking.

It is not like she has not seen Shelby in this outfit before. She helped picking it out for crying out loud, but Shelby is oozing with confidence right now and she has been amazing throughout the whole play and Toni is just so fucking proud of and very much in love with her. Who could blame her for losing it a little bit.

“Way too good for Andrew.” She says still impulsive but significantly quieter and definitely not with the intention to have Shelby pick it up.

She knows Shelby heard her anyways when she meets the blonde’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“I’m not trying to look good for Andrew.” She starts and Toni immediately shakes her head.

“No, I know, of course not.” And Toni, still without a filter as it seems, adds, “I just hate that he gets to kiss you soon.”

Shelby raises her eyebrow at her and this end-of-play-Sandy confidence is truly doing nothing to help Toni think straight.

“You jealous?” Her best friend asks her and Toni cannot tell if she is joking or not.

Not that it would matter because Toni’s “yeah” slips out before she can fully process the gravity of the situation.

It is not until Shelby turns around and towers over Toni, with the added height from the heels she is now wearing, that Toni understands what she just admitted.

Her heart rate quickens and she knows her face is as red as Shelby’s lipstick.

“I-“ she starts, ready to take it back and apologize but Shelby interrupts her.

“You have nothing to be worried about.”

Toni stares at her with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth, uncertain what exactly she means with that statement.

“Shelby, you ready? You’re up in a minute!” They hear Leah, the stage manager, yell into the changing room.

Toni swears she sees Shelby’s gaze drop to her lips before she steps away and follows Leah back to the main stage. Still in a haze, Toni trails behind them.

She is even more focused on Shelby for the rest of the play, only looking away when she knows it is time for the kiss between Danny and Sandy.

They get standing ovations and Toni’s hands start hurting from how hard she claps them together when Shelby’s name is called and the audience goes just as crazy as she does. And because she is absolutely whipped for the other girl, she even lets her drag out when they call her name for the behind the scenes credit. She flees the stage after a quick awkward wave at the audience and an attemptto bow and rushes to pick up her opening night gift for Shelby which she carefully hid in an unknown corner behind the stage.

Toni does not move back to her regular place at the side entrance to the stage where she knows all the actors are going to leave soon to head to the dressing rooms. Instead, she stays at the back, carefully watching the crowd of performers for Shelby.

She is one of the last people to leave the stage, together with Andrew, who tries to get her attention but the Shelby seems more interested in looking around in search of Toni. She smiles brightly when she spots her and makes her way over, not giving Andrew a second glance, who thankfully and finally acknowledges his defeat and walks to the dressing rooms.

Toni’s heart leaps in her chest, as her best friend comes closer and for a second she thinks the bouquet of Shelby’s favorite flowers was a really bad idea, especially with the potentially friendship ending behavior she has displayed earlier.

“What are you doing back here?” Shelby asks with a puzzled look but an unwavering smile.

Toni’s words get stuck in her throat and before she can chicken out, she brings out the flowers from behind her back and holds them out to Shelby.

“You were great.” She miraculously manages to get out and takes a little pride in the way Shelby’s cheeks turn red.

She takes them from Toni with all the tenderness in the world but holds them to the side to pull Toni in for a hug.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Toni says with her head buried in Shelby’s neck.

“Come on.” Shelby says and for the second time tonight drags her to her dressing room.

With the brighter light and lack of time pressure, because Shelby does not have to be on stage again in a couple of minutes, Toni cannot help but take in Shelby’s entire appearance with more detail. All that leather clearly distracts her enough to miss how Shelby locked the door and by the time Toni’s eyes reach her face, she knows she has been caught.

“Are you going to help me out of these? Or would you rather keep staring?”

Toni is sure that the amount of blood rushing to her face right now is enough to make her head explode. She panics before she can see the smug smile on Shelby’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Shelby.” She looks everywhere but at her best friend. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m gonna go.” She says quickly and heads to the door with a lowered head.

Unfortunately, Shelby is blocking her escape route and contrary to what Toni expected, the blonde does not seem to want her to leave at all if pressing her up against the door is any indication for that.

“Shelby?” Toni creaks out and does not even recognize her own voice with her best friend staring her down intensely.

“You know, for someone who used to talk a whole lot about their flirting game, you sure are oblivious to it.” She says, pinning Toni to the wall with her hands on her hips and their faces mere inches apart.

With Shelby’s warm breath hitting her face, Toni is too paralyzed to do anything but stare at the lips she has wanted to kiss for so long now.

Shelby starts leaning in and Toni is pretty sure her heart has stopped beating at this point. She closes her eyes as their lips meet in the faintest brush and nearly whimpers as Shelby moves them from her mouth over her right cheek to her ear.

“Don’t you get it.” She whispers and shivers run across Toni’s entire body. “You’re the one that I want.”

[ayleecambell]

Strangers in the Night

Secret Santa Fic!

Completely AU

jeronicasecretsanta20 @ jeronicanation

This SS gift is for: @half-ok

I hope you enjoy your gift!! 

This has not been beta'd.

~~

Veronica gets the text as soon as Chad gets up to go to the bathroom. 

Cheryl: I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news. Normally I'd tell you in person but I feel like you need to know now rather than later. Brace yourself, a picture is worth a thousand words:

[Picture of Chad and Jessica together, the two in the middle of having sex.]

Cheryl: This was from this morning while you were at yoga.

Veronica: That fucking bastard. 

Cheryl: Let me know if you need help hiding the body.

Veronica: Will do girl. 

When Chad gets back from the bathroom Veronica is sitting calmly at the table, tapping her nails along with the beat from the music playing overhead. 

“Hey Babe, I was thinking-” He starts, sliding back into the booth.

Veronica holds up a hand, cutting off his words. Her smile is sharp as she pulls her phone out and shows him the picture she received from Cheryl. 

“We’re done.” She says and stands up with her purse in her hand.

“Babe-” Chad starts and Veronica interrupts again.

“You fucked my roommate, in my apartment, this morning while I was at yoga. Luckily for me and unluckily for you Cheryl didn’t feel up to it this morning so she stayed home. How stupid are you that didn’t think I would eventually find out?” Veronica demands.

“It was only this once!” Chad tries to defend but she waves it away. 

“I don’t care. We are done and I want nothing to do with you.” Veronica says, stepping away from the table before turning and walking away. She’ll call an uber once she gets outside. 

Chad follows behind her. 

"Ronnie it was a mistake! If you'd just let me explain-" Chad whines behind her and Veronica spins around on her heels so she can look at him.

"Explain what? A mistake? A mistake is maybe a kiss. You don’t fuck someone by mistake. What do you think you can possibly say right now that will make me forgive you or forget what you did?" Veronica demands, looking him in the eyes.

Chad sputters, obviously trying to think of something to say but not able to come up with an argument he thinks will work. 

Veronica scoffs and rolls her eyes as she twirls around to strut angrily away. 

"Wait no, Veronica." Chad finally finds his voice and goes after her. When he's close enough he grabs her arm and tugs her back towards him. “Just listen to me!” He demands angrily.

She rips her arm out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!"

She’s about two seconds from punching him in the face for touching her when someone comes to her defense.

"Hey!" A male voice snaps from behind her and for a moment all Veronica can see is black and green leather. 

A stranger has just put himself in between her and Chad.

Since she's currently staring at his back all she knows about him is that he's part of a motorcycle gang called the Serpents, has raven black hair (that looks messy but good), he's taller than her even in her 4 inch heels, and he really seems to have a problem with Chad putting his hands on her.

All in all, so far she likes what she's seeing.

Still, she has never been a damsel in distress and she isn't starting now. 

Veronica takes a step to the side so she's no longer behind him but beside him instead. From there she watches the show, ready to step in if she needs to. 

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to never put your hands on a woman?" Jughead demands angrily, getting into Chad’s face.

He doesn’t know much about the situation, but he knows this guy looks like a douche and the woman had made it very clear she didn't want anything to do with him.

That's really all he needed to know to step in.

Chad sneers. “Stay out of this loser, it doesn’t concern you!” 

“I’m making it my concern. You want people to stay out of your business? Then don’t have your fights in public places where people can teach you some proper manners.” Jughead snaps.

“This is between Veronica and I, stay out of it.” Chad demands. 

Jughead turns to look at Veronica and green eyes meet black eyes. 

“Do you want to talk to him?” He asks her.

“No. I think I’ve made it clear I want nothing more to do with him. He seems to have a problem understanding basic reasoning.” Veronica tells him while smirking.

Jughead grins at her. “I can see why that might be a problem.”

Veronica can’t help but smile back at him.

“Hey!” Chad interrupts them. “Are you two flirting right now? Really? Right in front of me?” 

Veronica rolls her eyes and looks at him. “We just broke up because you fucked my roommate on my kitchen counter. I can do whatever the fuck I want and yes, that means I am flirting in front of you right now.”

“Shit.” Jughead mutters. “You really fucked up.” He says looking at Chad. 

“Shut up.” Chad tells Jughead, who shrugs and shakes his head, then Chad looks back at Veronica. “Ronnie-” He tries again.

Veronica snorts. “Just stop. There is literally nothing you can say to make this situation better. Just walk away.” 

Chad looks at Jughead. “I know what will make me feel better.” 

Jughead shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He knows exactly what’s going to happen which makes dodging the punch Chad throws at him pretty easy. 

“Seriously?” Veronica asks no one as she backs up. She knows better than to get between two guys in a bar fight. 

Besides, Chad has never been a good fighter. She’d bet on the biker guy any day before she bet on Chad winning. 

It takes Jughead exactly 30 seconds to end the fight by punching Chad in the face. 

---

After the bar kicks Chad out, Veronica buys Jughead and his friends, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Toni drinks to apologize for the drama. 

Jughead and Veronica are sitting next to each other in the curved booth, her thigh lined up against his, and she’s telling them the entire sordid tale of her relationship with Chad and taking their teasing with a shrug and a shot of rum. 

“His name was Chad! How did you not know he was a douche?” Sweet Pea teases. 

“Hey now! He was charming when we met! Besides, can any of you really be judging names? Jughead, Fangs, Sweet Pea? Are those your real names by the way?” 

“You’ll have to find out.” Toni teases. “We don’t just tell our secrets to strangers.” 

“Not even strangers that buy your drinks?” Veronica teases back. 

“Not even. You gotta earn it.” Fangs tells her with a smile.

“Right, well, we need more shots then.” Veronica says with a returning smile as she catches their server’s eye so she can order another round. 

---

Jughead isn’t sure how it happened exactly but when the group leaves the bar, Veronica is riding on the back of his bike. 

They’re all walking out of the bar a little tipsy but no one was drunk and they made sure to space out the drinking with food and water. They all knew better then to ride a motorcycle drunk. 

He’s holding Veronica’s hand as he leads her outside. He doesn’t know when they started holding hands or who reached for the other first, he just knows they’ve been doing it for hours now and neither one of them have wanted to let go. 

He’s been keeping an eye on her and other than the two shots of rum earlier she’s been drinking water. So he knows that she’s not holding his hand to help keep her balance. She hasn’t wavered a bit even in those heels. 

There’s a pang of disappointment that after they leave tonight he’ll most likely never see her again. 

"I can drop you off somewhere. Your apartment or at a friend's place?" Jughead offers Veronica as Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni split off to get on their bikes and head back to their campground for the night.

"I share an apartment with Jessica and Cheryl. The absolute last place I want to be right now is there until Cheryl kicks Jessica out and has a deep clean done on our apartment." Veronica tells him as she stands next to him and watches the others leave. 

He doesn’t know why he even suggests it, but when she turns to look at him and she steps closer to him, invading the little space he had left, it just pops out of his mouth.

"You can come with us?" He offers. "We're going to a rally a few states over. We'll be coming back through here in about two weeks. If you really want to get away for a bit." 

Veronica stares at him for a moment, completely silent and its enough to make his heart race and for him to feel stupid.

Why the hell is he offering for her to come with? They're strangers. She's probably wondering if he's crazy or a murderer or something. 

He’s cursing himself in his head and opens his his mouth to tell her to forget it but then she grins and he's struck speechless.

"Let's do it." Veronica says with a little laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“What?” He can’t help but question it. Is she really going to come with him?

“Let’s do it. I’m not ready for this to end yet.” She tells him.

It's crazy and impulsive and something inside her is telling her she's insane but a bigger part of her is telling her she'll regret it if she doesn't go.

He almost wants to question her or himself. They’re both acting crazy but he doesn’t want her to change her mind. So instead he smiles and leans down and kisses her on the forehead before he grabs her hand again and leads her over to his bike. 

“Get on Princess, and hold tight.” He tells her as he straddles his bike and hands her a helmet to put on. 

Veronica puts the helmet on and then she gets on after him, her front plastered to his back and her arms wrapped snugly around his waist.

“Let’s go Torombolo. Take me away.” Veronica says leaning closer against him so her lips graze his ear as she talks. 

Jughead breathes out a shuttering sigh at the feel of her against him and at her breath against his ear before gripping the handlebars and grinning. After a pause to collect himself, he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.  

[modern-fae-female]

Elorcan Modern AU chapter 3 Lorcan POV

I cant believe this stupid school! Just because if I get one more D I will get cut from the football team. Football is the only way I will get to college by a football scholarship because my grades definitely won’t get me there. Now here I am storming out of the school looking pathetic, but still apparently scary enough that people know to quickly move out of my way. I’m heading out to the football field to complain to Mr. Arboryn about this stupid rule that could get me cut from the team.

“Omph” 

I pushed open, well more like slammed open the front doors, and there was a small girl with dark hair and onyx eyes, who I almost just pushed to the ground. Luckily she managed to balance herself out, but who was this girl. I have been attending the schools in Adarlan school district in elementary school and I knew most people in the school but I had never seen her before. 

“Sorry,” I mubled quickly and quietly not knowing what else to do. I continued off to the football field, still shocked about who the small, pretty girl was. Pretty? When did I decide she was pretty. I mean sure she seemed pretty short which was kinda cute, and her long wavy dark hair down to her waist, her eyes, well ok maybe she was pretty but what does it matter. 

“ Woah, what’s got you in a worse mood than usual?”

I looked up realizing I was almost into the locker rooms and there on my right was Fenrys, one of the other members of the Cadre, fellow football player, and I guess my friend. 

“ None of your business Fen.”

“ Alright, alright. No need to even more moody. Come on lets head to practice and maybe you can work off some of that moodiness to get in a better mood for Maeve.” 

I could hear the slight disgust in his voice when he said Maeve, but I didn’t feel like getting into another argument with him, so I just nodded and continued onto practice. I still couldn’t get who that girl was out of my mind, hopefully practice would help me clear my head. 

During practice I practically went off on a rampage, tackling everyone I could, punching bags after bags, and my hands were practically bruised and bloody by the end. Practice did help me work off the rage of might getting off the team, but yet here I am on my way to history and that little girl is still on my mind. I head into class and sit down, knowing that this class would be boring. A couple minutes into class someone walked in. It was her. The girl who I almost knocked over this morning. The girl who I think is pretty. The girl who I can’t stop thinking about.

“Ah, you must be our new student Elide Lochan.” 

So Elide was her name. It fit her well, I don’t know why but it just did. I didn’t notice I was zoning out until I heard Mr.Allsbrook say my name. 

“Why don’t you take a seat in the back next to Lorcan.” 

She’s coming back here to sit next to me. Just my luck. And yet I can’t stop staring at her. even when she looks at me and we make contact, she looks down to the ground quickly, but I can’t stop staring. While she's walking over here I notice her limping, did I do that this morning. Oh no, I probably did. She probably hates me and that's why as she sits down and class resumes she doesn’t look over to me. I don’t know what to do, I don’t want her to hate me forever. Wait a second, what am I thinking. I have Maeve to think about, I mean I am in love with her and have been for as long as I can remember. Even though she is on and off with the other members of the Cadre I have always loved her and she knows that. So eventually she will have to love me back, right? Right, so why do I feel so guilty about Elide this morning. I decide to write her an apology, maybe this will make the guilt go away and I can stop thinking about her. So I get out a little piece of paper and look back over to her. She is still listening to Mr. Allsbrook and hasn’t looked over to me. 

“Sorry about this morning, I didn’t mean to almost knock you over and storm off.” I think thats good, so I fold it up and pass it over to her. I quickly look back up to the lesson, even though I have no idea what we were going over. I could hear the paper open and her eyes look over to mine, hopefully this would be enough. Eventually class ends and Elide shot up out of her chair and practically ran out of the room. 

“ Oh no, did I somehow upset her even more?”  I think. My heart sunk in my chest as I went to my next period, math class. I head in and there in the back is Maeve beckon me to sit in the empty seat next to her. I felt my heart slightly pick up as I sat next to her. 

“ Lorcan my darling, how have you been?” 

“ Fine” I mumble. 

“ Oh, does something have you down.  Well me and Connall broke up, maybe you want to come over tonight?”

She asked me over, by myself. I had never been over to herself by myself, usually the Cadre or her to dimwit ‘friends’ were over. Normally I would pounce at an opportunity like this, but something made me think about it. I decided to ignore it. 

“ Yeah sure, just tell me what time.”

“ How about 6:30, I can get chef to make us a dinner and we can, you know, hang out.” She said while dragging her nail up my arm. 

I tried to ignore the feeling in my gut and said, “ Yeah, that's fine. I will be there.” The bell rang and class began and ended just as quick. I left and went to my other classes, none with Maeve or Elide, but a couple with the Cadre. The Cadre are the closest things I have to friends, but we don’t usually talk or mess around in class. Finally lunch came and I went to go sit at my usual table with Maeve, her ‘friends’, and the Cadre. I sat down and looked up over to Aelin the bitch’s table and there was Elide. Sitting down right next to the bitch herself with her friends surrounding her. Just great, now I will never get close to her now that shes made herself part of the group. I didn’t realize I was staring at her until Essar asked,” What is so interesting at Aelin’s table Lorcan. See someone you like?” 

“ No, its nothing,” I quickly replied. 

“ Who’s that new girl sitting next to Aelin, I think I had French with her but I forgot her name,” Remelle asked. 

“ I don’t know, probably some new girl who Aelin took in to try and keep away from us. Probably a little bitch like her.” Maeve said

“ Hey, her name is Elide and she is not a bitch,” I quickly replied before having a chance to stop myself. I quickly regretted it as now everyone at the table was staring at me. 

“ Woah, got something with her, I’ve never heard you defend someone like that before,” Fenrys said. 

“ Defiantly not, why would I ever get with a girl like her. I just don’t think we should judge someone too quickly, she might not be a bitch like Aelin and the rest of them.”

“ Ok, fine. But something is up with you about her, and I am going to get to the bottom of it.” Fenrys replied. 

I looked around to see everyone still staring at me still. I quickly looked down and tried to eat my lunch. Tonight couldn’t come quick enough as I needed to get Elide off my mind. 

@elorcan-trash 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Us and Andie Ch. 6

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 4133 words

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“You like him.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“I’ve known him a month!” Y/N shook her head, trying to ignore how ridiculous her friend was being. All she wanted to do was send a ‘goodnight’ text to Andie before she could eat the protein bar she brought for dinner. Tonight, her kid was having a sleepover with Sam, Bucky, and Natasha and when Ciara heard that – all hell broke loose. 

“Tell me, when do you ever trust anyone other than May and Peter to take care of your kid? Now you have a whole team of superheroes and you’re trusting them to not only keep her safe, but to spend time with her. There’s a reason for it. And I think it’s him. Hell, you told him everything that happened with you and Ethan.”

“Even if I did, and I’m not saying I do,” she snapped, careful to cut off that train of thought before it started again. “I am not the type of person that should be involved in his lifestyle.”

“Ooooh, who’s the him?”

Y/N and Ciara looked up as Angie joined them at the table, having grabbed food from her locker. Each woman was from a different department within the hospital, but still managed to share some time together. “Took you long enough to get here. How’s the ICU?”

“How do you think?” Angie popped off the container, taking a bite of her salad before waving her fork at Y/N. “So who’s the guy? There’s never a guy with you.”

The words, “There isn’t a guy,” slipped out of Y/N’s mouth just as Ciara asked Angie, “You’ve heard of the Winter Soldier, right?”

It was safe to say, the clang of Angie’s fork hitting the table was sort of expected from the women. Her jaw dropped as she looked at Y/N, falling back in her chair. “Damn, girl! You just jump all in, don’t you?”

“It isn’t like that.” Y/N rubbed her temples, slumping further in her chair. She was so tempted to just crawl underneath. And never crawl back out. “I swear, I’m just friends with him.”

“How?” Angie’s chair scraped against the floor as she moved closer to Y/N. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t dated since before He-I-Blatantly-Refuse-to-Name.”

“Classy,” Ciara quipped, earning a grin from Angie. “I want it on the record, I told her she should go for it.”

“There’s nothing to go for!” Y/N felt her stomach twist as she took a bite of her “dinner”. She knew if Bucky saw how little she was eating, he’d freak, but – Wait, why was she even thinking about how he’d react? She groaned, dropping her head back and staring at the ceiling. “I hate this.”

Ciara raised an eyebrow, propping her chin on her hand. “Hate that a cute Avenger that’s built like a fucking brick wall might have a crush on you?” She glanced at Angie. “There are worse things going on in the world.”

“You two suck,” Y/N muttered as her phone buzzed. She sighed, pushing herself up and reaching for the phone, but Ciara was quicker. “Hey!”

Ciara grinned and, in that moment, Y/N could practically see the devil horns that held up her “halo”. “It’s a photo from ‘Bucky’!”

Angie and Y/N shared a look before Y/N jumped up. Her chair fell to the floor as Angie grabbed her. With a loud yelp, Y/N was held back as Ciara unlocked her phone. “Ciara, give it back!”

“Not happening.”

Y/N groaned, hanging her head. She couldn’t believe this. She really couldn’t believe –

“Oh my god! That is so cute!”

Y/N’s head jerked. She raised a brow as Angie released her. Catching herself on the table, the two quickly came around and peeked over Ciara’s shoulder. “Oh my god,” Y/N murmured. She took the phone from Ciara, clicking on the photo.

The three babysitters had put together a fort for Andie. Bucky was currently scrolling through movies with her and Natasha. All three were oblivious to the photo. They…It looked like a real family moment.

Bucky’s idea - just thought you should know. - Sam

Her phone buzzed again. Another text.

And now I got your number. ‘Bout time someone other than Tinman had it! 😉

Y/N locked the phone, putting it in her pocket. She didn’t want to admit it out loud, but God, she wished she was there. She wanted to have more moments like that with Andie. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t a babysitter. She was a parent.

She was Andie’s parent.

And whatever spell this was with Bucky, she needed to ignore it. They still didn’t have to look like such a damn family though. “I got to get back to work.” She pocketed the phone and threw the wrapper from her “dinner” away. Redoing her ponytail, she looked back at the girls. Bumping the door open with her butt, she called out, “Night, you guys.” And then she was gone.

Ciara and Angie shared a look. Angie went back to stabbing at her salad, amusement lacing her voice as she said, “Ten bucks says she’ll yell for the stolen family moment and then apologize for yelling.”

“No, she’ll do the same thing she’s done ever since nursing school. She’s going to do the extreme. Back to May and Peter.” Ciara tossed her food in the garbage, washing her hands. “No more Avengers.”

Angie grimaced, hoping Y/N had grown some in the past eight years. “Oh, you better prove her wrong, Y/N.”

-.-.-

She wasn’t.

As much as Y/N wanted to be the bigger person, she sucked at it. It was why she kept her circles so small. She liked knowing what to expect. She didn’t like getting caught off guard. She liked being Andie’s mom. She sure as hell didn’t like someone else looking like they were playing that roll.

And it was that frustration, that anger sitting in her chest, that had her staring at her ceiling. She was supposed to be sleeping. The last two days of work had been draining. She needed to rest so she could pick up Andie and actually spend time with her. But any time she closed her eyes, she pictured one of the three stillborns she helped deliver last night. Or she thought about the baby she had to take to the NICU the night before that. It made her stomach twist in knots. And when she thought about Andie, she thought about that slumber party. About Bucky and Natasha cuddling with her like they were her parents.

She wasn’t jealous. She was just tired.

It had been the night before last when they had that slumber party. It was so sweet, and Y/N knew she should appreciate Bucky being so thoughtful. Sitting up, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, elbows resting on her knees. She wasn’t sure what was plaguing her mind more. Those babies and their mothers or her own child.

Y/N just knew one thing. She wanted to see her kid.

zzz

zzzzzz

zzz

zzzzzz

zzz

Bucky frowned, catching the punching bag and staring at the piece of tech that was vibrating across the floor. Who the hell would be calling at this time on a Sunday? Andie was asleep. Most of the team was out on a mission. Sam and Natasha were still passed out. It seemed Andie was more exhausting than fighting bad guys. He picked up the phone, ready to ignore the call, but then he saw her name.

Y/N.

Bucky immediately picked up, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear as he started unwrapping his hands. “Y/N? Are you okay?” Sniffling was heard on the other line. Bucky stopped everything he was doing, the bandages falling to the floor as he took the phone in his hand. “Breath, Y/N,” he told her, keeping his voice calm and steady. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I – I don’t even know why I’m – why I’m crying. It’s ridiculous.” He heard her sniffle again as she laughed at herself.

“It’s not ridiculous. What’s going on?” He was starting to get scared. Even when Y/N had told him about her past, she only shed a couple tears. She didn’t cry.

“I just miss Andie,” she whispered. His heart broke as he leaned against the mirrored wall. Guilt wracked his gut. Andie had been spending a lot of time at the compound, befriending all of them these past couple weeks. It wasn’t exactly a quick train ride over to Queens like when she stayed with Parker. It was a long commute. And they were taking time away from Y/N’s moments with her. “I – I actually came by.”

Bucky pushed himself off the wall. “Give me a second. I’ll be right there.”

Bucky kept Y/N on the phone, listening to her calm herself down. He had no idea this was going to be taking such a toll on her. It made him feel like an idiot. He should’ve known. They should’ve known. Not everyone needs a hero to “save” them from their lives.

Seeing her at the front doors, Bucky offered her a small smile and hung up. He opened the doors, noting how tired she looked in her yoga pants and a sweatshirt that was twice her size. “Y/N, I feel like I owe you an apology.” She stepped inside, her sneakers scuffing against the far too expensive floor. “We never meant to take up all of Andie’s time.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “No, please, don’t be sorry. I’m being overdramatic and way too protective,” she told him, the sleeves of her sweatshirt hiding her hands as she dropped them to her sides. “I – Andie needs normal. She needs to spend time with people.”

“Probably not Avengers,” he reminded her, shoving his hands in his sweatpants. It was in that moment that he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he probably reeked because of his workout. His cheeks turned a rosy pink and he hoped against all hope that she didn’t notice. God, could he be any more of an idiot?

“No, truthfully I’d rather her be around kids her age, but mutants tend to get isolated around her age. I’d rather her socialize with good people than little shitheads.”

Bucky choked on air when he heard that, laughing because only Y/N would willingly call kids ‘little shitheads’ without missing a beat. “Come on. I’ll show you Andie’s room.”

“Wait, her room?” Y/N fell short in her steps, coming to a stop. All sense of calm, the ability to realize she was just being over protective – it flew out the window.

Bucky turned to face her, not entirely sure what it was about that statement that had bothered her. “Yeah. I mean – It – Well, yeah.”

“No.”

He frowned, clearly not understanding what it was about this that had pissed her off. “Can you let me in on what about this is bothering you?”

You like him.

You’re trusting them to not only keep her safe, but to spend time with her.

Oh my god! They’re so cute!

“She’s my kid!” Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides. “Andie is my daughter. And you guys are taking her in like she’s your pet!”

“Y/N, no.” Bucky took a step closer to her, reaching for her. “It isn’t like that.”

“What about that slumber party? Huh? God, it looked like you three were a family,” she hissed, more tears in her eyes. She hugged herself, bottom lip trembling. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my head?”

Bucky winced, dropping his hand. That was when it all clicked. Y/N wasn’t scared of her ex-husband. She was scared of losing Andie. She was scared she would always have to be the provider without ever really having true memories with her daughter. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He took a step closer to her. Her gaze was fixated on the ground. Chucking under her chin, his fingers lingered against her skin, featherlight and gentle as possible. “I am truly sorry. I never meant to give the impression that we were trying to replace you. At all.”

Y/N’s hand pressed against his wrist, pushing his touch away. “I need to take Andie home.”

“Y/N…”

“Please.”

Bucky simply nodded. He led her back through the common area and kitchen. He forgot that despite how strong she was, Y/N had trauma. And she was guarded. They might have spent a lot of time together this past month, but he had overstepped. That much he knew for sure. “She’s still asleep. Had a late night.”

“Of course, she did,” Y/N huffed, running a hand through her hair. “Because here is fun. It’s her opportunity to do whatever she wants.”

He winced, wondering how their choices here affected Andie’s behavior at home. Did it really make that much of a difference? “I – “

“Am sorry, right?”

Bucky bit his tongue, shoulders tensing. Y/N was a forgiving woman with all things except how her daughter was raised. And he was learning that lesson quickly. “Please, just look at the room.”

Y/N frowned, raising an eyebrow when she heard that. She didn’t care about some stupid room. She cared about Andie. Opening the door, she silently stepped inside…

Only to stop just inside the bedroom.

She inhaled sharply as Bucky stepped into the doorway, looking around the decorated room. Gone were the white walls, replaced by a pale blue, faint clouds, and glowing, painted stars. There were two pale blue nightstands and a lamp. There was even a matching desk by the window. Shelves lined the walls, decorated with toys Andie had insisted on bringing from home. But not only that, she had snuck over some photos of her and her mom. They were crammed on the shelves and hung sporadically over the wall only like an eleven-year-old could do. And then she saw the other photos, ones the Avengers had taken with her. She had at least one with every single one of them, but there were a few with Steve and Sam, several with Bucky. And there was an easel for her to draw instead of only coloring. A stuffed moose and massive bunny were there – toys she could only guess Tony picked.

And then the bed, a giant circular bed for Andie to starfish on. Except she wasn’t. Instead, she was curled up, hugging that stupid frog. It peeked out next to her, both tucked up to their chins.

It was everything she had wanted to give Andie that she couldn’t.

Spinning on her heel, she pushed Bucky by his chest. He stumbled back, not expected her to willingly touch him. She closed the door behind her and looked down the hall. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled him in the room just across, knowing it’d be empty since it was the same one she’d stayed in.

Bucky let her pull him, closing the door behind him and watching as she released his wrist. She started pacing and pacing, threatening to wear a hole into the floor. After several minutes of silence, of her muttering to herself, he asked, “…Y/N?”

She stopped, taking a slow breath before finally facing him. Tears were slipping down her cheeks, but this time it wasn’t from anger or fear. He didn’t know what that look in her eyes was, but he could tell it was neither of those. “Who – Did Tony?”

“Tony gave me the connections, but it – it was my idea. I paid for it. If I didn’t, I knew he’d go over the top.” He shuffled from one foot to the other, feeling extremely self-conscious in the moment. “I saw the way she watched Treasure Planet and one of your favorite things to do with her is tell her stories about the stars. I thought maybe it would help her feel safe here. More at home.”

“You did that? Just to be a good person?”

“I don’t want you to think I was replacing her home or anything – I just…” Bucky stepped closer, suddenly feeling bolder now that she wasn’t screaming at him. “When she’s here, she talks about you. How much she misses you and loves you. She has told us every memory she has with you and everything she’s always wanted to do with you, Y/N.” He raised his hand, thumb lightly brushing away her tears. “You’re her favorite person in the world. We’re just her babysitters.”

A sob left her throat, mingling with laughter and sounding raw in that moment. She was so confused. No one had ever done anything that nice for Andie. No one had made it possible for her to have a place that genuinely looked and felt like her own. “God, you must think I’m crazy.”

“Absolutely not.”

She looked up at him, blinking away new tears as his other hand cupped her cheek. He brushed away the salty stains there. “I wouldn’t exactly blame you.”

“Let me make this up to you? Please?”

“Make up? Bucky, you don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to.” Bucky smiled at her and in that moment, Y/N could very much imagine a life where she was dating Bucky. Where they were more than just friends and he was more than just a babysitter for Andie.

She nodded, the small action enough to let Bucky know that she was no longer mad at him. “What do you have in mind?”

-.-.- 

Bucky had made sure to have Y/N sleep as much as possible. At first, she had argued, but when she was barely able to keep her head up anymore, she agreed. Bucky had carried her to one of the rooms and tucked her in with no fight from her, silently marking that as a win in his column. But he didn’t bring up the fight with Andie, knowing the kid didn’t need to know that. Instead, he thought it would be a good idea to take Andie back home.

“What are we doing here if Mom’s at your place,” Andie asked, unlocking the apartment and tossing her keys on the counter.

“You’re going to pick out some clothes for your mom.” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “And it’s not my place. The compound. I live in Brooklyn too, you know.”

“How come we never hang out there?” Andie walked back to her mom’s room with Bucky close on her heels.

He still hated this apartment, finding it way too unsafe for a family that spent so much time with the Avengers. He’d mentioned it to Y/N before, but every time the words left his mouth, she found a way to change the subject or shut him up. “Because I don’t think that would make your mom comfortable, Rugrat.”

“Why not? I spend most of my time with you anyway.”

“Because it’s different than what she would expect.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “It just is.”

Andie glanced at him, deciding it was best not to argue. She tugged on the beanie on her head, flattening it against her skull before opening her mom’s closet. “She doesn’t wear normal clothes much anymore.”

“That’s why we’re doing this. Not only to get you out and doing stuff, but also to give her a happy memory too.”

Andie smiled at that, nodding as she pulled out a top. It had spaghetti straps and was nice and flowy. A complete 180 from the scrubs her mom always wore. “This.” She held it out to Bucky before grabbing her mom’s leather jacket.

Bucky took the top, smiling as he watched the girl. “You’ve watched too much Project Runway with Sam, haven’t you?”

Andie’s smile turned into a sneaky grin. “Maybe.” Holding out the leather jacket, she asked Bucky, “What do you think?”

Bucky hadn’t pictured Y/N as someone to wear a leather jacket before. He was so used to seeing her wear sweatshirts, scrubs – that sort of thing. So he nodded, wanting to see her dressed as herself. Not as her job.

“Awesome!” Andie handed the jacket his way before going to the small drawers tucked in the closet. She pulled out a pair of jeans and some underwear, hiding them under the denim. “All done! Let’s go!“

-

Y/N hadn’t expected anything really. In fact, she thought Bucky would chicken out last minute. What she hadn’t expected was for Bucky to take her and Andie to the New York Aquarium. She looked up at the building, tugging at the sleeves of her jacket and feeling rather self-conscious in this moment. Why was this happening? What had she gotten herself into?

“Mom? You coming?”

Y/N looked down at Andie. Her daughter raised an eyebrow, watching her expectantly and standing next to Bucky. “Yeah, I’m coming, Sweetheart.” She jogged to catch up with them, falling into stride next to them. Andie reached up, taking a hand from each of them. To anyone watching, they looked like a family. A perfect fit.

But all three of them were completely unaware.

Instead of overthinking, analyzing everything they were doing, Y/N and Bucky enjoyed watching Andie race ahead. She took in everything with wide eyes and bouncing feet. Bucky had to admit, he was excited too. While he was much more intrigued with space, the ocean was a close second. And he wasn’t ready to take Y/N to the planetarium yet. That was something he wanted to make a date. Just the two of them.

Glancing at her, he rubbed the back of his neck before hearing Andie squeal in excitement. She looked up at the tunnel, eyes fixated on a shark running its course. Walking up beside her, he glanced at Y/N as he asked Andie, “So what are you most excited to see, Rugrat?”

Andie leaned back, her head meeting Y/N’s stomach as Y/N kept playing with her hair. She hummed as if she were thinking about the most important answer in the world. “The blobfish.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is that?”

Y/N laughed, offering Bucky a sympathetic smile. “It’s the ugliest fish known to mankind. Unfortunately,” she looked down at Andie, poking her in the forehead. “It’s in an aquarium in Japan.”

“Oh,” Andie murmured, straightening and looking back at the tunnel. “Then definitely the sharks.”

Andie ran ahead and Bucky took a step closer to Y/N. His hand reached for hers, brushing against it lightly. He still couldn’t bring himself to hold it. What if she pulled away? What if she was scared that Andie would get upset?  But still, he leaned closer, whispering in her ear, “She went from the ugliest fish in the world to the number one predator in the ocean?”

Y/N giggled and nodded, looking at Bucky. “Are you really surprised?”

He sighed and shook his head. “With Andie? Always.”

“Come on, let’s catch up with her.”

Bucky walked alongside her, his hand lightly brushing hers. Their fingers kept grazing one another, but neither had the courage to take that final moment. Until Bucky’s pinky hooked around hers. She bit her lip, barely containing her smile as they entered one of the darker rooms. At least now she had no reason to worry about Andie noticing.

“Mom, look! Seahorses!” Andie was jumping up and down, looking through the glass. Her hand followed along the same path of one of the odd little creatures. She was acting younger than Bucky was used to seeing. She was acting like a genuine kid. How often was she able to get excited about little things like this?

Y/N and Bucky came up behind her and watched. The seahorses were maneuvering in and out, swimming around the seaweed as if it was some sort of game to them. But Bucky wasn’t watching them. He was watching Y/N. She had crouched down, pinky still intertwined with his, but she was listening to all the little facts that Andie knew.

“And it’s actually the guys that carry the babies! Not the moms! It’s so weird. Honestly? I don’t think guys could actually handle that, but – “ Andie’s gaze shifted past the seahorses. Past the seaweed, past the glass, and to the faces on the other side of the room.

“But what, Hon?”

Andie forgot what she was saying, focused instead on the family she had seen. “Mom…Is that…” She pointed, the action causing Y/N and Bucky to follow where she was looking.

Y/N rose to her feet, her heart practically threatening to beat out of her chest. Meanwhile, Bucky focused on her. He moved for the rest of his fingers to take hers, wanting to comfort her as much as he could. “Y/N?”

Y/N didn’t look at him. Instead of taking his comfort, she pulled her hand away, hiding from the affection by shoving her hand in her leather jacket. Meanwhile, Andie simply stared.

And Bucky’s heart sank as Andie whispered, “That’s my dad.”

-.-.-.–

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