#gives the coat a soft and protective fabric on which water slides off

[woolsboutiqueuomo]

[seulgiology]

dangerous love | jeon jungkook

pairings: mafia leader!jungkook x female!reader

words: 3.7k

genre: ze smut, a bit of fluff

warnings: shower sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talk, manhandling, choking, overstimulation, cursing, multiple orgasms, soft aftercare uwu

a/n: is this admin 2 writing smut?? yes it is beautiful people, admin 2 is here with some flavorful smut. i love writing smut but like it takes me a while and i’ve been working on this for over a week ,,, oops. i kinda rushed it though so im sorry. um uh hopefully you guys like it like i do :)). 

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

--- The clapping thunder being heard throughout the city had you clutching onto the strap of your purse tightly. You quickly look around you for any suspicious acts and are relieved when you find none. People around you were rushing to their cars or finding shelter for the oncoming thunderstorm. However, there you were getting some ramen late at night when there is a fully stocked kitchen at home. 

With everything except ramen. Courtesy to your boyfriend who remembers everything except to buy ramen. Hence why you do all the grocery shopping.

You instantly regretted leaving the house because it felt like eyes were on you. Especially because you were alone now. Jungkook had told you not to leave the house because he was going to e busy tonight and he wouldn’t be able to travel with you. But you didn’t think that going to the convenience store would be such a worry. 

Your fingers itched to grab at your phone to call Jungkook to come and get you but you didn’t want to interrupt his plans. Even though it had been a few hours since he had left with a lingering kiss on your lips and a promise to be home later. You’re sure he should be on his way home now and he would lose his shit if he came home and you weren’t there.

Hearing footsteps behind you that you didn’t hear before, you discreetly look back and curse under your breath when you see it’s someone with a dark hood following you. Fear crawls up your spine and you indistinctly grab at the gun on the holster on your thigh, the weight reminding you that you’re at least a little bit protected. 

You speed up your steps and start to take a shortcut onto the busy street, hoping to lose the person you hope is not following you. When you make sight of the luxurious building you happen to live in, you all but jog in there. You don’t pay attention to the person at the front desk and get into the elevator that was opening with people leaving. You slip in just as you see the person following you get caught up in the people coming out of the elevator. 

A big sigh of relief is released and you slump against the elevator wall, closing your eyes shut. Your hand leaves your thigh and you stop clenching the bag that holds the ramen so tightly in your hands. When you make it to the penthouse level, which is the one you live on, you exit the elevator and walk down the short corridor. You enter the code and step in, kicking off your shoes and tossing the bag of ramen to the side along with your purse. 

Just as you neatly place your shoes, you hear someone start to enter the code. What the fuck? You think to yourself as you place yourself on the wall against the wall, taking your gun and holding it up to your chin. Whoever it was about to come in was sure to regret it.

When the door swings open, you don’t get to see who it is because the door closes quickly after like it usually does. You point the gun at the person in the dark, the obvious cocking of it gaining the persons attention and soon you feel the cool butt of their own gun against your forehead and they’re pressing you to the wall harshly. With quick hands, you grab at the knife behind your back and hold it to their neck. 

“I’ll slit your throat if you don’t tell me who you are in five seconds,” you harshly say and press the knife harder. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?!” the shocked voice of your boyfriend is heard and when the light is flicked on from beside you and you’re met with the face of your boyfriend. 

“Oh, my god Jungkook I’m so sorry,” You rush out, pulling your weapons away from him and them back where they previously were. Jungkook removes his gun to and hums at you impressively.

“As hot as you holding a knife to my neck was I should be concerned as to why you were in the first place. Is everything okay?” Jungkook asks while crossing his arms across his chest. You take note of the thin and long black coat he wears over his black turtleneck and dark jeans, black boots adorning his feet. His hand tattoos are evident and you lick your lips as images of his other tattoos swim through your mind, and arousal spikes just at the thought of his strong hands around your throat. Anyways-

“I thought someone was following me,” you admit without thinking, and when Jungkook asks why you answer. Again, without thinking. “Because when I left the convenience store, I could’ve sworn someone was following me.”

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t safe out tonight,” Jungkook scolds with his eyebrows narrowing down as he snatched the bag off the floor, dark hair falling in his face that he roughly pushes back. With a roll of your eyes, you follow him as he walks to the kitchen.

“But there wasn’t ramen in the house and I was hungry for something as simple as it,” you say and Jungkook scoffs at this. You watch as he takes his coat off and places it on one of the stools. His muscles are practically ripping through the soft fabric of the turtleneck and you almost whine at the sight.

“I don’t give a fuck if there wasn’t juice in the house Y/N. I tell you these things to keep you safe. You out at night alone without me is dangerous,” Jungkook says, clearly irritated with you. You lean against the kitchen bar and watch him roll up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing more of his tattoos. 

“Did everything go good tonight at least?” You ask genuinely interested and also to sway him from the issue at hand. Jungkook hums in agreement after taking a big gulp of water he snatched from the fridge. You can tell he was upset at you and you understood why but he should understand how much you love ramen by now.

“I’m going to shower,” Jungkook tells you and walks towards you. You look up at is frame towering over your small one and smile. Jungkook softens and leans down to kiss you, holding you to him by a firm grip on your jaw. The kiss doesn’t last as long as you want it to and you’re chasing after his lips when he pulls away. 

You stubbornly grab his face and kiss him again, this time leaning on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook makes a noise of approval and places his hands low on your hips. Your lips move together sensually and when Jungkook’s hands wander down to your ass to give it a squeeze, you moan into his mouth.

Before things can get further, however, he is pulling away from you and you whine at the loss. You flutter your eyes open for them to be half-lidded and Jungkook grins at your blown-out pupils, your eyes screaming for you to fuck him. The way your body is moving towards him alone and he knew you were about to start pleading for him. 

“Not right now baby,” Jungkook dismisses despite his own growing arousal in his pants that was starting to strain against the confines of his jeans. The look you were giving him had him wanting to bend you over the counter and fuck you so good but he had to restrain himself. He was still upset with you after all and he couldn’t let you have your way right now. Even if it was what he wanted right now too. 

Yup, a cold shower will surely help him right now.

You huff childishly as you watch your boyfriend walk away from you. You mock him under your breath while taking your weapons out. You place the gun and knife on the kitchen island with a light noise and sigh. Trailing after Jungkook to your bedroom, you hear the shower water start from the bathroom attached to your bedroom. 

When you enter the room, you catch sight of his gun on the bed and you move it on your vanity. You stand in the middle of your room with pursed lips and crossed arms, glancing from the bathroom door to the bedroom door, contemplating on whether you should just go make your ramen or join Jungkook in the shower. 

With a nod to yourself, you start to strip out of your clothes and when you’re done, you tie your hair in a bun on top of your hair even though Jungkook was most likely going to take it out anyways. You push open the door to the bathroom that was already ajar and quietly slip in, going unnoticed. 

You slide open the shower door and get in, the man who is supposed to be a mafia leader not even knowing you’re sneaking up on him. It almost makes you want to laugh. But as you put your hand on his shoulder and he doesn’t even twitch a bit, you know he knew you were coming. 

“Hey,” you greet softly, wrapping your arms around his wet and strong body. Jungkook looks over his shoulder to glance down at you and you gaze back up at him with a sweet smile. He turns around in your arms and his dark eyes slowly rakes over your body. The look sends chills down your spine in the suffocatingly hot shower and you feel your clit throb to life. 

“What are you doing in here?” Jungkook asks in a low voice, turning you and pushing you against the shower wall to the point where the water is now drenching you. You slide your small hands up chiseled chest and rest them on his shoulders, biting your bottom lip in feign innocence.  

“I want to shower with my boyfriend,” you whisper as your hands make it in his wet and long hair. Jungkook’s eyes darken at the statement and his hand’s grip at your waist tighter, almost causing you to whimper but you hold it back. “So don’t look at me like that and let’s shower. There’s way more than enough room in here for us,” you remind him with a wink after pushing his body off of yours.

You step forward to grab your loofah but in a blink of an eye, Jungkook is grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back, pressing you against the shower door but this time with his chest pressed against your back. You gasp at the feeling of his hard cock poking your ass and you moan brokenly. His grip on your wrist is unforgiving and when he trails his other hand up to wrap around your throat, you tilt your head back in absolute pleasure and close your eyes. 

“I don’t think I heard you correctly sweetheart. What was it you said, again? Did you ask me not to look at you?” Jungkook whispers in your ear with a rough edge to his tone, biting at your earlobe and causing you to moan. When you don’t directly answer him, he bucks his hips into yours and it makes your body press against the glass more, your boobs becoming uncomfortable but you’re enjoying this too much to stop it. 

The feel of his dick sliding against your lips that is dripping wet with arousal makes you restless, trying to move your hips back but Jungkook squeezes your throat tighter. “N-No,” you answer through gasps of breaths, and Jungkook hums lowly at the answer.

Jungkook lets you go but you stay against the glass to get a grip of yourself. Jungkook was going to be the death of you for sure and if he doesn’t fuck you tonight, then you would shoot him in the dick with his own gun. 

This time when you go to grab your loofah, Jungkook lets you and he continues to wash his body like nothing happened. You look down at his dick that is shamelessly hard and you crave for it to be in you or for it to have your lips wrapped around it. You look away before your boyfriend could notice and your quick to wash your body, not paying any attention to your hair since you had washed it the night before. 

Just as you’re finishing up with rinsing your body off under the water to rid of the soapy suds, Jungkook’s hands are on you again. His hands massage into your body and you sigh contently at the feeling, leaning onto his chest. After he stops his soft movements, you lean up and press your lips on his. Jungkook holds you close to him with his hands on your lower back, your wet chests pressing together in a way that feels good to both of you.

Just the feeling of your body on his alone has him going into override. 

Your tongues dance together fervently and you press your body against his more when his hands grab at your ass, squeezing it hard due to your wet and slippery bodies. Jungkook cups your pussy from behind and you gasp into his mouth, jolting at the unexpected action. His other hand is on the side of your neck and tilts it to the side as he removes his lips from yours, ghosting them down your neck and he starts his ministrations on your clit. Your eyes roll closed at the glorious feeling of his fingers giving you attention. 

He runs his finger teasingly through your lips and when he makes contact with your clit, he rubs it lightly. Not nearly enough for you, so you try to grind down on his hands but a little nip at your neck warns you not to. Your mouth is open in silent pleasure and Jungkook coos against your skin. 

He backs you against the wet shower wall again and moves his hand from your pussy. “Jungkook,” your voice comes out in a whine and he lifts his head so his eyes are on you again. You watch with wide eyes as your boyfriend sinks to his knees before you. He smirks at you while spreading your legs apart.

Jungkook gazes at your glistening pussy with a salivating mouth and he doesn’t hesitate to lift one of your legs over his shoulder. He doesn’t give you any warning before he’s attaching his lips onto your clit and you jerk in his hold, a low whimper leaving your lips at the pleasure that shoots up your spine. 

Jungkook is relentless with the teasing movements of his tongue and you tug on his wet hair. He goes from sucking on your clit to flicking his tongue in and out of your entrance teasingly and your legs were trembling, about to give out on you. 

“Ah, w-wait,” you try to pull him back due to your oncoming orgasm, however, your boyfriend has other plans because his finger is circling your entrance. You cry out when the first finger thrusts inside you all while his tongue is still lapping at you. Your head spins with the overwhelming sensation and you knew he wasn’t going to stop. 

His name comes out in gasping breaths on your lips and as he curls the second finger inside of you, you come undone. Your eyes are squeezed closed and mouth open but not producing any noise. Jungkook hums in approval on you as he rides you through it with gentle motions of his fingers and your body protests at the sensitivity of overstimulation. 

Your body slumps against the wall tiredly as Jungkook stands from his position, his fingers still lazily pumping inside of you despite your whining protests. His mouth crashes onto yours in a hard kiss that you respond to with the same ferocity. You moan at the taste of yourself and the feel of his fingers still working inside of you, scissoring you and unexpectedly adding a third finger. You gasp into his mouth and arch your back, wet chests pressing against each other. 

“Want your cock,” you whimper against his lips, clenching around his finger tightly as they curl up into you and rubbing against you. 

“Yeah? Beg for it,” Jungkook husks out and you whine again, grinding down on his fingers desperately. When you don’t respond, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat yet again but squeezes harder this time. When your lust-filled gaze meets his, Jungkook’s dick gets even harder if that was even possible. Your lips are swollen from the hard kisses and cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower and recent orgasm, pupils were blown out and your hair was in wet tendrils around your shoulders from the scrunchie falling out of it.

“Please,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “Want you to fuck me so good, please… Please, want your cock so bad,” You beg shamelessly, your nails digging into his forearm, your eyes struggling to stay open. 

You moan quietly when his fingers slowly leave you but you’re left empty. Jungkook hikes your leg up over his waist and aligns his cock to your dripping entrance, rubbing it over your folds. “Jungkook, please,” you lead, gripping his biceps, and Jungkook pushes into you slowly. Your head drops on his shoulder and a broken moan passes your lips, leg tightening around his waist. 

Jungkook pushes the rest of his cock in you and hisses as you swallow him in your warm, wet walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans out. You moan at the painfully delicious feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Faster,” you breathlessly stutter out and Jungkooks growls under his breath at the demand, gripping onto your thigh and fucking into you harder. Your moans came out in low, high-pitched sounds that were getting higher the more he thrust into you. 

He held you to him as he fucked you, your nails clawing down his back and when he lifted up your other leg to wrap around his waist, you squealed at the feel of him going deeper. He now held you up against the shower wall, drilling up into you with deep thrusts. You chanted his name through whispers, pants, and moans the pleasure becoming too much. 

“You always… feel so… ngh… fucking good,” Jungkook groans against your neck at the feel of your clenching walls around his cock. “Such a good girl for me,” Jungkook praises, and you clench him tighter at the words, the feeling of him so deep inside of you making your head spin.

“So close,” you whimper, nails digging into his back, and Jungkook groans at the sting from the brief pain. “Please, please please,” you beg through a sob, tears filling in your eyes. Jungkook is kissing you before you can beg anymore and one particularly hard thrust that hits your spot has you coming all over his dick. 

“There you go baby,” Jungkook whispers against your lips but you’re too far gone to even pay notice to his words. He gently works his dick inside of you as your spasming body jerks in his hold from the orgasm that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Jungkook pulls out of you slowly when you have calmed down but you weren’t done. With shaky legs, you turn around and press your hands against the glass of the shower door that is fogged up. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jungkook says from behind you, watching as you present yourself to him and look over at him with a heavy gaze. Jungkook steps closer to you and doesn’t waste any time sliding back into you. Your back arches at the feeling but Jungkook is wrapping his strong arms around your middle, holding your bodies close together as he bottoms out fully in you and you feed off the feeling of fullness it gives you. 

“Look at you, so greedy for my cock,” Jungkook whispers in your ear with a rough edge to his voice. His cock constantly hits your g-spot and your pussy is being abused beautifully. “Fuck, fuck Y/N,” Jungkook mans lowly into your ear, trapping your earlobe between his teeth. When his fingers make contact with your swollen clit, you let out a sob and tears spillover. 

“I’m close baby,” Jungkook says through heavy breaths and his hips start stuttering in their movements, chasing after his release and not giving up on his fingers assault on your clit.

“Come in me,” You moan out and that seems to do it for him because, with one pinch of your clit, he’s spilling his load into you and you’re coming for the second time on his cock. Your body tenses up and your vision sees stars as your walls clench him unbelievably tighter. 

Jungkook holds you to him, still planted inside of him as your tired body slumps against him. Jungkook pulls out of you and kisses your shoulder when you wince at the sensitivity. “Let me clean you up, yeah?” Jungkook’s large hands are soothing your body and you nod tiredly, allowing him to clean the cum dripping down your legs. 

You two finish in the shower with him saying soft words of praise in your ear and he wraps you in a fluffy towel once out, drying his body off and putting on some boxers and sweatpants. He takes his time in drying you off and loathing your body in your favorite lotion. 

“I love you,” you say as he pulls one of his shirts over your head after he had put some panties on you. Jungkook smooths your hair out of your face and smiles, heart softening at the girl he loves more than anything. 

“I love you too baby,” he whispers, kissing your lips softly and you sigh contently. Jungkook wraps you in his arms once you guys are under the soft blankets and he rubs your back, gently humming to ease you into sleep. 

“Goodnight, my love.”

[writing-wh0re]

Can I get prompts 9, 12, and 30 for a Bucky Barnes smut? I was thinking something soft like she gets hurt in a mission and he is helping take care of her wounds and if results in soft smut.

All writings will be #writing-wh0re-requests

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader. 

My first Bucky Barnes and soft smut. Likes are great but feedback is golden, let me know how I can improve or what I could write for you! 

Word count: 1,451k

Prompts Requested: 

9 - “Did he do this?” 

12 - “I’m fucking crazy about you” 

30 - “Are you hurt?”

Warnings: Smut 18+, Injury, Fingering, Female Receving Oral, Vaginal Intercourse, Unprotected Sex. 

I hold my side, feeling the slight burn of the bruises forming on my skin. I stumble through the avengers compound, my feet sore from the fight as I make it into the medical bay. I look at my appearance in the mirror, a cut across my cheek, blood staining my face. 

“Are you hurt?” I look behind myself in the mirror seeing Bucky dressed in his gym clothing. 

“Honestly, yeah.” I nod as Bucky grabs a face washer from the cabinet, walking over to me. 

“Let me help you.” Bucky coats the washer in water, gesturing for me to sit on the medical bed. 

“We could have used you out there you know.” 

“Tell Tony that, he thought it would be a good opportunity for you and the spider.” I scoff as Bucky smirks at me, wiping the blood off my cheek as I wince. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” I smile, trying to help get my point across. 

“How did this happen?” 

“I got myself cornered and Peter used his web to get me out but didn’t help me stick the landing and I cut my cheek on debris.” 

“Wait.” Bucky steps back to look at me. “Did he do this?” I notice the tone in Bucky’s voice change, his body language following. Is he being protective of me?

“No, well not on purpose, there was a lot going on and it's more on me for not sticking the landing.” 

“Well either way, I’m going to talk to the kid.” 

I feel my stomach erupt with butterflies at Bucky’s words, my small crush on him causing my cheeks to heat up. He smiles at me as he continues to clean my wound. My eyes wander downwards to his lips as he softly licks them. 

“Do you need help with anywhere else?” 

“Would you mind looking at a few of the bruises, just to make sure nothing is broken?” I ask, confidence radiating off me as Bucky nods. I stand off the bed, my body almost flush against his as I zip down the front of my suit, my red lace bra on full display as I slip my arms out. I look back up at Bucky, his pupils blown with lust as I smirk. 

“Uh, this spot right here, I was kicked pretty hard.” Bucky’s eyes travel over my body as his flesh hand brushes over the forming green and purple bruise. 

“I, uh, might have an idea on how I can help.” I nod softly as Bucky smirks. “Are you sure?” I smile, biting my lip softly as I nod again, not trusting for my voice not to quiver under his lust filled stare. 

Bucky pulls me flush against his chest as I lick my lips and he tilts my head up, pressing his lips to mine. A soft gasp falls from my mouth which allows Bucky to slip his tongue into my mouth as we begin to fight each other for dominance. I feel his hands grab my hips softly, lifting me onto the bed as he stands between my legs, never once breaking the kiss. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” I giggle as Bucky smiles. 

“I’m fucking crazy about you.” I feel heat hit my cheeks as Bucky continues. “I have been since our first mission together.” I pull on his shirt, trying to get him out of it as he gladly follows my gesture, ridding himself of the fabric as he toys with the clasp of my bra, letting the fabric fall from my body. 

“Beautiful.” Bucky whispers as he kisses me, hands wandering down my body so softly to make sure he doesn’t touch any of my newly forming bruises. I place my hands on his toned chest, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. Bucky breaks the kiss, walking away from me to pull the curtain across the small medical bed area. 

“Are you sure you want this?” I smile as I shimmy my suit down my legs, my matching red lace panties on full display as Bucky sighs, tilting his head to the side looking me up and down. 

“I want this more than anything.” That’s all the confirmation Bucky needs as he pulls down his gym sweats, placing his hands on the sides of my face as he kisses me ever so softly, the kiss filled with love and passion as I slowly move back on the bed, my back hitting the wall as Bucky breaks away. 

“Lay down doll.” I follow Bucky’s instruction, my pussy throbbing at the nickname as he gets on top of me, watching where he places his body to ensure the bruises on my skin don’t get bumped. 

Bucky kisses along my jaw, littering the skin on my neck with hot open mouthed kisses as I gasp causing Bucky to smirk against my skin having found my sweet spot. He continues to kiss and lick the spot just below my ear, leaving his mark on my skin. 

“Bucky.” His name falls from my lips, my body on fire under his touch as he kisses down my body, his metal hand kneading my right breast as his tongue plays with my left nipple. He continues down my body, kissing my clothed core as he looks up at me. 

“All for me?” Smirking he loops his fingers under the sides of my panties, pulling them all the way down my legs, throwing them on the ground as he keeps his eyes focused on my heat. He kisses each side of my pussy before softly licking from my entrance to my clit. Swirling his tongue around in a figure eight motion as I become breathless, gasps of air filling the silence as I move my hips up against his tongue. I moan as I feel his metal hand hold my hip down, his flesh hand coming between my legs as he slips two fingers inside me, my back arching off the leather of the bed as I bite my lip, holding back a loud moan. 

“Fuck, I’m close.” I whimper as Bucky doesn’t stop, his fingers rubbing against the walls of my pussy as he continues his figure eight motions. I feel him moan against my clit as I cum all over his fingers, my clit growing sensitive as he gives it one last longing lick, pulling his fingers out to look at me smugly. 

“So pretty when you cum Doll.” 

“Bucky, please, I want to finally feel you inside me.” I beg as he chuckles, slipping out of his boxer briefs. I moan just looking at his erect cock, slightly glistening with precum as I go to sit up, Bucky shaking his head. 

“You’re injured, next time.” Bucky says understanding I want to play with him. I watch as he pumps his cock, running it up and down my wet slit, feeling light rushes of electricity run through me as my sensitive clit is bumped. Bucky slides skillfully into me, my walls instantly contracting around him, the electricity still flowing through my body, causing my legs to shake as Bucky groans. 

“You’re so fucking tight doll, fuck.” I watch as Bucky keeps his eyes trained on himself going in and out of me. “Made for me.” 

I blush as I arch my back, Bucky leaning over to kiss me as I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs following as I push him deeper into me. Both of us moan against each other as he continues his rhythmic thrusts. 

“It’s so sensitive.” I cry out as Bucky places his forehead against mine. “I’m close Buck.” 

Bucky picks up his pace a little as my legs start to tremble around his hips. 

“Cum for me doll.” I bite my lip pulling Bucky flush against me as I move my hips with his, cumming harder the second time as Bucky’s thrusts slow, his cock twitching inside of me as he moans, kissing me. Bucky pulls out of me as I whimper at the feeling of being empty. 

I sit up, wincing as the pain from my bruises as it winds me slightly. 

“Let me help you.” Bucky smiles, helping me sit up as he slides my pantines back up my legs. “I’m not going to put you back in the suit though.” He chuckles as he grabs a medical lab coat, handing it to me as he quickly changes into his gym clothes. 

“Thanks, um, so…” I trail off as Bucky smiles sweetly at me, kissing my head. 

“I’d love for you to be mine Doll.” I smile wide as my stomach fills with butterflies, tingles flood my body as I nod. 

“I’d like that.”

“C’mon Doll, we’ll go have a bath.” 

“You know the way to my heart, Bucky Barnes.”

[quillvine]

And I Will Care For You

Aaron Hotcher x Gender Neutral Reader

Request from @theichabbieclub: Can I request Hotch x Reader? Reader comes home exhausted, soaking wet to the bone and freezing. They end up falling asleep standing up. Once Hotch notices, he places his hand on the back, letting them lean on him. Then he kinda freaks out when he realizes they're wet and freezing. He changes the reader, warms them up and puts them to bed. Reader is so exhausted that they don't wake up at all until hours later in the middle of the night??? Fluffy pleaseee THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH 🥺🥺

A/N: Oh god babes I’m so sorry this took so long. It was such a delight to write though, I had a lot of fun with this one. I changed things a little and I hope you don’t mind!

You run through the parking lot, your doctor's coat over your head in the hopes to block out the rain. Why did you decide not to bring your compact umbrella? It was right there on the entryway table and you thought about taking it with you but you didn’t. Now you’re making your way through the torrential rain in search of your car. 

You groan in frustration, damn your bad your bad luck, damn your faulty memory, damn the hospital parking lot. Just because you understand why staff parking is on the top floor of the garage doesn’t mean you have to like it on nights like this.

It’s on nights like these that you hate working the late shift at the hospital. You’re already away from your husband and kid and the freezing air and heavy rain just makes it even worse. You just wish you were lying in bed, curled into Aaron’s side while he reads his book, Jack sleeping peacefully down the hall.

By the time you’ve made it to your car, you’re shivering from the cold rain. With frozen fingers, you unlock the car before hurriedly climbing inside and shutting the door.

Squirming in the driver's seat you try to get comfortable in your wet clothes. You shed your doctor's coat in hopes of drying off some more. It doesn’t work, your clothes underneath are just as sopping wet.

Pulling out of the garage you fiddle with the radio, settling in for the tedious drive home.

&

You grumble as you unlock the door, dumping your wet coat on the ground and dropping your keys in the dish by the door.

The noise startles Aaron, who’s lying down on the couch. He sits up, his head popping up from behind the backrest. The elated look on his face tells you that he’s happy you’re home. 

You’re happy you’re home too. The sight of him in sweatpants and a ratty FBI t-shirt makes your heart melt. All you want to do is fall asleep in his arms.

“Hi baby,” he says reaching his arms out to you, “how was your day? The rain is really coming down har- oh!”

Aaron rushes to his feet as soon as he sees your sopping wet clothes. He gathers you in his arms rubbing your shoulders to generate some heat. You sag against Aaron’s hold, too exhausted to even stand up properly. His fingers worm their way to the zipper of your jacket. He unzips it, pushing it to the ground.

“You're freezing,” he says when his fingers touch your cold skin, “I’m sorry you got caught in the rain.”

He pulls you closer to him in an attempt to warm you up, his strong arms rubbing up and down your waist. The motion makes you feel even sleepier and you bury your head into his shoulder, your eyes starting to droop.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now baby,” he tells you, pulling you away from his body so you can look him in the eyes. “Why don’t you go take a shower?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement, too tired to formulate words, choosing instead to bury your face back into the crook of his neck. Aaron squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. He turns you away from his body, gently leads you towards the master bathroom. 

“Come on, let's get you nice and warmed up.”

&

The warm water of the shower runs down your back and relaxes your muscles and the steam chases lingering cold from your fingers and toes out of the rest of your body. Your knees nearly buckle under the near euphoric feeling of the hot shower. 

Your tiredness is almost too much for your body to bear, it feels like your knees are going to give out. Weariness makes your arms heavy as you reach up to wash your hair.

Your mind is so foggy with exhaustion that you barely register the sound of the shower door opening and Aaron sliding in behind you. It isn’t until you feel his hands find their place on your waist that you even realize that he’s even there.

“You want me to wash your hair for you?” He asks.

“No, it’s okay, just hold me. I feel like I’m going to collapse.” You tell him.

He complies and keeps his hands on your waist. His firm grip keeps you anchored as you work through your sleepy haze.

Slowly, you start to wash the day away, rising off all the dirt and grime off your body, Aaron by your side the whole time. He hums soft tunes, his hands steady on your waist. They ground you to the land of the waking, their constant presence keeping you steady on your feet.

When you finally step out of the shower and onto the bath mat, the steam from the hot water clings to your body keeping you warm. Aaron already has a towel in his hand and is wrapping you in the fluffy fabric before you can even reach for a towel to dry your hair with.

The tile floor of the bathroom almost brings the cold back to your body, but you quickly stuff your feet into your pair of slippers before shuffling into the bedroom and lying down on the bed. 

Aaron follows you into the bedroom, but he doesn't get into bed with you as you had hoped. Instead, he moves towards your shared dresser rummaging around for who knows what.

You take a moment to admire his form. He has his towel slung low across his hips giving you a nice view of his back muscles as they flex with his every move. Yum. He really does look good. If you weren’t so tired you probably would have started something. 

But, you have another shift tomorrow, and oh boy do you need the sleep more than you need Aaron right now. The thought of returning to the hospital in less than 24 hours is exhausting but damn if you didn’t love the job.

Feeling your stare Aaron turns around with a small smile on his face. It grows when he sees you still wrapped in your towel. He gives you a fond look that makes you want to melt in a puddle of goo.

“Why aren’t you changed?” He asks,

“Tired,” you tell him lazily, “just wanna go to bed.”

“I know sweetheart, I know,” Aaron says, “Pajamas and then bed okay?”

You hum in agreement, but just flop down onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Aaron’s face comes into view above you and you give him a lazy smile. He leans down to give you a quick peck. You pout, wanting more than just a quick kiss but, he just gives you another fond smile before disappearing from your view.

Suddenly, your pajamas are thrown on top of you and you feel Aaron climb on top of you. You groan and try to swat him out of the way.

“Get off of me, ‘m tryna sleep.”

He obliges and rolls off of you. ��Come on, get up,” he says as he pulls you off the bed.

With heavy arms you change into your pajamas, tossing your towel aside. It’s Aaron’s turn to ogle and he does so unabashedly. Slowly you get dressed, pulling on your top and bottoms, before flopping back into bed.

You pull the covers over your body cocooning yourself in them. Aaron leans down to hug your blanket burrito, pulling down the top so he can see your face.

“You gonna make room for me?” He asks, amused.

You grunt and unroll the blanket from around your body. Gazing at Aaron with weary eyes you make grabby hands at him, trying to pull him closer to you.

“You know, it’s more comfortable to sleep under the covers,” he tells you.

He tugs the covers out from under you, tucking the both of you into bed. Your rollover to your side of the bed, burrowing into the sheets. He hauls you across the bed, into his arms, holding you tight.

His embrace is safe and warm, a comforting reminder that he’s by your side. You could fall asleep right then and there with the lights on, but you have one more thing you need to do.

“Jack, I need to see Jack,” you mumble, pushing Aaron’s arm away and sitting up.

You make your way to Jack’s room, stopping at his open door. His blue star night light, courtesy of one Spencer Reid, casts a soft glow throughout his room.

He’s sleeping soundly as you carefully creep to his bedside. Kneeling, you smooth the blanket over his body, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. You tuck the stuffed bear that’s fallen to the ground back into his arms.

“Sleep tight bug,” you whisper, brushing his hair back.

Aaron is watching you from the doorway with a soft smile on his face. As you guys head back to your room, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” he says gently.

“I love you too,” you say, giving him another soft kiss.

Make your way back to the bedroom, you crawl back into bed pulling Aaron down with you. You wrap your body around his, snuggling under into his side and pulling the covers tighter around you. 

“Baby, I have to turn off the lights first,” he says with a chuckle..

Aaron leaves the bed to turn off the light and you whine at the loss of his body heat. He comes right back though, pulling you back into his arms, curling a protective arm around your waist before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight sweetheart,” he tells you.

“Night babe,” you reply.

Sleep comes easily. It always does with Aaron by your side.

&

In the morning, it’s not the alarm that wakes you up but the gentle strokes of Aaron’s fingertips. The rough pads of his fingers brush against your lower abdomen, bringing heat to your lower belly.

You shift, moving your body so you’re facing him and you’re greeted with a very relaxed Aaron. He gives you a cute smile which is only made more adorable by his bedhead. In return, you give him a soft sleepy smile that makes him coo and wraps you tighter in his arms.

He tilts your head up, giving you a gentle kiss. It’s warm and sweet, like the golden sunlight that falls into the room. Humming in delight you push your body closer to his, searching for more of that warmth.

You find it when Aaron pulls away, leaning down to bump his nose against yours in a nose kiss. You let out a breathy giggle, bringing one hand to the nape of his neck, curling your fingers into the hair there.

“Hi,” he says, his morning voice is so delightfully rough and growly.

You give him another smile, bright and bubbly, “good morning.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck pressing kisses up and down your smooth skin. Rolling on top of you he peppers kisses along your jaw, moving up to your cheeks and then finally your lips. You smile into the kiss. The warmth finds its way back to your chest, filling you with affection.

“Morning baby,” he says.

You bury your face into his chest, “what time is it?” you groan, raising your head to look at the clock.

Aaron gently guides your head back to his chest, “don’t even worry about it,” he tells you. “You have an afternoon shift, remember?”

A quiet sigh escapes your throat as you snuggle back into the covers. You place your head back on Aaron’s chest, giving his collarbone a gentle kiss, resting your nose there you breathe in his comforting scent.

The fingers stroking your stomach have made their way to your ribcage, his fingers ticking the skin there. You squirm in his grasp which only makes Aaron tickle you even harder.

You can’t help the giggles bubble out from your throat and it seems that Aaron can’t either.

“Shh, shh, you’re going to wake Jack up,” he says between chuckles.

Your laughs don’t stop though, they bounce around the room, light and airy.

In that moment you’re transported elsewhere, to a dreamlike world where sunlight filters through the window and a soft breeze makes the curtain flutter in the wind. A world where you have no obligations and so much time to love.

Except, you’re not transported anywhere, because you’re already there. You have a free morning to spend with the man you love, a man who adores you as much as you adore him. A man who supports you at your lows and brings you to your highs. A man who cares for you without a second thought. What could be better than that?

“Aaron?” You say tenderly, gently tugging at his fingers, which are still resting underneath your shirt.

“Yes, darling?” He asks in a voice that’s just as soft and loving.

It makes your heart melt and for a moment you forget what you were going to say.

You let out another breathy laugh, a smile wide on your face, “thank you.”

“For what?” His fingers move to tangle with yours, thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“For everything,” you turn your head to meet his eyes, “thank you for taking care of me, thank you for holding me at night, my life is better with you in it.” 

“Well then, I think I should thank you too,” he says, “You make me a better man, you remind me it’s okay to be gentle with myself. I love you.”

“I love you more,” you tell him softly.

He moves to kiss you, slow and sweet. It leaves you breathless and stokes a fire in your belly. Your skin feels flushed, the places where Aaron’s contact hand comes in contact with your bare skin in your skin.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your pulse point.

The fingers dancing along your ribcage have made their way to your nipple, his thumb brushes against it. A gasp escapes from your throat.

“Well then, why don’t you show me just how much you love me?”

Tags (lmk if you would like to be added or removed): @winterscaptain @yes-sir-hotchner @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river @genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis @agenthotchner @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @toasteddragoness @misskirkstark @rousethemouse @good-heavens-chris-evans @arganfics @lcvischmitt

@hurricanejjareau, @marvels-agents100 and @garcia-reid-lovechild​ I’ve added you guys to my tag list hope you don’t mind!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

just as much as all those years ago

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

This is for my ever wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian who is just the Best and will always be the absolute Best and I love her very much. Returning to my favourite comfort AU and of course it’s angst I write.

Trigger warnings: descriptions of an injury, specifically a burn

--------

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel.

They came when he didn’t call them and hadn’t asked for them. When he needed them, he couldn’t find them, only the ragged edged gaps where they’d once been. And they were never whole either. They came as sounds, one random lyric from a song his brother used to warm up to or the sound of his mother’s footsteps in the hall or the way the coffee maker in the HCPD had always sputtered close to the end of its cycle. They came as smells, Buddy’s hairspray or the way the hallways had reeked in his old high school, the milky smell of when his babies had been brand new or Rita’s goddamn salmon things. They were fractured and jumbled and awkward to hold.

And they were so hard to tell from reality. One moment Juno was up to his elbows in soapy water, taking advantage of the boys actually going to bed at a reasonable time to get the dinner dishes done. He was whistling a song that had been on the radio as he’d driven back from the office, tapping the hell of his bare foot against the tiles in time with the beat that existed only in his head. He was tired, he had a few new aches to catalogue and he was perfectly happy.

And the next moment his nose was full of burning ozone, scorched fabric, heat and blood.

Juno froze, hands stilling and letting the plate he’d been soaping drop back into the water. Suddenly he was pulled into a handful of times and places at once. He was at the practise range at the academy, he was trying not to be sick the first time a perp had shot at him, he was pounding on his brother’s bedroom door and begging him to answer, he was lying on the floor of the Carte Blanche and seeing Sasha shake, he was a cop, he was a kid, he was a pirate, he was a twin without a brother. All because of a smell in the air.

And he might have shook himself, pushed it all away and told himself not to be an idiot if he hadn’t heard the voice and realised it wasn’t a memory.

“Mama? I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t a memory. Juno whirled, eye wide, heart no closer to restarting in his chest. His oldest daughter stood just behind him, holding her arm tightly with a hand that trembled, with skin that was ashen and a face wet with tears. His old coat was black from elbow to shoulder, one stripe of it completely gone and giving a glimpse of raw, red skin. A laser burn from a distance, it had just glanced off her but it was enough.

She looked so scared.

“Bianca?” he breathed, not really wanting to believe this was actually happening. His daughter was off on a job, of course she could never tell them much about it but she was meant to be off being young and reckless and having fun and swinging on starlight, just like her daddy did.

“I...I thought I got away but I missed one of the guards,” Bianca’s voice was tight, adrenaline clearly the only thing holding back the pain, “Mama…”

Juno swallowed hard, putting a firm, hard foot on his panic and shoving down hard. His baby girl needed him and when it was over he could go and find a quiet corner to scream and cry and rage about it. But for now he needed to get a goddamn grip.

“Bathroom,” he moved forward, sliding an arm to take her weight, just in time as her knees buckled.

Suddenly her free hand was bunched in his shirt tight enough to pinch his skin, his arms holding her as easily as if she was two instead of twenty two. As if she was as small and delicate as she had been then, when he’d first met her and realised just how much he’d be willing to give to keep her safe…

No. Not now.

He went to call for Nureyev, he was doing yoga in their bedroom, but Bianca’s hand tightened and she gave a strained, pained whine through her teeth.

“No,” she begged, breathing coming hard and shallow, the pain of her wound coming in through the cracks as she realised she was safe and didn’t need to run on sheer adrenaline, “Please don’t, not until...not until it’s covered up, I don’t want him to see…”

Juno went to protest but stopped himself, they didn’t have time and he couldn’t say she was wrong. Nureyev didn’t need to see this part, his husband’s field medicine skills weren’t as practised and when he saw the state their daughter was in, it wouldn’t even have mattered. He would freeze and he would break. Juno didn’t blame him in the slightest, he’d nearly gone himself, but he couldn’t hold both of them together.

So he kept quiet and carried his daughter to the poky bathroom of their apartment, moving quickly and quietly as he could past the twin’s bedroom.

“You need to keep talking for me, kiddo,” he said through gritted teeth, as soon as the door was shut behind them, “Tell me how you got in without any of us hearing you. Give me all the details.”

Bee Bee managed a weak chuckle as he sat her down against the edge of the bath, “I’m not giving you all my secrets, mama…”

Juno could dredge a smile for her, if she was going to make the effort, throwing it over his shoulder as he wrenched open the medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the many emergency first aid kits stowed around the apartment.

“Then give me all the moons of Jupiter in size order, biggest to smallest. I know your daddy made you memorise them.”

Bee Bee swallowed hard, shifting as she started to slump, “Um...Ganymede. Callisto…”

“Good, good girl,” Juno was more focused on pulling out the scissors and cutting away the ruins of the coat sleeve so he could start cleaning and dressing it, but as long as he could hear her talking he knew she was conscious.

“Io…oh mama, no, your coat…” Bianca tried to lean away from the blades.

“Bee Bee, I don’t know if you noticed but I care about you a little more than I care about some ratty old coat,” Juno sighed, ignoring her weak protests.

He couldn’t help but wince as he saw her arm, fully exposed. The bolt had only grazed her but clearly it had been set to kill, it had scorched a clean edged, diagonal path along the top of her arm. If she hadn’t been running away, if the person had fired a second before…

Juno shook himself and focused, it was clean and wouldn’t need more than a gentle dousing with cold water which he quickly set to. Don’t think about what could have happened, focus on what’s in front of you.

It broke his heart when she hissed in pain, the second where she clearly wanted to pull away from him, however much he could rationalise it. But he’d been doing some version of this for a long time, from the first time Bee had caught her tiny fingers in the door on the Carte Blanche.

“Hey,” he gently reached over and turned her face to him, “Just look at me, okay? You’re doing so well.”

His brave Bianca took a shaky breath and nodded, ‘Himalia is next. In the size order.”

Juno smiled with a soft, tired pride, motioning for her to go on as he applied a thin layer of salve and started to bind it with the smart tech bandages that wrapped tightly around her arm with no effort from him. They’d hold it fast and safe, healing the torn and blistering skin underneath until barely a trace remained.

But Bianca wouldn’t forget this. This would be another one of her memories, the ones that would come up when least welcome and stop her in her tracks when she thought she was safe.

Juno contented himself with doing what he could for her now. He helped her up, though her legs were still shaky, helping her take shuffling steps to her bedroom, the one they still kept exactly as she’d left it the last time she visited. Neither he nor his husband could ever bring themselves to move anything around, happy to admit to themselves that they were just waiting until their daughter came home again. So the old stuffed animals were still lining the bottom of the bed, the books were still piled on the nightstand, there were still soft blankets ready for her to sink down onto.

“Right,” Juno brushed a hand over her curls, “Now water, painkillers and lots of rest. Got it, kiddo?”

“Yes mama,” she sighed, leaning into his touch, “Um...I think I want to see daddy now.”

He saw the guilt flicker through her dark eyes and he softened it with a kiss to her forehead. He understood the instinct to protect people you cared about, feeling like you couldn’t let them see you cry or fall or hurt because you’d see just how much they cared about you and it could be so scary. Knowing so much of someone else’s happiness rested with you.

He left her to get settled, needing to take a few deep breaths as soon as the door closed. Just a little longer.

Nureyev was just stepping out of their room, his long hair pushed back from his face with a band that had probably once been Bianca’s. He looked calm, content, and his whole face lit up when he saw his wife walking towards him. Having to watch all that unravel, that would hurt Juno as much as any of it.

He tried to speak clearly, concisely, only repeating again and again that she was fine, that there would be no lasting damage or even a mark. But he wasn’t sure any of it actually got through after he finally said the words ‘Bianca’s been shot’. Because that was when he pushed past him and started running down the hall. Cursing under his breath, Juno took off but couldn’t hope to catch his husband on those legs, only getting there when the bedroom door was already open.

He was braced for tears, he was braced for the anger that sometimes came when Nureyev was feeling too much to hold within himself and had to lash out to try and grasp some control. He was braced to have to pull his husband out of there.

What he found was his husband and his daughter embracing as tightly as her wound would allow.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Bianca was sniffling, har face pressed to his shoulder, where it had always fit so perfectly ever since she was small, “I know you said to check, you said and I thought I did but…”

Nureyev shook his head, his own voice thick but steady, “No, no, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, as long as you’re okay.”

“Promise?” Bianca mumbled, still sounding a little like a child wondering what her punishment would be.

“Oh my treasure,” Nureyev drew back to hold her face in his hands, “I promise. All I care about is that you’re whole and well and...and next time, you will see it. You’ll get better and better every time, just like I did. I just couldn’t be more thankful it was no worse but...next time will be better.”

Bianca’s face flooded with obvious relief, she’d clearly been worried her daddy’s first response would have been to ground her. Juno had to admit, he’d expected it too.

Nureyev only touched her bandages lightly, checking everything was in place, “But...if you wanted to stay here for just a few days just while you healed? We could make room for you?”

Bianca gave a tired smile, rolling her eyes, “Only if you could make the room, of course.”

Juno leaned against the doorframe, giving them a few more moments together before joining them, giving Bianca some time before having to endure both of her parents fussing over her. As he watched Nureyev draw Bee Bee back in to hug her tightly and let her rest against him, he felt other times overlapping it, other times he’d seen that light in Nureyev’s eyes, the smile he saved only for their babies, the way they clung to him and looked to him for safety. He felt the years they’d spent together as parents, the memories sending warmth running through his chest, soothing the anxiety still gnawing there, giving him a few more hours before he’d need to release it. Hopefully Nureyev would be in his arms by then.

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel. But some were everything.

[the-voltage-diaries]

I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day - Daisuke Kambe x Haru Katou

AO3 link

This is the literal definition of self indulgence I’m not even kidding you.

And I totally did not write the last 1/3rd of it in a car because I didn’t have the patience to get home.

And this is unedited. So if you find errors please spare my humble life. I LITERALLY WROTE THIS ENTIRE THING TODAY. The inspiration istg.

Summary:

Daisuke Kambe doesn't get nervous. He doesn't overthink. He doesn't doubt anything he does, or any decision he makes. Except when he's in the dressing room, waiting for Hoshino to come and escort him to his soon-to-be husband. 'Cold feet' is the farthest term one would use to describe Daisuke, yet here he stands in front of the large mirror, wondering if he's good enough for the man whose eyes shine brighter than any star he's seen.

All it takes is one call.

And before he knows it, Haru right there in front of him.

He needs his hero, and Haru is there.

TW: Panic Word count: 3136 (woohoo)

Special tag: @akaiiro-yume​ for being my ultimate simp buddy. I told her this whole thing as just an idea and she said she felt like crying and I was like FUCK IT IM GONNA WRITE IT. So here we are. Thank you. 

“Daisuke Kambe,” Haru called his name, his voice so gentle it almost got drowned by the waves as he looked straight ahead at them with Kambe by his side. The serene way his lips curved into a peace smile hid with such grace the nervousness shooting up his spine. 

“Mm?” Daisuke glanced at his boyfriend, wondering why the inspector suddenly chose to call him by his full name instead of the usual ‘bastard’, ‘pain in the ass’, ‘idiot’, or just ‘Kambe’.

‘Am I doing the right thing? Are we ready for this?’

“What is it, Haru?”

“Marry me.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened, and he stared at Haru without blinking even once. “... What?”

“I said,” Haru turned to look at him, giving him an awkward little grin before grabbing Daisuke’s hands in his own and slowly going on one knee, “Marry me, ‘Suke.”

That was all it took. That nickname.

Daisuke felt every tense nerve in his body relax almost immediately as the answer came as naturally to him as breathing.

“Okay.”

Daisuke’s gloved hand wraps around the glass, his soft lips placing themselves on its rim to take another sip of water. It’s probably his tenth sip in the last two minutes (and counting).

“Lord Daisuke, you look incredible!” Suzue remarks, and he sees her smile at him through the mirror.

“Mm.”

“I can’t believe you and Katou-sama are finally getting married.” Suzue steps up behind Daisuke to smoothen the non-existent wrinkles on the thick piece of blue fabric covering his shoulders.

‘I can’t either.’

“It feels like just yesterday when you came back to Japan,” she continues, not noticing the way Daisuke’s nervous fingers fiddle with his cufflinks, “And now it’s already been six years… time passed by too quickly, didn’t it?”

“It has.”

Silence descends over them like a calm cloud while Suzue busies herself by fussing around with his three-piece suit, straightening it more than it already is, rubbing off any invisible lints, fixing his already perfect tie - a crisp, sophisticated taupe - and Daisuke lets his mind wander off once again.

He thinks about the six years he’s spent in Japan. But more specifically, he thinks about the time he spent by his side.

He thinks of all their firsts; their first meeting, their first argument, the first time he let Haru fall (not for him, but off the bridge), their first show of trust, first confessions, first kisses, first everything.

He thinks of their life after they decided to become more than just friends or colleagues. All of the small ways in which Haru reminded him, every day, just how much he adored him. Daisuke thinks of all those cuddles, all the nuzzles, all the intertwining of fingers.

And before he can stop it, a smile - albeit small but so full of love you could feel it radiating off of him - is gracing his lips.

‘Thank you.’ He finds himself thanking Haru in both his mind and heart… for just about everything. 

“Lord Daisuke, are you okay?” Suzue asks, snapping him out of his heartwarming walk down the memory lane.

“Yes, why?”

“Your eyes…” she trails off, and Daisuke’s gaze shifts from looking at her through the mirror to himself. A small gasp leaves his lips when he sees what’s got Suzue so worried about his eyes.

Tears.

A thin layer of unshed tears coats those calm eyes, and Daisuke feels his heart clench with absolute adoration when he realises the meaning behind such a blatant show of emotions.

These tears aren’t of pain. Or of agony. Or of suffering.

There are tears of gratitude. Of love. Of unrestrained joy at the mere thought of the wonderful man waiting for him at the same beach where he proposed.

“I’m fine, Suzue.” Daisuke says, his eyes never leaving the ones in the mirror. “I’m just… overwhelmed,” he admits, taking a deep breath in.

Suzue smiles. “I can understand. It IS a big day, after all.” She turns around, walking towards the door. “I’ll be outside.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. He couldn’t be more grateful to have a sister who understood him so well that they didn’t need words to get their message across.

And with that, Suzue steps out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Daisuke alone with his thoughts.

His eyes travel to the clock on one of the walls of the gigantic room, and he sees that he’s still got some time before Hoshino would come by to escort him to his lover. And his fiance.

Daisuke feels another smile tugging at his lips at the word, and he briefly thinks about how he’s been smiling too much today before his mind again wanders off to the man responsible for making him smile so much.

‘He’s too good to me,’ Daisuke thinks, sighing fondly. ‘He makes me believe that it’s okay to feel this… that it’s okay to feel happy. Sometimes it feels like it’s too good to be true.’

And that’s when it strikes him. The one thought which makes his shoulders go stiff, and his lips press themselves together in a stiff line.

‘But… What if it IS too good to be true?’

Daisuke’s mind decides to take another walk down the memory lane, but this time the road isn’t filled with Haru’s smile, or his warmth. This time, the road is dark, cold, unwelcoming. It’s filled with every memory of each time things felt too good to be true… and they were.

‘What if… what if this doesn’t last?’ He thinks, the pictures of his own parents clouding every space they could find in his head.

Haru and him wouldn’t end the same way… right?

‘Would I be able to make Haru happy?’

… As happy as Haru made him?

‘Everything I ever cared for in my life was ripped away from me… Will Haru and I be the same way?’

He notices as his chest starts rising and falling at a faster pace, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

‘Is it because I’ve been weak? I haven’t been able to protect the people important to me. I-I’ve never been good enough. What if… I still am not good enough?’ 

Daisuke’s eyes widen, terror seeping into them as his mind chooses to project a mental image of Haru walking, but not towards him. It’s an image of Haru having his back turned towards Daisuke, and he is walking away.

‘Am I even worthy of being loved?’

Daisuke thinks back on all the warm, loving moments that he thought of not even five minutes ago, but this time his mind focuses on his own actions instead of Haru’s

‘Haru has done so much to show me he loves me. How many times have I done the same?’

The back of his eyes burn so hard it feels like they’re on fire, and he finds it harder to breathe; he feels as if someone’s just wrapped their fingers around the base of his throat and is squeezing, hard. 

‘Is Haru happy with me? WILL he be happy with me?’

His own fingers come up to his throat, as if trying to replace the invisible ones.

‘Should we even be getting married? What if he realises I’m not worth it?’

‘Where are you, Haru?’ is what his heart screams instead, but he doesn’t hear it.

‘O-oh god, I cannot be forcing him to marry me.’

‘I need you, Haru. Find me. Please, find me.’

‘He doesn’t love me. He shouldn’t be marrying me.’

‘Haru, please. Save me.’

I’m only one call away.

He doesn’t even notice his fingers finding the surface of his phone and he is too busy letting himself fall down the dark spiral his mind lay out for him to bother seeing what his fingers are doing with the phone.

Daisuke feels his feet give away, and he slowly slides down to the floor. His body trembles, his breathing continues to quicken, and he feels something dark crawl up his spine.

It’s something he can’t describe, but it’s so dark and so… consuming. He feels like his mind is being ripped into shreds, as if someone is slowly claiming their control over it.

“H-Haru…” He whimpers and looks up, closing his eyes. He feels the thick layer of tears forming beyond his lids collapse as silent tears stream down his face. He opens his mouth to breathe, but the inhale turns into a choked sob.

He wasn’t good enough. He isn’t good enough. And he never will be good enough.

Daisuke bites his trembling lips and brings his knees closer to his body in an attempt to hide away from himself. 

Hah. What a pitiful sight. And Haru thought THIS weak little boy would be good enough for him? He should leave him while he still has time.

“Haru… please. I need you. Pl-Please don’t leave m-”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

I’ll be there to save the day.

Daisuke’s head snaps in the direction of the voice; a voice powerful enough to break the hold of what was slowly crawling through his mind, consuming him whole.

“Haru…” he whispers, blinking the tears away in an attempt to clear his vision.

The attempt is futile anyway, because the moment his sight comes into focus, he feels a pair of all too familiar arms pull him into a strong chest. “I’m right here,” Haru murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead before sitting down in front of him and pulling Daisuke between his legs.

“I-” Daisuke’s eyes widen, confusion slowly colouring over every other thought for the moment. “Wasn’t it Hoshino who was supposed to come?”

“You really expect me to ask Hoshino to check in on you when you call my number and then say my name the way you said it?”

‘I called him?’

“You sounded like someone was forcefully pulling every ounce of life out of you.”

“... I did?”

‘Yes, you bastard. You scared the living fucks out of me, y’know?’ Haru thinks, but instead of saying anything, he only pulls Daisuke closer to him.

He smiles when he feels Daisuke return the gesture.

Daisuke’s arms wrap around Haru’s neck and he places his face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep sniff of the latter’s scent. He feels his panic flow out of his body as the warmth of the man himself washes over his entire being.

“H-Haru-” the millionaire stutters, tears again filling his eyes, now that he’s had a moment for everything to catch up to him. Haru’s arms only pull him closer, as close as physically possible, and that’s when Daisuke notices some things he didn’t see earlier.

“You’re safe. I’m here. I’m with you. And I’m not going anywhere.” Haru speaks in between pants, his forehead covered with a thin, barely there layer of sweat.

‘He RAN all the way here?’ Daisuke thinks, taking in every bit of whatever Haru offered him; his love, his warmth, his confidence, his belief in them.

Superman got nothin’ on me.

“Haru.” Daisuke pulls his head back to look at the taupe-haired man.

“What?” Haru replies, his head still facing down. He doesn’t look up, and Daisuke can only wonder why.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Haru.”

“No.” “I love you.”

Haru’s head snaps up at the speed of light, his eyes so wide Daisuke fears his eyeballs might pop out of their sockets.

But now that Haru’s finally looking at him, Daisuke takes the opportunity to find out for himself why the man absolutely refused to look up at him just moments ago.

He feels all the air drain out from his lungs at the findings of his inspection.

‘He’s trembling.’

“I was so scared, Kambe,” Haru whispers, his head dropping on Daisuke’s shoulder. “I was so scared when I heard you sound so… weak.” 

“I love you.” Daisuke repeats, and this time it’s him who places a kiss on the other man’s forehead.

“I love you too.”

Haru looks up, and their lips come together so naturally and so perfectly, one would think it was meant to be. And maybe it was. 

And just like that, they sit there for a few minutes, wrapped up in their own warm little bubble, the world forgotten.

“Oi, Kambe,” Haru murmurs into Daisuke’s shoulder, successfully catching the attention of the shorter man. “What really happened?”

Daisuke sucks in a sharp breath, knowing exactly what Haru was talking about. The fingers holding on to Haru tighten a little more as he opens his mouth, and begins explaining what actually went down.

Daisuke speaks, and speaks. He expresses every minute detail, because he knows Haru is listening. Haru always listens. And he doesn’t just listen, he makes sure the other knows that he is there for him no matter what.

I’m only one call away.

Once he is done telling Haru everything, he looks at him with baited breath, trying to gauge Haru’s reaction. The only answer he gets is utter confusion as Haru pulls back from their embrace and stands up, brushing the barely-there dust off his suit. He looks down at his lover and extends a hand out to him.

But instead of grabbing that hand, Daisuke’s eyes get lost in the very gorgeousness of sight Haru Katou presents. Haru’s dressed in a three-piece suit, just like Daisuke himself, but it’s taupe in colour. His tie is the same blue as Daisuke’s suit, and he looks downright ravishing.

“We haven’t got all day, idiot.”

Haru sighs, grabbing Daisuke by the hand and pulling him up. He quickly wipes Daisuke’s tears and makes him look presentable (as if he wasn’t already) before dragging him to the door.

Haru opens the door to the dressing room, but before they can step out, Daisuke stops him.

“What are you doing?” Daisuke asks, his brows furrowed and the usual disinterest back on his face.

“Walking down the aisle with my bride.”

“You do know that you’re not supposed to be the one escorting me.”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

“Katou Haru. Are you joking with me?”

Haru turns around to meet Daisuke’s eyes and pulls the shorter man to him with one tug on his arm. He bends his head, giving Daisuke a quick kiss before pulling back and whispering, “Why? Is there a problem?”

Daisuke isn’t even given the time to blush, because Haru is already turning on his feet and walking down the hallway, pulling the millionaire behind him. They keep walking for a short while, even after they leave the building and step onto the beach, before Haru finally comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” 

Daisuke pokes his head from behind Haru’s back to see where exactly they are. “Oh my sweet bleeding heart.”

“Of all things in the world, that’s the first thing you say, rascal?”

“Haru, I-” Daisuke is quite literally at a loss for words, because right now, in this very moment, in front of him is a low stage setup with curtains falling around it in a circular fashion, and tiny fairy lights giving it it’s very own magical glow. It’s like a world within a world. A world away from everyone, from everything - a world for just the two of them.

“Come on, you and make it anywhere. But for now… we can stay here for a while.” Haru mutters, glancing at Daisuke, “'Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile.”

“Very cheesy, I’ll give you that,” Daisuke chuckles, stepping on to the stage. “So…” he turns to look at Haru, “What now?”

“Dance with me.” Haru says, and then there is no going back.

All it takes is a nod from Daisuke and Haru steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“What is it?” Haru asks, noticing the furrow of Daisuke’s brows.

“We have no music.”

“I got it covered,” is all Haru says before snapping his fingers, and almost immediately, music fills the space around them. 

“What song is this?” Daisuke asks, letting Haru pull him in by the waist and following his lead.

“Doesn’t matter. Focus on the lyrics. Oh, and me, of course.”

And so Daisuke does.

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day

Daisuke’s eyes stare into Haru’s as their feet move together, and he smiles at the lyrics, letting the other man know just how much he loves him. And this. Just how grateful he is for it all.

Superman got nothin' on me

And Daisuke can’t help but agree with that. His fingers gip Haru’s a little tighter as he sighs, his head coming to rest on the other’s shoulder.

I'm only one call away

Call me, baby, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love

“I love you,” Daisuke whispers at that, pressing a kiss to where his forehead rested just a moment ago. 

Come on, come on, come on Reachin' out to you, so take a chance

Daisuke pulls back a couple of steps, only to have Haru reach his arm out. He grabs it, doing a slow spin and falling into the arms of the man he loves more than his life could possibly define.

No matter where you go You know you're not alone

“I love you too.”

Silence soon falls between them and they both close their eyes, letting the music be their voice.

Come along with me and don't be scared I just wanna set you free

Come on, come on, come on You and me can make it anywhere

Realisation finally dawns on Daisuke as he realises where Haru’s words from earlier really came from. He smirks.

But for now, we can stay here for a while, ayy 'Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile

“You’re just a giant ball of sap, aren’t you?” He retorts, looking up at Haru. He might be smirking, but even he can’t hide the affection that swells up in his eyes as his hands reach up to wrap around Haru’s neck, allowing the latter to snake both his arms around Daisuke’s waist.

“Shut up.”

And when you're weak, I'll be strong I'm gonna keep holdin' on

“I’ll never let you go, Katou.”

Now don't you worry, it won't be long, darlin' And when you feel like hope is gone

Haru smiles, pulling Daisuke closer to him.

Just run into my arms

“Funny, because I don’t plan to let you go either, bastard.”

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day

“You really are a hero, you know, Haru?”

Superman got nothin' on me

“Just yours, ‘Suke. Just yours.” Haru murmurs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Daisuke’s.

I'm only one, I'm only one call away

“Forever.” Daisuke replies, his own eyes slowly shutting.

“And ever.”

Fin.

DONTCHA WORRY THEY DID GET MARRIED IN THE END THEY DIDNT FORGET ABOUT IT

[baeklination]

Ocean: the surface

Date:201010

Warnings/Contains: au. Fluff-ish, pre/light smut, (angst-ish?)

Pairing: Baekhyun x F.Reader

WC: 1850

NOTE: This is a prologue.

the deep (2)  Masterlist

                              ¤¤

  Gawa has decided the week's holy day is Saturday. Having a big dog in the city has its challenges; not being able to let him run freely in the wild, and other dog owners thinking he's a menace. In truth, Gawa is a menace. But the lovely "jump into your bed in the morning, follow your every move, eat every crumb you drop"-menace, not the scary dog people perceive him to be due to his rottie-pitbull DNA. (No, Gawa is everything other owners wish their dog was.) So having this park not thirty minutes walk from your home has been a blessing. 

This is your time to wind down. Usually. Today, same as last week, that man is here. Last time he at least had the decorum to pretend he was busy with his phone. But not now.  He's leaning across the fence, just looking - smiling - at you. You smile back with a little nod, hoping it will send him on his way, but also hoping it won't. He chuckles and runs his hand through his black waves. When he cocks his head and mouths "come here", you get a burst of butterflies shooting through your stomach. You're a goner. 

                             ¤¤

It starts with one thing

  Walking into the restaurant you immediately see you're out of place. Businessmen, business women, upper echelon people all dressed in black, slicked back hair and heels reaching to the heavens. In your blue denims and white blouse you not only look out of place, but feel it. If one of these people were to look up and spot you their fork would fall to their plate, alerting everyone that there's an intruder among them. You're surprised they haven't sniffed you out already… Nervously fidgeting with the zipper of your pink bag (why did I try to look cute for him..!) while damning your not so shiny shoes you hear him:

"You came…"

In keeping with the rest of the patrons he's wearing a black suit and tie, hair moderately styled to a soft wave. But Baekhyun looks different from the others. He looks...damn near perfect. The distinction between the two of you was glaringly obvious, but you hadn't realised it until now. 

"I didn't know we were going somewhere fancy like this...", you say, trying to look relaxed, but in your mind you're wondering if you'd even be able to pay for a drink here.

Sure, one could say custom dictates Baekhyun pays, since he asked you out, but not wanting to be guided by tradition you should at least offer. (What if he lets me? If he thinks it's a novel idea..!) You know you should just tell him how it is. Not being able to afford certain things - certainly not these types of luxuries - isn't something to be ashamed of. But you can't. 

Sensing your discomfort Baekhyun takes you to the side:

"Would you rather we went somewhere different?"

"Yes..!", you blurt out before backtracking "I mean, I know you picked this place and all, but it's so...and everyone's - you're so…", you trail off, trying to not overreact by letting the burn in your eyes come through. 

"Hey...", he says, taking your hands in his. "We'll go somewhere else if you're that uncomfortable. I just wanted you to join me since I always eat alone here. I thought it'd be nice to be accompanied by such a pretty little thing as you", he smiles. 

You can't help but feel flattered.

"Really? I mean..."

"Really. Besides… Look at them. Not a single soul will give you a second look - no, I don't mean it like that", he chuckles. "I'm trying to say they're all too busy being busy, thinking about themselves, you know."

Knowing Baekhyun's right and not wanting to be rude you muster up a little courage. 

"Okay, you're right. But if one of these fuckers look at me funny…"

Blowing smoke of course, you've never been in a fight your whole life. 

"Shh! They will if you talk like that."

"Oh, sorry", you giggle into your hand. 

When he interlaces his fingers with yours, guiding you to your table, you feel better, protected even.

"Ah, Mr. Byun - and who might this lovely young woman be?", the waiter says with a glint in his eye.

"You never coat it on like that when I'm alone, Freddie. Not pretty enough?"

"I would, but we don't want everyone to start talking, do we?"

"Well, I don't want everyone to start talking about this one either", he says, taking your hand. "She's mine."

His phrasing is perhaps a little caveman like, but the way he says it is endearing. 

"I'll give you a moment to look over the menu", Freddie says with a wink, but is halted by Baekhyun. 

"No need. We'll have the beef tartare, and a dry white."

"Beef isn't really my favourite", you say tentatively, afraid of offending Freddie. 

"Trust me, you'll love it. It's great."

"Mm...okay. I'm sure it's lovely."

                                          ¤¤

  Baekhyun had been right, the tartare was great. In fact, everything had been. He'd been a true gentleman all lunch, totally focused on you; asking about work, your family, and of course Gawa. He even stood up when you went to the ladies room. Being dropped off at your apartment had never felt less colourful. It wasn't a monetary comparison; it was the warmth emanating from him being taken away. When he asked if he could see you again and said his goodbye with a soft kiss you felt like Cinderella. 

                                      ¤¤

I’ve put my trust in you

  After three dates, a couple of bouquets and a hundred texts and calls in two weeks you knew it for certain - you'd been swept off your feet. You'd left Gawa with your mom for the night, 'cus this date was different - you were having dinner at his place. Riding the elevator to the eleventh floor you are more nervous than the first date; looking in the mirror for the seventh time you decide to wipe away your lipstick (don't want it to smudge if…). 

Baekhyun opens the door an leans on the frame with that disarming smile:

"Aren't you a sight…"

"Oh, stop it, Baek..."

"Stop? Never. I can pause. But sweetie… It's Baekhyun, not Baek, okay?"

For the umpteenth time you forget he doesn't like that nickname. 

"I know. Baekhyun."

"Come on, let's eat. You hungry?"

"I could eat", you chirp.

Truth be told you were famished, but vanity had made you opt for a dress that left little to no room for gorging. You knew it was silly when you picked it, but you wanted to look really nice. You wanted him to find you sexy.

Going through the kitchen to a dining room your eyes widen as you take it all in; the long table, standing in the middle of a dark room, is filled with candles all the way up to the two seats at the end where a bottle is on ice and two plates hide their contents under lids. 

"Wow… Did you do all this?"

"I should just say yes, but I had help. I've a friend who's a party planner. Asked his advice. I prepared the food myself though", he continued excitedly. "Come on, see what it is."

Lifting the lid you see your favourite dish. Your exact favourite. 

"Is this..? This isn't from Jade Garden, is it?"

"I don't cook, and thought better safe than sorry. Hope you're not disappointed. Gawa will be happy though."

"Gawa..?"

"I got some braised chicken for him."

"You did..!? That dog is gonna end up spoiled."

"If you love him, I love him”, he smiles.

                                       ¤¤

"Full?"

"I don't get how I can feel so hungry yet get full in three mouthfuls. I wish I could eat like you."

Shoving his chair back he reaches for your hand.

"My little bird. Sit with me."

The jitters are always the worst in the beginning. Sitting down on his lap he wraps his arms around your waist and looks at you for a moment. Realising how much your ribcage is rising you can't hold back your laughter, Baekhyun mimicking you. Even as he's guiding you towards him by the nape of your neck he lets out a chuckle. 

  It's quiet. Only the sound of dragged out kisses and fabric being touched disturb it. When he shifts his weight you feel the bulge beneath his dress pants. Your approving moan lets his hands travel further, undoing your zipper at the back, letting your dress fall down, stopping short of showing your nipples. Kissing his way down your neck, hands feathering your back he breaks the silence:

"I think we should...move to the bedroom… Don't you..?", he finishes, pushing down your dress further. 

As it runs over your nipples it sends a shiver down your back. But even so it doesn't match the one you experience from seeing Baekhyun; sinking lower in his seat, pressing his groin upward, he takes your nipple between his lips - the other being firmly caressed by his hand..

                   ¤¤

"Shit!", Baekhyun exclaims, rolling onto his back.

There's a sheen of sweat on his heaving chest, which plasters him onto you when he pulls you in and showers kisses on you.

"God, woman..! We're gonna have to see about getting you on the pill first thing Monday", he sighs "Or I'll go broke with all the condoms I'm gonna have to buy."

"Oh, get...", you laugh into his chest. 

"Dead serious, sweetie. And next time we'll do it the other way…"

"Other way?"

"You know…", he says, smacking your ass "...other way."

"Trying the whole menu in one night? And here I thought you were respectable, Mr. Byun…"

"Give me ten minutes and I'll respect the hell out of you."

"Where are you going?"

"Hydration. Getting water. No stay, I'll bring it in."

"I'm just gonna check my phone, see so mom hasn't called or anything."

Seeing Baekhyun in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by faint spotlights your heart skips. (I really just had sex with that beautiful fucking man…)There's nothing exciting happening on your phone (thank you, God), so you make your way back to the comforts of Baekhyun's bed.

"News..?"

You shake your head in reply and cuddle up, accidentally falling asleep on him.

Having one of those falling dreams you flounder, sliding off him.

"Shit, you scared me", he laughs, mostly at his own reaction. 

"I scared myself, Christ! Sorry... Did I wake you?"

"Nah, I wasn't asleep", he says, rolling on top of you.

Pushing your legs open with his, the flush in your torso is instant. His hair caressing your forehead as he buries his tongue in your mouth; his length pressed against your stomach; his weight on you.

"It's only me, right?", he whispers as he aligns himself to your entrance. 

"Only you..?"

"It's only me you're with?"

"Oh. Yeah. It's just you."

"Good."

With one hand on your waist he slides in and starts rolling his hips. 

"I wouldn’t like it if I found out you were doing this with someone else."

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   3

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Reader finally wakes up! And Sans is happy to see her… very happy to see her.

A/N: I don’t really have much to say, except hi… so… hi!

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Cute when you’re mad.

(Y/n) rolled to the side, her eyes feeling crusty and sore.

As she tried to move, her body felt sore, too, the kind of sore that came from laying in an uncomfortable position for too long.

A scratchy hum stuttered from her as she opened her eyes and looked around.

What the hell? She wondered, taking in what she could see. She had no idea where she was, nothing looked familiar.

“wadda ya mean?” A low voice drifted to her through the closed door.

“I MEAN THAT YOU STILL HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES, YOU STILL HAVE TO MAKE YOUR ROUNDS,” a loud, condescending, voice told him.

(Y/n) felt fear spike in her, not recognizing either voice, and feeling nervous due to one yelling.

She just needed to get up, say thanks as she passed them and run the hell out of there. She felt like anyone would do the same in her situation.

(Y/n) pushed the blankets down, stretching her sore muscles with a wince.

“bro, we ain’t in th’ underground any more! i know it makes ya feel better, but we don’t need-” the first voice started off aggressively, but then he stopped himself and took a deep breath to reset his tone. “hey, look, bro, i dunno what’s wrong wit ‘er- but-” his tone started turning tense again.

“WE DO NEED IT!” The loud voice exclaimed, making (Y/n) shoot up in the bed.

The sudden motion made her choke on her saliva, and the cough set off a coughing fit.

“doll?” The deeper voice asked from the side of her.

(Y/n) looked over and saw- a fucking skeleton.

Not literally a “fucking” skeleton, but- it was a skeleton!

He seemed a bit chubby, which may or may not have had something to do with his thick black, fuzzy trimmed coat, his dark eye sockets lit by twin red lights, and his sharp grin stretched into a concerned grimace, a single gold tooth gleaming.

She’d thought it was just a crazy fever dream, seeing a skeleton giving her water… Guess not.

“d-doll, ya ok?” He asked as he started toward the bed.

A stranger- a monster, who were known to hurt and kill humans- a skeleton - any of those things alone would have made her nervous, but all of them together, and when she was in a strange place? Trapped in a room with him? It set her off.

(Y/n) screamed, or, she tried to. What came out was a flutter of her vocal cords, a strobe effect of sound that cut in and out, until it caught and started her coughing fit again.

“doll!” The skeleton hurried toward her, concern showing, though (Y/n) couldn’t see it through her fear, or her coughing. “ya a'right?”

(Y/n) tried to get away from the large, rushing male, but her legs were still trapped under the blanket.

“shi- sweetheart, careful, y’re gonna fall off th’ bed,” he told her, hurrying around the end of the bed and catching her as she did, indeed, start falling.

(Y/n) was scrambling to get away from him, and he was trying to catch her so she didn’t hurt herself, leading to them fumbling and somehow ending up with her pinned against the wall, his one arm boxing her in, the other stuffed in the pocket of his coat.

“heh… so, uh… thassa bit different than th’ last time ya was awake…” The skeleton said, his nervous tone highlighted by the lightly glowing blush on his cheeks.

(Y/n) just stared at him in confusion, not sure what to do, but afraid to move. She just needed to watch the situation. It wasn’t a great situation, but she’d learned over her life to always watch for her chance to get out, knowing that she sometimes had to bide her time for the safest moment.

“you, uh… ya need-” His blush seemed to dissipate a little, his brow dipping to give the impression of a suave expression. “howabouta reminda?” He asked with a tilt to his skull.

His hand left his pocket and trailed the tips of his phalanges down her cheek, then cupped it, leaning in to kiss her.

(Y/n) was frozen in shock.

How did skeletons even kiss?! Were those his teeth pressing against her lips, or did he have some sort of boney lips?! Her hands went to his shoulders to push him away, but slid up over them as he pressed closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue- he had a tongue?!- slipping across her bottom lip and parting her lips to meet hers, warm, with just a hint of a tingle, twisting and turning in ways she’d never felt.

Oh woooow…

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted shut and her hands tightened on the fabric of his coat, her body arching to his, and she was having trouble holding back the moan that wanted to escape. Good thing her voice was virtually nonexistent.

He parted from her, the red glow still visible on his cheeks. “fuck, that wuz good… heh…” He murmured near her lips.

His sockets had closed to become half lidded- somehow?- and the grin showing off his sharp teeth showed his enjoyment.

(Y/n) realized that his body was touching her, pressing her against the wall, his hand still cupping her jaw.

Despite that kiss being- well, she’d be lying if she tried to say that it hadn’t been great, but he was still some strange guy that had her pinned to the wall!

(Y/n) tugged at his coat, pushing against him with her body, trying to get him away from her, or at least far enough to escape.

“hnnnn…” The sound rumbled from his throat, his expression falling into a more sensual one.

Oh shit… That was not the direction she’d intended to take this… She started pushing harder against him, starting to panic a bit.

“don’t, doll,” Sans tried to warn, feeling himself getting excited by her movements. She was so soft, so nice feeling…

She continued pushing and wriggling against him, exciting his body even more as her breasts pressed into him.

“doll…” Another rumble left him, and he licked the edge of his teeth. “dollface, ya gotta…” fuck… She felt so good pressing and bumping against him, inadvertently rubbing his pelvis.

Sans ducked his head, taking her mouth in another kiss, this one a little rougher, needier.

She was still struggling, and it pulled a growl from him, drawing his instinctual responses. He had her, pinned and against him. And she was fighting back , challenging his dominance. That deep down, forgotten instinct told him to take her, mark her to show everyone that she was his, to pick her up and hold her thighs around him as he pounded into her.

His hands grabbed her wrists, dragging them from his coat and pinning them over her head. Taking them both in one hand, his other trailed down her arm, following the line of her side, sending shivers through her body, until it got to her hip, sliding around to run over and squeeze her ass a couple of times before settling just above it and tightening his grasp, pulling her tighter against his growing groin.

He pulled away from her mouth, his sharp teeth giving a gentle nip under her jaw before he sighed out a hot breath over her throat and shoulder.

“fuck- sweetheart ya gotta stop-” another needy growl escaped, “ya gotta stop movin’…”

She didn’t. He pressed harder against her, trying to get her to stop by pressing her into the wall. She kept struggling and rubbing against him.

“trus’ me, sweetheart, hol’ still. y’re not gettin’ the results ya want, are ya,” he pointed out, licking his teeth again and holding back his needy frustration. “jus’ gimme a minute, doll… lemme get aholda myself…”

(Y/n) stilled, trying to hold back her panic. He at least sounded like he was trying to stop, and wasn’t planning on doing anything unsavory. God, she hoped her instincts were right… Though they’d served her well in the past. Enough to be alive now, at least.

After a minute he let go of her, pushing himself back from the wall. He was silent for a moment, just looking at her before he gave a chuckle. “heh… well. seems we did this kinda backwards. hi, doll, i’m sans. sans the skeleton,” he told her, moving his hand out for her to shake.

(Y/n) was completely and utterly confused. What the hell was this guy planning?

She poked her hand out to shake his, getting out, “-y ..a.. …s (…/n).”

Sans winced at her voice. “eh, thatta- that don’ sound good. ya ok, sweetheart, ya need some water?”

(Y/n)’s brows met in confusion at his sudden politeness and she nodded. He nodded a direction and waited for her to go first, directing her to sit on the edge of the bed and handing her the glass of water as he crouched in front of her.

She drank it down thirstily, not stopping for breath until the glass was empty.

“heh… ya ok, now?” He asked. She nodded and his grin widened. “good. now, what’s yer name, sweetness?”

(Y/n) tried again, getting out a quiet croak, then rethought it and leaned closer.

Sans smiled teasingly and asked, “ya wanna 'nother kiss, sweetness?”

(Y/n) blushed as her eyes shot wide, shaking her head and leaning back.

“ahh, tryna whisper.”

She nodded and experimentally leaned in. He didn’t move, so she leaned in and managed to whisper, “(Y/n).”

Sans felt his soul thump against his ribs. “(y/n),” he murmured. She nodded to him, her lip quirking up. “stars- ya look so pretty…” Her eyes shot open again showing her unease with that comment. Sans felt nervousness rise in his nonexistent gut. “s-so, why’d ya kiss me, doll?”

(Y/n) squeaked in shock as she denied it, shaking her head and pointing at him.

Sans stood up and looked down at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. “nah, doll, before? 'n th’ alley. right before ya passed out.”

She stopped flailing, looking at him in confusion.

“don’t remember, huh?” He asked softly. She shook her head apologetically. Sans grit his teeth, supposing that it was too good to be true.

Before he knew it, his self protective instinct of pushing everyone away reacted.

“heh. ya weren’t tryna get a customer or nothin’?”

“-at!?” She demanded with a squeak.

She was angry, he could tell. Her face was flushed, darker than her fever had had her…

And he found he liked the way her reaction made her fill with passion. She looked so desirable like this; eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, chest puffing with her breath.

(Y/n) opened her mouth but paused, taking a breath and clenching her jaw, turning away from him with a glare on her face.

“hey, nothin’ wrong wit it if ya were, dollface,” though his soul felt a rage boil in it at the thought, “oldes’ profession in th’ world.”

(Y/n) shot to standing, glaring at him as though daring him to say anything else.

And who was he to turn down a dare?

“i mean,” he turned his head and shrugged carelessly, “ya jus’ met me and ya couldn’t keep yourself from tryna suck my face.” Her cheeks were darker, her eyes narrowed angrily, her teeth clenched and bared… and his cock was thickening. “though, there wasn’t any talk a payin’ beforehand.”

(Y/n)’s finger landed on his chest, her voice squeaking out as she tried to yell at him. He was pretty sure her speech went along the lines of “listen here, buddy,” telling him off.

His grin just pissed her off more, he could tell, especially when her finger stopped jabbing and her hand started smacking. His lack of reaction to her smacking was also pissing her off, and it turned from one hand to two slapping against his chest.

Sans caught both of her hands against his chest, holding them against him and taking a step toward her, ushering her so that the bed caught the back of her knees and she fell back to sitting on it. “careful, doll. ya might jus’ be gettin’ me all excited ‘gain wit yer indignant rant.”

(Y/n) looked up at him in confusion, but her eyes were drawn back about face level as he tilted his hips to her to get her attention where he meant. She gasped and pulled back, trying to escape.

How the hell did a skeleton get a hard on?! New meaning to the term bone-r… She winced internally at the awful pun.

“don’t worry yer pretty lil head, dollface; i ain’t doin’ nothin’ ta ya. jus’ lettin’ ya know th’ consequences a yer actions.” He pulled her hands away from his chest, ducking a little to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist with a wink.

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating in a blush and hated herself a little more.

She’d known this guy for how long ? And she’d already basically made out with him. Apparently more than once.

She needed to get the hell out of here.

She tried to say his name, but it came out as a rasp, unintelligible to either of them. She tried again, but had the same result.

Her face twisted in irritation before she made a motion like writing on a paper.

“sorry, sweetheart,” he shrugged, “i ain’t really learned how ta read human writing, yet.”

After becoming very self conscious from Sans watching her pout at her inability to communicate, she finally just turned to the door and pointed.

He lifted a brow. “ya wanna go out?” She nodded. “nah, ya really don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” he told her.

She made a nervous movement, pulling back from him, and he realized how that must have sounded.

Sans winced and dropped to his knee in front of her, his hand going out cup her face. “nah, doll, don’t get me wrong; this ain’t a prison, ya ain’t trapped in my room- my brudda is jus’ an asshole sometimes ‘s all. ‘f ya really wanna go out there, we can…” (Y/n) thought of whoever had that loud voice and shook her head, and he grinned. “good choice, sweetheart. we can get ta know each other betta in here wit’out that asshole.”  

(Y/n) shook her head again, and gestured with two hands like a pillow; “sleep.”  

Sans’ brow ridge dipped in confusion. “huh?”

She made the motion again and pointed to the bed.

“ya want a nap?” He asked.

She shrugged to herself; it was close enough. She nodded.

“if ya wanna,” he shrugged, then a wicked grin grew on his face. “my bed that comfy?”

(Y/n) shook her head in frustration. She again made the sleep gesture and pointed to the door, alternating between them so he got the message.

“ya wanna take a nap on the couch?” He asked, his hand leaving her to rub over the back of his skull as he looked away from her. “i mean, ya can, but i dunno why ya’d wanna when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

He saw her cross her arms out of the edge of his eye socket and looked back to see the very unamused look on her face. “heh,” he gave an innocent chuckle.

She pointed at herself and then to the bed as she continued staring him down, as though telling him that she was onto his shit and knew that he knew exactly what she meant.

He cleared his throat, looking away angrily as his cheeks heated. “maybe I jus’ want more time wit ya when y’re awake,” he mumbled.

Sans heard her let out a tch before she smacked his shoulder. He turned back to face her and saw her mouth the word “why?” Before he could say anything, though, she followed it up with, “why not just ask?”  

His expression turned a little harsher, taking a turn toward self hatred himself. “don’t gussy it up fer me, doll- like any girl ‘s pretty as you would ever go for a guy like me…”

She was silent for a moment and his eyes drifted away, knowing that she was agreeing with him, but then she started humming. It was a human tune, a tune he’d heard before, but he couldn’t place it. It took her making a few gestures that went with the lyrics for him to figure it out, and when he did, his face got even redder.

“hey! that ain’t funny!” He growled, but she broke into a set of squeaky giggles. “i’ll show you ‘spooky, scary skeletons,’” he threatened without any real intent behind it. She just laughed harder, squeaks and wheezes making it out, and he found he couldn’t stay mad at her. After a moment he cracked a smile. “heh… bet that laugh a yers is even prettier when ya got a voice.”

She blushed and looked away again.

Sans was about to say something when he was interrupted by the louder skeleton calling him to dinner.

“you, uh… you feelin’ good enough ta eat somethin’?” He asked.

(Y/n) thought for a moment, but she did feel hungry, starving, actually, so she nodded.

“ya-” he looked away a little uncomfortably, “ya want me ta bring ya some food, or ya wanna come down?”

“SANS!!! DINNER IS READY !!!” His brother demanded his presence. Neither got a chance to say a word before he called again, “SANS!!!”

“fuck,” he grumbled, going to the door and opening it to call out, “i’m comin’! fuckin’ hell!” He turned back to her, apprehension starting to show in his posture. “so… y-ya wanna come d-down?”

(Y/n) thought for a moment before shaking her head.

Sans nodded. “a‘right. i’ll bring ya some food- smells like he made lasagna. b’right back.”

He left and (Y/n) let out the deep breath she’d been holding.

He claimed that she was free to leave, but he didn’t want her to enough that he wouldn’t let her. And his personality kept switching at breakneck pace, going from perfectly nice to horny to pissy in the blink of an eye.

That was not a good sign. People with that trait were usually a volatile sort who then turned out to be the sort to hit or otherwise abuse you.

Not that she had any experience with that! … or maybe she did… She rubbed her hand over her shoulder at the memory.

She sighed and stood, looking around for her shoes, seeing them with her jacket, which was folded nicely, on the chair by Sans’ desk. They were the only thing in tidy order in the room, which, from the state of it, she’d have to assume a tornado had passed through, tossing everything everywhere out of order. Her pockets were empty except for a receipt and a collapsable tampon, and her bag was nowhere in sight, which meant that her wallet, phone, and keys were all gone somewhere. Probably back where she’d passed out.

Ugh.

She put the shoes and her jacket on before running her fingers through her hair to try and make it presentable as she walked to the door and looked around before heading to the stairs. She could see the lower floor over the railing, a couch, a table, not much, but not empty enough to be poor looking.

She reached the floor and saw that the sounds of plates and cutlery were coming from the room off of the one she was in, just happening to be situated under Sans’ room.

No wonder she’d been able to hear them so well earlier.

Another skeleton sat at the table in the kitchen, this one seeming thinner and taller than Sans, he had on a completely black outfit with sharp shoulder pads, the only visible pops of color were his red scarf and gloves. (Y/n) saw a three marked scar over his left eye socket, which looked a little worse for the wear, and it, along with his sharp teeth, made him seem very intimidating.

Sans paused where he was heading toward the stairs with a plate of lasagna in his hand.

Both skeletons had their red pupiled sockets on her, and it made her start to feel a bit nervous.

“h-hey, doll, i was jus’ bringin’ it up ta ya,” Sans told her, looking a bit nervous and taking a quick glance at the other skeleton.

(Y/n) glanced over both of them, noting that the taller skeleton seemed to be observing her, not moving or saying anything.

She looked back to Sans and motioned to herself and the door, giving a smile and a wave.

“no!”

All eyes were on Sans at his nervous order.

“uh- i mean- ya can’t go out there!” He was babbling, looking a bit sweaty. “’s not safe fer ya!”

The other skeleton looked at him and his eye sockets visibly adjusted, almost like he was squinting at him.

“doll, don’t,” Sans managed more calmly, though he still looked nervous.

The other skeleton’s eyes were back to her, taking in the way she had recoiled, more each time Sans told her not to go. Her expression was one of challenge, as though she were going to try to dare them to stop her.

“ONLY A HUMAN DEVOID OF BRAINS WOULD GO OUT INTO THE MONSTER TERRITORY, ESPECIALLY ALONE,” he said, his voice sounding pompous and cruel. “EVEN THE ONLY MONSTERS THAT WOULD GO OUT AROUND SUNDOWN ARE THE ONES WHO ARE FOOLISH OR STUPID.”

Sans noticed the way she flinched warily at his brother’s loud, harsh voice and flashed him a glare.

(Y/n) pointed at her wrist, looking a bit stressed.

“what time is it?” Sans guessed.

“DINNER TIME,” his brother answered.

(Y/n) walked closer to Sans making gestures, and trying to get her point across.

“late? late fer what, sweetheart?” He asked.

How did she explain a job in a way that they would understand? She looked at the floor hopelessly for a moment, then looked up. She pointed at the sitting skeleton, mimicked a talking motion with her hand, pointed at Sans, lifted her finger up in the air, made a circle with it, then put her hand over her eyes and mimicked looking around.

It took a few repeats of the circle with added walking motion and looking gestures before he asked, “why’re ya worried ‘bout my lookout rounds, doll?”

She made the motions for his “rounds” again, then pointed at him followed by the universal sign for money.

“money- job. you gotta job, sweetheart?” He asked with a wince. She nodded vigorously. “they uh… they expectin’ ya wit’in th’ las’ three days?”

(Y/n) looked at him in confusion, and he could see the realization dawn on her as her eyes widened. She tapped her wrist again where a watch would be and pointed at the floor.

“doll,” Sans took a step closer, but didn’t reach out, seeming a little awkward about how to comfort her. “s-sweetheart… ya been here, outta it fer three days.”

Panic rose a little in (Y/n)’s chest and she pointed at where his pocket should be, miming holding a phone to her head.

“ya wanna use my phone? sure,” he told her, pulling his phone out and opening it in “guest safe mode” so she couldn’t get into any of his personal stuff.

(Y/n) took the phone and checked the date, worry etching itself on her face.

She’d intended to call her boss after she caught a nap and tell him she was sick, but… apparently she had passed out and spent the last three days sleeping in a stranger’s bed.

That meant she had at least one no call no show, but probably two, since they had probably already been entered into the system for the day. And she had no way to get back at the moment, so that didn’t bode well for tomorrow.

She opened the phone app and dialed the store number, hearing it ring and ring. She glanced out the window, seeing the setting sun.

It rang for five minutes before she gave up. They were probably already starting to close the store… Which would mean that the manager wouldn’t be able to hear the phone from the cash office.

After a moment of debating what to do, aware that both skeletons were watching her every move, she dialed her phone and put in the code to access her voicemail.

Four messages… great.

First one, her boss asking where she was, second one, an irritated boss asking where she was, third one a warning about getting a no call no show, fourth- a second no call no show and a warning that she was one away from being fired.

If she didn’t leave, if she didn’t make it to work tomorrow morning-

It wasn’t like she loved her job or anything, it wasn’t her life’s ambition, but it paid the rent!

Surely they’d be lenient if they found out what had happened? Being trapped in a war zone got people excused from work, right?

“WHY DOESN’T SHE SPEAK? IS SHE STUPID?” The loud skeleton asked.

(Y/n) looked over at him with a cocked eyebrow, surprise at his seeming ineptitude at social interactions filling her.

Sans turned to him, a coldness surrounding him as he glared at his brother with empty sockets. “she lost 'er voice,” he growled, then demanded, “why ya gotta be such a asshole?!”

(Y/n) warily watched him; this mood was not the time to bother someone with the potential to go violently off in.

But she needed to know.

With a slight shake in her hand, she touched the back of his arm, first handing him the phone to put a space between the moment he was angry and the moment she asked her question.

Sans set the plate of lasagna he’d been holding the whole time on the table and took his phone from her, shoving it back into the pocket of his loose basketball shorts.

Now or never… Well, not never , but she really should do it sooner rather than later.

(Y/n) took the back of Sans’ sleeve in her hand and brought his attention to her.

“wazzup, sweetheart?” He asked.

She pointed at him, her, then the door, her eyes not quite meeting his, in case that would make him more likely to be angry.

“ya want me ta go wit ya?”

“NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT! I WILL NOT LET YOU ENDANGER MY BROTHER’S LIFE!!” The sitting skeleton burst out.

Sans flashed him a glare when (Y/n) flinched and shifted to be more behind him, before turning back to her. “much as i’d love ta walk ya home, sweetheart, even a tough monster like me ain’t gonna last long traveling wit a human. even in th’ daylight.”

So. That was it, then.

It really would be putting his life on the line if Sans took her out of the house.

There was too much push back from both of them for it not to be reasonable, and, honestly, their arguments aligned with the warnings of the monster territory.

They’d even let her call out without any push back, like they weren’t worried about anyone finding out they had her there.

“s-so- ya wanna join us fer dinner, since y’re 'already down here?” The slight nervous shiver was back to his voice.

(Y/n) let out a sigh, dropping her head in momentary defeat. It’s not like there was anything else she could do at the minute. She may as well eat.

She nodded and sat down at the table. 

[ilguna]

Whist - Chapter One

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

Word Count; 6.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: not a finnick odair x reader. it’s a ‘what if’ series

–

“Good morning.” Finnick’s voice is rough, tired. 

You pause the pencil right where it is, looking over to him. He’s got his eyes half-open, squinting at you through the sun rays that are running through the window. For a moment, he lifts himself to see what you’re doing, and then he rests back against the pillow, back to the window.

“Good morning.” you place the pencil down temporarily, running your hand over his forehead, “Still feeling unwell?”

“Little feverish.” he admits, “Nothing I can’t handle. The Capitol will have all the medicine I need, anyway.”

“If you say so.” you give him a sweet smile, turning back to the black book.

You read over the words, trying to recollect your thoughts. After reading over the sentence a third time, it picks up in your mind. You finish it, write the date down, and then close the book for good. You’ll pick it back up when you get back from the Capitol.

“Do you know the time?” Finnick asks.

You turn to the nightstand, sliding the book--with the pencil neatly tucked between the pages--and check the time, “Little past seven. The whole house is awake already.”

“Little past seven?” he repeats, “Maybe I should stay home.”

“It’s likely the medicine that made you sleep in so late, honey.” you say sweetly, slipping out of the bed, “Either way, you have to be there for the reaping. Better not drag your feet.”

“Right.” he agrees, “Start up the shower?”

“Of course.” you agree, heading into the bathroom. You lean into the shower, turn on the faucet to warm, and then leave.

“I’m going to help Alyssum. It’s her first year and all.” you go back over to Finnick, crawling onto the bed long enough to kiss him, “Gotta reassure her and everything.”

“The first is always the worst.” he says.

“Yes, it is.” you agree, “I’ll be back up, holler if you need something.”

“Will do.” he sighs, and right when you make it to the bedroom door, he calls your name. You turn to look at him, seeing a smile on his face, “I love you.”

You smile back, “I love you too, Finn.”

You head out of the room after that, closing the door but not entirely. There’s a small gap between the frame and the door itself. Just in case he does yell, you’ll be able to hear him from the entire house.

Knocking on Alyssum’s door, you wait patiently for her to answer. She doesn’t say anything, opting for swinging the door wide open for you to see her instead. Her eyes are wide, and she’s got two dresses hanging from her arm.

“I don’t know which to choose.”

She holds them up for you to see. The dress on the left is baby pink, with white accents. There’s a ribbon that runs along the middle, and in the back it can be used to tie it up. Like an apron. The dress is long-sleeved, which might be awful in this weather, but even Finnick had managed to catch a cold.

You have a feeling that it might be because of all the time he’s been spending out on the water lately with Reed, Mox and Caspian. You warned all of them to take a coat, just in case they were to fall into the water and get frozen. But none of them listened, and now your husband is at the end of a nasty bug.

The other possibility is that he caught it while he was in the square--the black market of District Four. Again, lately he’s been out there with the boys doing god knows what. But you heard from Mags that people have been catching colds, and with how jam-packed the square is constantly, he probably got it there.

You’re just glad that Mox and Reed seem to be in good health.

The pink dress also has a nice trim along the bottom. When you reach out to run the fabric between your fingers, it’s soft. Might even be easily damaged. Things will easily stick to it, but at least it’ll be warm. You can already picture the possibilities of accessories that she could pair with this.

As for the second dress, it’s strangely familiar. You can’t place your finger on it though, even while you look over the material. It’s a little more stiff, a slight gold color. Black trim and ribbon, and it’s not long-sleeved. It’s got the arms of a regular t-shirt. 

“What’s the weather like today?” you ask her.

“Hot.” she says, “It’ll start warming up around the time we leave.”

“Which is what? Eleven? Twelve?”

She nods.

“Then I’d say to go with the gold dress.” you pick it up from her fingers and hold it against her body, “Make sure you choose something black that will go with it.”

“If I find a black ribbon, will you tie it in my hair?” she asks hopefully.

“I’ll do your hair entirely.” you promise, “All Capitol fancy.”

Alyssum has a smile spread over her face, “Okay.”

She turns back into her room, shutting the door. Turns out she’s not as nervous as you thought. 

As you go down the steps, you come to realize that she doesn’t really have a reason to be afraid. She’s surrounded by older people who have either been inside of the games or trained relentlessly in case they would be. And when Alyssum finally turned ten two years ago, all of you jumped on her back at once.

Of course, she’s been being fed little things since she was seven. You started out with the easy things, like how to tie the ‘fun’ knots, and how to start a fire. And ever since, you had a theme with the year. When she turned eight, if she wasn’t in school, she was on a boat with you and Finnick learning to fish or she was tying knots. She was already a strong swimmer, so there wasn’t much to worry about with that.

When she turned nine, you took it upon yourself to teach her how to use a knife. Places to hide one, how to get it out easily. You bought her a pocket knife from the square for her to have. Even if she wouldn’t be allowed to have it at school, it was good practice. She carries it with her everywhere now.

That same year, you and Finnick had taught her how to use a spear, which she didn’t like very much. So then, you two switched to the swords. And you’re talking about the illegal ones also from the square. However, you weren’t buying them, you were only borrowing them from some old gal that you’ve known for a while now.

On top of the sword, someone offered up a bow in trade for teaching his daughter how to do it in a way that would make her want to learn how. Then someone else pitched in a dummy and a couple of target stands. That summer was by far the craziest.

Then she turned ten, and you started to teach her other things. You wanted to ease her into the idea of having to kill someone. So, instead you taught her the anatomy of the body. You showed off exactly where the major arteries were and told her that if she were to ever get hurt there, she would have to act quick.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d likely die unless she knew what she was doing with medical stuff. So, you brought her to the local clinic that year and convinced some of the staff to allow her to watch how it was done. In return, you funded some medical supplies. 

You thought it would be better if she learned it straight from a professional. Especially with practices like District Four’s. They’ve all been handed down from generation to generation. All the shortcuts to getting better, the medicines to avoid--namely morphling because of how addictive it is--and what to and not to do.

She learned how to do stitches, and by the time the school started up again in the fall, she answered all your questions flawlessly. When you asked her how to treat stab wounds, the words would come from her mouth before she realized it. At first, she thought it was embarrassing, until everyone around her was so excited.

Reed had thought you were the prodigy, with how you learned and never complained. But with Alyssum, she was always so eager to learn more. And the way she retained information too was a big deal. No matter the situation, if you ask her a question about a past lesson, she’ll know it.

When she turned eleven last year, that’s when you started to get more serious. More survival skills that would help her in the long run. What berries looked like, what leaves looked like. What food would be useful inside of the arena, the three rule especially. 

And with her turning twelve this year, you finally decided that she couldn’t be babied any longer. She could like all the little kid stuff, but she’s eligible for the games. The chances of her getting picked on her first year are so slim that you won’t even consider the possibility. But you took the precaution of teaching her how to fight anyway.

Most of the time it was plastic swords and knives. You’d set up a mock hunger games with you, Finnick, Reed, Mox, Caspian and his family, and her just a little outside the gates of victor’s village. In the middle would lay everything that she would need. And you focused on the if factor. If she ran to the middle rather than away, she would have to act quick.

None of you went easy on her. You all might have tens of years of age on her. It’s clearly unfair with the first thought. Then the second rolls in. That the career kids have been taught this stuff since they were young. This is their first nature. They’re going to think like the predators. They’re going to be bigger than her, smarter than her, and more skilled than her.

And hell, they wouldn’t give a damn if she was twelve or seventeen. If they were to see her face, they would go straight for the kill. Unless she made allies.

At first, Alyssum wasn’t any good at the fighting, but she gradually got better. She’s fairly shorter than all of you, so the first place she goes when she swings is the legs. It’s not a bad move. 

You’re just happy that after everything that has happened, she’s realized that running to the middle is always the biggest gamble. Reed and Mox are sure to enforce that every year when they’re in front of the television set. They point out every little mistake of the tributes that run to the middle.

So now, she roots for the people that run away and get frustrated with those who head in.

Anyway, as you were saying, she has no reason to be afraid. She’s been growing up with it for a while now. The questions, the training, the lessons, the mock hunger games. She’s no professional, and she’s still got a lot to learn, but she’s getting there.

It’s not like she has much to worry about this year. Her name is going to be in there only once. As the years climb--you’ll start to worry. Until then, she knows as much as you can afford to teach her. 

She’s even had practice with real weapons. Ones that can kill.

“How’s Alyssum doing?” Mox asks, he’s waiting at the bottom of the staircase, nibbling on his fingers. You reach over, pulling them from his mouth.

“Getting dressed. You should too. The hosts might talk about us since Alyssum is now eligible for the games.”

In the kitchen is Reed, hovering over a plate of pancakes. On the stove sits a pot, and when you take a peek, you’re able to see that it’s soup for Finnick.

“Are we still quarantining Finnick?” Reed asks.

“He’s feeling better today, so I think he can come down.” you reach over for the coffee, thanking Reed when he passes over the cream, “But he might stay home this year. I think he’s still sore.”

“He nearly died, so it makes sense.” Reed says, “Looked like you when you had typhoid.”

You pause for a moment, raising your head as you think. 

You suppose that’s right. He was pale, it was hard for him to move but he made a point to. He didn’t like it when you fussed over him and consistently insisted that you spent your day doing something else rather than showing fantastic bedside manner. To no avail, though. You don’t have much to do these days besides show Alyssum how things are done.

“Strange.” you tell Reed, raising the coffee to your lips. The cream has cooled it considerably, and you’re able to drink the entire thing without burning your tongue.

You grab another mug of it for Finnick, since he’s going to need all the energy he can get with how he is. The medicine that the clinic had prescribed him has made him all sorts of tired. Which he can’t really afford to be today, or any other reaping day. It would be awful for the cameras to zoom in on him and make fun of him the same way they do Haymitch.

Mox has joined the kitchen, and you pass him on your way out. You go up the stairs and straight to the bedroom. You can hear the occasional large splatter of water as Finnick rinses his hair. You knock on the door once or twice, slipping inside.

“Brought coffee.” you tell him.

The sliding door opens and he holds his hands out for the mug. You pass it over, watching as he does the exact same thing that you did. And when he’s done, he gives it right back with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“Want more?” you ask.

“I’ll get more when I go downstairs.”

“Alright.” you grab a few things out of the bathroom drawers. A brush, some hair ties, a curling iron, hairspray.

All while you’re grabbing these things, you can’t help but to feel a little guilty. The reaping is no time to look pretty. With a brand new dress and nicely done hair, it’ll make it look like you’re glorifying the games.

But everyone has to know that you’d never do such a thing. You haven’t taken the games lightly ever. You take your job seriously, and you showed them when you sacrificed thousands of dollars just to get medication inside of the arena for Annie. Without a single clue of knowing whether or not it would actually work.

Alyssum gets nice dresses because she doesn’t have to take hand-me-downs anymore. They’re not expensive in any way, and they’re not imported from the Capitol either. None of your clothing is. Hell, you’re supporting the local businesses, the ones that struggle without you going in to buy a new pair of socks or shoes or underwear for your family.

And you might as well spoil Alyssum, because she’ll never have to live through what you older kids had to. She’ll never have to worry about selling the living room furniture, pawning off family jewels and getting rid of her toys just to make that month’s rent.

“When are you getting ready?” Finnick asks, shutting off the shower.

“After I do Alyssum’s hair.” you tell him, “How are you feeling?”

“A little better, but still sick.”

“We could always tell the peacekeepers that you’re sick, since you are.”

Finnick frowns a bit, drying off his body with a towel, “Then that would seal my fate on not going.”

“I want you to heal.” you press a hand to his chest, “And you can’t do that if you’re running around with me in the Capitol.”

“I’ll manage. I don’t want to miss Alyssum's first reaping anyway.”

“Whatever you say.” you give him a smile, “Your coffee mug is on the counter. When you go downstairs, make sure to tell Mox everything is fine. Don’t go to Mags or Annie’s without me.”

“Sure.” he says, and pulls you in for a quick kiss.

Once you pull away, you leave the bathroom, then the bedroom. Down the hall and straight to Alyssum’s bedroom. You hardly knock before opening the door, revealing Alyssum to be standing in front of a mirror. She’s already got her black shoes on.

“Can you tie the back ribbon?” she asks.

You set everything down on the bed, tying the ribbon, and then getting her seated in front of the mirror. You pull half of her hair up loosely, putting the hair tie in. Then, you neatly tie the ribbon around the bands. After, you begin to curl her hair at the ends.

“Ask me questions.” Alyssum insists.

You give a smile, “What are the ways to clean water?”

“Boiling, iodine or a few drops of chlorine, but not enough to get you sick.” Alyssum says.

“Why do we clean water?”

“To get rid of the bacteria, otherwise we can end up with a ton of viruses--like typhoid, cholera, salmonella and a couple of others. They become more deadly the longer they’re untreated.”

“How can we start a fire?”

“Flint and a rock, typically.” she thinks for a moment, “A lighter, matches if it’s available. Sticks. Or glass and the sun, but that takes a while.”

“Name the big arteries.” you let a curl fall, shaking the hairspray and then spraying it on.

“The one in your neck, on your thighs and the arms.” she says.

“If someone pins you down, how do you get free?”

“Buck your hips and then flip on top of the person.” she says.

“What’s the one berry you don’t want to ever eat inside of the arena?”

This one takes her a moment, “...nightlock?”

“Yes.” you smile at her through the mirror, “What does it look like?”

“They appear black, but once squished they’re red.” 

“Alright, why don’t we run to the cornucopia?” 

“Easy, because the careers go there, and since I’m small, I won’t make it. So, I go when they’re not there instead.”

You’re proud of her for this. To know that she should wait until the careers have gone out and started their hunting. They go out at night, looking for easy fires to catch. Kill the easy tributes. Depending on how far they’ve gone away from the cornucopia, they’ll either head back or stay in the woods for a night. Then they’ll pick up where they left off, and end up right back at the cornucopia by the end of the night.

“All done.” you tell her.

She turns her head in the mirror, looking at what you’ve done for her. She springs to her feet and takes you in for a long hug. When she lets go, you gather your things to head back to the bedroom so you can get ready yourself.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” you tell her, “Go study with Finnick some, okay?”

She beams, and follows you out the door. She takes a turn for the stairs and you head to your bedroom. You shut the door behind you, drop everything off in the bathroom, then pick out a simple outfit. Once it’s all neatly laid out, you take your shower, cleaning your hair.

You dry it, carefully dry as much as you can, and then you leave the rest to air-dry. You pull on the simple flowing tank top with the stitched back. Then the black jeans and a pair of nice tennis shoes. Showing up to the reaping in casual clothing stopped being a heinous act a while ago.

Finally, you go downstairs. Alyssum is eating breakfast, Finnick is enjoying a second or maybe a third cup of coffee, asking Alyssum questions. Every now and then, the other two will pitch in. Once Finnick realizes you’re there, the two of you pack up some breakfast for Mags and head out the door.

“She’s getting better.” Finnick says, “I had her show me a few knots. She’s got quick fingers.”

“I hope so.” you laugh, he joins in.

You and Finnick enter the house after a couple of knocks so Mags can know that you’re there. She’s already waiting in her living room, a book in her hand. You and him wait patiently in the doorway. She closes the book, and then gives you both a welcoming smile.

Finnick helps her to the table while you lay out Mags’ food. She sits, eats in silence while she reads. Finnick finishes his coffee, you scrunch your hair with your hand to try and give it some character. 

Before you know it, you and Finnick are taking Mags back to your house, and then heading towards Annie’s. Just as you reach the door, Annie’s mom sticks her head out and shakes her head.

“Annie’s got the flu, the peacekeepers already know. Thank you, though.” she gave a kind smile and then shut the door in your face.

Right back to the house, it gave you extra time to do something to your hair and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Curled your hair like you did to Alyssum’s, put on a little makeup, and right back down the stairs. After breakfast, you played a memory game with Alyssum, Reed and Mox.

Then time was up, with only thirty minutes to get to the stage. All of you headed out as one big bunch. With Finnick holding your right hand and Alyssum holding onto the left. Ahead of you guys were the other victors of four--the ones that hardly glance at you all.

Since it’s Alyssum’s first year, it took a little longer to get her signed in, but right after you went to your regular spot behind the cover near the staircase up to the stage. Mags went up without you guys, but you hung back to talk to your family, as usual.

It’s the normal nonsensical stuff that wasn’t able to be fit on the walk here. Casual banter between all of you. The peacekeeper at the top of the staircase is kind enough to inform you guys when there’s ten minutes left. Time to wrap it up.

“Okay, Aly.” you hold out your arms, “How are you feeling?”

She throws herself into your arms, squeezing tightly, “Little nervous, but it’s natural, right?”

“Yes it is, and it’s okay to be nervous.” you kiss the top of her head.

Mox, Reed and Finnick move in to join the hug. You all hold tight for a moment, and then pull away.

“I’ll make sure to stand so you can see me.” Alyssum promises.

“Sounds good to me.” you give her one last smile, “Good luck.”

Reed takes her hand when she turns around, waving goodbye. You and Finnick head up the cracked stone steps, nodding to the peacekeeper when you pass him. The two of you make your way over to where the victors, mayor and Elysia sits. You sit between Finnick and Elysia.

“Alyssum’s first year.” Elysia whispers.

“Yes it is, she’s grown so much.” you tilt your head a little.

Alyssum has found a friend, and the two of them are talking about Aly’s hair for a moment. Then, they bid your bothers goodbye, heading to the twelve year old section, right up from. They slide in right in place, and just as she promised, you have a clear look at them.

Aly and her friend hold hands, and the two of them chat while the rest of the sections. Along the outside stands parents and bystanders alike. Your brothers are where they always are, behind the boys section and standing out like sore thumbs. They’re dressed better than most of the people around them.

Right as the last few people file in, Caspian comes up beside Reed, and the two of them start talking too.

The mayor takes a deep breath, and then gets up. She readjusts her blazer as she heads to the microphone. You look over to the camera, noticing how it’s on you guys right now. There’s a long moment of eye contact before the camera is the first to break it, focusing on the mayor.

“Happy hunger games.” her voice echoes, and by her tone, you can tell she either really hates her job, or she’s tired of having to introduce the games every year.

She launches into the speech on the dark days, and to reinforce it, she shows a video made by the Capitol, narrated by Snow. It’s all required, she doesn’t have much of a choice. When the video is over, she hands it over to Elysia.

This is when a sick feeling washes over you. You fan your face with your hand, thinking that the dizziness will fade, but it only grows. The nausea is hardly bearable. 

“I think I might be sick.” you admit, and Finnick apologizes. He then holds out a water bottle that he had brought just in case any of you needed it. You take a couple gulps of it, glad that it eases some of the knots in your stomach.

“Happy hunger games.” Elysia says, her voice isn’t as excited this year. You can’t even see the look on her face, but you can only guess that she looks tired too, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. As usual, ladies first.”

She moves over to the girls bowl, picking out a random slip of paper. You can see Alyssum has her eyes glued to it, eyebrows drawn together. Elysia moves back over to the mic and carefully removes the black tape to reveal the name.

She inhales, like she’s going to say the name. Then, she deflates, the mic catches the wind. Elysia seems to go rigid after that, eyes glued to the paper slip between her fingers. You squint, trying to catch the name, but it’s too far away.

Ten seconds pass, then twenty. The head peacekeeper clears his throat, letting her know to get a move on. It’s enough to snap her of her daze, but when she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.

“The girl’s tribute this year is uh--” she pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but lets out half of it again before she speaks, “--Alyssum Gallows.” her voice drops out during the last time.

The two cameras on either side of the stage turn in different directions. With one looking in the crowd for your dear baby sister, and the other landing straight on you and Finnick.

You jerk in your chair like you’re going to get up, but Finnick holds you back, clearly as stunned as you are.

The air is still.

Your eyes manage to find your brothers and their friend, standing there just as stunned as you are. Mox hasn’t started to cry yet, his eyes are wide and his mouth is open. While Reed looks like he’s paled several colors, as white as a corpse.

The dizziness comes back, bigger than ever.

‘No,’ you think, not being able to bring yourself to shake your head, ‘She’s twelve. Her name is in there once, she’s twelve.’

“Come on, honey.” Elysia’s voice is soft, like silk.

Alyssum can hardly pry her fingers from her friends. She stiffly moves into the aisle where the peacekeepers are, waiting to escort her to the stage.

‘Someone volunteer. Please, someone volunteer.’

She reaches the steps and she’s careful not to scuff her brand new black shoes. When she’s at the top, her eyes find yours, and it’s almost like a reflection. The amount of horror you feel is replicated on her face. Only, she’s got tears forming, and you can’t even bring yourself to move.

“Right here.” Elysia stops her in front of the bowl, going back to the microphone, “Any volunteers?” she urges.

You’re too old to volunteer. Disregarding the fact that you’re a victor yourself, you’re too old. If you were younger, you’d be jumping right now for her. You’d go back into the arena twenty times just so she could have a normal life here.

The silence is deafening and clear; there are no volunteers and she must carry on whether she likes it or not.

Alyssum glances over her shoulder again, and you’re able to see the tears running down her face.

“Now to the boys.” Elysia is defeated, and she heads over to the boys bowl. She doesn’t dally with this one either, pulling out the name and heading to the microphone. 

She removes the tape, “Rigg Estridge.”

You find yourself selfishly wishing for an older boy. But watching the way the crowd moves, it’s another twelve year old.

You bury your face in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. This can’t be happening. You can’t be getting two twelve year olds. Their first year of the reaping, and one of them is your sister.

When you look again, a short redhead with curly hair is being moved down the aisle. Without a prompt, he heads up the steps and stops in front of the boys bowl.

Once again, Elysia asks if there’s any volunteers. There’s more silence, one look to Reed and Mox tells you that they wish they were fifteen years younger too. They desperately want to be in the same boat as Alyssum like you do.

With no volunteers, Elysia tells them to shake hands. Alyssum moves forward with a shaky palm. There’s shiny tear streaks on her cheeks, but her face is serious. The boy looks more shaken than she does. 

After that, it’s over. And the tributes are being escorted off stage and into the justice building. There, they will wait for their friends and family to say their final goodbyes.

You stand from your chair, running your fingers through your hair as you try to get a grip on what just happened. Finnick wraps his arms around you tightly as a hug.

“I’m going to the Capitol.” He says.

“I expected no less.” You tell him, wrapping only one arm around him.

Elysia looks even worse than she did before, “(Y/n)—I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry—“

“You didn’t know.” You tell her, eyes fluttering for a moment.

The dizziness hasn’t subsided. In fact, the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. You look to where your brothers had been, but they’re long gone. Likely trying to get to Alyssun.

“We need to see her.” You tell Finnick, “I have to be together with them all one last time.”

You make him let go, heading down the same steps that the mayor had taken, disregarding everyone that tries to reach out to you. One peacekeeper tries to offer his condolences, but you slap his hand away and move right inside of the building.

The ones guarding the door move out of the way, and when you enter the room, your brothers are already there. With you as an addition to the room, their bodies turn, and you’re running the small distance to bring them so close to your body.

“Finnick is coming with.”

“Good.” Reed says, and then they let go.

You let them talk to her since you’ll be seeing her for the next week. This is their goodbye, not yours. Not just yet.

“You listen to (Y/n).” Reed tells her, “She knows what she’s doing, and she’s going to try her hardest to get you everything you need.”

She nods, it won’t be difficult for her. 

The door opens a second time, and you look over to see that not only is it Finnick, but Mags is on his arm.

“You can win.” Reed says, his hands are on her shoulders, “You’re smart, you’ve been learning all of this information for years now. The only disadvantage you have is that you’re small, but even that has advantages.”

“Mags has a token for you.” Finnick says, your brothers move aside.

Mags pulls something out of her pocket, weighing it in her hand carefully before she holds it out for Alyssum to take it out of Mags’ palm. Alyssum reaches up with shaky fingers to carefully bring the jewelry out.

There’s a special gem attached to the necklace. The gem is expensive, and you recognize it almost immediately. It’s tanzanite. And just by the look of it--how polished it is--it’s new. And it costs more than her dress. Not only all of that, you recognize it for a whole separate reason.

Like how you had your mother’s ring for your games. She’s getting mom’s most expensive necklace. One that was given to her by grandma.

Reed and Mox seem to remember too, but Alyssum has no clue. She turns the necklace over in her hand gently.

“It was mom’s.” you let her know, “And grandma’s too.”

“Oh.” her voice is soft, and she wraps her fingers around it, looking at Mags, “Thank you.”

“She was planning on surprising you with it after the reaping.” Finnick says, and you all know what he was implying. A gift for after, when she hadn’t been reaped and survived her first round. Instead, she’ll be taking it as a token now.

The doors swing open again, and you watch as Alyssum is shown some sort of affection. A kiss on the forehead, a long hug. Until the four of you are huddling in for the last time. The peacekeepers are surprisingly patient with this long goodbye.

“I love you, Alyssum.” Reed tells her, and Mox agrees, “We’ll be cheering you on.”

Reed and Mox go to leave before you, Finnick or Mags budge from where you stand. You crouch down, trying to get to her height.

“On the train station, there will be cameras. The whole country is watching us right now, so you need to do me a big favor and not cry on that platform, okay?” you fix her hair, “You can cry as soon as the doors are shut, but you need to have a brave face until then.”

“But the reaping--”

“I know about the reaping, and that’s okay. No one reacted well when you were called, not even me. It’s okay to make mistakes, but we need to start not making them anymore.”

She nods, “Yeah.”

“I have to go, okay? I’ll be at the train waiting for you. Elysia will be with you, stick close. Don’t fight the peacekeepers, they’re on our side.” 

You stand up, and Aly hugs Mags for the last time. After that, the three of you are heading out. The doors slam shut behind you, rattling the door frame. Outside stands your brothers who had been waiting patiently.

You take in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“We have to start heading to the station.” Reed says, squeezing you tightly, “We’ll see you there.”

“What about Mags?”

“I can walk her.” a peacekeeper volunteers, you know who it is.

“Thank you.” you place a hand on his arm.

There’s a car that’s already waiting for the two of you. In passing, you tell Elysia that she should probably keep quiet inside of the car when it comes to the two of them. Inside the train is when you’ll introduce and begin to get them used to the idea of it all. Other than that, they just need a moment of silence to collect their thoughts.

The car ride to the train consists of you biting your nails until you finally decide to stop, knowing that your stylists friends will be upset if they have nothing to work with.

Finnick holds your hand tightly.

“The Capitol is going to love all of this.” you tell him, “(Y/n)’s little sister. The Executioner’s twelve year old sister is going inside of the games.”

“They’re probably going to be comparing you two the entire time.”

“Yes, they probably are.” you agree, “And I can’t wait to see what Caesar Flickerman has to say about all of this.”

The car makes it to the train station, you and Finnick get out, go up the steps and then into the train. You don’t stand on the platform with the tributes, Elysia does. Then, they come inside after the final glance after the reaping. 

You run your fingers through your hair, taking a seat by the door.

You need to focus on her training score right now. If she scores high, then she’ll be in the clear. It’s not often the first years get something so high. They’re expected to get something so low, anything below an eight. But with all that you’ve been teaching her, she should hit the eight mark. 

And if she does something flashy inside of the private session, that will increase her score, just like how it increased yours. 

It’s a while before the tributes have even shown up at the train station. By the sound of it, there’s a lot of people out there. You and Finnick don’t dare to peek your heads around the corner, though. You strictly stay inside, waiting and listening for Elysia to tell them to say their goodbyes.

Another ten minutes later, their car has finally shown up, you lean your head against the wall, closing your eyes. You can hear Alyssum’s shoes against the stone steps, and how they crunch when they come to a stop.

There’s sniffling coming from someone, but you don’t think it’s Aly, but the other boy--Rigg. He doesn’t know not to cry, you weren’t there to tell him. For now, you’ll let him give off his look.

Soon, they’re being brought inside. The doors shut, and you’re hugging a crying Alyssum, pulling her onto your lap as you rub her back. You let her get it all out, telling Finnick to go ahead and start with the boy, since he doesn’t look like he knows anything.

Finnick gives you a kiss on the forehead, and then leaves with the boy to take him into a different car. Elysia has already left to do whatever, you’re not too sure what that is exactly. 

You try your best to comfort Alyssum, but you can’t help but to think that she’s not going to make it. You can’t tell her that, she has to realize that for herself. But there’s eighteen year old careers waiting for her in the Capitol. There’s the older kids from other districts too, but they’re not nearly as ruthless.

Careers are taught to think of their fellow tributes as animals, not people. 

You scoop up Alyssum like a baby, carrying her to your mentor room. Along the way, peacekeepers open the doors for you. When you get inside, you lay Alyssum down on the bed, and then you slide in next to her, pulling her to your side as you run your fingers through her hair soothingly.

It’s not long before she falls asleep, exhausted.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

A Sad Christmas- Reader x iplier egos

An: This is my Xmas gift for my dear friend Angy! @matronofthevoid you’re a freakin sweet heart and merry Christmas~

AHHHHH I JUST REREAD THIS AND NOTICED THE WHOLE ENDING WAS NOT POSTED!! SORRY!!

You couldn’t afford rent this year. Time was short, and work was hard— things just didn’t catch up in time. Your parents gave you till Christmas and you still couldn’t get enough money to pay the rent. You got a hundred dollars out and promised it wouldn’t happen again but..

They didn’t care.

They didn’t even give you a few days to pack your things.To try and figure things out! They just.. threw you out in the snow like a piece of unwanted trash.

They wouldn’t even let you get clothes.

“Those clothes of yours will help pay for the rent you owe us.” Said your mother, standing at the door, colder than the snow that fell from the sky.

“Mom— please—“ you whimpered, shivering, knees shaking in fear as you looked at her, eyes pleading, begging.

All she did was slam the door in your face.

You waited for a few minutes like a lost puppy in the cold, shivering, the hope in your chest wagging its small eager tail— this had to be a joke, right? Some form of lesson teaching? So that you wouldn’t be late for the rent again, right?

Right?

But nothing.

Nothing but the chill biting through your thin sweater, the snow falling down harder, the wind starting to whisper in an eerie voice as your teeth chattered. You walked through the snow, towards your car, thankful that you at least had a pair of boots on, but other than that, you were exposed to the elements.

You struggled to insert the key and twisted, before throwing the door open and climbing into the driver’s seat. Slamming it open, you put your key in the ignition, and let the engine heat up before turning on the heater. Letting yourself warm up, you took your phone out of your pocket and searched nearby shelters, hoping to find.. something. You did. There were three within the area! Maybe one of them would still have room.

They didn’t.

All of them were cramped and crowded, and you were turned down at each and every one. It made you feel… unwanted, as if there wasn’t enough room for you in the world, like there wasn’t enough space for you to even squeeze through.

So, you went to your last resort— the egos.

Now, things hadn’t been great between you and them, mostly because of Wilford.. who, for some reason, was angry at you. You had no idea why and every time you tried to confront him about it, he wouldn’t listen. So like hell you knew what was wrong, but you were desperate. You sighed as you sat in your car, parked in front of the last homeless shelter you went to. You put in the key and started it up again, letting everything warm up a bit, before driving to the ego mansion in flurry of snow.

When you pulled up into the driveway, your heart leapt up, full of hope— everything was so bright and cheery! And joyful! So maybe, just maybe there was room for you! Opening the door, you stepped out of the car, shivering as you watched your breath fog in the cold.

Yes, you heard it, Christmas music. Laughter. Happiness. Stepping forward, you walked to the front door on shaky knees, standing in front of the wreath covered door, you knocked, wrapping your arms around you. You waited. Your heart pounding as you listened to the wind howl, and felt the snow fall on your back, causing more goosebumps to appear on your skin. Your teeth chattering as the door opened.

“Hey—“ Bing stopped at the door, staring at you, his shoulders fell, “(Y/n)...”

“H-hey Bing!”

You noticed the quiet now. The stillness. The music stopped. The warmth fizzled out as well, replaced by the chill, by the snow, by the curse of winter.

“Bingy!” Wilford called, “Who’s at the door?”

Your eyes widened and you looked at the android, almost begging to be let in. You were so, so cold. So cold. The air pierced your lungs, frosted over the soft flesh of your insides, pierced you right through.

“Hey.. dude.. you.. you can’t be here..” whispered Bing.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “W-what? Am.. am I interrupting—“ your shoulders fell as you realized what was happening, “Oh.. oh.. is— is it the annual party?” You whispered.

His eyes filled with sadness as he nodded, “Wilford said we couldn’t invite you..”

Warm water came to your eyes, and your lips pressed into a firm line, before you pressed a smile, “Well— I… I just wanted to come and say Merry Christmas!”

You laughed emptily, before seeing Wilford behind Bing, glaring at you like.. like you were utter trash. Like you deserved to be out in the cold. Like you meant nothing. He pushed Bing out the way, and gave you a glare.

“Wilford.. c-could.. could I please come in?” You whispered, “Please?”

He gave you one last glare before slammed the door in your face.

You heard the noise echo throughout the neighborhood, and heard him yell—Anyone.. and I mean Anyone who let’s that.. bitch in, is gonna get shot! Your hear me?

No one fought back.

The music continued. Laughter came again. Warmth radiated throughout the house. Happiness fluttered through the windows, almost as if teasing— no, mocking, you.

You stood alone, clinging to yourself, lips quivering. No, no you wouldn’t.. you wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. A blast of chilling air howled and shrieked, bringing snow along with it.

Maybe someone would come, right?

Stand up for you because they cared?

They wouldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, would they?

You mattered to them, right?

Nothing but silence, silence coated with a cherry Christmas songs and laughter, coated with the noise of the wind, coated with snow and freezing breezes that sucked the warmth right out of you.

You took a step back, followed by another. And another. Slowly, you watched the warm house full of warmth and joy go further and further away. The hope in your chest slowly fading, replaced by the snow, by the cold, by the noise of the wind. Your steps went faster. The tears in your eyes falling quicker han the snow, turning into cold rivers that burned your cheeks.

No one was coming. There just wasn’t enough room for you in the world. No one cared to make enough room for you.

Turning away, you walked to your car, sobs racking your body as you shoved the key in and opened the door, slamming it shut. You turned on the engine, letting it warm up as you sniffed, hands numb and feet starting to get numb too.

No one was coming.

No one cared.

No one cared if you died in the cold, if you froze to death; if you became blue and covered in fern like frost.

No one cared.

No one cared if you were alone on Christmas Eve, worrying about whether you would be alive the next day.

No one cared.

Whimpering, your lips quivered as you swallowed a sob, wiping away your tears. You cared, you realized. You cared. You weren’t going to die. You weren’t. You could survive, you always had— during hunger and cold, waves of sadness, you survived. You could survive another night. You would survive another night.

Gripping the steering wheel, you turned on the heater, paying attention to how much gas filled your tank, only half a gallon. Okay, you’ve survived on less. You’ll get through this. You always do. Stepping on the gas pedal, you drove, wondering where to go. There was a park nearby— okay, that would be a good place. You knew a lot of people who stayed in their cars and parked there.

Everything would be fine.

You would survive.

You were a survivor.

You would be fine.

Driving, you watched the snowfall grow heavier, to the point where your windshield wipers couldn’t get it all off. Worry twisted in your gut.. maybe if you… if you explained what was wrong— No, no. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

You would wake up tomorrow on Christmas morning and.. and go to the nearest shelter. You’d get a bowl of warm soup.. you’d.. take a shower, maybe get warmer clothes.. you’d be alive.

You would survive.

Everything would be fine.

Entering the park parking lot, you looked around, noticing how the snow coated everything like a white fluffy blanket— the tops of the trees, the roof of the bathrooms, even the slides. It made it hard to drive, but you managed to park under a tree, thinking it would give you ample protection against the snow fall.

Everything would be fine.

You put the car in neutral, let the heater run on the lowest setting (since you figured it would save gas), and turned on the radio before pulling a lever on the side of your seat and pushing it back. Curling up, you listened to the soft Christmas music fill the car.. then you noticed an old towel in the backseat, and wrapped it around you, feeling a little warmer.

Everything would be fine.

Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh and rested your head on your arm, slowly falling asleep.

Suddenly, you were filled with a cozy warmth.

Christmas music softly filled the room you were in, which was decorated to the brim with decorations— beautiful lights that shimmered like stars, silver tinsel and a green tree, full of ornaments of every color you could think of.

You gasped, moving closer to the tree, you noticed a bright red and green striped box. Bending down, you unwrapped it, opened the box inside and found a warm fluffy blanket. You gasped softly, wrapping it around you and smiling, nuzzling your cheek into the warm white fabric.

A light on the tree went out.

You blinked in surprise, but shrugged, desperate to get warm in the blanket. You’d been so cold earlier and—

Another went out.

You shake your head, ignoring it.

Another blinked out, followed by another, and another and another and another! They all slowly faded.

Looking around, you noticed the tinsel disappearing, along with the ornaments on the tree, and the lights on the walls. The room became empty and dark. The warmth flickered out like a blown out candle, and the blanket you had was snatched away from you by the darkness.

You woke up gasping and shivering.

Sitting up you leaned forward and turned up the heater a bit, figuring if you kept it on the bare minimum, that you would survive till morning.

You lay back down and closed your eyes, curling up tightly and wrapping yourself up in the towel before falling asleep once more.

You were in the snow, shaking from the cold and wandering the woods— you noticed how the trees were coated in white and how the snow shone softly underneath the moonlight as you walked upon it. In the distance, you began to hear a soft jingling, almost like.. bells? Your eyes widened as it came closer, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and fear. Who could it be?

Standing still, you looked around until you saw the sleigh, a red streak against the piercing snow and numb darkness. It stopped in the middle of a clearing, and a man, a little shorter than average and wearing a red suit came out. He stumbled a bit, before shaking his head and managing to walk straight.

“(Y/n)!” He yelled, “Come on in the damn sleigh! Let’s get your cold ass warm!”

You jogged up to the man, and finally noticed his red suit and white beard. You gasped and then smiled brightly, “Santa?”

He cleared his throat, “Santaplier, the better version!”

Your smile grew bigger and you ran to him, hugging him, he chuckled and took off his red fluffy coat, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Hurry! Get in!”

Eagerly, you grabbed onto the sides of the sleigh and hoisted yourself in, giggling as he tried to call the names of the reindeer, but said fuck it and slapped the reins on their back, causing them to run. You passed the twisted branches of the trees, eyes wide in wonder as the wind played with your hair, the cold nipping your cheeks as the sleigh slowly lifted off the ground. Your giggled turned screams as you neared a cliff, but the man beside you just rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Now I got those damn names! Fuck! On dasher! On prancer, on Conor and Cupid! On Dancer on Vixen and Donner! And since Rudolph didn’t want to come— oooooooon Blitzen! Go!” Screamed Santaplier, laughing madly.

You shrieked as a deer went over the cliff before taking the sleigh with them, it dived down. You could see the choppy sea the cliff hung off of. You panicked, heart racing— but then! You soared! Going past the cliff and up into the sky! You even touched a cloud as you passed by the moon! Oh! It was so beautiful and bright, like a pearl burning in a fire of white! And the stars! The stars were little candles in the sky, leading the way as the clouds became a blue tinged cotton carpet beneath you.

Wonder filled you as you gasped, looking around as the sleigh steadied itself, the reindeer flying ahead of you.

“Oh! It’s beautiful!” You whispered, warm tears wanting to fall out of your eyes.

“And cold too!” Said Santaplier, pushing a button and causing two cups to come out of a hidden compartment. They started to fill up with a steamy hot drink as he pushed another button, causing a coat to slide out of a drawer.

“Here, hold this real quick.” He handed you the reins and grabbed the coat.

You smiled, feeling the warm worn leather in your hands. He grabbed them from you and snuggled into his coat, handing you a cup.

“What is it?”

He smirked, “You’ll see.”

Curious, you blew on the drink before taking a sip. Your eyes widened and you swallowed.

“It’s hot chocolate!”

He laughed and took a long drink, “The best in the world!” He shivered slightly, and gestured to a red round button, telling you to push it. You did, and two golden metal arms popped up behind you and wrapped the both of you in a brown warm quilt.

“That’s better.” He muttered, sighing in content.

“I couldn’t agree more.” You sighed in content, sipping your hot chocolate.. which.. wasn’t so hot anymore. More like.. cold. You shrugged, wrapping your blanket close, and finished.

Then the wind howled.

Santaplier shrugged, flying a bit higher, or trying to.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, “I can’t— the reindeer are disappearing!”

Your heart pounded as you realized it, watching them as they vanished one by one, the sleigh going further and further downwards. Panic flooded your veins as you hyperventilate, the last one fading into nothing.

“What do we do?!” You shrieked, looking at Santaplier, who began to fade away too. “No! No wait— you can’t!”

You watched him disappear along with the sleigh. Then, you were falling, screaming into the darkness as the cold swallowed you whole.

You woke up screaming, shivering again, shaking from the cold. You sat up, breathing heavily, goosebumps forming on your skin. You grabbed the knob of the heater, turning it on all the way as a voice urgently came from the radio, warning people to stay inside.

Worried twisted in your stomach, but you ignored it and turned off the radio.

Everything would be fine. You assured yourself, noticing the snow piled on top of your windshield, you trembled, before laying down and curling up once more.

You closed your eyes, listening to everything around you. The wind was loud, it was all you could hear now.

Everything would be fine.

You pulled the towel around you tighter and closed your eyes.

A long table full of food, candles and covered in a long white tablecloth embroidered with holly. You smiled softly, noticing all your friends sitting at each of the chairs. You stood nervously, before Wilford laughed heartily, “(Y/n)! Come join us!”

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, “R-really? Aren’t you mad at me?”

He laughed again, “Of course not old friend! Come! Come! Sit next to me!”

You laughed, running up to the table, tears in your eyes, “You aren’t?”

You happily sobbed, full of relief as you hugged him, and he chuckled, hugging you back. He then gave you a plate of food as a strange man sat next to you, dressed in a white suit.

You didn’t pay any attention to him as you talked with Wilford and the others, laughing at their jokes and stories, eating food food.

Then, just as before, like a match going out in the wind, they disappeared one by one.

You sobbed, noticing one hadn’t left. It was the man who sat next to you.

“I believe I was never formally introduced to you, (Y/n). I’m Mori.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as the candles went out, but this time, you felt warm.

“Hello.. M-Mori— are you.. are you a dream t-too?”

“Oh no, well.. right now, yes. But you aren’t going to wake up.”

“What do you—“ your eyes went wide. Tears flooded them, “Oh no.. no! No it can’t be!”

He swept his arm into the air and you weren’t at the table anymore, instead, you had a view of your car from above, slowly, you fell, until you were beside it.

“I can’t be dead!” You whispered, crying, “I can’t be! Everything is going to be okay! I’m going— I’m going to wake up and—“

You sobbed, tears running down your face as you started to feel a strange feeling in your chest. A beating, getting slower and slower. You placed a hand on your chest, and looked at Mori.

“You’re not dead yet, but you will be.”

You said nothing, tears running down your cheeks as you collapsed in the snow, screaming as the beating stopped.

Mori looked down at you, sadness filling his eyes. You were such a good soul. You didn’t deserve a fate like this. You died. All because of a stupid grudge.

“Come now,” said Mori, “I’ll take you somewhere warm, where you won’t have to worry about a thing. But, before I do, is there anyone you’d like to see?”

You nodded, “My friends. Since I loved them like family.” You whispered, getting up and taking his hand.

Suddenly, you were in the living room you’d been in too many times before. You watched your friends dance, sing, even sit on the couch and cuddle. They all looked.. so.. happy. Wilford passed through you and shivered, before shrugging it off and grabbing Dark’s hand, forcing the usually grumpy ego to dance.

“They all seem so happy.” You said, “Especially without me around.” You forced a smile, looking over at Mori, “I’m ready to go.”

He blinked in surprise before nodding, grabbing your hand once more, causing you to float.

You went up to the ceiling, passing through it, before passing through the second story, and eventually the roof.

You watched the house grow smaller and smaller, along with the neighborhood— all the houses looked like a tiny village, which glowed brightly, then, when you couldn’t see it anymore, you looked up.

You kept flying higher, watching the moon come closer, seeing the stars become bright lights against the dark indigo sky.

You went passed the clouds, going up.. up.. up.. into the stars.

[sunchosens]

listen before i go

pairing: andreil  tw: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts  rating: mature word count: 7,423 read on ao3

Andrew thinks about dying, sometimes.

On days when the going gets especially difficult. On days when even the feeling of his clothes rubbing against his skin risk setting him off. On days when rage chokes up in his throat and sinks back into his stomach to clinically carve a gaping wound. 

Some days he climbs onto the roof, stands on the ledge, looks down. He spreads his arms wide. Rocks on his heels. So far, yet so close. He never goes over. 

Other days, he looks at the scars on his wrists. He’d come close before, when the goal in his mind was harm but not death. He wonders, absently, if he had more purpose then. Now, all he can feel is the choking emptiness, the crushing pain. He takes a knife out of his wristband. Holds it over the pulsing vein at his wrist. Trembles. He pushes down. Not enough to break skin, but the cold steel shocks him any way. He puts it away. 

One time, he collects the leftover drugs. He’s got some stashed away, can always find more. He pours them out in front of him. Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so bad. He already hurts so deeply, filling every pore of his body, every single breath he takes. Counts them methodically. Sixteen in all. He thinks that would be enough to do it. Puts one in his mouth, then another, and then another, but the feel of the pills against his tongue triggers his gag reflex and he’s spitting them out and rinsing his mouth out with water before any of them go down. He collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, thinks about what it would feel like to be happy. 

Andrew gets there, some days, he thinks. He’s not sure, not having much to compare it to, but the swelling crest in his stomach feels like what he imagines being happy to be. Usually when he’s around Neil. Still, those days are far and few inbetween. Andrew’s tried everything. He tries to drown his sorrows. He tries to escape to the roof. But he always circles back to the same thing. 

Death. 

He thinks it might be the only way out. 

He can’t sleep, haunted by visions of his past, of Drake, of the doctor, of losing Neil. He sees Aaron, high out of his mind, he sees his mother, screaming at him moments before her death. They never leave him. Each of them have carved out a small piece of his heart and mind, and they’re waiting for him to give in. He keeps fighting, he doesn’t want to let them win, he’s never been a quitter, not really, but they won’t take a hint. They want him to lose. 

Andrew thinks sometimes that might be easier. In the end. Because, really, who will miss him? 

Kevin is busy lately, and he and Aaron have never been close, and Nicky’s going to Germany in a few months, and Neil... 

Oh, Neil. Neil might miss him, Andrew thinks. He thinks about the fire in Neil’s eyes and the set to his jaw and the stubbornness that coats his soul. Remembers the way Neil went to the Nest, to Riko, for Andrew. For nothing. Just another person Andrew’s let down. Andrew loves Neil, he knows, more than anything. But he’s not sure it’s enough. 

Just another all-encompassing feeling, nowhere to go, no one to trust, nothing to show. Oh, Neil deserves better, he knows. Better than Andrew, whose affections are given in half, longing glances, and stolen kisses, and knees knocking together under the table. Neil was tortured for Andrew, Neil lied to Andrew to protect him, Neil would die for Andrew. 

Andrew will die first, he knows. He cannot live in a world without Neil. 

But Neil knows, or must suspect. He catches Andrew, once. 

“Andrew,” Neil calls softly, behind him. Andrew blinks, the wind whipping against his face, his eyes burning. His hands are balled into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. “Are you okay?” 

He looks towards the sky. It’s going to rain, he thinks absently. Maybe that will conceal the tears he knows are coming. There’s a hot ball of agony in his stomach. It’s a bad day. His chest heaves. He’s trying to catch his breath, but it’s just making him more upset. “Go home, Neil,” he manages to say, and his voice doesn’t sound ragged, the way it feels coming out. It’s like spitting daggers. There’s a knot in his throat he keeps swallowing around and he rocks forward a little further without meaning to. 

“Come with me,” Neil says. He doesn’t sound any different than usual, a little hoarse, but Andrew knows he’s been fighting off a cold. “I recorded over Kevin’s Exy games, one of the Star Wars movies was on. He’ll be furious.” 

Andrew hears shuffling from behind him. Knows Neil is coming closer. The sky opens slightly, rain drips down his cheeks. He tastes salt on his mouth, knows the dam is open. He tucks his chin to his chest. Takes a couple of deep, heaving breaths. His throat aches. He’s hollow inside. 

He’s drowning in a sea of emptiness and no one can throw him a rope. But Neil is behind him, patient and willing. He can’t put Neil through this, seeing him die, not today, so Andrew raises a shaking hand, brushes the water off his face, rubs his eyes, and steps down off the ledge. 

“Sounds like fun,” he answers. Tries to inject life into his voice, even though he knows Neil isn’t expecting it, and manages to come out just as blank as he usually does. 

Blank blank blank no one looks for more no one expects more he is a blank mask and a blank soul and a blank person and one day he will crack and it will all come spilling out but that will be too late and he will be alone when it happens and it’s all too much and he wants it to end. 

Needs it to end. 

Neil’s face is pale, Andrew sees the flicker of concern in his eyes, but he holds out his arm to Andrew. “C’mon,” he says. “It’s cold.” Andrew lets Neil pull him in, lets Neil wrap an arm around his shoulder, tucks himself into the warmth that is his body. 

The whole in his chest is being filled in with the smell of Neil and the feel of Neil’s hipbone pressed against his side, but Andrew knows it’s just a matter of time before it hollows out again. 

Neil watches him extra close after that event, but Andrew makes sure not to slip up again. People look to him, expect him to be okay, the solid one after everything they’ve been through. Which, really, Andrew thinks, is where they messed up. 

Andrew never promised to be okay. He never promised to be solid. He was high out of his mind for the years they’ve known him, trapped in a happy, medicinal bubble. Andrew hates the feeling of that happiness more than anything he’s ever experienced in his life. He was screaming and clawing in his mind, unable to make a sound. 

The thought of going back to that chokes him. 

He wakes up in the middle of the night once and thinks about going into the kitchen, taking a knife, and opening his wrists. Neil is out of town for the weekend, talked into going to New York with Matt and Dan for an impromptu weekend. He didn’t want to go, but Andrew all but threw him out the door. 

No one would find him until Monday. He thinks about it for half an hour, before he reaches over, grabs his phone, calls Neil. 

Neil answers on the third ring, right before Andrew was going to hang up. “‘Lo?” He says. His voice rolls over Andrew like a balm, soothing him. He can’t talk for a second. “Andrew?” Neil’s voice is more focused now, and Andrew can hear the hint of panic in his voice. He thinks he must not be doing as good of a job hiding his true thoughts as he previously believed. 

“I’m here,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice. His mind is screaming at him. “Just...” he clears his throat. “Just missed you.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but he thinks maybe it will distract Neil from the other thoughts he might be having. 

There’s a long exhale of breath from the other side of the line. “I miss you too,” Neil says softly. Andrew can hear fabric rustling, imagines Neil sitting up in bed, hair messy and chest bare. Neil never sleeps with a shirt on. 

His room feels painfully empty without him next to Andrew, his body heat a comforting reminder that Andrew has something to wake up to in the morning. “Don’t go.” Andrew’s still whispering. “Fall asleep with me.” 

“Okay,” Neil agrees easily, his voice low. “Okay, Andrew.” 

Andrew falls back asleep to the sound of Neil breathing, the steady count of his inhales and exhales the rhythm Andrew times the beat of his heart to. 

He wakes up to Neil sliding into bed next to him. “Hmm?” He mumbles, rolling over to face Neil. 

“Shh,” Neil murmurs, pulling the blankets back up. “Go back to sleep. It’s okay.” 

Andrew blinks, still half-asleep, at Neil. “Wha’ about New York?” 

Smoothing a hand down the side of his face, barely touching him, Neil gives Andrew a soft half-smile. “I wanted to come home. Go to sleep. I’m here. It’s okay.” He kisses Andrew’s forehead, featherlight. Andrew doesn’t protest, falls back asleep with the comforting weight of Neil next to him. 

Sitting in his chair in Bee’s office, Andrew picks at a loose thread. “What’s bothering you, Andrew?” She’s looking at him softly, her clipboard off to the side. 

He contemplates not answering, but knows she’ll see right through him. The words lie on his tongue, hot and heavy, a weight pinning him to the ground. They strangle him, wrapping around his throat like vines, stealing his breath away. He opens his mouth and pauses, closing it again. Saying it aloud makes it real, makes it irrevocable. He can never close this door once it’s open, can never take the words back. 

“Andrew?” Bee prods gently. “You’ve been unusually quiet the past few months. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

That’s all anyone’s been asking him lately. If he’s okay. Obviously he’s not okay. His chest aches with every beat of his heart. He has no way forward, and he doesn’t know how to manage this pain. He clears his throat. Bee has never led him astray before. Neil doesn’t like her, but he’s been encouraging Andrew to make his weekly sessions, when the last thing he wants to do is get out of bed. He clears his throat. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he says finally, staring at a point to the left of Bee’s head. It’s easier that way. 

She waits a moment, clearly seeing if he’ll say anything further. “Thinking about what?” 

Andrew blinks. His eyes are dry. He licks his lip. His mouth is like a desert and his palms are sweating and he longs for something cold to run along his skin. He feels like he’s going to erupt into flames. 

“Dying.” 

Bee makes a noise of understanding, and his eyes flicker over her face long enough to see an expression of acceptance on it. She knows, then, or suspected at the very least. “Have you tried anything?” Her voice is deceptively calm, especially for the question she asks. 

He shrugs, moving his gaze back to the wall. “A few times. I can never go through with it.” His voice hitches, against his will, and he hates himself a little bit more for it. 

“Andrew,” Bee soothes. “We are going to get you through this, okay?” 

He swallows down tears and nods. If there’s anyone he trusts to keep him alive, Bee is one of the few people. 

“...third time he’s skipped practice this week! You can’t keep covering for him, or this will fall on the both of you.” 

Andrew can vaguely hear Kevin’s raised voice through the wall of his bedroom. Neil must have let him into their apartment, although Andrew can’t fathom why. He’s been laying in bed, the curtains drawn, for the past several hours. He’s not sure how much time has passed. 

“Fuck off, Kevin. I mean it.” Neil’s voice is so low Andrew has to strain to hear it. He sounds furious, in the way Andrew knows he gets sometimes. “I told you he was sick. Accept it at face value and move on.” 

“No!” Kevin’s voice is getting louder, and Andrew thinks he might be coming closer to the room. “I’m not going to let him slack off. You should no better than to enable him. I don’t know what little conspiracy you two are concocting in your love den or whatever the fuck this is, but I’ve had enough. Dan and Coach agree with me.” 

“Take one more step and you’ll regret it.” There’s a pause. “I’m serious, Kevin.” Andrew knows that tone of voice means Neil means business. Silence, and then the sound of a brief scuffle. Kevin yelps in pain. “Get out. Tell everyone that he’s sick and to fuck off and mind their own buisiness. I mean it.” 

More silence, followed by the slam of the front door. A few moments pass, and then a shaft of light falls over Andrew as the bedroom door opens. It’s gone as soon as it comes, Neil shutting it behind him, and the sound of his shoes getting kicked to the floor. “Andrew?” 

Andrew rolls onto his back. His eyes are dry and his head is throbbing and he feels too heavy to move. “I fuck up your Exy obsession?” The words are harsher than he means them to be, but he’s so exhausted. Neil has been walking on eggshells around him for weeks, never quite meeting his eyes, and Andrew’s riling for a fight. He wonders if it’ll make him feel more alive. 

Neil laughs softly. “Not even close,” he answers, and the other side of the bed dips as he sits down. “They’re just worried,” he says, but Andrew can hear the steely anger in his voice. Neil’s not half as good as concealing his emotions as he wants to think he is. Usually, that amuses Andrew, but today, it exhausts him. 

“What time is it?” He asks after a long silence. He’s not sure what Neil is doing, and he’s not sure he wants to know. The bed moves as Neil shifts. 

“A little after six.” 

Andrew’s missed all of practice then. Not for the first time this week. He’s not surprised Kevin’s so pissed. He would be too, if the roles were reversed. But now the only feeling it elicits is exhaustion. He closes his eyes briefly, feels the pounding of his head, wishes he could fall asleep. 

The wind takes Andrew’s breath away. It’s cold, and he’s rocking back and forth to keep his blood flowing. “Where the hell are we?” He asks Neil, who’s leaning over the hood of the car, a map spread. Neil’s bundled up in a large coat, his hair is windswept, and his chinks are pinker than usual. He’s distractingly attractive, and it’s driving Andrew crazy. 

“I think... Missouri?” Neil drags a finger down the map, furrows his brow, and tilts his head. “We might have drifted into Illinois somehow. I’m not quite sure how that’s possible.” 

“You’re truly inspiring confidence,” Andrew grumbles, tugging his coat tighter around him. He can’t bring himself to be truly put-out with Neil. The further they get from campus, the better Andrew feels. 

This whole endeavor was Bee’s idea. In one of their sessions, after the topic of dying came up, Andrew mentioned how trapped he felt at Palmetto State. How all the expectations of everyone were crushing him, and the heavier they became, the less he wanted to rise up to meet them. So she suggested he get away over winter break. 

Andrew brought the idea up with Neil, about taking a road trip together, just the two of them. Andrew was fine leaving everyone else behind, but Neil was who he leaned on. So, thirty minutes after Neil’s last final, Andrew handed him the keys and they were gone. 

They drove straight through the night, only stopping when they had put a few hundred miles between them and everyone else. Now, Andrew feels the weight lifting off him, so he can finally breathe. 

“Do you want to read this?” Neil asks, scowling. He glances up, catches sight of Andrew, bundled to hell and wearing two hats, and his face softens. “Besides,” he says, voice the same level of antagonistic even though he now looks like he wants to kiss Andrew, rather than strangle him, “when was the last road sign you saw?” 

“Who cares?”Andrew asks, shuffling a little more to keep warm. “Let’s just get in the car and drive until we see one and worry about it then.” 

Neil looks back down at the map like he wants to argue, but eventually gives in, rolling it up. “We should have asked for directions at the last gas station, like I wanted,” he grumbles, rolling the map up. “Then we wouldn’t even be in this position.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes. Neil’s been worrying about their location for the past few hours, and Andrew eventually got so fed up with it, he made Neil pull over. To him, it doesn’t matter where they are. The further away they are from anyone else, the better. He slides back into the car, his fingers tingling, even through the gloves he’s wearing, and his face frozen. He turns the heat on high, and his body begins to defrost in a distinctly painful experience. 

“I hate you,” he tells Neil once he’s back in the car. Neil stares ahead, sitting in the driver’s seat, shakes his head once, and laughs. 

He glances at Andrew, that unbearable fondness still present, and smiles. Andrew’s taken aback by the sheer level of affection in the expression. Neil rarely smiles, not real ones anyway, and whenever he does, it’s like he’s smiling with his whole body. His eyes crinkle, and he gets a dimple in his right cheek, and it’s like he’s radiating warmth. “You’re a terrible liar,” Neil says softly, shaking his head again. He pulls off the side of the road. 

Andrew reaches out, where Neil’s hand lays on the armrest. He hovers his hand over Neil’s, hesitating for a moment. Likely sensing his hesitation, Neil flips his hand over so his palm faces up. Andrew settles his hand on top of Neil’s, tangling his fingers with Neil. The contact grounds him, reminds him that he’s present in this moment, that whatever waits for him when he falls asleep can’t find him here. Neil applies the tiniest bit of pressure and Andrew returns it, something approaching happiness swelling inside of him. 

They eventually find a motel and a gas station so Neil can fill up the tank. He was right earlier, and they wound up in Illinois somehow, so they decide to visit Chicago the next couple of days. They’ll have to return to South Carolina soon, but Andrew’s doing his best to not think of that at the moment. “Should we try to find somewhere to eat?” Neil sounds dubious, and Andrew rolls over to see him peering out the window, frowning. “I think it’s going to start snowing soon.” He sounds disgusted, and Andrew feels disgustingly fond. 

“Stay in,” Andrew answers. He pats the bed. “Come sit.” 

Neil glances over his shoulder at Andrew, sprawled out across the bed. The desk attendant had given them a weird look when they bought a room with one bed, but hadn’t said anything outwardly rude. Andrew’s death glare might have had something to do with that. Neil moves towards him, kicking off his shoes in the process and collapsing on the bed next to Andrew. 

“This makes me think of when I was younger,” Neil says after a few minutes of silence. They’ve moved, so Neil’s head is resting in Andrew’s lap, and he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, fingers tangled in Neil’s hair. He tugs a little harsher than usual, the words taking him off-guard. He knows immediately what Neil is referencing, his years on the run with his mother before she died. 

He continues after a few moments, more tentative than before. “Good or bad?”

Neil makes a considering noise, practically arching so he’s pushing his head into Andrew’s hands, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t think it’s one way or the other. Just haven’t been in a motel as shitty as this one since then.” 

Andrew stays silent, choosing instead to focus on on raking his fingers through Neil’s hair. Neil will continue to talk, unprompted, if he’s comfortable enough.  “It’s strange,” he says finally. “Being alone with you like this. Or alone at all, I guess. I haven’t since then either.” 

Andrew pauses again, not quite sure what to do with the information Neil is offering him. When nothing further is forthcoming, he relaxes. Neil is so cryptic, Andrew is often caught off guard when he does offer information freely. He wonders if this is Neil’s way of encouraging conversation about Andrew’s struggle. “Good or bad?” He asks again, instead of going into what’s on his mind. 

Neil doesn’t immediately answer. “Good, I think. It can all be a little much sometimes. You’re never like that.” Andrew feels a little mollified after that. He knows, logically, that Neil enjoys spending time with him, but he always manages to doubt himself. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Andrew says driely. Neil makes an offended sound and twists under his hand, rolling over so he’s on his stomach, instead of his back. Andrew widens his legs in response, allowing Neil to slot himself in between them. 

“Is this okay?” Neil asks, pushing his body up so his weight is resting on his arms, rather than Andrew. He nods silently, embracing the warmth of Neil’s body on top of his. Neil slowly lets himself down, so they’re lined up, body to body. Neil’s still laying down, while Andrew’s sitting up, so Neil’s head only meets Andrew’s chin. “You’re confusing,” he says, once he’s comfortable. 

Andrew rolls his eyes, tucking two fingers under Neil’s chin and lifting it, so Neil meets his eyes. Neil lets Andrew manhandle him, pliant under his hands. It’s one of the things Andrew loves most about Neil. He’s placed all his trust in Andrew, trusts him implicitly not to abuse it, not to abuse him, and Andrew guards that trust close to his heart. They moved past the yes and no stage in their relationship, comfortable with casual intimacy. Neil still is gentle with him, announces his movements before he does anything, rarely startles Andrew with a touch. Neil knows when Andrew is open, knows when he needs space, and in return, never abuses that knowledge. 

It’s because of this, Andrew feels confident to dip his own chin, pressing a kiss to Neil’s mouth. Neil parts his lips slightly, inviting, and Andrew follow his lead. He kisses Neil again, moving one hand to cradle the back of his head, while he grips Neil’s chin more firmly with the other. He traces Neil’s mouth, feels the insistent press of Neil’s tongue against his, thinks he could stay right here, in this spot, for the rest of his life. He never wants to leave. 

His eyes are half-open, so he sees when Neil closes his, breaking the kiss. Neil moves his mouth to Andrew’s neck, quickly finding his pulse point, where he frequently dedicates his attention. Neil mouths over his skin, hot and wet, and Andrew arches his back, making a noise he’s not ever going to admit, feels Neil smile against his skin. 

“Your fetish is not attractive,” he pants. “Haven’t we been over this?” 

Neil breaks away from his neck for a moment, looking up at Andrew with a devilish glint in his eyes. “Who said it was my fetish?” He answers, breathless. His mouth is redder than usual, his eyes are slightly glazed and his hair is mussed from where Andrew was running his fingers through it. 

Andrew pinches his shoulder gently. “If you’re so insistent, there’s something else you could put your mouth on,” he says, straight-faced. Neil rolls his eyes, but Andrew can see the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. 

“Unbelievable,” Neil says, already shifting so he’s on his knees, hands moving to Andrew’s belt. He glances up at Andrew, eyes alight with humor, and grins. Andrew wants to live in this moment forever. 

He sits straight up in bed. Andrew’s heart is racing, and there’s a clammy feeling in his stomach, and he can’t quite catch his breath. 

He tries to count to five, tries to remember what Bee told him to do when he was panicking, but all he can think about is the dream he was having and the way his body is betraying him and the catch in his throat when he tries to breathe normally and he can’t breathe and everything is spinning and oh god he should be doing something but his hands are shaking so bad he can’t stop and he tastes bile and it’s so dark in here and he can’t see and he can’t breathe and 

“Andrew,” Neil says urgently, moving next to him. The sound of his voice breaks something in Andrew’s head, and he flinches violently, still struggling for breath. There’s rustling next to him and light floods the room as Neil switches the bedside lamp on. Andrew can’t quite focus on him, and his hands are still shaking, and each breath is a struggle to push out. 

“Count to five,” Neil says, moving off the bed and coming around to Andrew’s side. He kneels on the ground beside Andrew, not touching him, which Andrew is unfathomably grateful for. “Just count to five in your head, you can do it. It’s okay. Here, I’ll follow with you, okay? One, two, three, four, five. Okay? One more time. One, two, three, four, five.” 

Andrew nods, repeating the words in his head. He’s rocking slightly, but the counting helps calm the rapid beat of his heart. Neil’s voice is soothing, low and emotionless, and Andrew matches the pace of his breathing to the pace of Neil’s counting. “One more time,” Neil encourages. “One, two, three, four, five. Just like that. It’s okay, everything’s okay.” 

Slowly, the world stops spinning, and his heart stops trying to jackhammer out of his chest, and he can breathe normally again. His mouth is still dry and his head is pounding, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out anymore. “Water,” he manages to whisper, and Neil moves away from his side. He wishes briefly he hadn’t said anything, wants Neil to return even before he gets up, but when Neil pushes the cup into his hands, he drinks gratefully. 

“Everything is okay,” he says, once he’s caught his breath enough to speak normally. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

Neil is staring at him, brow furrowed, but his face wipes clean of any emotion. “Okay,” he answers, moving to stand. “Don’t apologize. If everything is okay...” He trails off when Andrew climbs out of bed, pulling sweatpants and a sweatshirt on. “Where are you going?” 

“I need some air,” Andrew says, pulling on a hat and gloves. He shoves a carton of cigarettes into his pocket, forces his feet into shoes. He’s halfway to the door before Neil says anything else. 

“Andrew, it’s 4am. It’s freezing outside.” He doesn’t sound reproachful, just tired. Andrew grinds his teeth together, staring at the wood of the door. He can’t look back, knows seeing Neil will keep him in the room, when all he needs is to get out. 

“Go back to sleep,” he orders, moving forward without looking over his shoulder. He steps out into the cold air, slams the door behind him. He’s not sure where this anger is coming from, not sure why he’s so mad at Neil, who’s just worried about him. But staying in that room, four walls boxing him in, would have set his teeth on edge. 

Maybe it’s his dream that’s sending him careening off-course. Neil had been in that too, and it isn’t something Andrew wants to think about. What he wants to do is smoke the rest of the cigarettes in the box, find a roof, and contemplate throwing himself off it. 

Andrew finds stairs that take him up to a locked door. He jams the lock open, makes it to the edge. He lights his first cigarette, hand shaking, takes a deep inhale. Exhales the smoke. The smell grounds him, even though he still feels half-there. He climbs up onto the ledge, looks down at the ground. It would be so easy, he thinks, to go over. Neil’s not here to stop him this time. All he has to do is lean forward. 

He takes another drag of the cigarette. It’s burning down, heat licking his hands. He watches it, the flame flickering red, and flicks it off the roof. Lights another one. Takes a drag. He’s still on the edge. Still feels like blades are running down his spine. He feels uncomfortable in his own skin. Wants to tear it off and start anew. 

Andrew steps off the ledge. Sits on it instead, lets his legs hang over the edge. He watches the sun rise from that position, doesn’t move until he’s half frozen and stiff. Neil never comes to look for him, and Andrew sits until he thinks he’ll catch hypothermia if he stays there any longer. 

When he steps back into their room, their bags are on the bed and Neil’s in the shower. The bed is neatly made, and it’s like they were never there at all. Andrew opens Neil’s bag out of curiosity, sees everything neatly folded and tucked away. He thinks some habits die hard, and Neil’s never been one to break routine. 

Andrew changes, is standing by the door when Neil finally comes out of the bathroom, dripping wet. He doesn’t say anything to Andrew about where he’s been all night and doesn’t mention what happened. He just grabs his bag and heads back into the bathroom. Andrew looks at the scars on Neil’s back as he goes, wonders if Neil’s ever wanted to escape life on this earth the way Andrew does. 

He doubts it. 

They go to breakfast at a small diner down the road. The coffee is terrible, but Andrew pours three creams and 6 sugars in it, stirring it methodically. Neil gets hot water and tea, as well as a large stack of pancakes for them to share. Normally, Andrew would be ravenous, but his stomach claws at him uncomfortably, and the thought of eating makes him sick. They don’t say anything, and the cheery music playing overhead makes Andrew want to shift uncomfortably. 

He knocks back his coffee before the food even arrives, and is well into his second cup by the time it comes. Neil must notice that Andrew’s not eating anything, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Andrew’s coming out of the bathroom, headed to meet Neil at the car when he overhears him. “...didn’t eat at all,” Neil’s saying, hushed, into his phone. He’s got his back to the restaurant, standing at the car, and Andrew can barely hear him over the wind. He moves closer, but Neil’s so distracted with whatever the other person is saying he doesn’t notice. 

“I tried, last night, did the counting thing like you told me. It seemed to help, but he left right after. Never came back. I thought he might have died.” Neil’s voice is growing in volume as his emotions rise, and Andrew wonders at the thought that he’s affected Neil in this manner. 

Andrew waits until Neil says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to, hands shoved into his pockets. “Who was that?” He asks when Neil turns, surprise barely registering on his face. 

“Kevin,” Neil lies smoothly, his face blank. “Ready to go?” Andrew nods silently, sliding into the driver’s side. He guesses he should probably be more angry with Neil for lying to him, but the ever present exhaustion seems to have slid back into his bones. 

Andrew stairs at the space on the wall above Bee’s head. He’s slumped down in his chair, picking at his thumb. His skin has been crawling all day today, and the room is uncomfortably hot. Bee’s sitting across from him, scribbling on a piece of paper. They’ve just finished their session and she grilled on his trip with Neil. 

He’s suspected she’s who Neil called from the diner, but he hasn’t brought it up. Neil still hates talking to Bee, refuses to go with Andrew to her office, so he’s not sure why or when Neil started talking to her of his own free will. 

“How was the trip?” Bee asks, finally looking up from her papers. She’s especially perky today, and it’s setting Andrew on edge. 

He shrugs, the closest thing to an answer he has for her. She just smiles at him, used to his silence by now. Andrew frowns, still feeling unsettled. “Why don’t you ask Neil. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to tell you,” he says, the words coming more like a sneer than he intends. 

She looks up quickly, her eyes wide. “Andrew?” 

He settles back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back.” She doesn’t immediately answer. “Haven’t you?” 

Bee shakes her head, face pale. “Andrew, Neil is just worried about you. He didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Andrew wants to roll his eyes, wants to scowl, wants to let her know how much this angers him. Instead, he swallows it down, stiffens his spine, and steels his face. “If he’s worried about something, he should come to me about it. Not run behind my back to you. We’re not in kindergarten.” 

“I agree,” Bee says, nodding. She pauses. “Maybe... Neil doesn’t feel like he can come to you about whatever it is he’s worried about.” Andrew doesn’t respond, preferring to stew in his anger. 

The rest of the session continues, polite, if not a little strained. Bee is clearly trying to mend whatever she thinks is broken, but Andrew couldn’t care less. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he becomes with Neil. Good intentions or not, this is a direct violation of Andrew’s trust. 

“Oh, Andrew, here,” Bee says, as he’s rising to leave once the hour’s up. “I think you should consider this.” She holds a piece of paper out to him. 

He takes it unthinkingly, only pausing once he looks at what’s written on it. “A prescription?” As much as he tries to stop it, a hint of betrayal seeps into his words. “You want to put me on drugs again?” 

“Andrew, you’re dealing with depression and suicidal urges. These will help stop that. They’ll make it better.” Her voice is gentle, soft, like she doesn’t want to startle him. His fist clenches, but he shoves the prescription into his pocket to be forgotten, and turns to leave. 

Andrew’s ditched practice for the fifth time that month when Neil decides to take another course of action. Things had been frosty between them for a few weeks, especially seeing as Andrew’s fairly certain Bee told Neil that Andrew knew. They never talked about it, but Neil had been back to his normal self and stopped tiptoeing around Andrew like he thought he was going to break. 

He’s taken to taking long walks around campus and town, instead of going to class or practice, and he’s just returning home when Neil calls him. He picks up seconds after it starts vibrating. “Wanna get lunch?” Neil asks, not wasting breath on formalities. They both gave up on that, seeing as it wasn’t really necessary, and also because it made Kevin unexplainably mad. 

“Now?” Andrew checks the time on the stove clock. “It’s 3:30.” 

Neil sighs. “Practice was rough. Dan’s being especially stubborn when it comes to drills, and my legs are going to fall off. I could eat a horse.” He sounds breathless, confirming his story. 

“Yeah, okay. Text me where.” 

“See you soon.” Neil hangs up before Andrew can answer, and soon his phone is buzzing with an address of a local sandwich shop. 

When Andrew gets there, he slumps down in a booth with his back to the wall, facing the door. Neil’s running late, which is unlike him, but Andrew guesses he got caught up with Exy stuff. 

The bell above the door jingles, drawing Andrew’s attention. He frowns when he sees Aaron come in. “What are you doing here?” He asks, once Aaron’s sat down at his table. 

Aaron looks bored, just as uninterested in being there as Andrew is at having him there. “Neil asked me to come,” he says, sounding like he’s wondering how that got him there. 

“And you agreed?” Outside of their monthly meeting with Bee, this is the most the two of them have spoken in weeks. 

Aaron rolls his eyes. “He asked nicely. He also gave me this.” He pushes a piece of paper across the table towards Andrew. “Cute.” 

“Is this some kind of fucked up joke?” Andrew shoves the paper, Bee’s neat handwriting for a prescription familiar. “No one’s laughing.” 

Aaron nods, like he expected this reaction. “No,” he agrees, looking down at the table. “No one’s laughing.” 

A wave of fury crashes over Andrew, and he pushes himself to his feet. He needs to walk this energy off before he ends up doing something he regrets. “Sit down,” Aaron tells him. “Shut up and listen.” 

His hands still trembling with anger, Andrew does as he says, ready to leap up and leave at the drop of a pin. 

Aaron looks up, meets his eyes. There’s a burning intensity there that’s unfamiliar to Andrew. “One of the worst days of my life was seeing Drake on top of you.” Andrew flinches at the mention of Drake despite himself. Aaron shakes his head viciously. A muscle in his jaw flexes. “You’re my brother. We’re supposed to protect each other. And I failed.” 

Aaron pauses, like he’s considering what he’s going to say next. “Neil told me you tried to kill yourself.” 

Andrew flinches again. The words are callous, and somehow having Aaron say them out loud makes them more real. Aaron doesn’t seem to be paying attention to his reaction. 

“I was angry when he told me. I thought he might be lying at first, like another fucked up way of trying to get us to connect. But he showed me that. And I realized he wasn’t lying. Was he?” 

Aaron’s eyes meet Andrew’s. It’s like staring into a mirror. Andrew’s always hated his own reflection. Shows too much of himself. “No,” he says, toneless. “He wasn’t lying.” 

He nods like that was the answer he was expecting. “Looking back, I should have known the second you stopped coming to practice that something was wrong. But I was stupid. I thought maybe you were rebelling against something, that Neil was just covering for you.” Aaron’s fist clenches. “You’re scared of this, aren’t you?” 

He pushes the prescription towards Andrew. “I’m not going to take drugs,” Andrew snaps, heat licking at his voice. He doesn’t mean to lose his handle on his temper, but he feels like pins and needles are pricking his skin. “Never again.” 

Aaron nods. “You know, when you locked me in that bathroom, I hated you more than anything. After what you did to Mom, I never thought I could forgive you. I was happy to hate you for the rest of my life, or until I could leave. I don’t want to hate you anymore, Andrew. It’s exhausting and it’s pointless, and you’ve always been trying to protect me, even if it’s a fucked up kind of protection. But I’m scared if you go through with whatever suicide plan you have, I’ll resent you for the rest of my life. I want to protect you, for once, but you won’t let anyone in close enough to do that. Me, Neil, Bee, we just want you to be okay. It’s up to you. Do it or don’t do it, but I’ve said my piece.” 

Aaron slides out of the booth, standing up. “You don’t always have to do everything on your own.” 

Andrew watches him leave. Once the door shuts behind him, he reaches out to pick up the prescription. He smoothes the paper, before folding it neatly and tucking it in his pocket. 

Much to Andrew’s displeasure, trying to get back into shape after barely going to practice for the past few months is a very unpleasant process. He’s winded after three laps, but they have another seven. Neil sticks by his side, even though Andrew knows he’s the fastest on the team. 

“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps, but the words lack the bite he intended, mostly because he’s struggling to draw enough air into his lungs to breathe. Neil just laughs, cheeks slightly pink from exertion. 

“I know you don’t,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Ready to go?” He takes off running, drawing Andrew after him. He’s going to be damned if he lets Neil Josten out-run him. Just because Neil’s been running for his whole life doesn’t mean Andrew’s going to let him beat him. 

He notices Dan watching them sprint around the court with a fond smile, and wishes the rest of the team would learn some subtly. 

“Close the goddamn window, would you?” Neil grumbles from behind Andrew. Andrew’s got the window propped open, sitting up in the window sill as he smokes. The air is still cold in the morning, even though the seasons are shifting. 

“I can if you want the apartment to smell like smoke,” Andrew answers, exhaling smoke. 

Neil comes up behind him, bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, both the hideous PSU orange. He wraps his arms around Andrew’s middle, pressing his forehead against Andrew’s shoulder. “That’s all you smell like anyway.” 

He reaches up to take the cigarette from Andrew and Andrew lets him, enjoying the press of Neil against him. “I hate you,” he says, almost without thinking of the words. 

Neil snorts, and his hair tickles Andrew’s neck. “Liar.” He presses a kiss to Andrew’s neck, and the coldness of his nose makes Andrew flinch slightly. “Can you even smoke on the meds?” 

Andrew shrugs. “Never saw anything that said I couldn’t.” 

He’d eventually given in and started taking the medicine that Bee recommended. He’d been nervous at first, of being trapped in his own mind, unable to express himself, but thankfully all they did were keep him grounded. He no longer felt so empty all the time, even though he still woke up in a blind panic on particularly bad nights. Bee said it was all a process the last time he talked to her, so he’s hoping she’s right. 

The apartment falls quiet as they pass the cigarette back and forth, Neil still wrapped around Andrew. “I love you,” he says, so quiet Andrew almost doesn’t hear him. It’s not the first time they’ve said it, but it doesn’t come out often. Neither of them have lived lives that embraced love and openness and Andrew’s still trying to learn how to be vulnerable with Neil. 

“I love you too,” he says, just as soft. 

He still doesn’t feel right all the time, and sometimes he wants to escape to the roof, but he’s getting better. He thinks the good days are starting to outnumber the bad days. Andrew wants to freeze this moment, here in the apartment he and Neil have made for themselves, with Neil holding him, like he’s holding Andrew’s pieces together. Neil’s never been afraid of getting cut on Andrew’s sharp edges, and Andrew thinks that might be what he loves the most. 

[flowerfan2]

Affinity - Ch. 20 (10.20)

Friends, this show is killing me.  For your angsting pleasure, below please find chapter 20 of my coda series.  As I was writing this a line from a Robert Frost poem lodged itself in my brain, so I had Steve think of it too.  (”As dawn goes down to day / Nothing gold can stay.”)  I feel like it may be the epitaph for Season 10 (probably should have saved it for the title of another fic... come to think of it, I still can...)

Affinity - McDanno, A03

Chapter 20

Steve walks past the fountains and sparkling infinity pool, weaving his way through the strategically placed lounge chairs until he gets to the beach.  The Four Seasons Resort on Maui is an unusually ritzy location for Danny to choose for a spring break trip, but he got some kind of amazing deal and has been looking forward to spending this time with his kids for weeks.

Steve had been touched when Danny insisted that he come along too.  At the same time, he was wary of impinging on Danny’s limited family time, and a little hesitant to take off the same week as Danny when they were trying to keep their relationship quiet.  They had finally agreed that Steve would join them for the weekend, and so here he is, in his swim trunks and slippahs, gazing across the sand in search of his partner.

He hasn’t been looking for long when he hears a squeal, followed immediately by an armful of young boy.    

“Uncle Steve!”  Charlie exclaims.  “You’re here!  Come swim with me!”

Steve promises that he will, then slings the boy upside down over his shoulder and proceeds down the beach, much to Charlie’s amusement.

He finally sees Danny and Grace, sharing a large beach blanket.  Grace spots him and smiles, standing up and coming over to give him a big hug as he slides Charlie back to the ground.

“You look great,” Steve says, and Grace gives him a sassy smile.  She’s so grown up, he thinks, but keeps it to himself – he remembers how he hated when people said that to him, as if it was some remarkable observation.  But she has, and it makes his heart ache just a little. It’s been a long time since Grace was the one to run up to him and grab him by the hand, demanding that he get in the water and play with her.

Grace seems to see something in his expression that gives her pause, and she grabs Charlie by the arm and tugs him towards the water.  “Come on, kiddo,” she says, “get your body board, I’ll go in with you.  Steve can’t go swimming yet, he hasn’t put any sunscreen on.”

Charlie looks at Steve wide-eyed, as if he’s committed a felony, and Steve nods.  “I need a few minutes to get ready,” he says solemnly.  He winks a thank-you to Grace as the kids race off together towards the surf.

Children out of the way, Steve finally sinks down on the beach blanket next to Danny.  It’s some kind of thin colorful fabric, like the parachute pants from the 80’s, and it feels nice on his bare feet.

Danny is stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms, showing off his deltoids and triceps.   Steve could look at him all day, broad shoulders narrowing into a trim waist, a sliver of whiter skin showing just above the waistline of his black swim trunks.

 Danny’s eyes are closed, but there’s a small smile dancing around his mouth.   A moment after Steve settles next to him Danny opens his eyes and his smile broadens, stretching his face.

 “Hey there,” Danny says, reaching out to pet at Steve’s arm.  “’m glad you’re here.”

 “Me too.”   Steve sits cross-legged, setting his backpack down and letting out a long breath.  “It was an easy trip over.  Quick flight.”

 “Good.”  Danny shifts to his side, propping his head up on an elbow. Steve can feel Danny studying him as he looks out over the water.

 “Steve, you okay?”

 “Yeah, of course,” Steve replies automatically.  He’s not, not really, and he knows it.  He’s pretty sure Danny knows it too, even though he’s barely been here a minute.

 It’s not as if he doesn’t want to confide in Danny.  It’s just the opposite.  It’s all threatening to spill out, and he doesn’t know how to control it.  Steve can’t stop thinking about the call he got last night, right when he was deep in painful memories of his father, hiding out in the garage and playing that tape.  The unexpected call from the lawyer was a stinging confirmation of how much he still doesn’t know about his parents, and will probably never know.

 After he hung up on the lawyer, Steve had braced himself on the work bench and narrowly avoided hyperventilating, focusing on his breathing and the feel of the wood under his fingers until he calmed down.  Then he packed up the tool box and went back into his house, accepting a beer from Adam and ribbing Hirsch and generally pretending that nothing had happened.

 He thinks he did a pretty good job of it.  He’s had a lot of practice.  But he can never hide this kind of thing from Danny, at least not for long.  

 Danny reaches up to grab at the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, tugging him closer.  “Lay down,” he says.  “Relax.” Danny’s brow is creased with concern. Yup, he’s not buying it.

 Steve stretches out on his side, mirroring Danny’s position, and runs a hand over Danny’s head.  His hair is sticky with salt, and Danny makes a face. “Cut it out.”

 “You’re cute when you’re sunburned,” Steve says, hoping to lighten the mood.

 “I’m not sunburned,” Danny replies, gazing down over his bare chest and arms.  “Too much fur.”

 “It’s a protective coating,” Steve says, touching the soft hair on Danny’s chest.  “Lucky you.  Your face, on the other hand-”

 “My face is fine,” Danny says, grinning.  “Your face, though – different story.  I can’t stand your face.  Hate it.”

 “Oh yeah?”  Steve says, moving closer.  “You sure?”

 “Definitely.”  Danny leans in and kisses Steve lightly, just a touch of his lips to Steve’s.  “Awful. The worst.  Don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

 They kiss for a few minutes, cognizant of the fact that while the beach isn’t particularly crowded at a luxury resort like this, it isn’t private, either.  But it’s enough physical contact to ground Steve, to soothe him.  When they break apart, he feels like he can breathe again.

 They spend the afternoon alternating between swimming with the kids and lazing around on the beach, and it’s perfect. Steve gets to ogle Danny’s broad chest and strong arms as he carries Charlie on his shoulders through the waves, Grace declining to participate in the chicken fight but chiming in with rules they make up on the spot for their lopsided challenge.  He pulls his phone out of his backpack only to snap photos of Danny and Grace strolling along the water’s edge, or Charlie making sandcastles. He does not think about work, or mortality, or Doris.  Much.

 They order food from the beach side café, poke bowls for Grace and Steve and chicken wings and fries for Danny and Charlie, and eat it on their beach blanket, rinsing their hands clean in the ocean when they’re done.  Steve and Danny drink beer and tease Grace about how she’s still too young to drink (she is, although as she’s at college now she just rolls her eyes at them when they refuse her a beer).  

Charlie begs for ice cream and so Steve goes back up to the café to get them each a double scoop of gelato.

 The sun is just starting to set, a breeze making Steve’s skin ripple with goosebumps, when Grace stands up and gathers her things.  “Sorry we have to go,” she says.  “Charlie and I have plans.”

 “It’s Avengers movie night,” Charlie explains.  “Danno won’t watch them anymore, he says he’s mad about Endgame.”

 Steve raises an eyebrow at Danny, and Danny just shakes his head.  “We’ve been over this.  The time travel plot makes no sense, it wouldn’t work that way, and getting Cap back together with Peggy is completely out of character-”

 “I don’t like that they killed Iron Man,” Charlie says.  “But it’s still my favorite movie ever.”

 Charlie and Grace give them both hugs, and Danny tells Grace not to let Charlie stay up too late, which just earns him eye rolls from both siblings, and then the kids say goodnight and traipse off towards the hotel.

 “I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one that has to listen to your Marvel rants,” Steve says, laying down on the blanket, hands behind his head.

 “It was a stupid ending.  They sidelined Bucky and went full no homo in pairing Cap up with Peggy.  And Charlie’s right, there was no need to kill a main character just for dramatic effect. It was a stupid way to end the arc. An insult to the fans.”

 “It’s just a story,” Steve says.

 “Stories have meaning,” Danny replies. “Representation matters.”  Danny gives Steve what is likely meant to be a meaningful look, and Steve laughs.  

 “You’re a Stucky fan, aren’t you?” Steve asks, and he watches as Danny’s face goes slightly red.  

 “Obviously.”

 “I miss Jerry,” Steve says.  It’s not a non sequitur, and Danny gets it. Jerry was their enthusiastic guide to all thinks comic book related, and they had spent many an evening watching movies and arguing about their favorite characters.  Danny can fly his freak flag high with the rest of them given enough beer.

 “Me too.”

 Having Jerry leave the team had hurt almost as much as losing Chin and Kono.  A long forgotten line pops into his head, a remnant from something he had to read in junior high English class.  So dawn goes down to day.  Nothing gold can stay.

 Steve sighs and closes his eyes, beating back the sudden urge to cry.  His emotions are all over the place lately. He’s got to get a hold of himself.  

 They lie in silence for a little while, listening to the echo of live music now coming from the pool area. It’s a traditional Hawaiian band, with a female singer singing a romantic song about a lei of stars.

 Danny’s hand slides over to Steve, and Steve pulls his arm out from under his head and takes Danny’s hand, their arms warm as they press together.  The sun has almost set, and the sky is streaked with pink and orange light.

 “This was a great day,” Steve says quietly.  “Thanks for inviting me.”

 Danny makes a soft noise in his throat. “Of course.  I wish you had come for the whole week.”

 Steve wishes with all his heart that he could have been with Danny and the kids for the whole week, but he still believes he did what was best.  He doesn’t like how Danny sounds a little hurt, though.  That’s not at all what he had intended.

 “I’m sorry, Danny.  I just… I couldn’t.”

 “Why not?”

 Steve can feel Danny turning to look at him, but he can’t look back, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the sky. “It’s hard to explain.”

 “Can you try?”

 Steve shakes his head.  Danny’s kids are ‘ohana, they are part of his family. But he’s still just their uncle, not their dad.  Danny will always have a connection with them, a legal bond with them, but it’s different for Steve.  He doesn’t have any right to them.  He can’t keep them with him any more than he can keep Danny.

 Danny, who is looking at him with such concern that it makes him want to cry all over again.  Or run away, go back to Oahu and sit in the dark by himself, waiting to see what new heartache Doris is about to put him through.  He has no idea what’s in the package the lawyer is bringing him, but he is sure it isn’t anything good.  Nothing about Doris ever is, in the end, no matter how hard Steve tries.

 “I love you,” Danny whispers, turning to wrap his arms around Steve.  “I love you. I’m right here.”  

 Steve lets Danny pull him in, curling up against him as the sky goes dark and the stars come out.  He’ll tell him soon, about the phone call and the package from Doris, and Danny will scowl and curse and stomp around, upset on his behalf and upset at feeling helpless to do anything about it.  But for now, Steve just wants to focus on being close to Danny for a little while more.  Right now it’s just the two of them, no one else.  He wishes it could always be this way.

 “I love you too,” Steve says under his breath, knowing Danny can hear it.  He tightens his arms around Danny, inhales the warm scent of his skin, and tries to let Danny’s love fill his empty spaces.  

[axgmented]

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

#1.

she doesn't flinch anymore when the fireworks go off, coloring the sky with reds and greens, purples and white lights. she looks at them with childish wonder, corners of her mouth tipped upwards in a faint smile. her heart hammers at each clap of the lights bursting alive in the sky. she can smell the spent powder that lingers in the air, falling towards the streets. rem's got to hand it to the boss, he knows how to throw new years parties; he always knows where to find her too, if she isn't in the crowd when the show begins. it was no different now, a flute of what use to hold champagne ( now held a drink that suspiciously looked like whiskey ) held by the top of the glass instead of the stem; she takes a half step back as one firework climbs towards the heavens and she nearly drops the drink when her back is flush against his chest.

  " oh --! sorry boss.. i, uh, well ya know."

  she grins, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was certainly buzzed and too enamored with the lights to really be paying attention. she's expecting him to be mad, to grip her wrist and make her drop the glass before dragging her back down to the party but he doesnt. he reaches for her glass, taking it properly by the stem before taking an experimental sip. his eyebrow lifts and he pins her with an almost accusatory look. rem just laughs a little when she nods to her own personal bottle she brought with her, resting against the chair she had commandeered as well. she knows better than to take his personal stash unless specifically ordered to.

   " happy new year."

  she hadn't had time to say it back before he does indeed grip her small wrist, tugging her forward on unsteady heels. she isn't used to walking in these things, but luckily rufus knows how to keep her standing. they're far enough away from the edge of the rooftop that they're hidden, she hears the glass shatter at her feet and the hand that once held it slid against her hips, bunching the fabric of the dress he bought her in his hold before his mouth seeks hers out. rem immediately finds his, slotting her lips against his as the clock struck midnight.

#2.

  rain pelts against the windows, the sides of the hotel and for once, rem isn't hiding under the covers. she's watching how the sky lights up, how the clouds look so different in a storm, only their curves illuminated and how every other sound gets drowned out by the crackles of thunder that shake the earth. her hands tighten around the cup of coffee in her hands, taking a cautious sip before those red iris widen with excitement; she's counting how far away the storm is. she hears the door open and rem leans back a bit on the bed, staring into the little living room before offering him a wave; he doesn't look like a drowned rat so that was a good thing. she goes back to watching the storm, eyes narrowing when a particularly bright bolt brings the sky alive.

 he pauses at the door frame, taking his watch off and setting it on the glass tabletop before hanging his coat up behind the door; he's unbuttoning his sleeves before rolling them up to his elbows before crossing the bedroom, taking the coffee cup from her grasp before placing a shushing kiss to her forehead when she starts to whine at him. his fingertips curl beneath her chin, lifting her face up before studying how the lightning seems to reflect in those odd colored eyes of hers; at the pulse of thunder, his lips brush against hers and her hammering heart drowns out the sound of the thunder.

#3.

her tongue slides against the barrel of her own gun, lips parting to wrap around the metal before glancing up at the president from beneath thick lashes. her pupils are narrow slits, her breathing controlled and the crimson from her iris is replaced with the brilliant mako blue. he loves watching her eyes. she keeps going on the gun, until the barrel hits the back of her throat and her eyebrow lifts in a challenge to the young shinra. to say she was off her rocker tonight would have been an understatement. he wasn't too far behind her. everything felt hypersensitive --- even the cold metal of her weapon seemed to be too much if he focused on it for too long. his teeth grit,  swallowing thickly before he tips nyx a bit sharper in her mouth. there's a thin line of drool that falls from the corner of her mouth and rem gives a slow, needy whine. slowly, he pulls the gun from her mouth before his hand latches around her throat and pulls her towards him, not giving her a chance to catch her breath before he's devouring her whole.

#4.

 her nose wrinkles in her sleep, her head moving to the side. she inhales slowly, pressing her cheek against the cold pillow before she feels his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. rem stiffens in his hold, immediately pulling herself back against his hold out of habit, teeth already bared before her eyes open. her hands are on his chest, nails almost dragging down his chest to bring blood as a defensive technique but he barks an order of her to stop before she goes completely limp in his hold. it was just the boss, no enemy--- no hojo to speak of. she gives a soft whisper of a swear before his hand slides up her side and towards her back, gripping her hair at the roots before pulling her to straddle his hips and hungrily took her soul, proving once more that he owns her. the whimper into his mouth is proof enough that indeed, she'd surrender every time.

#5.

he tasted like whatever fruity dessert he had at the restaurant. she wasn't paying attention to what he was ordering -- she was entranced by the ropes of hanging lights that made the outer patio so beautiful. she hardly ate, though she did swallow down about three glasses of white wine; rem declined the fourth glass. she knew better than to get sloppy on the job. a comfortable buzz, one that made her forget their past conversation about salvation. the walk back to the car was exhausting for her; shoulders aching from being tense and her eyes aching from straining against the bright neon lights that tried to lure people into their little markets or shoppes.

 charlie's driving them back, the tinted window put up so he can't be nosey about which girl rufus happens to have in the back of the car and the sudden thought of some other female in the car makes her want to growl into his mouth. his hand slides against her neck, and she feels so small beneath him as he leans forward, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip and rem doesn't hesitate to let him lay claim to her mouth. all it took was one kiss from him to know that she was doomed for the rest of her life. 

#6.

 she feels sick. she's nothing like the turk she used to be. she's pale, she's bruised, she can barely stand on her feet. her lips are bruised, the scarring at her temples thick and sore to the touch. her fingertips touch at the burn marks beneath her collarbones and the sudden memory grips her so hard that she cries out in fear, thinking she was back in that damned concrete room, cuffs digging into her wrists and the pain of the electricity running through her. he called it ptsd, and rem didn't know what it meant other than the random memories gripping her, pulling her back and the absolute raw fear she felt.

 rufus is there, half awake when he hears her cry out. it wasn't like the woman to fear anything. sure, water --- everyone knew about water, but she hardly let anything get to her. he remembered how he had pulled her from the cell, how light and gaunt she was -- a walking skeleton. he wasn't sure what triggered it tonight, but he grasped her hips gently, calling out to her calmly before pulling her close. he holds both of her wrists in one hand, the other framing her face in a supportive grip before he swallows her cries of fear -- he'd turn them into cries of pleasure if it took all night to have her feel safe again.

#7.

 rem isn't a fan when they fight. it makes her blood feel heavy, like tar sludging through her veins and her heart hammers hard enough she's sure it'll break every single rib that protects it. she can't bite her tongue anymore, can't hold back and they're both in each others faces, spitting venom and shoving -- rufus hardly raises his hands out of anger but god damn it they've both had enough. they're both petty, they're both so stubborn and they had each hit each others pride and wounded it. the wall meets her back and she shoves off of the surface before surging forward. he counters, like so many times before and holds her slender neck in his hand, fingers tightening around her pulse point. he snarls in her ear, how she'll always be his, how no one will ever take her from him-- not even another experiment. that maybe, just maybe she should be put on a shelf and rem challenges him to be the one to do it, to put her on a shelf and never take her down again. they're both panting, lips barely an inch apart before he swears her name, devouring her anger.

#8.

rem is impatient when it comes to her needs. she isn't a soft lover -- she takes what she wants and only has her own pleasure in mind... unless your name was rufus shinra. because if your name was rufus shinra, she was on her knees every sunday morning, she was waking him up using the fact that she doesnt have a gag reflex to her advantage; if your name was rufus shinra, she would offer her throat up to that damned wolf every chance he commanded. he lets her think she has control sometimes, like now when he's staring up at her with a smirk on that perfect fucking mouth of his. it started off with light shoving and hair pulling -- play wrestling and throwing ice chips at one another before their hunger grew and grew and rem pinned him, her little hands sliding and lacing her fingers with his own. her mouth is hovering over his, her breath coming in quiet little pants, little noises of pleasure escaping when his leg slips between her own and lifts faintly, tipping her forward before teeth bite at her lower lip and his tongue reclaims dominance.

#9.

this kiss was different; she's always been so careful about how much emotion she lets out when they're alone. she's always careful to keep those feelings in check-- or rather, locked away and suppressed until it eats away at whatever tattered piece of soul is left. she doesn't have anything turned on in the hotel, not the tv, not the radio --- not even the coffee pot. she knows he's working, but after three straight hours of watching him watch his screen and his fingers never taking a break from dancing over the keyboard, rem pulls him from the desk and slides herself into his lap. he doesnt seem to fight her, almost welcoming her as a distraction from the thousands of emails that were bringing on a migraine. however, he wasn't lost on how this kiss felt different than the others. he breaks it for a moment, eyeing her carefully before she shakes her head, and sighs; just once, gods just once can he just listen to her. her forehead rests against his lips before she starts to get up and he hesitates before his hands tighten on her hips, keeping her in place. he's always told her as long as she doesnt say it... and well, the words never came out of her mouth. instead, her head lifts and she carefully frames his face with deceptively gentle hands. her fingers were peppered with barely-there, silvery scars and she avoids looking into the gray eyes of his before he lets her have control of the kiss, to which rem shyly presses her mouth against his own, offering up her very being to him.

[evilsnowswan]

Summary: [Rumbelle Mermaid!AU] based on this prompt by repeatinglitanies: “In a world where people are aware of the existence of mermaids, Belle is a mermaid who lives in the world’s largest aquarium along with other sea creatures. She enjoys looking at the little humans who come to visit, especially a floofy haired boy who comes every week with his father….” An injured Belle is captured and brought to Gold and Milah’s aquarium. Gold is a marine biologist dedicated to protecting the creatures there, Milah wants to turn a profit, and their son has his own ideas about how to befriend a mermaid.

Rating: G/Teen Link to full story: [Read on AO3] Previous Chapters: [Coverart][Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5][Chapter 6][Chapter 7][Chapter 8][Chapter 9][Chapter 10][Chapter 11][Chapter 12][Chapter 13][Chapter 14][Chapter 15][Chapter 16][Chapter 17][Chapter 18]

Current Chapter: 19/? Chapter Summary: Gold learns something new about Indigo. And about himself.

Chapter 19: Power

Whatever he thought about the Mills Foundation, or rather the representatives he’d met, they delivered, and they delivered fast. It was true that most problems could not be solved simply by throwing money at them, but the foundation’s money and connections had absolutely something to do with the shiny prototype he was looking at right now.

“And you got the idea from your work with… vets?” Gold asked, looking round at the man who had brought the large silver case. While the case was plain and ordinary, not warranting a second glance or a turned head on the streets, the man was everything but. He had to be around Gold’s age, maybe a little younger, but dressed like a man from another era. His getup reminded Gold of someone from the theatre or the cabaret; entirely too much detail, expensive fabrics, and deep colors.

“Something like that, yes.”

The man had introduced himself as Tailor, but Gold wasn’t sure if that was his last name, given name, or his occupation.

“We sometimes work with veterans.”

Gold nodded. “And it won’t be too heavy? Slow her down in the water?”

Tailor briefly looked up from the loose piece of thread he’d been examining. “Drag effect? Unlikely. It’s light as a feather.” He waved a hand at the case, then resumed studying the place on his sleeve where a button had gone missing, or maybe a cufflink.

“That’s… good.”

Gold waited for Tailor to elaborate, to tell him more about the wondrous device he had brought, or at least ask about the Med wing’s expensive equipment, like he was used to whenever he brought outsiders in, but the man remained silent and focused on his shirt.

“Is it… safe? I mean, can we try and put it on her? Or will you have to…”

“Made to measure brace. Don’t need me there.” Tailor gave a half smile and let go of his sleeve to wiggle his fingers. “Should fit like a glove. And if not—” he let his hand do the talking, directing Gold’s attention back to the open case on the table in front of them. “Adjustable straps and buckles.”

“Right.” Gold shifted his weight. “How much?”

“Pardon?”

Gold drew a deep breath and cleared his throat. Tailor buttoned his coat.

“I’m not sure we can afford this,” he admitted, feeling familiar embarrassment flooding his cheeks. In all those years, the knot in his stomach and the heat in his cheeks had stayed the same. “What range are we talking here?”

“Pfft, paper and coinage.” Tailor waved his concerns away and reached for his top hat in the same extravagant move. “It’s a gift.”

Gold blinked, feeling his jaw drop before he clenched it and ground his teeth. If there was anything he hated more than being skint, it was begging alms. They did not need handouts.

“In my experience, life comes with a price.”

“True, true.” Tailor nodded along gravely, then spun his hat enthusiastically. “But this,” he nodded at the case and clapped his hands. “is a gift.” His grin widened as Gold’s eyes narrowed. “Your un-birthday. Or hers.” He shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

There was silence for a moment as Gold digested the news. It was too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

“And? You’ll leave it in exchange for…?”

He knew he was being rude, but he had too much life experience to bite.

“Updates,” Tailor said finally. “Management wants updates on the mermaid.” He spun his hat again, then put it back on his head. “Or the brace. Or the brace on the mermaid. Something like that.”

“Ah.” The tight feeling in his chest let up. Now they were talking. “Will a monthly report suffice?”

“Weekly.” Tailor gave him a knowing look. “The powers that be like to read.”

Gold grimaced, but, after a beat, held out his hand. Tailor eyed it curiously.

“Sale or return,” he said, winking. “You like it, you buy it. Then you can spin her royal highness some… tales.”

Gold frowned. “Come again?”

Tailor laughed, but it was a humorless laugh and it left his face harder than before. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “Just… watch out for that mermaid of yours.”

The words prickled at the back of Gold’s neck, and he took a moment to replay them in his mind to see what was wrong with them, but he could not detect anything bad, anything tangibly… off.

The whole money thing had rubbed him the wrong way and put him on edge. That was it. This was a business transaction. One he had insisted on handling himself. And so he would.

“Certainly.” he said, putting feeling into the word. “Her well-being is our main concern. And your… brace will help improve that, I’m sure.”

Hands in his pockets, Tailor nodded. “Let them know what you think.” He touched the brim of his hat, hesitated, then held out his hand.

Gold threw out his own again, only to notice the business card held between two fingers. He coughed slightly, then pocketed it without looking at it.

“If… there’s any trouble—” Tailor said, taking off his hat in a small bow.

“Thank you, Mr. … Tailor. We’ll let you know if we have any problems with the… uh, device.”

“At your disposal, Mr. Gold.”

***

After the visitor was gone, Gold pushed the case to the wall and logged onto the computer to take another look at the video footage of Indigo swimming. They, that was his wife, had sent it to the foundation - along with Indigo’s measurements, medical history, and copies of Dr. Whale’s reports. He had not liked it, but it had gotten them a custom made tail brace in record time.

Milah had explained to him that the Mills foundation had old ties with the military, which allowed them access to certain resources and personnel. None other than Ethel Montgomery herself had pointed them out to her daughter during her stay at Montgomery Manor. Another fact that didn’t sit well with Gold, but which he had to accept for the greater good: his goal to help Indigo as soon as possible.

Gold sighed heavily as he watched Indigo struggle against the artificial waves.

Just when he clicked to pause the video, a new email popped up, and he frowned, recognizing Milah’s name on his screen. Were they back to communicating via email only, sending messages from one office at the aquarium to another? No, she had forwarded a recent message from the Mills Foundation. The text wasn’t long, thanking them for their time, congratulating everyone involved on the great business decisions made, more of the usual hogwash, and finally, expressing hopes of continued successful cooperation in the near future.

Gold only skimmed the message, then stopped to look at the attached files more closely. They were instruction manuals. Furrowing his brow, he opened the first document, surprised to find a drawing of the brace and sock, detailing every screw and scrap of material used and giving instructions on assembly, use, repair and storage.

With a groan, he pushed up from his chair to drag the case towards the desk and popped it open. He was a hands-on guy; and touching what he was looking at would allow him to connect the dots a little faster.

He had just concluded that he’d acquainted himself fairly well with the metal-made monstrosity and put it back in its case, when the door to the Med wing gave a shrill beeping sound - access denied - and the intercom hissed.

“Papa?!” The voice panted audibly, gulping down air. “It’s me. Uh…”

Shaking his head and grinning, Gold walked over to hit the door to press the buzzer and let his son enter.

“Is it here? Can I see it? Mama said…” Bae was out of breath, his face flushed and eyes wide. He had probably run the entire way.

Gold chuckled. “Good afternoon to you too, son.”

“Hi, Papa.” Bae quickly threw his arms around Gold’s waist and hugged him. “Is it done? Is it ready?”

“Oh hold on, can’t a man sit back down and catch his breath for one minute, before you start bombarding him with questions?”

Bae stepped back, almost glaring, which made Gold laugh. “Alright. Yes, it’s in here.”

Bae took the case and pulled it closer to the desk, attempted to lift it, then decided to open it on the floor.

“Wow!”

“Careful now, my boy.” Gold hurried over to sink back into his chair and watch as his son tentatively reached out to touch the metal brace and stroke the soft sock. Wide-eyed, he looked up at his father.

“This is the same stuff we use for humans,” Gold explained, remembering what he had read. “It’ll protect the skin and slide around her tail.”

Bae nodded. “They use this for soldiers. When they’re injured.” His eyes flickered to Gold’s bad leg. “To help them walk again.”

“Yes.”

“Feel it, Papa! It’s so soft. What’s it made from?” Bae’s little hands went up and down the sock again. “Do you think she’ll like it? How do we put it on? Will she have to wear it all the time? Like, when she sleeps? Can she swim normal with it? Is it…”

Gold held up a hand, smiling. “We will see,” he said, concern already gnawing at the back of his mind.

“What’s it made from?” Bae asked again, lifting the sock from the case and feeling its weight in his hands.

Gold cleared his throat. “It’s a silicone elastomer. Took them a couple tries to get just right, make it soft as a baby seal’s arse.” He laughed at Bae’s incredulous look. “They say it’s saltwater proof and should stick to her scales, easy.”

Bae stuck his arm inside the sock and wiggled his fingers. “I dunno,” he said. “Feels like seatbelt.”

Gold raised a brow.

“It’s gonna rub!” Bae clarified, rubbing at his neck. “She’s going to hate it if it rubs.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t,” Gold smiled, thinking to himself that it would probably be fine once the sock was wet. Bae had always been a child who winced at new clothing, needed all the tags cut out just so, and who had thrown screaming fits whenever they had tried to wrestle him into knitwear as a toddler — until they had abandoned the idea of wool on the boy entirely.

Bae looked doubtful.

“You could help, if you like?” Gold offered. “I’m meeting Miss Lucas and Indigo at the pool in a bit, so she can try it on and see how it feels.”

“I know!” Bae squealed. “I want to come!”

Gold pointed a finger at him. “So that’s why you raced up here like a bull shark was chasing after you.”

“Mama told me.”

“I see.” Gold winked.

Bae carefully replaced the sock, then turned to his father. “Papa?” He hugged his knees. “Is… is she going to die? If she doesn’t wear it?”

“Don’t worry, son.” Gold reached out and ruffled Bae’s curls. “Nothing’s going to happen to Indigo.” He shifted in his seat, leaning on his thighs. “The brace, it’s… just a tool to help her swim better.”

Bae scrunched up his nose and rubbed at it, his eyes watery as he held Gold’s gaze.

“You know, like your retainer.”

“Huh?”

“When you put on your retainer at night, it tells your teeth how to grow in the right direction, right?” Gold waited until Bae nodded. “This brace is going to tell Indigo’s tail muscles how to swim properly.”

“But she’s a mermaid. She knows how to swim.”

“Yes, she does. But when she was hurt, well, she taught herself to swim with a wiggling motion side to side—” Gold made the motion with his hands.”—like a snake.”

Bae nodded again. He had seen Indigo swim that way and compared her to a lizard.

“Or a lizard. But that’s not how mermaids are supposed to swim and it’s hurting her back. We were worried she could end up paralyzed, and since there are no wheelchairs for mermaids, we asked really smart people—”

“The Mills Foundation?”

“Yes, we asked the Mills Foundation for help and they made her this brace to make sure she’s going to be ok.”

Bae let go of his knees. “How does it work?”

“The brace?” Gold gestured at the case and motioned for Bae to close it. “Well, they designed it so that her tail moves up and down again.”

“But how?”

“By putting slight pressure on the right spots.”

“Yeah, but how does that work, Papa?”

Gold sighed internally. “You’ll see when we attach it. How about we pack this up and head downstairs? We can stop by Granny’s on the way. I hear there are waffles with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and our names on them.”

Bae scrambled to is feet and beamed. “Okay.”

***

The prosthetic designer hadn’t lied. They really had used the finest materials, durable but flexible. The sock was indeed soft to the touch, the joints flexible enough so it should feel natural, or at least as natural as a brace made from metal and screws could feel.

Indigo, however, didn’t look convinced.

They were on a submerged platform in the reef tank, the area once again closed off to the public, and had slipped on the sock (it had a hole for her fin, but they had had to roll it up a bit to make it slide through). Then they carefully attached the brace. Indigo had let them do it after examining the squishy soft material first and then eyeing the brace warily, but now her brow was furrowed and her teeth had come down hard on her bottom lip.

“Hey,” Gold tipped up her chin. “It’s okay. You’ll see.” He smiled at her.

“Yeah, and don’t worry if it itches a little,” Bae said, tugging on his life jacket. “We’ll fix that.” He too gave her a warm smile and Gold noticed chocolate sauce on his chin.

“Indigo?” Miss Lucas waved to catch Indigo’s eye, then pointed at her still tail in the water. “Move it for me?” She gestured with her palm held out flat. “Tail up, tail down. Tail up, tail down. Up and down.”

Lying flat across the platform, Indigo moved her tail up and down.

“Up… and down.”

Indigo glided off the platform and began to swim as intended, flapping her tail up and down.

Gold felt his heart rate pick up, a cautious grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He spotted the look of utmost concentration on her face seconds before it morphed into disgust and dismay, as Indigo swam around the pool, quickly looking harried.

“Indigo? Come back here,” Miss Lucas’ beckoning call fell on deaf ears. Beating her tail from side to side, Indigo thrashed in the water.

“No, Indigo! —”

Indigo bashed the tail brace against the side of the pool.

“She doesn’t like it!” Bae exclaimed, pointing and grabbing Gold by the arm. “Get it off her!”

Miss Lucas sat up on her knees. “Indigo! Stop!”

Indigo huffed, then did it again, pounding her tail against the side until the brace broke off in pieces and the metal began to sink.

“Indigo. No. … Damn,” Miss Lucas breathed. “I didn’t… I didn’t do anything.”

Bae folded his arms with a frown and Miss Lucas looked on with grim resignation as Indigo reached for the sock, tugged on it vigorously and finally managed to shake her tail partially free, causing her fluke to collapse like a sushi roll.

Dismayed, Gold dragged a hand across his face. He shook his head. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” He made to untangle himself from Bae’s renewed grip and let himself sink into the water to come to her rescue.

“Indigo?”

Indigo squeaked and dove under, reaching for the metal brace. She doggy paddled towards him and pushed the brace over.

He took it and briefly looked round at the others, before turning his attention back to her.

“That’s quite alright, sweetheart,” he said, palms up, and willing concern to the back of his mind, put a reassuring smile on his face. “Not to worry. You’re not to worry. We’ll have that sorted out in no time. It’s okay—”

He took her hand and gently guided her to the platform. “Let’s just have a look, shall we?” he cooed, patting the platform, and Indigo lifted her tail onto it. “Okay, here we go. — Miss Lucas? A hand?” 

***

They had taken the strange instrument away and not bothered her with it again until a few sunrises later. Belle didn’t much fancy the clammy feeling of the odd thing’s umbrella as it sucked on her scales, and the skeletal trap wasn’t exactly painful on her tail, but not comfortable either, and it restricted her movement considerably, so she could not understand why the airlings wanted it on her.

She refused to let them attach it to her again and after a couple tries, also shut down any and all conversation on the topic.

The airlings didn’t pressure her or force it on her, but she could tell it stayed on their minds, and so Belle wasn’t surprised when, one night, her airling brought it up again.

They were alone in the place she had been on her first night here, and he sat by the water silently and motionless, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He looked so heartbroken then that she just had to swim over to inquire what was the matter, and if there was anything she could do about it.

To her surprise, he got up and returned with a picture of the instrument. When he showed it to her, his hands shook. She stared at the picture, wondering at the many symbols and the lines that connected them to the drawing.

Why was this so important to him? Belle frowned, then pouted, as she touched his arm. What was the point of trapping her in the uncomfortable thing? Why couldn’t he just drop it?

He shook his head and patted her hand as if to say, it’s okay, you don’t have to, but I’d really wish you’d change your mind.

Before she could do anything else, he had gotten to his feet and left through the opening in the wall without so much as another glance at her.

Belle worried her lip. Had she offended him somehow? Was he angry with her? Was this about the instrument or something else?

She had noticed that both the airling and Jumper Girl seemed more reserved ever since she had rejected their instrument. Her little airling friend hadn’t come round to see her in days. His mother came to bring her snacks sometimes, but she didn’t linger long, just left a box or bucket by the platform.

Belle started to circle the pool. Had it been a mistake to express her dislike of the instrument so freely? She was sorry for breaking it. Could they all still be mad at her about that? Maybe if they gave it to her again, she could try and fix it? She had nimble fingers and could probably figure out how, if they gave her enough time and the right tools.

Just when she had managed to work herself into a state, all hope of sleep long gone, the airling returned.

Belle squinted at him in the bluish dark.

Something about him was different.

He approached slowly and it took her a moment to realize that it was his gait that had changed his whole demeanor so drastically.

When he was close enough for her to hear, he uttered a greeting, but the sound came out strained and clipped, like it took him too much effort to walk and speak at the same time.

Belle rubbed at her eyes, willing them to work better in the semi-darkness, and leaned forward, pressing her hands down on the edge of the platform, her mind half made up to push herself out of the water and meet him halfway. Had something happened? Was he… hurt?

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Indigo.” He finally stepped onto the platform, shoulders bent, hands on his knees, and breathing heavy, which did nothing to dispel the sinking feeling that seemed to cut off Belle’s own air supply.

He pointed at his leg and Belle followed his hand with her eyes, gasping again as they landed on the intended target. His leg was caught in the instrument! How had he managed to get trapped in the thing?! She reached out to touch it, to yank him free, realizing halfway there that it wasn’t the same instrument at all. This one was smaller and missing the sucking umbrella underneath.

Belle gazed up at him, confused.

He smiled weakly, then mumbled something that might have been words of encouragement to himself, and she looked on as he laid his hands on the platform and slowly maneuvered down into a press-up position. Wincing in pain, he kneeled on his free leg and reached out one hand to touch her cheek, gently stroking the soft curve of it, cupping her face in his palm.

Feeling her stomach drop out, then flip flop, Belle followed it under, diving in place, before she poked her head above water again. Feeling his eyes on her, she dipped her hot head beneath the surface and turned upside down so that the end of her tail and her fin poked up out of the water next, showing him her shiny scales, twirling and making her fin flop to this side and that, before she let it hit the water with a splash.

When she came back up after, her face was still burning, and she hoped he was too busy sorting his limbs finding a comfortable sitting position on the platform, to ask her what the halibut’s gill plate she was doing.

Biting her lip, Belle studied his weak leg and the instrument encasing it from the safe distance of the water. Now that he sat breathing normally and smiling at her, the tightness in her chest loosened enough for her to notice that it wasn’t the instrument that was hurting it. It had already been hurt, requiring him to lean on a piece of elegantly carved wood more times than not to reach optimum travel speed. He didn’t seem to need it now, and Belle began to wonder if that was due to the instrument; if helping his leg was it’s true purpose.

If that was true, however....

She swam up to him, intent on inspecting his leg instrument more closely, but got sidetracked when, after a few moments of her running her fingers over it, he started running his own over her skin, stroking up and down her arm slowly and gently, with the light pressure of only one fingertip.

Belle stopped what she was doing, frozen in awe, following the tickling sensation from her fingertips to her elbow, up to her shoulder, and down her neck. His touch tingled in her chest and belly, leaving an unknown sting just below her middle. Somewhere between a tickle and a bite, it made her squirm and shudder involuntarily as heat radiated from it.

With a breathless gasp, she withdrew, then reached for his hand, allowing their fingers to intertwine.

She licked her lips, not recognizing her own heartbeat anymore. His gaze was intense but gentle, flooding her with warm currents from head to fin.

Finally, the tingling and stinging became too much and Belle broke contact. Without meaning to do it, she went under, somersaulting beneath the surface, then went to float belly up on the water, letting it support her weight. She just needed a moment to gather her senses, slow down the rushing and roaring within her. What had this been about anyway? Why was he here?

The instrument. Right.

It floated back into her consciousness, and Belle made a decision on the spot. She mentally felt around for her tail, turned, and swam back up to him.

“Indigo?”

She nodded at his leg. Then lifted her fin out of the water and placed it on the platform. She pointed at it, then at his leg, and back again, and a ray of hope seemed to spark and ignite in his eyes as he grinned from ear to ear.

***

Heart pounding in his ears, Gold wheeled in the case and opened it, kneeling on the platform. They had long fixed the brace, but he had decided not to bother her with it again until she was ready.

Getting out his own brace had been both a stroke of genius and a mean, manipulative trick, but, thankfully, it had worked. The old thing had proven useful for more than just gathering dust in the back of his closet at last. Apparently, it could also be used to convince skeptical mermaids.

“You ready?” He looked over at Indigo, who was dutifully waiting for him by the platform.

At his signal, she heaved herself out of the water, rolling until she lay flat on her back, gazing up at him as he kneeled beside her. He half managed to convince himself that it was the darkness rather than his presence that gave her a sense of security and lowered her natural defenses this much, but before his thoughts could spiral and get away from him, he put a stop to it and focused on the task at hand.

Taking the sock out of the case, he showed it to her and waited for confirmation to proceed, which came in the form of an unmistakable nodding fist.

So he went ahead, sliding it on, noticing halfway up that it seemed to get stuck on her scales every now and then, the more so the higher up he went. Pausing, he frowned, then ran a hand over her tail to see where the problem was. The blue night lighting made it hard to find out any other way, as it danced on her scales and made them sparkle like moonlight on waves.

To his surprise, he found that Indigo’s tail was no longer the smooth, cool glass-like texture he had learned to associate with mermaids. It had changed, her scales no longer smooth and uniform, but with erect clusters, their once smooth edges standing up to prickle his palm.

He let go of the sock and examined with both hands, looking for a pattern. The higher he went, the more clusters he felt, their margins growing harder, the strange sensation culminating in the discovery of a sharp L-shape, maybe a hand’s breadth down from where her belly button would have been - if she had had one.

As he traced it, curious to see where its exact margins were, the scales… twitched under his fingertips and Indigo jerked away with an audible gasp, turning on her side and propping herself up on one arm, hair billowing in still air, then falling over her face like a curtain.

Perplexed, Gold froze, his mind shutting down momentarily.

With bated breath, he watched her form quiver and her chest heave, as she turned back around. Was it his ears playing tricks on him, or was there a faint sound… vibrating off her, her skin pulsing with it— like hitting glass just right?

Gold scooted closer against his better judgement and looked at her in amazement.

“Hell's bells. What—”

Indigo shivered and shone in the night lighting. In the skin along her ribs, he saw dark lines that looked like gills flutter wildly. She gazed up at him, her eyes curious, and he felt overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, to press his dry lips to her wet ones, so dark they seemed almost black; a deep dark mauve when the scarce light hit them just right.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She’d never looked less human.

The faint sound grew louder, but didn’t stand a chance against his own blood’s deafening roar as it flashed from warm to unbearably hot under his taut skin. He felt the shivers roll over him like waves, strong and primal, and could just keep from tearing his clothes right off then and there and jumping right into the deep unknown that were her eyes.

He wanted to fall into them; fall into the sea, go down, descent below, go far beyond to a place where all light faded away, and disappear. His eyes locked on hers, everything he held dear residing in their depths, and he felt himself sliding down, leaning in, the need to inhale driven clear from his mind as it was filled with the sound of the sea.

“Oh, Jesus suffering fuck!”

Gold smacked a hand so hard against his own forehead, he nearly heard birds sing. Any lower than that and he might have accidentally knocked a tooth, his mouth hanging open like that of a total buffoon, a freaking primate at the zoo.

He blinked against the white noise between his ears and swallowed hard.

Had he just… had he been about to… nah, fuck off.

Gold ran a hand over his mouth, pinching his upper lip until it hurt. What had gotten into him?

When she touched him, he nearly jumped out of his skin; the touch of a fingertip on his arm enough to send him flying over the edge into absolute mental mayhem.

“Yes? Yes… sweetheart?” he rasped, voice rising half an octave, internally smacking himself about with as much vigor as his spluttering heart and seasick brain could muster.

Indigo rolled over, almost toppling into his lap, and reached for the brace, handing it over with a challenging look on her face.

He couldn’t move a muscle.

Moments ticked by and his ears were still stuffed with cotton balls.

Gold cleared his throat roughly.

When more time passed and he still didn’t comply, Indigo took matters into her own hands, yanking on the sock until it had moved about an inch, then giving up and flopping back down onto her back with a frustrated huff.

Gold blew out a long breath.

[early-sxnsets]

All That Matters

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909690/chapters/40386200

Chapter 15/16 of Love You All, Die For This

Word Count: 2331

Summary: In hopes to connect Oliver to his somewhat estranged family, Baz invites Daphne and his siblings over for lunch.

Tag: @fight-surrender

BAZ

Napkins, tablecloth, place settings… where’s the glasses? Oh god, oh fuck, where are the placement glasses?

“Simon!” I call, rushing into the kitchen area as he’s taking out our lovely porcelain teapot. “Where’s our glasses?”

Blinking, he stares up at me for a second. “I… In the china cabinet. Why? Didn’t you put some out already?”

“I put out the wine glasses, not the water glasses,” I whine, rushing over to the cabinet and throwing it open, eyes searching urgently. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…”

A warm hand rests against the bottom curve of my back, smoothing back the fabric of my quite uptight button down. It only takes a few seconds before I relax back, exhaling and focusing on the slow dragging of his palm. It’s grounding; resting all heavy and light at the same time. Comforting. It’s all I could have ever asked for in life.

“I’m sorry,” I exhale, eyes slowly falling shut. “It’s just… nerve wracking.”

“I know,” he whispers back as his fingers push up my spine, weaving between each dip. “It’s just your step mum and siblings. It isn’t like it’s the Prime Minister or something.”

My hand reaches for the glasses, starting to stack them in my hands. “They might as well be,” I mumble, shifting my weight before heading off into the dining room to set them up. With trembling hands, I settle them up nearly in line with the plates, trying to calm myself. It doesn’t quite work.

Simon stands in the doorway, shoulder leaned up against the frame as he smiles the saddest smile I’ve ever seen on him.

Each step he takes forward creaks against the newly done floorboards.

It’s such an odd housewarming; having your somewhat estranged family coming into your new house right off your old school’s campus to meet your somewhat newly adopted son is… a lot, to say the least. It’s a nice house now, and it’s quite pretty since it’s done up properly, but Crowley, is it driving me off the deep end.

“Baz, my love,” Simon coaxes, his hands reaching out and taking hold of mine, “just take a second away from all this. Remember what we used to do? Center in, focus, breathe.”

My eyes search his as I shakily inhale, gripping onto him as we keep each other’s gaze. With an encouraging smile and soothing rubs of his thumbs, Simon leads me in careful deep breaths.

“I love you,” I say after a minute or two. “I’m sorry. It just matters. A lot.”

“I know it does, love,” he interlocks our fingers, “but we’re in this together. We’ve faced an awful lot of shit, so how bad could this be?”

“A chimera worth.”

He laughs, which finally lets me exhale as I watch him smile. “Not quite a chimera worth.”

I try to open my mouth in protest, but he leans in and kisses me before I get to speak.

After pulling off, he grins and kisses my knuckles. “I need to finish lunch, if you ever want something to serve. Will you check on Ollie?”

My head nods before the rest of my body follows, lips pulling into a tight line as I swallow back my anxieties. I take a fast-footed walk to the playroom, knocking lightly before pushing it open. On the floor, laying out with a few books, sits Oliver. He scans over pages, flipping through after reading them quickly and moving on. There’s music playing from the small stereo; one of the classical playlists I’d put together (no son of mine won’t have class).

His head lifts up, smiling a little at me before waving me over. “Mummies,” he says softly, pointing at his book. “Mummies.”

Kneeling down, I ruffle his hair and smile. “You’re right, darling, they are mummies.” I lean in, whispering, “They used to use magick in mage's tombs to protect from robbers. There was a family seal in some caskets belonging to powerful families, like ours.”

There's a bright sparkle in his eyes as he grins up at me. “Can we see them?”

Something catches in my throat, choking me up and nearly bringing me to tears as I let myself smile. “Of course we can, little puff. We can absolutely see the family over there.” My head bows, kissing his hair. “But now, we have to get ready to see the family coming here, alright? Ready to see grandnan?”

He nods quickly and pops up onto his feet, taking hold of my hand and tugging me out of the room. “Daddy says nice clothes.”

My heart swells as I nod, pulling myself back up to my feet before following his lead to his bedroom, to where he points to his closet. Compliantly, I pick out a proper outfit and help him dress (although, he does most of it; stubborn five year old, this one). Once he’s awfully proud of how he looks, he gives me a confirmation nod before I pick him up and carry him to the dining room.

“There he is, the shining star,” Simon jokes, popping out of the kitchen. “Will you help me finish pulling the hand pies out of the oven, love.”

“I’ll do it!” Oliver volunteers, but Simon just rolls his eyes, hands him a biscuit, and sends him off (ever his father’s son, needing a food bribe to go away).

As I’m sliding the baking tray off the rack, I hear my husband’s voice beside me. “So when are we expecting the Grimm brigade?”

“Quarter to noon,” I say, carefully setting the hot tray down. “How long’ve we got?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Well, fuck,” I mumble, nose turning up as I try to exhale.

Simon drops his head against my shoulder and curls a hand around my bicep as his wings spread like a blanket on top of us. “You’re such a fucking downer,” he whispers teasingly. “Lighten up, angst god.”

“Fuck off, you idiotic twat,” I whisper endearingly back, closing my eyes as my head rests on top of his. He hums softly in contentment, hands finding mine and holding them securely as the ends of his curls tickle my face.

It isn't long before there’s a heavy, two hit knock at the door, causing me to peel myself back from the comforting embrace. Before I can say a word, Snow rocks onto the balls of his feet to give me a soft kiss of encouragement. The twinkle in his eyes and the spread of his smile makes me feel like I could own the world.

The door swings open to Daphne, Mordelia, the twins, and Benjamin, waiting with intrigue and welcome baskets. Immediately, Benjamin latches to my legs in a hug before saying a quick hello, which is followed by a chorus of them. I hug them each, waving them inside and politely taking the gifts.

“Oh this is awfully lovely,” Daphne says, an air of sophistication in her voice that I've heard myself distance from over the years. It’s somewhat grounding to hear, like life’s reminder that some things never change.

“We just moved in a month ago.” I take their light coats, hanging them in the side closet. “Since I don't start teaching until fall, we're just spending time getting settled through the rest of spring. If the children want, they can go see the goats later.”

“Is it clean--”

“As clean as can be,” I say softly, smiling.

Her head nods tightly, hands resting together in a delicate and poised fashion. “So long as it's safe.” Scanning the room, she seems to trail in thought before bringing it back. “Where's Oliver?”

“Most likely in the playroom; excuse me. Perhaps Simon will show you to the dining room..?”

As if on command, he pops into the room with a smile. “Follow me,” he nods, waving them off to the table. I find Oliver back to his books and lift him into my arms, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“There's other kids here, okay, my dear? They're nice.”

He glances around the room, peering over my shoulder as he speaks. “Grandnan?”

“Grandnan's in there too. Are you ready?”

He nods his head surely, pulling at the sleeves of his jumper before holding onto my shirt.

Walking down the hall and stepping into the room feels like a gamble. I don't doubt he'll be loved by her, but Crowley, what if not enough? He doesn't really have any biological grandparents who'll be here for him, and I'd rather not have him living so separated from any sort of family. Of course, he's met Dev and Niall before and loves Fiona, but that’s the only family he knows of. Simply put, he deserves a normal fucking life. Not that he'll ever get a Normal life, but a typical, full-familied life.

The moment we step in, my worries melt away. Daphne grins and offers out her arms to him, cooing motherly in greeting as she takes his hands and shakes them. Even through lunch, she insists on him sitting next to her. To her credit, she tries countlessly to make conversation, but, Ollie being Ollie, gives his typical word or few before going back to eating. She sends me a look or two of somewhat concern, but I shrug in response. I'd warned her of his Simon-like nonverbal tendencies, but I suppose she anticipated a little more communication anyway.

He does seem to warm up to her, though, in his own way. As Simon offers to show the group the goats, Oliver gives Daphne a hug before running off to the new barn.

She and I stay back, pouring each other in a brief silent exchange of glances. “So…” I begin.

“He’s quite quiet,” she says softly, cautious to not offend, “but he’s awfully sweet.”

With a loose smile, I nod my head and take a glance at his finished plate. “He's a brilliant listener, just not the best talker. He is a doll, though. Excited every time he gets something new, as if he didn't expect to ever get anything at all. Makes my chest tug a little.” Lifting the teacup to my lips, I hesitate to continue my thought. I do anyway. “I simply wished he could interact with more people. Simon and I don't have a lot of friends together, besides each other and Mitali Bunce's daughter, so it's hard to get Oliver used to new people when we barely have anyone we see ourselves.”

We're silent for a few beats, my attention locked to my porcelain cup as it tips towards my mouth and lowers back to the plate.

I find Daphne's eyes searching mine; studying my features in hopes to pull out an answer. “You know, your father doesn't hate who you are. He just… doesn't like who you married. He takes it out on class without thought to compassion.”

“He never quite put thought to compassion,” I bite, voice steadily quiet. Daphne just looks apologetic.

“He does sometimes, it's just difficult to find those moments.”

With pursed lips and a fearful gaze, I meet her eyes. “I don’t mean to hate him for how he is, I’m just upset with how he chooses not to change it.”

She gives me a motherly smile, reaching out to settle a hand on top of mine. “He's the product of his upbringing, and the upbringing before that, and the upbringing before that. Sometimes it’s hard to break what we train ourselves for, isn't that true?” Her fingertip runs along my wedding band. “Everyone has a crack in their mask. It’s just taking longer for his to chip away.”

I exhale, lowering my gaze down to the tablecloth and letting us sit in silence as I mull it over. I won't expect anything, of course, but it's somewhat comforting to know that someone's on my side. Our side; my family's side.

“Thank you for coming to lunch,” I say at last, letting her have a smile. “It means a lot for him to have this.”

“Of course,” she waves, “don’t be such a stranger, and we won't be either. Has Mordelia visited before today? I know classes are over in a week, but you're still so close...”

“No, but I know how classes go. She doesn't want to spend time with a five year old and two adults.”

Daphne wrinkles her nose to that. “I'll see if I can talk her into some afternoon teas. She is a young teen, after all.”

“That she is,” I smile, exhaling slowly before standing. “I'm going to tidy up, if you don't mind. Feel free to go out back and check on the kids.”

She does so, leaving me a short bit of time to think (and think, and think) about what was said.

They don't stay for too much longer, leading to everyone exchanging hugs. To my delight, it seems like Oliver gets along with Benjamin quite well.

Their departure is sweet, a waving send off before Oliver yawns and proclaims that his nap time is now. Simon graciously volunteers to put him off, joining me back in the living room once he’s done.

“So… what was the talk about?”

I settle back onto the couch, sinking into the fibers as I get myself relax. “My father. Oliver. Nothing much else.” His head falls to my shoulder, settling there as his hand drops to my thigh and traces shapes onto my skin.

“Not bad talking, right?”

“Not at all,” I murmur, turning my head to settle on his. ”I'm not entirely sure my father will ever truly come around, not that it really matters.”

Our palms settle together, light hitting my wedding band as his fingers thread through mine. He doesn’t push me to say anything, just settles his head against my shoulder and lets me finish my thoughts on my own time.

“We have Daphne, though. And Bunce, and Fiona. And he’s happy, so I think that’s all that does truly matter, after all.”

[girlwholoveswriting]

Very Important Stuff (Peter Parker X Reader)

Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: People seem to like what I make (at least I hope they do) and I’m enjoying making these, so I may or may not have an incoming series. I’m still pretty new to this so I’m not entirely sure who I’ll write about other than Peter for now (other than Loki, definitely going to write about Loki).

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Slight NSFW

Warnings: Slight NSFW

---

It was never easy living in the Avengers HQ, especially having the one and only Tony Stark as your father. Sometimes it was more frustrating than it was fun, due to the fact that he was a very overprotective, and you were very hard-headed. You were a lot like him, actually, not in looks but in attitude. To the team, you were like a second Tony, only more fun, you would like to think, and way younger. You were practically like a child to them, and you very much enjoyed shoving down your surprising intelligence down their throat whenever you could. You really were a second Tony.

Being the only teenager living in there, it sometimes would get boring. Why? Because you “weren’t old enough,” that’s why. Over and over you would prove yourself worthy of fighting alongside the rest of the Avengers, training with the rest of them, being of assistance to both your father and Bruce Banner, all coming down to your father literally having to pry you off his leg when the Avengers were needed. You would beg over and over for him to take you with them, only yielding the same response. A very stern “no.”

It only very recently changed when a new member was added to the team. Spiderman, or better known to you as Peter Parker, was a boy just a year older than you. He moved in just a few months ago, and you were absolutely furious when you found out he was now part of the Avengers. As per usual, that night he moved in, was very awkward. It wasn’t because you were glaring daggers at him, no, but because you and Tony got into a heated argument about having a new member on the team. The rest of the team had to assure Peter that you both were just like this every night, and that it wasn’t new at all.

You eventually grew a liking to the boy, though. The more you spent time with him, the more he grew on you. Though he was part of the team, Tony would frequently have him sit a mission out, giving you two time alone together more frequently than you were first comfortable with. It was then you learned of his love for science, and his overall dorkiness. God you loved his dorkiness, you could have sworn that was what triggered your small crush on him to grow.

It was the same for him, though. From a general terrifying first impression he got from you, to wanting to impress you, it finally got to a point where he was comfortable with you. Being Tony Stark’s daughter though, he was first scared of what would your father do if he found out you and him were growing closer as friends, knowing how protective he was. It held him back from growing feelings for you, but you could never stop a flower from blooming.

Now, it was like you two were inseparable. You two were always together, getting into trouble, being the teens you two were. Behind your father’s back, you two dated in secret, being careful of your relationship. In front of the Avengers, you would both put on a mask of just being friends. Being the mischievous person you are though, you made it a game between the both of you to sneak a kiss or two in secret in the presence of everyone. As time passed, things got a little more… intense.

During dinner one night, you sat in your usual seat beside dinner. Glancing frequently at him, you eventually placed a hand on his lap, gaining his attention at the very least. Conversations between everyone were flying over his head as he felt your hand slowly but surely crawling towards his crotch. His body tensed, and nervousness could be seen in his eyes. You, on the other hand, were enjoying his reaction, or at least him trying to conceal it. You both were trying to play things off, conversing normally with the others. Your hand though, didn’t exactly feel very forgiving that night. You would rub his crotch through the cloth of his pants, making Peter squirm under your touch. You could tell he liked it, but you could also tell how frustrated he was getting.

With a chuckle, you removed your hand from his crotch and got up from your seat. Taking your glass on the table, you took a large gulp of your water, letting out a refreshed sigh as you finished. “Alright, I’ve got very important stuff to attend to. I’ll get going first, thanks for the meal!”

Giving your father a kiss on the cheek before your left, you smirked at the flushed face of Peter, and left the dining hall back to your own personal lab. You did actually have important matters to attend to. You needed to finish a new weapon at your father’s request. You didn’t know exactly what it was for but, you aimed to make it something useful at the very least, something your father would be proud of.

Arriving at the lab, you put your safety gear on, and got right back to work. It didn’t take long for you to get into serious mode, forgetting the world outside. With your music blasting against the walls, resounding inside the room, you would ever so often groove to the music as well, your own personal way of destressing while stressing. A bit of a paradox but, it works out for you. All your amazing creations were created this way after all.

As you were deeply concentrated in your work, you heard the door open. Looking up, a smile formed on your face as whoever entered came in to your sight. It was Peter of course. You never had a problem with working while he was around as he did frequently want your company, so you got right back to work. “Hey Pete.”

“Hey.” Peter replied as he made his way over to you, embracing your body from behind. You absolutely loved it when he did. “I see you really are working on something very important.”

“I am, yes.” You chuckled, leaning your back into his chest, getting comfortable while your hands still maneuvered around the weapon, tweaking a few things here and there. “I’m almost at the testing stages. I’m rather happy with this so far.” Looking up at Peter, you give him a soft smile. “Do you think dad’s gonna like it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Peter replied, placing a kiss on your temple. “I would be surprised if he didn’t.”

Slowly, you felt his hands start trailing down your sides, the male earning a shudder from you. You always knew he was touchy, so you let this slide for now. Your attention needed to be on the weapon after all. You both shared a conversation as you worked, but admittedly, you were starting to get distracted. Peter’s hands were crawling more across your body, up to the point that one hand finally rested on your breast. It was only then you realized, he wasn’t there for your company. He was there for revenge.

Biting your bottom lip, you squirmed under his touch. “S-sweetheart, I’m a little bit busy right now… Can’t we save this for later?”

“Later?” Peter repeated, pressing soft kisses up your neck, reaching the back of your ear. Softly, he nibbled on your earlobe while his hand roughly started to massage your breast. The other trailed down further and slipped underneath your shorts. “I don’t think I could wait that long, love. Besides…” He then began to rub you through the soft fabric of your undergarment, emitting a soft gasp from your lips. “You couldn’t, either.”

The way Peter held you made it so easy for you to melt right then and there. You could feel his lips sucking on your earlobe, his tongue grazing your skin ever so often as you would softly whimper in response. His hand on your breast ceased for a moment, only to slip under your shirt and pulled down your bra, now directly toying with the sensitive bud. Though, neither could compare to his minstraitions down bellow.

Peter definitely had a way with his fingers, more importantly, a way with you. You released such wanton reactions as he swirled his thumb against your clit. His motions were just right, enough to make you squirm, but too little to satisfy you. All the while, you felt two of his fingers rubbing against your entrance, slowly being coated in your essence. You felt your legs bending slowly, having to hold onto Peter for support. He chuckled at the sight of you. Despite his usually soft and cute personality, he was way different whenever you set him off.

You felt your body getting hotter and hotter as Peter continued. You could barely hold back your moans, to which Peter would chuckle in an amused manner. You tried desperately to stop him, but you couldn’t even get your words out in a coherent manner. At this point, you were crawling closer and closer to your sweet release. Thinking that he wasn’t going to stop any time soon, you accepted your fate.

Peter though, had other plans. As soon as he knew you gave up trying to fight it, he ceased his actions and pulled away from you to your surprise. Taking a tissue from your table, he wiped his fingers clean and smiled at you. “Well, love, I suppose I should leave you to finish your job. You’re almost done, right? I shouldn’t distract you.”

“H-huh…?”

“Well then,” he cheekily smiled, “That was fun. Thanks for the entertainment! I’ll see you once you’ve finished!”

You watched in disbelief as he walked right out of your lab, the event finally registering in your head. You swear a vein was going to pop in your head. “HEY! PARKER! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?”

One last time, Peter turned to you and winked, waving his hand, “See you!”

“PETER PARKER! GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

“I can’t! You have very important stuff to attend to!”

At the very least, Peter was definitely not going to get any of his needed affection any time soon after that day.