#i can’t even bring myself to lie and say that i miss her so i just play up the ‘ilu2’

[trannykong]

How do I say “you’re fine but i would be happier if we just didn’t talk anymore” to my mom in a way that doesnt feel cruel

[unfinishedslurs]

aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck. 

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks. 

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands. 

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt. 

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says. 

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth. 

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row. 

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection. 

“Dyke,” he shoots back. 

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal. 

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts. 

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes. 

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes. 

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.  

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.” 

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm. 

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything. 

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him. 

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

[artists-ally]

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien Vanssera {Pt. 3}

Welp... here you go! I shall prepare to be boiled alive. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,525

Warnings: you know the drill. Angst, language, hurt/comfort, nasty ass cliffhanger

Tagging: @bubybubsters @thelov3lybookworm @cyrygher @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @crazylokonugget @thehighlordishere @acourtofbatboydreams @thisblogisaboutabook @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @venuseuripedis

Summary: Can everything be reconciled? Be repaired? Was it all just a big misunderstanding?

~~~~~~

READER POV

THAT MORNING...

There is nothing quite as startling as waking up to the sound of silence. In a life full of chaos, full of commotion and the constant buzz of energy, silence is unsettling. Especially in a house that should be full of laughter, taunting jokes, and easy smiles.

Anger seared my heart. Branded it black. Visions of heated conversations seep into mind, flooding my vision in red. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in my life. The fact that he chose her over me. But I refused to let him disrespect me. I said hurtful things. And a twisted part of me likes the fact that they hurt him. I wanted him to suffer and grovel as much as I have been. 

It’s petty, but I don’t care.

I push myself out of bed, dragging to the bathroom to sort myself out. I look in the mirror: skin? Dry. Eyes? Puffy. Lips? Swollen. I look tired. I am tired. And no amount of sleep will fix the bone deep ache of sheer disappointment. 

Gods, he is still everywhere. Even with all his stuff gone; his toothbrush, his signature scent, his body soap and cufflinks sitting in the dish behind the faucet, somehow, he’s still here. Bits and pieces of him, of his once kind words…. All of it has turned sour. 

A day has yet to go by where I don’t think of him. Of his laugh. Of the way his lip trembles when he cries. 

I miss him. 

And every day I hate myself more for it. 

I shouldn’t miss him. What did he do besides torture me with the fact that he’ll never give me the time of day? Just like Elain was doing to him. I hope he’s happy. No, I don’t. That’s a lie. I hope he’s just as miserable as I am. 

That’s even more of a lie. 

I dress without thinking, my outfit the same as it has been for the past month and a half after opening the restaurant. The double breasted, black chefs coat with three stars embroidered over the heart. The slithering, embroidered black filigree on the shoulders, in a slightly different sheen to make them stand out. The pants had matching details over the pockets and down the side of the pant leg. My boots slip on and I grab my cap, fitting it over my head before heading out the door to get an early start. 

Every fucking day since I kicked him out has been an early start. Anything to keep myself in this place we used to call home. I should move. Repaint at the least. Change something. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Everything is painfully the same.

When I need change the most, I can’t–for the life of me–decide what I want that change to be. 

It doesn’t fucking matter. 

He’ll always be there.

A murmur in the back of my head of what could’ve been. 

Should I be this jealous? This aggravated over this whole thing? Am I overreacting? It’s not like he cheated on me, we weren’t even together. But I wanted him so bad I was willing to kick him out because he chose someone else over me. Oh Gods… I am a horrible-

No, I stop myself. Taking a deep breath as I step down off the porch, heading down the well beaten dirt path towards the city. Your feelings are valid. He hurt you. Badly. You didn’t overreact. Some would say it might’ve been an underreaction, or how could you have let it go on this long? You are allowed to be upset, for as long as you need. No one can tell you otherwise. 

No one can tell you otherwise. I repeat the words over and over. I stare down at the cobblestone sidewalks, firsts clenched under my arms. I chew my lip. I clench my teeth. Things I always did, and things Lucien would try to get me to stop. 

He’d put a hand on my shoulder. Or grab my hand to keep from digging my nails into my palms. 

No one will ever know me as well as he did. 

And that shatters my soul.

The thought of having to try to explain the events of my life to someone all over again… it’ll be impossible. Why couldn’t he have just loved me back?

Before I have time to realize where I’m going, I’m at Meliora. I see Ms. Immy bustling around. I wonder if she ever sleeps. 

“Ah!” She cheers when I walk in the door. “My Spirit of the Gods! How are you dear?”

I give a half smile. “I’ve been better. Just the usual for me, please.”

“You are still missing your Fox?”

I nod. I watch as she pours the bubbling water into my mug, dipping the peppermint tea bag into the liquid. She’s so methodical. I’ve been here a thousand times, and she manages to make it the same way every time. Ms. Immy dusts the top with granules of sugar, adding a mint leaf to the top. She slides it in front of me as she grabs the chocolate chip muffin from the case. 

“When are you going to talk to him?”

The question throws me for a loop. I answer honestly, “I wasn’t planning on ever seeing him again.”

She snorts. “I doubt that will hold true. He misses you too.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes. I do. “I don’t know how to forgive him.”

“Then don’t.”

I blink. What? “So, you think I should make amends with him, but not forgive him? How does that work?”

“He is your mate, no?” I nod. “Then you love him. Why is it so difficult to forgive someone you love?”

“I don’t know,” I bit my tongue. “I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Yet you still want him back.”

Wow. I sound so pathetic. I cast my eyes down, tapping my fingers on the mug. “No matter how much I love him, I won’t let myself remain second place. I refuse to let myself go through to torture of always being picked next. Never first. No matter how much it hurts to stay away from him.”

She clicks her tongue, wiping down the counter behind her. Faintly, she hums a tune, its melody ringing in my ears. I feel like I knew it once. But I've been so caught up in everything that happened last month to bother trying to hold onto those types of memories. 

I am losing myself.

“Do you know the meaning of Meliora?”

It’s the name of her cafe. I shrugged, “No, should I?”

“It means the place for better things, my Spirit. It is an ancient omen, an ancient oath of the Night Court. This is a Meliora, a place for better things. Seems like you could use some better things.”

“I have Latibule. I am living my dream of owning a restaurant. Better has come.”

“And it has gone,” Ms. Immy says. “Don’t fool yourself Yn. You are lost without Lucien. If he were to ask for your forgiveness, to give up Elain and all that has happened, would you accept him? If he said he only wanted you, would you have him?”

I grind my teeth together. The peppermint tea has turned to acid on my tongue. No one can tell you otherwise, no one can tell you otherwise…

“There are things in the world Yn, so precious and hard to find that it would be stupid to let it go. To trade it away over unintentional negligence. Lucien loves you. You love him. The two of you have been blessed by the Cauldron with a mate. Let it go to waste and suffer the consequences of never being able to fill that void. Let it rot your mind and heart for anyone else.”

I grind my teeth harder. Why does she insist on forgiving Lucien? 

“After everything I did for him, after saving his life and rebuilding him from the ground up, he decides to repay me how? By forgetting about me and standing me up on the most important day of my life? Seems pretty unforgettable to me.”

“There is a great balance in this world. And to keep it, the Cauldron dishes out magic and illusions to offset it. Lucien got the short end of the stick and got more than he could handle.”

“Well that's not my fault.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But it is your problem. Yn, all I’m suggesting is you give him a chance. There is no telling what will happen between you two if you don’t try.”

“I don’t want to try, what if I make things worse? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does?” _____

But what if it does? I have been doing nothing all service besides thinking what Ms. Immy last said to me. But what if it does? I start spiriling with questions after that. 

What if it does work out? Will I be able to fully trust that he won’t run back to Elaine? If it doesn't, will I just spend the rest of my life trying to find him in everyone else? Will I ever find someone else? How can I be so sure that he’ll want me in his life after I’ve kicked him out? If I see him, will I want to punch him in the face? Could I even stomach looking at him? Would I just puke from nerves and anger? Should I even bother? What if I never get the chance to-

“Yn, there is a table seated in section 8 for you,” my lovely hostess, Esmira, calls from the window.

“I’ve got six pans on right now, Es. I can’t just take a table. Where are Karos and Daxillion? They’re supposed to have a handle on this right now.”

“We’ve got a full house. It’s the High Lord and Lady, as well as her sister and the General.”

Shit. It’s midweek, why do we have a full house? Especially at lunch. From what I’ve heard amongst my staff's gossip, Lucien has been living at his house. I don’t want to see anyone. Especially someone who’s been caring for him. 

“Okay… okay fine I’ll take the table. Go take their drink orders and I’ll be right back. Esro, I need you to cover my station in between checks.”

“Heard,” he calls back dutifully. He always takes the shit I give him and dusts it with gold. I should give him a raise. 

I jog to the supply closet where I have an extra uniform stashed in case of an emergency. I change quickly, taking my cap off and fluffing out my hair. Not bad but… not great. I still look so tired. 

Esmira scampers into the bathroom to hand me their drink list. A bottle of wine and water for the table. Easy enough. 

Racking the glasses onto the carrier, I haul the bottle of wine and decanter of water to the table, plastering a courageous smile on my lips. Who knows if it’s actually convincing. 

“Evening, my High Lord and Lady,” I greet. “Cassian and-” Elain. It’s Elain. What is she doing- “Elain. Good to see you out and-”

“You don’t have to pretend to be excited to see me. I know you’re not. I ruined your relationship with Lucien.”

Well, shit okay guess this is happening now. What do I say? “He made a choice, it’s not your fault.” I settled on. 

But it is your problem… screw you Ms. Immy. 

She looks hesitantly to the High Lord, who gives a firm nod. She sighs. “I’ve tried to stop him from pursuing me for months. He still comes back. I share no bond with the firehead.”

Firehead, ha! Why had I never thought of that one?

I just press my lips together, fighting off the prickle in my nose and throat. “Can I take your meal orders? Anything you’d like to start with?”

“He misses you, Yn.” Rhysand spoke. His violet eyes swirling with stars. “Is there a chance you’ll talk to him?”

I feel like such an outsider looking at the Inner Circle. There were so many outcomes I could’ve had in Velaris. I could’ve been a part of their Court, not just an inhabitant. But I chose the path my heart wanted, and lost the thing it needed most. 

I swipe the tear away as fast as it falls. 

“I’ll bring a round of bread for the table.” And I head off. 

____

After I had served them their meals, bid them farewell with a pitiful look on the High Lords face, the room was a lost less crowded. 

Now I’m starting to wonder if we were meant to say goodbye. Maybe there is something salvageable. But I don’t want to shred myself to pieces for a maybe. Even he is not worthy of my self destruction. 

But what if it does?

“Hello?” A sultry voice says from behind me. I rack the polished pint glass and turn over my shoulder, greeted with a handsome face. Too handsome… curse these high fae. He’s got rippling muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes a vibrant, ashy caramel. And his hair… “I’m looking for Yn?”

What does he want? “Is there something I can help you with?”

“For once, my brother wasn’t reserved in his descriptions.”

What? His brother? I stare at the male, taking in his sharp nose, those eyes like fire, his hair… oh Gods-

“I’m Lucien’s brother, Eris.”

I stay silent, taking in his face. Fuck, there is a lot of Lucien there. More than I’d like to see. They have the same eyes and hair. And it hurts to see so much of him in someone else.

“Now, I don’t particularly care that much about who you are-” 

Charming. 

“-but I do know you made my brother happy. At one point or another. I also don’t care what happened between the two of you, but it must’ve been bad.”

“Leave.”

“Whether or not you talk to my sorry bastard brother means nothing to me. But if I have to deal with one more Court meeting where Rhys and his brute ask me if I’ve talked to him, I will rip off my own ears.”

“I asked you to leave my restaurant.”

“Is this how you treat all your customers?”

I narrowed my eyes, “You are not a customer, you haven’t ordered anything. So have a good day, Eris.”

“I’ll take a pint of ale,” he smirks. Smirks, like I’ve got all the time in the world to listen to him babble about how much he wants me to talk to Lucien. 

With a viscous yank, I pull off the glass I just put away and fix it under the tap. I debate spitting in it. That most certainly would not end well for me or my restaurant. I’ve already had one Vanserra ruin my life, I don’t need another to ruin the only hope I have left.

I slap the glass down in front of him, turning around to finish unloading the clean dishes from the drying racks. 

“So,” he slurps his drink, “when are you going to fix your shit with Lucien?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because he hasn’t earned my forgiveness.”

“What would it take?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t forgive him.” Can he stop asking me so many fucking questions? I just want to clean up, shut down the kitchen, hand out todays tips and go the fuck home. 

“Why?”

My hands came down on the steel counter, rattling plates and saucers. “Why are you so fucking concerned with something that isn’t your problem?”

He goes quiet for a second, and I’m blessed with a moment of peace from his irritating voice. “Because, despite being nothing but a pain in my ass, he’s still my brother. And he’s miserable. And you’re the reason why.”

“No,” I snapped, ready to hurl a glass at his thick fucking skull. “He’s the reason he’s miserable. He did all the damage on his own. All I did was ask him to be there for me, and he threw me aside like a stray cat begging for a warm meal.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s none of your business, Eris. Go away, the bar is closing.”

“I still have a tab open.”

“Then come back tomorrow and pay it.”

“But I’ll be away.”

“Then it’s on the house,” I sighed, too exhausted to deal with this. “Just go. Please.”

“As soon as you tell me what he did I’ll-”

“He fucking ruined me, thats what he did.” Thank god the restaurant was empty or else the whole city would know that I’ve been completely shattered by Lucien Vanserra. Who am I kidding, I’m sure everyone already does. “All I asked was that he be there for me the day I opened my restaurant.”

Eris puts his palms up, “well? Where was he?”

“Where do you think?” The glare I sent him made him back off. 

“Oh…”

I scoff, “yeah, oh. I gave up everything for him. My family, my home, my life to restore him after he fled to the Spring Court. I just wanted his support. And he was busy with a female who would rather be tortured than in his presence.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame Elain for-”

“I wasn’t blaming Elain,” I corrected. “Lucien let me down. Unforgivably. That's the end of it. I don’t want an apology from him, it won’t do anything for me.”

Eris let out a long sigh. “Look, I understand that he hurt you. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. He fucked up. Point blank. He’ll never be able to take back what he did and said. But is there any way that the two of you may be able to move on?”

“Move on?” I scoffed, a cruel laugh escaping me. “Move on? Eris, I confessed to him that I am his mate, and he told me I was selfish because I wasn’t happy about him and Elain.”

“Were you?”

“Of course I was,” I ran my palms over my face. “Did it hurt knowing he’d never look at me like that? Yes, but I was prepared to live with it if it meant that he got to live a happy, fulfilled life. I didn’t care who it was, it was the fact that he forgot all about me. On more than one occasion. Menu designs, recipe tastings, wine tastings… all of it. He missed all of it to go be with her.”

“So you’re jealous?”

It took everything inside me to not rear up and smack him across the face. Who does this asshole think he is? Instead of possibly earning myself more trouble, I take his glass of ale off the counter, dump it, and rinse the glass. 

“I wasn’t done with-”

“Well, you’re done now. Thank you for dining with Latibule, but the restaurant is officially closed. See yourself out.”

Eris clicks his tongue, pushing off the bar. The rustling of his clothes chafes together as he walks away. “Lucien cares about you, Yn. From the very few mentions of you he’s shared, I can tell he thinks highly of you, no matter what you may think.”

Then the door snaps closed, and I’m left with nothing but a pulse in my ear and tears in my eyes.

____

After a quick mop in the kitchen I shut off all the lights and lock the front door. As I’m walking down the street, a thick, crackling scent hits me. And my stomach churns. It’s familiar, part of it still lingering in my house. But this one is more… just more.

“Eris, leave me alone.”

“I did a lap around the block, and I was thinking-”

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad.”

Eris chuckles, then laughs. “Feisty, I can see why Lucien would like you. Just give him a chance.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you Autumn Court fae so fucking dense?”

“Just be thankful it was me and not my father who came to see you, then you’d really see dense.”

“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “If I ever came face to face with that bastard I’d do a lot more than hurl words at him. I’m not particularly fond of you either, so be careful how you speak to me.”

“What if I arranged a meeting for the both of you? To talk things out and see if there is any common ground to be found,” Eris suggested, falling in stride with me as I walked up the path, back towards home. 

“Gonna pass on that one. If I wanted to ‘arrange a meeting’, I would’ve already done it. I don’t need Lucien's big, scary older brother to do it for me,” I mocked. 

“You think I’m scary?” He smiled.

“I think you’re annoying and disrespectful.”

“A lot of the High Lords of Prythian would agree, try not to be so original.”

Don’t rip out his eyes, don’t rip out his eyes. He’s just trying to get under your skin, don’t let him win.

“Come to think of it, there is one High Lord in particular who seems to agree with this idea of trying to get you and Lucien back together.”

“If you even think about dragging Rhysand into this-”

“He approached me,” Eris admits. “He’s sick of Lucien moping around the Town House all the time.”

“Then tell him my advice is to kick him out,” I bit out, more than tired of this conversation. “And stop following me, Eris. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“But I have to make sure you get home safe, Lucien would have my head if something happened to you,” Eris reasons, knocking his shoulder into mine. 

“Is there an imminent threat against my life, Eris Vanserra?”

“No?” 

“Then there is no need for you to walk me home.”

“But if there was an imminent threat, I would be able to protect you,” Eris smiled, and curse me… it’s a nice smile. I glare up at him, but he just smirks back. 

I decided to seal my lips. If I don’t respond, he can’t get any more information out of me. 

“Just think about this for a minute: if you decide to have a conversation, one of two things is going to happen. You’re either going to confirm everything you already know; he’s an uncaring, forgetful bastard who doesn’t give a shit about you or the lives you two have built together. Or, you’re going to realize the exact opposite; that he does care, and it was all a misunderstanding. And that he does care about the life the two of you have built together.”

I can’t be bothered to care about what he wants anymore. I’ve spent too much of my life caring for his every waking need. When is it my turn?

“You are his mate, Yn. It goes against every instinct in your body to reject him. Why do you keep fighting yourself on what your heart wants?”

Because he betrayed me. He completely broke my trust, ruined my image of him in one night. Why does no one understand that? 

“I get it, he hurt you or whatever, but are you really going to risk the chance of eternity together with him because of one mistake?”

He and Ms. Immy would get along well. And it wasn’t just one fucking mistake, it was about seventeen. Apologies don’t mean a thing if you don’t ever fix what you did wrong. I can see my house, just a few hundred yards away. I can slam the door in his fucking face and spend the rest of my night doing anything but thinking about Lucien. 

“Yn, just answer me,” Eris demands. “I know there isn’t anyone you’ve talked to.”

“No you don’t.”

“Have you talked with anyone about this?” I stay quiet. “Exactly, you need to release this. To scream and shout and yell-”

“I’ve tried that. Didn’t do anything for me.”

“Have you punched anything? I like doing that when I’m mad,” Eris snickered. 

I just rolled my eyes. “I’m about to punch something soon.” He takes a step back as I finally reach my door. I unlock it and push it open, kicking off my boots at the door. I have no reason to be bitter to Eris. he’s just trying to help, trying to be there for his brother. Now, whether or not he’s doing it in the best way is certainly debatable. But at least he’s trying. I sigh, feeling incredibly defeated. “Would you like a drink?”

His smile is softer, and he gives a nod, following me inside. 

As I make us a drink, he looks around the kitchen and the living room. 

“Gods it looks just like the Autumn Court in here,” he chuckles, picking up a pillow from one of the chairs. 

“Yeah, Lucien did most of the decorating.”

“It’s gotta be difficult to see it every day.”

I bite back a sob, “You have no idea.”

“I know I am not the easiest person to get along with, or the most…tender, but if you are hurting this bad, then I know Luc must’ve been special to you. And you special to him. So, if there is anything I can do, tell me.”

As I slid the glass across the counter, I stared at my hands. Would talking about this really make a difference? I just feel like it keeps opening up old wounds without giving them the time to heal. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on.”

Eris looks at me, thick brows knitted together. “Because you miss him?”

As much as it hurts to admit, I nod. “So fucking much, Eris.”

“Now, do you miss him, or just having someone to share a space with?”

I blink up to meet his eyes, the ashy-caramel irises full of so much life. “I miss him. I don’t know when he started distancing from me, but I clearly didn’t notice it quick enough. I started to miss his smile first. He stopped laughing for a while after he met Elain. The creases between his eyes replaced those around his mouth.”

“Yn-”

“He started being late to everything next. He would apologize but… they weren’t sincere. I tried not to be hurt by it but… I don’t know. I thought maybe it had to do with stuff happening from the Spring Court and with Tamlin. Doesn’t matter, it just kept getting worse. He’d only talk about Elain, ask for advice on what to do since ‘I was a female’.”

“Oh Lucien…” Eris rubs his eyes. “Even for him that's low.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t snap earlier. Part of me wanted to hold onto something I knew I couldn’t have. Then came the grand opening and once he was late for that?” I shook my head, biting my lips so as to not sob in front of Eris. “Nothing he could’ve done would’ve made up for that.”

I don’t know why I’m opening up to Eris. He’s probably just going to relay it word for word back to Lucien. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. 

“None of what he did is excusable,” Eris says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. He wanted to spend time with his mate. He just wanted her to know that someone was there for her. But did he do it the right way? Absolutely not. And he fucked up, really bad.”

“Can I give you something?”

Eris just stared blankly at me. “What?”

“Just stay here for a moment,” I set my glass down, charging up the stairs. It’s been burning a hole in the bottom of my closet since I found it a few weeks ago. The lump of midnight blue fabric was a crumpled mess, but his scent still lingered on it. 

I held it up to my nose. Inhaling deep. It’s time to let go. 

As I stand in front of Eris, I hold out the shirt. My throat is like liquid iron. “Give this back to him, will you? It was one of his favorites.”

This shirt… this god damned shirt. It always looked so good on him. With the color of his skin and the tone of his hair. All the jewel tones made him look marvelous, but there was something about the teal color. Tears slid onto my cheeks. The first night he wore this shirt was when Rhysand and Cassian took him out to dinner. “To try and get to know me better,” Lucien said. He thought they were going to interrogate him. But he wore this shirt with dark blue pants and black leather boots. His hair was braided away from his face… I braided it back away from his face. 

Eris’s hand on my cheek pulls me out of the memory and into his eyes. “Did you keep this, knowing it was his favorite, hoping one day he’d come back looking for it?”

The fact that he figured it out so easily made my blood run cold. I tried to answer, but the sound of the door creaking open made me forget what I was going to say.

My heart dropped.

Eris’s hand was frozen on my cheek.

Lucien dead still in the doorway. What is he doing here?

Eris clears his throat, taking the warmth of his hand as he drops it to his side. “Brother, perfect timing.” Perfect timing? Did he- “No, I didn’t plan this, Yn. Though I respect you for thinking me so clever.” Eris turned me, blocking my view of Lucien. He folded the wrinkled shirt in my palms. “This is your chance.”

And then he left. He slipped around Lucien with a subtle glare and shut the door behind him. 

Lucien looks… he looks so…

“I thought you would be at the restaurant,” he spoke, voice low and cool. “I can came back-”

“What did you want?” I asked, curious as to why he’d be back here ever again. 

“Actually I wanted um… I came here for that shirt.”

Oh. Oh. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yeah, yeah, take it. I found it doing laundry a bit ago.”

Lucien crosses the threshold of the room and takes it from me. I’m waiting for him to ask me about Eris. To ask about how I’ve been. Or to apologize. Gods Luc, please say something.

“I see you met my brother. What did he want?” 

Here we go. “He walked me home from Latibule.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Well, I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain.”

I snicker, but refrain from further details. “You look well.”

He did, he looked healthy. His arms and chest fill out his shirt in a way they never used to.

“I’ve been training with Cassian for a while,” he explained. That’ll do it, I guess.

“Sounds exhausting.”

He gives a faint chuckle, “It’s interesting.”

Then we just look at each other. My heart swells, and crashes down. My fingers and toes go numb and my head feels lighter. I want him to stop looking at me so intently, yet I don’t want him to leave. Ever again. I want him to stay here and build a home with me. A new home with new memories and new adventures. But the logical part of me knows it’ll never quite be the same. 

“Why was Eris here?”

“I told you he walked me home from Latibule.” He gave me a look that screamed ‘I’m not buying that shit’. I must have no resolve because I caved instantly. “He came and found me to talk about you.”

I’ve never seen Lucien look so worried in my seventy years of knowing him. “Why?”

“He wanted to know if I’d ever forgive you. Apparently he’s tired of dealing with Rhysand begging him to talk to you so he came to me.”

“Yn,” Lucien’s eyes sulk, “If I had known Eris would’ve found you I would've just talked to him. I just wanted him gone and away from me. I didn’t mean to drag you further into this.”

“It’s fine, he only mildly insulted me. I see where you get it from.” It was a low blow, but seeing him wince made me feel a bit better. It was petty. But cathartic. 

Silence stretched between us. Wrapping around me like a pit viper after delivering a lethal dose of venom to its prey. It constricted and constricted and constricted-

“I love you.”

I almost looked around the room to see if someone else spoke. But it was his mouth that moved, and it was his voice that sang. 

“What?”

“I love you, Yn.”

“No-”

“I love you,” he gasps, tears filling his eyes. “I-I… I am so in love with you.”

“Lucien stop,” I beg, that numbness spreading up my arms and calves. 

“I am so so fucking sorry for the way I treated you. You are so undeserving of that after all that you did for me. I was selfish and blinded by what I thought I wanted. You were right, Yn. About everything. I never once considered that it could be you because I just always knew you’d be in my life. I never thought that I’d lose you but when I did I… I broke. I can’t live without you. I need you. I love you.”

“You don’t get to decide that you want me and then waltz back into my life. That is not how this works.”

“Please Yn just give me a chance to apologize and make things right.”

“No,” I shouted, anger leaching into my tone. “No, I gave you one too many chances I think. I have given you too much, Lucien. More than enough for one lifetime and you're just now realizing that you want me back? ”

“I’ve always known I’ve loved you Yn. I just didn't understand how much. Or in what way. And I know that’s my fault and my problem. In some way I was cursed by the cauldron to have two mates. But it blessed me with one who cared enough about me to take my broken spirit and make it whole again.”

“Good luck finding someone to do it again because it will not be me this time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning away from him. 

“Yn please just- just let me speak. I truly didn’t mean to hurt you. I got so caught up in the fact that I finally had a choice in this world that I forgot to think about everything else in my life. I never meant for you to feel anything but loved and appreciated.”

“Lucien, you somehow managed to achieve everything you meant not to do.”

A sob tore through Lucien. And one tore through me too. “You never gave up on me, not once. From day one you have always believed in me, what happened? What changed?”

“You’re complete and utter recognition of my existence changed, Lucien!” I screamed, not caring who heard me. “Ever since the war ended you haven’t paid me the closest bit of real, undivided attention. You only spoke to me if it was about Elain, what dinner was going to be, or if I had gotten the next project done on the restaurant. But not once did you ask me how I was doing or if I wanted to go out for a fun night. I just faded away into the back of your mind.”

My blood curled against my bone while I waited for a response. He stared at the floor, eyes darting around and around.

“I’m so so so sorry, Yn.”

“I’m sure you are.” More empty apologies

“How do I fix this? Tell me what to do. I’ll do fucking anything you want just tell me- please Yn I can’t leave here without saying I gave us every chance we had-”

“And I told you I gave you one too many chances to apologize.”

I refuse to be walked all over. I refuse to be second place. I refuse to be treated as anything but a first priority. My heart is too big sometimes, and I’ve been known to forgive under less likely circumstances, but this is where I draw the line. 

Lucien gets down on his knees. “Please, my Yn. I have nothing without you. You are entwined in every corner and crevice of my soul. I know I’m undeserving of you. But somewhere deep down I think you still love me. Even if you hate me right now, and I do not blame you. I have been an awful person-”

“Lucien please don’t-” my throat feels like it’s swelling closed.

“-but I cannot see a future without you in it. If I don’t have you by my side, then all of this is useless. All these heartbeats, all these breaths of oxygen are worthless without you giving me a reason to have them.”

I try to get a grip on the world spinning around me, but it’s of no use. “Lucien get up.”

“No,” he shakes his head, pieces of his hair falling loose to frame his face. In times like these I would once comfort him. Place my hands on his cheeks and tell him how worthy he is of love and protection. And here he is, trying to do the same for me. “No, I need you to listen to me.”

“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t care. I have to tell you otherwise I might burn alive. I have never regretted a day more in my life than that night a month and a half ago. It haunts my every waking nightmare. On repeat, every night for me to relive and beat myself up over. I deserve every second of it. You’re right, I did discard you to the side like you were nothing. And I sweat my life on the Cauldron that I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know I was doing it until you pointed it out to me. Then I just… I fell apart.

“I had no idea what to do, where to go. Ask anyone, for weeks I was unable to get out of bed after I came and got my stuff from here. The only person I talked to was Ms. Immy. Even she knew about it. She told me to respect your wishes, to not neglect them like I had neglected you in the past and I might have hope. So as hard as it was, I stayed away. Because I didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Ms. Immy told me it wasn’t my fault that I neglected you- well… it was, but- but it was now my problem. To try and fix it. And she’s right, you’re right. Fucking everyone is right. I just want to fix this with you.”

It’s not your fault, but it is your problem. Damn that wise hag. 

My muscles are so taught they begin to ache. I can’t handle this, I don’t want to handle this. I want him gone- no… no I want him to stay and tell me how much he’s fucked up. To validate me because he spent so much time doing the opposite. 

“What if I don’t want you to fix things?” I asked. “What if I wanted you to leave and never come back?”

“That’s not an option. Being out of your life has never been an option. I want you more than anything I could think of. I am going to fix this between us one way or another, today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. But I will never stop trying because I love you.”

“Don’t say that,” I plead, turning away from him. His hand wrapped around my forearm, locking me in place. “Let go of me. Now.” 

“Not until you give me a legit reason why we cannot fix what we have. Yn, you have given your entire life to me. Let me return all those years back to you.”

“I don’t want you t-”

“You don’t have to forgive me today, but let me try to make it up to you. My Spirit of the Gods, who cares so much more about the lives of others than her own. Let me be the one who cares about you. Let me bear the weight of your burdens.”

“Lucine stop talking.”

“No,” he roared, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that I won’t stop trying to fix things with you no matter how much you hate me. I love you too much to let you slip through my fingers. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I blew off the most important night of your life. Through everything, you were there for me, and I didn’t return the favor when it mattered most. You worked so fucking hard on Latibue, Yn. And I am so unbelievably proud of you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.”

“For Cauldron's sake, Lucien, shut up.”

“Why are you refusing to listen to anything I have to say?”

“Because if you say one more Gods damned thing about how much you love me and how fucking sorry you are, I might just forgive you and I am not ready to forgive you because I am still livid with you!” The confession tears from my lungs. I heave for a breath, carefully watching Lucien. “I’m not ready to be comforted by someone who hurt me so badly.”

“Then I’ll give you time,” Lucien’s eyes soften as he stands. “I can live with you being angry at me, but I can’t live without you at all.”

“I can’t possibly know how long that’ll take.”

“I don’t care how long it’ll take,” he shrugs. “I’ll wait until our souls pass again if I have to.”

My mind is too cluttered. My heart in too many shards. “You don’t need to wait for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I know you will,” he smiles. Oh how I’ve missed his smile. His smile. “But that doesn’t mean you need to be.”

He wants to fix things, he was begging on his knees for you to listen to him. He’s okay with you being angry at him as long as you give him a chance. He loves you. He loves you back. After all these years, everything you’ve been waiting for… it’s right in front of you. Even if it hurts, even if you’re scared it is better to do it afraid then not at all.

I broke down into tears, my chest wracked with sobs. All this locked up pain and indignation exploding out at once. And Lucien is right there to keep me from falling. “Shh, Yn it’s okay,” he purrs, holding me so tight I can’t breathe. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I have spent so long loving this boy, begging him silently to love me back. And here he is… why can’t I find the space inside me to let him in?

“Lucien…”

“My Yn,” he breathes, cradling my head to his chest. 

I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

I feel his body relax.

“And I think you should leave.”

His body goes rigid. He pulls away, hands reaching to cup my face, but settling on the backs of my arms. “W-What? Why do you-”

“If you spent all this time waiting for it to be the right moment to make peace with me but never taking the opportunity then it’s too late.”

“Yn please- this is me taking the opportunity.”

“No,” I shake my head, sniffling. “This was just a coincidence. You didn't come here with the intention of making amends. You came here just to get a shirt. So here,” I picked up the shirt, shoving it in his chest. “Take it. And go.”

“Wait-” I began to push him to the door. “Yn wait! Yes I came here to get my shirt. No, I didn’t think you’d be here. But you were. So I took a chance. I took a risk for you.”

“Do you really think I’m so naive?” I scoffed, opening the door and shoving him through, rougher than I intended. “If you want me, then you’re going to have to do a lot better than getting down on your knees and saying you love me.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, anything.”

“If you need me to tell you, then there’s no hope for us.”

He stares at me, eyes begging, pleading, hoping and praying that I’ll just tell him. Despite the slight sweat on my skin, my body feels calm. Powerful. I feel in control. 

Then his lips are on mine, and any sense of reality I have comes crashing down. 

[goldencuffs]

afterglow

inspired by the spectral files series by s.e. harmon!!

The ghost appears in his office after Damen comes back from his lunch break. 

Damen’s had a rough week already. The free pad thai in his belly right now is literally the best thing that’s happened to him in months. That’s not even an exaggeration.

The ghost in his office has been around before. He showed up a few weeks ago, at the start of summer, his expression boyish, sunny, hands in his pockets as he’d surveyed Damen’s office with visible interest. Then he had followed Damen to the kitchen and watched him make tea. And then he had pulled faces last Tuesday, during their morning briefings, gagging at the photos of Victor Reynold’s dismembered body. 

“I smell Thai,” the ghost says now. He’s pouting. “I want Thai. I love Thai food.” 

Damen ignores him, sitting behind his desk and logging into his computer. It’s only twelve in the afternoon. Damen wants to throw himself off the ledge of the building. 

The ghost struts about his office, still talking, listing off the other cuisines he loves (Mexican, Indian, Lebanese, Italian) as Damen pretends to read his latest case notes.

“Not going to lie though, definitely shat myself when I had that. I’m talking blocked pipes and everything.” The ghost shakes his head. “Man, that was a rough weekend.”

Damen sighs. 

The ghost perks up. “I know you can see me, man. You always get that face when I’m talking to you.”

Damen picks up a pen, just so he has something to do. So he can school his face into something more neutral. 

Of course Damen can see the ghost. He sees ghosts all the time. He’s seen them since he was seven years old. As a kid, he didn’t know the children he would play with were dead until Nikandros’ foot had gone through the football they were kicking around. 

Since then, Damen’s seen them everywhere. There was a widow who used to hang around Kastor’s old place, shrilly telling him off for painting the kitchen the wrong colour. Kastor had moved out three weeks after Damen had told him that. 

Most of the time, ghosts leave him alone. Sometimes they get excited when they realise he can see them. Sometimes they just want to talk. Some of them have harmless requests, like messages they want to pass on to a loved one.

And sometimes there are ghosts like the ones in his office, who don’t seem to have anywhere to go, who only seem to be attached to him.

The last ghost like that had been Aimeric Gaul, this skinny, baby-faced kid who had sad, wide eyes. He could only go where Damen could, and kept mentioning how much he missed his mother. 

Three months into watching Aimeric cry in the corner of his office, Damen had driven down to Fortaine to see his mother. Aimeric had sat in the front seat, wide-eyed as he watched the rolling landscape.

When Damen had told Aimeric’s mother that he had a message from her dead son, her husband had pointed a gun to his forehead and said, Get the fuck off my property.

Damen was placed on suspension after that.

So, yeah. He’s wary of the ghosts like this—the ones that are, inevitably, drawn to him. They’re the ones that cause trouble. 

Damen’s been through enough, thanks. He’s only just back from his suspended time off, and Jokaste has cleared the last of her things from their place, and sometimes he still panics when he can’t find the ring on his left hand, until he remembers that it’s shoved in a drawer in his closet. 

The ghost is still talking. “You know what I really miss though? Dumplings. Highly underrated, man. When’s the last time you had one? Take it from me—have as many dumplings as you can while you’re still alive. ‘Cause, one day you’re gonna be dead, and there’s no fucking dumplings here. Which is shit if you think about it, the least—”

Damen’s phone rings. He picks it up, glad for the distraction. 

Makedon’s voice is no-nonsense. “My office, now. Bring coffee.” And then he hangs up. 

Damen deliberately doesn’t bring the coffee. Makedon frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything else. 

He pushes a file towards him. “Welcome back, kid. Latest cold case is all yours.”

Damen groans. “Seriously? You’re assigning me to cold cases? What about Reynold’s murder? I hear they need more manpower.”

“Nah.” Makedon shakes his head. “Don’t think you’re in the right headspace for all that shit.” 

“That shit?” Damen repeats, frowning. “You mean, my job?”

Makedon stares at him for a few beats. “This is part of your job too, detective. Everyone gets assigned cold cases every now and then.”

“Bullshit,” Damen snaps. “You haven’t assigned me a real case in months, even before—” And here, he falters, too ashamed to bring up Aimeric. 

Makedon isn’t a soft man. Everything about him is rigid and unmoveable. But he does relax his shoulders a little. 

“This isn’t just about what happened in Fortaine. When’s the last time you slept, kid?”

Damen frowns.

“Yeah, exactly. Divorce ain’t easy, and it’s clearly been affecting you more than you realise. You’re so… angry all the time. You clocked the new intern so badly last week, he had to go home early.”

Damen sighs, heart twisting a little. Yeah, okay, yelling at Erasmus in front of everyone hadn’t been a good move, but Damen had his reasons.

…He just can’t remember them right now. 

“Work the case with Huet,” Makedon continues, “He’s good company, and isn’t afraid to step up.” 

Damen snatches the file. “Whatever,” he mutters darkly. “What’s the case?”

Makedon sighs. “Some kid drove himself into a lake about a decade ago. Was conclusively claimed as a suicide at the time, but his brother’s statement is pretty interesting, suggests foul play.”

Damen’s eyebrows raise. “Murder?”

Makedon shrugs. “The brother was thirteen at the time, and very close with the victim. So it could be an emotional thing. But…”

“But?”

“He pointed fingers at their uncle. Claimed he had strong evidence it could be a murder, but no one really looked into it too closely.”

“Hmm,” Damen says. “So, what, we’re supposed to go on the word of a teenager?”

“A very persistent teenager. Have a look—he’s called at least several times a year to see if the case has been reopened.”

“No shit,” Damen says in surprise. “He actually share any of this evidence, though? Or tell us why the uncle could be the perpetrator?” 

“That’s your job to find out.” Makedon yawns. “Where’s my fucking coffee?”

But Damen doesn’t pay attention to him. The first page of the case file is a headshot of the victim. 

Damen knows that face. He just left him in his office.

***

Auguste Henri Revere is—was—twenty-five when he died. 

He was incredibly popular, well-liked, and good at pretty much everything he did. Damen reads everything in his file: football captain, scholarship student at Arles University, part-time volunteer at the children’s hospital…

He doesn’t seem like the guy who would kill himself. Then again, the worst part about this job has always been that people can surprise you—in the worst ways possible. 

Nothing about his death is suspicious. It happened close to midnight, near a popular stretch of road in the city centre. There were several witnesses that saw a cream 1972 Ford Mustang veer off the road, straight into the lake. Police found a suicide note typed on Auguste’s laptop. He had cleaned his room the night before, donated things like clothes, jewellery, and sneakers. 

Damen reads what Laurent Gabriel Revere said. Now that statement is strange. Laurent was thirteen when Auguste died. Sources say they were close, that Auguste doted on him, especially since they were orphans, living with their uncle. Two years after Auguste died, Laurent showed up at the police station and accused their uncle of killing Auguste. He claimed he had evidence, but failed to elaborate. Witnesses said they had heard Laurent and his uncle fighting at the Revere home just half an hour before Laurent showed up at the police station. 

Police issued a search warrant at the Revere house. His uncle had readily complied. Nothing had been found. Nothing had been found in Auguste’s recovered car either. And there was never an autopsy done on his body. 

“Huh,” Damen says. 

He looks up at Auguste, who’s staring at the view outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time since he showed up in his office, Damen feels sorry for him. Auguste is twelve years older than him, but now here he is, forever twenty-five. Damen’s older than him now, and it’s strange to think about. What makes him more deserving of life? He isn’t even a good person—not the way Auguste is. Was. 

It’s not the most conventional way to start an investigation, but hey, he might as well. “How’d you die?” Damen asks.

Auguste turns to him blinking. His eyebrows raise. “That’s the first thing you say to me after all this time? Jesus, that’s cold, man.”

Damen bites his bottom lip. “Do you remember the day you died? Did you… er.” He can’t bring himself to say kill yourself. 

“The day I died? Hmm.” Auguste’s golden eyebrows furrow. “Let me see… I took Laurent out that day. We went to the fair, and he kept pretending he was too old to go on the rides.” His smile turns fond. “Then we… I dropped him home. I went to meet some friends but I don’t think I made it.”

“Fuck!” Damen scrambles up from his seat, and he’s grateful that his office door is closed. He doesn’t think he could explain to anyone why he’s so horrified. 

Blood streaks down from Auguste’s mouth, the corner of his eyes. His clothes are soaked through, turning transparent. His golden hair is matted and wet against his scalp.

Auguste moans. “I don’t feel so good. I don’t… I can’t talk about this anymore.” 

The blood starts pouring out of his ears. 

Damen stands, paralysed, unable to move. 

And then in a blink, Auguste disappears.

***

“Damn,” Huet says. “How much do you think this place will sell for? Three mill right? I mean, at least.” 

“Shut up,” Damen says. Huet is a new recruit and he is far too peppy and talks far too much. He is definitely not good company. 

Privately, Damen agrees about the house. It’s huge, a sprawling mansion adorned with steep, gabled peaks and chimneys, topped with slate tiles that glisten in the sunlight.  Ivy and climbing roses cling to the walls. As well as being Superman, Auguste was also apparently incredibly rich. 

The man who opens the door is undoubtedly related to Auguste. It’s the eyes—Damen has been staring at those blue eyes in photos and in his office for weeks now.

Richard Revere is in his mid-fifties. His hair is dark, coiled, and his beard is trimmed and peppered with white. There are rings on each of his fingers—giant gemstones that glisten as he shakes Damen and Huet’s hands as they introduce themselves.

He has no qualms about being questioned and invites them in. 

Damen’s eyebrows raise. They’re greeted by a grand foyer with a sweeping marble staircase, its balustrade intricately wrought iron, leading to the upper floors. The interior is a blend of opulence and warmth, with high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the richly decorated rooms. Antique furniture, plush draperies, and elegant tapestries fill the spaces, each room telling its own story of centuries past.

Richard has no issues with them being in his house. Damen has done this for long enough to go by his gut—and so far this man doesn’t seem like a murderer. He just seems like a rich man from an affluent society. 

Richard makes them tea, and then says, “So. You’ve opened my nephew’s case again?”

“We have,” Damen says. They’re sitting on the most comfortable armchairs he’s ever been, in a room with far too many books and far too many globes. 

“Interesting.” Richard sips his tea. For the first time, his tone is cold, disapproving. “May I ask why? I believe the last set of detectives were incredibly thorough.”

Damen nods. “I’m sure they were. But you understand we’re in a delicate position. We can’t brush off… certain statements.”

“Ah.” Richard’s mouth quirks in amusement. “So this is about Laurent, then.” 

It’s Huet who nods this time. He says, “He called the last leading detective just six months ago, sir. He’s still adamant about…” He awkwardly trails off. 

Now Richard looks very amused. “Oh, I see. Of course. Did you know Laurent happens to make those calls to the police station every time we have a fight?” 

“Well,” Damen says, as Huet makes a note of that. “We’d like to talk to him too. Is he around?”

“He is.” Richard nods. “Upstairs, sleeping.”

Damen doesn’t react when Auguste appears in the living room. He looks like his usual self, dry and golden, free of blood. 

“You need to go upstairs,” Auguste says, and for the first time, there’s a note of frustration in his voice. “I can only go where you go. I want to go upstairs. I want to see my room. I want to see Laurent.” 

“We’ll come back later then,” Damen says. He ignores Auguste’s No! 

Richard leads them back out into the sunlight. Auguste trails after them, eyes flicking over every inch of the house, his gaze wondrous. It fills Damen with pity. 

They make their goodbyes out on the porch. Damen can see some of the neighbours take interest in their police car, but Richard seems unfazed. 

A portly woman at the end of the driveway asks them, “Laurent again? He’s a shame to the Revere name.”

Huet raises both eyebrows. Damen makes a mental note of that.

As they walk to the car, they hear a frantic, whispered. “Hey!”

Auguste gasps. “Laurent.” 

Damen follows his eyes. There’s a window at the side of the house on the second level. Someone’s opened it up enough to wave at them. 

Damen steps closer. Auguste rushes up to the window. “Laurent!” 

Laurent doesn’t hear his brother. But he does notice Damen approaching and beckons him over. 

Damen stands under the window, shoulder to shoulder with a dead man, and looks up at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Laurent’s hair is golden, falling across those same stunning, blue eyes, his lashes long and dark. His skin is luminous and sweetly pink. 

“Damn,” Huet says under his breath. 

“He’s so grown up,” Auguste whispers. 

“You’re here for Auguste’s case?” Laurent says. 

Damen has to strain to hear him. Laurent’s voice is low, anxious, like he’s worried about being caught. 

“Yeah, we are.” Damen clears his throat, which is suddenly scratchy.

Something bright sparks in Laurent’s eyes. He’s still whispering. “Great. You think you can meet me at the diner down the road in an hour? I can’t get away until he leaves the house.”

That instantly sets alarm bells in Damen’s head. He frowns. 

“God, he looks so different,” Auguste says.

Damen nods at Laurent, who’s still anxious, still waiting for a response. 

“Okay, we’ll see you.”

Laurent nods and shuts the window, disappearing from view. After a moment, Auguste does too. 

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

the snap (Matt Murdock x fem-reader )

Summary: after the blip Matt was blipped away. But what happens when he shows up after everyone comes back?

Part 2 Warnings: angst, I mean it this time ok? I teared up writing this. But with fluff it has a happy ending trust me. Im dyslexic so there are probably/definitely going to be spelling errors. (I’m trying yall. Let me know how I did my first fic for Matt I think I’m going to make a part 2. Please comment if you can and reblog are appreciated if you want ❤️) mentions of pregnancy and childbirth and children

My eyes take in the childrens bedroom. It was small and quant but cozy. The nightlights lit up the room and my five year old daughter was layed down on the soft pastel blankets. I sit down on the side of her bed. She was so beautiful, her sweet brown eyes and brown hair. Her name was angel Murdock, She resembled Matt so much, sometimes it even hurt to look at her. It showed his best attributes on her. Even though she was only five years old she was already fearless, the teachers at the preschool always say she’s already getting in fights with the bullies in the class, no fist fights yet thankfully. It was her bedtime so you were finishing up reading a story to her about a princess and prince who fought a dragon.

“And they lived happily ever after the end” I kiss her forehead. And get up from her sleepy form.

“mommy, why do all the other kids have dads?”

Her question struck me in the heart. Leaving a wound size I couldn’t even patch up after patching up so many of Matt’s wounds. But I remain calm and collected like her words were just a simple question. Which they were, she’s just a curious child, there is no way that she knows how deeply I am affected by them. I twist my diamond ring on my finger and bite my lip trying to figure out how to answer this question without terrifying her. I can’t lie to her, I promised I would never lie to her.

“Angel, your father….went away. Hes gone he went with another half of the universe”

“will he be comeback?”

“no, no he won’t” I answered quietly trying to keep myself from sobbing. God I feel so weak, it’s been five years! Fiver years and I still can’t get over his death

“did he leave because of me?”

“no! No, he never knew about you sweetie. He was taken before he knew”

I take a shaky breath and kiss her on the forehead “goodnight” I leave her now asleep form and creep to the kitchen. I look down and the sink and I can’t take it anymore. Grief racks my body as sobs come out in waves. Why? Why did you have to leave I know you didn’t do it on purpose but why? It’s so unfair. Mathew I miss you. I know The city needed but mainly I needed you. I bring my knees up to hug my chest. I feel so weak, so fucking weak it’s been 5 years and I still haven’t recovered. I tpull myself together and wipe my tears mainly because I hear noises outside. A lot of noises. Screams, cries, laughter, sobs. I run to the window and open the curtain. Hundreds and hundreds of people are flooding the streets. Some are hugging, kissing, others are just staring in disbelief. Poeple are running in all directions and so so many of them are confused. Who are these people? Where did they come from? Could they he the ones who were snappe—

Knock! knock! knock!

the noise of someone at my door shattered my trail of thoughts like a broken mirror, breaking me of my trance. Who on earth. Or any planet for that matter would be calling to me at this hour? I tentatively get up. Cross the room and open the door, I was not prepared.

there. Right there stood my husband dead for 5 years after the blip. He stood in his lawyer suit in the doorframe. Just as he was before he left. He’s exactly the same. To him no time has passed at all. But I’m sure he’s heard it’s been 5 years on the streets. My body is rigid from shock utter shock. He takes off his red glasses so I can see his face again. A small gasp escapes my mouth as my eyes lay upon him again. Hes so gorgeous it actually hurts. Makes my heart ache. To say I felt conflicted would be an understatement I was downright a wreck inside. He so damn pretty. Was all I could really think. my shaky hand reaches up and caresses his face as if feeling he’s actually there and this isn’t some hallucination.

“sweetheart, I’m real” he smiles

“I-i Matt you were dead—you-you—oh!” I choke out in sobs

I seizes his head and he walks closer to me closing the door. I kiss him desperately like a woman starved. The kiss is searing and leaves us gasping for air. As soon as we break the seal we dive into it again and I let out a small whimper that allows him to slip his rougue into my mouth. I immediately submit to him and let him take the dominance. After sometime in a log swaying kiss. We stumble towards the couch where he tries to explain to me what happened but with me kissing his neck desperately it’s hard for him. In the five years he was gone I never took a lover. I couldn’t bring myself to. I was always thinking about Mathew even if he was just in the back of my mind. Especially as I walked down the more dangerous streets of Hells kitchen without him.

“sweetheart—sweetheart— “ he lets out a small groan that is music to my ears “are you going to let me know what happened or let me explain” he laughs.

I pull back and bip my lip “sorry”

”I know five years have passed someone on the street told me that after they did I ran to find you I’m sorry—“ his head tilts to the side as if he’s picking up something “there’s another heartbeat in the apartment”

I take his hands “Matt this is a lot to take in I know but….”

“y/n you can tell me anything” the way my name rolls of his toung sounds like honey. He runs his finger over my silk nightgown, his favorite fabric. He takes his time training my figure and them cup up to claps both my hands again “anything”

Reassured now I start my tale “the day of the blip was also the day I found out I was pregnant. Turns out half the universe was blipped away. You’ve been gone for five years now. The pregnancy was hard, half the doctors were gone, you were gone. Without many people to support it was hard but, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, who looks so much like you. I named her angel Murdock.”

he’s silent for a bit. I feel sorry I know how much it is to take in “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you sweetheart. I left you and everyone behind. God I feel so guilty.”

“Mathew there is nothing to apologize for! You couldn’t control it!”

We’re silent for a bit and I wonder if he’s listening to angel’s heartbeat. He beams “I can’t believe I’m a father.” He laughs “ironic isn’t it?”

“what is?”

“the devil is the father of an angel” he muses. His face is bright and happy

“I never thought of it that way” I ponder “she’s already fearless like you”

“Hm, maybe not a good thing. But she sure has the Murdock fighter genes. I’m just sorry I missed the pregnancy and everything”

“well we could always try again?”

“I’d love that” he purrs into my ear in his deep voice. And his head rests in the crook of my neck as he leans into my body. And I’m so so starved for touched after all these years I hold onto him like he’s the last thing in the world. I practically melt into his touch as I haven’t been intimate like this in so long.

“don’t leave me” i whisper

“no sweetheart” his strokes my hair “im never leaving you again”

it feels so comfy with his bodyweight on mine on the couch we don’t even bother to move to the bed as we fall asleep there that night not wanting for a second to leave each other’s arms. It would be hard to explain to to angel who this man she never met was will figure that out in the morning. Things are always better in the morning. No things are always better now that’s he’s back. Everything seems fixed, my whole world.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 44

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, February 4; 6:30 AM - Lucy's Room.

I bury myself in a mass of hair that tickles the tip of my nose as Lucy’s alarm goes off in the room. I groan when she moves to reach her phone where the sound is coming from. An unbearable pain shoots through my body. That bitch really didn’t hold back. I sincerely hope she’ll pay for this. I’ll have to ask Lucy for another pill. I smile as she returns to embrace me, letting out a long, low moan.

"Good morning, mi novia."

"Good morning..." I mumble.

I bury my face in her neck, losing all motivation to get up. Lucy doesn’t seem in a hurry either, so I take advantage of it for once. She kisses the top of my head.

"I must look like a real zombie..."

"No, you don’t."

"Yes, I do."

"Don’t start," she laughs. "It’s only half past six."

"Did you change the alarm?" I grumble, lifting my face from her neck.

"Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t go to class right away because of Wiegman’s meeting. We needed to catch up anyway."

Her response makes me realize I didn’t wake up once during the night. It was indeed a very restful night. I sigh deeply before resting my head against her shoulder.

"You’re right."

I let out a gasp of surprise, arching my back when Lucy’s cold hand slips under my T-shirt. She smiles sheepishly, proud of her prank.

"What are you doing! Get it out!"

"It was outside the blanket. I need to warm it up!"

"Stop it!" I cry out as she slides her hand up my back.

I wiggle to free myself from her grasp amid her laughter. In the end, I end up lying on my back to trap her hand, with Lucy half-lying on top of me. I literally melt, forgetting the reasons for my anger, when she takes advantage of the moment to kiss me tenderly.

"I’m going to take a shower," she whispers. "Stay in bed if you want."

She kisses my cheek and then gets up. The coldness of her absence envelops me the second she leaves. I watch her gather her clothes, which neither of us prepared last night. When she turns around, she notices me watching and gives me a smile accompanied by a wink before locking herself in the bathroom. I groan, burying my head in her pillow, inhaling her scent that I had missed so much. I might quickly get used to this kind of wake-up, along with her teasing. I hope everything will go well for us from now on. I couldn’t bear to lose her again. She’s always brought out the best in me, but also the worst when she’s not there. I snap out of my thoughts and reopen my eyes when the door opens twenty minutes later.

"Is my pillow working for you?" she teases.

"Perfectly," I reply as she sits down beside me and runs her hand through my hair.

"I’d love to let you lie here as long as you want, but if you want to eat, you’ll have to get up and take a shower too."

"I know, I’ll get up..."

"I’ll take care of the rest in the meantime, but first..."

I look at her curiously as she shows me something between her fingers. I’m surprised to see my ring, which I had put away in the bedside table. I didn’t even notice her taking it. She holds out her open hand, and without her having to say anything, I place my right hand on it. I watch her closely as she slides it onto my ring finger, where it always was before I took it off. Once it’s on, she brings my hand to her lips to kiss the ring, making me blush.

"Please don’t take it off again."

"I-I’ll try..."

"Come on, get up now," she smiles.

I nod and get up, trying to hide the pain from Lucy. I go to grab a uniform and some underwear before heading to the bathroom. I hurry up when I realize it’s already almost seven o’clock. She pushed our alarm back by thirty minutes, so I can’t complain since it was necessary. I shower and get ready as quickly as possible. Then I slow down when it’s time to examine my face. I’ve regained some color thanks to this restorative night, but it does little to improve the state of my injuries. My black eye has darkened, as have the bruises on my stomach. As for the cut on my lip, it has dried into a scab. I hope it won’t leave a scar.

"Horrible," I mutter.

"It’ll fade."

I jump when I realize Lucy has joined me, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile and her arms crossed. I didn’t expect to see her here. She’s been pretty quiet because, unlike with Alexia in our room, I always close the door here.

"No, it’s really horrible," I insist. "It’s going to take at least a week to heal."

I lean against the sink, not worrying about the bruises on my stomach pressing against it, and examine my eye more closely, which seems to have swollen slightly.

"It could have been worse. Let me put some cream on it."

She doesn’t wait for my response before grabbing the tube and applying it to the black eye. I look at myself in the mirror to examine the rest. At least my lip hasn’t swollen either. She repeats the process on my stomach and finishes by changing the bandage on my eyebrow. I realize how useful it’s been when I see the large bloodstain on the old one.

"There you go," she smiles as she puts everything away. "Shall we eat together?" she offers.

"Am I allowed?"

"Of course, if I say so. Besides, the rush hour is over."

"Okay. I’d like to see my friends though..."

"Knowing them, they’ll wait for you as long as they can."

I smile and nod. That’s definitely their style. Plus, I haven’t seen them since yesterday; they must be worried sick. My God, especially Alexia ! Luckily, I’ll see them in a few minutes.

"I’m afraid of what Wiegman will say," I confess to her.

"You don’t have to worry. You’re not in trouble since you didn’t do anything, and if Korbin has said anything, I’ll defend you."

"As long as she believes us..."

"She will," she says with conviction. "By the way," she begins delicately, "I need to know if she touched you at any other time besides last night. It would be a good way to incriminate her further if things take a turn for the worse."

I look at her for a moment before sighing. She already knows the answer; otherwise, she wouldn’t have asked. It’s not hard for her to understand, given the state I was in.

"She assaulted me in the dorm hallway the night before. That’s why I asked to sleep with you," I murmur.

She nods gently in understanding before placing her hand on my cheek. Surprisingly, she doesn’t press further and simply responds:

"Thank you for being honest. I’ll try to get you the day off. You’re not in any condition to go to class after all this."

"Really?" I say, surprised.

- Really.

- Thank you...

Timidly, I hug her to show my sincerity.

- It’s the least I can do. Now let's go. I’m starving.

I smile and nod. To be honest, so am I. I couldn’t finish my meal because of Korbin, and I’m starting to feel it. We grab our jackets and shoes before heading out.

- Will Ingrid be in the cafeteria?

- No. She’s handling Korbin’s case. They’re probably in a meeting right now.

- Oh...

- Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, I promise.

I don’t understand why Lucy seems so confident. I don’t have time to dwell on it as we arrive at the cafeteria. I regret that everything happened here. Now I have to face the place and all the students who saw me get thoroughly beaten. Lucy must have sensed my discomfort because she supports me by placing her hand on my back. I walk in before I can think too much. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to run the other way.

- Are you okay? she asks me.

- Yeah...

- Let me know if that changes.

I smile softly and nod. I should know by now that nothing can happen to me with her by my side. I take a deep breath before entering the dining hall. Surprisingly, the place is calm. Only a few students are still here, and there’s no sign of last night’s incident. My first instinct is to look toward my table. I smile when I see Alexia already running across the cafeteria to meet me. I catch her in my arms, not without some pain from the impact she probably didn’t gauge. A small cry escapes me, making her immediately step back.

- Oh my God, I’m so sorry! she panics. Are you okay?

I smile as she starts examining me from head to toe, lifting my arms.

- I’m fine, Ale, I chuckle. Just a few bruises, but they’re manageable.

She relaxes and hugs me again, more gently this time. Her reaction doesn’t surprise me. She always seems very worried about me. We’ve grown very close, much to my delight.

- You look like a real zombie, she finally jokes.

- What did I tell you? I say to Lucy. At least she admits it!

- Well, let’s be honest here, Ale adds. And what about you two? Are things better now? she asks hesitantly.

- Yeah... I reply with a small smile, glancing at Lucy. Much better.

Alexia doesn’t have time to ask more as the rest of our friends join us, bombarding me with questions I can’t even make out because they’re all talking at once.

- You can stay with them if you want, Lucy tells me. We’ll meet up later.

- No, I’m eating with you. It’s not like I won’t see them again before tonight. Does that bother you? I ask my friends.

- Nah, of course not, Alba responds.

- Are you coming to class? Alessia asks me.

I shrug and glance at Lucy to help me answer. I guess after the meeting, I’ll go back to class if she doesn’t manage to get Wiegman to give me the day off.

- We’ll see, Lucy replies. By the way, it looks like it’s almost time for you to go.

Now that I see the time, I realize she’s right. My friends don’t argue and say goodbye, telling me we’ll catch up later. It’s funny to see how much influence Lucy has on them. Alexia is the last to stay and hugs me again, whispering that I owe her an explanation. I smile as I watch her leave, then we go get our food. I give Lucy a little nudge.

- What is it?

- Nothing, I reply. I’m just happy to be with you.

- Hmm, she smiles.

We walk through the dining hall to her table. I take Ingrid’s spot since she isn’t here.

- So Ingrid’s defending Korbin?

- She doesn’t have much to defend her with, Lucy admits. But yes, that’s her role. Ingrid talked to Wiegman, and she already told me there’s little chance Korbin will avoid expulsion.

- Oh...

- Now relax. For the thousandth time, you have nothing to worry about.

Lucy doesn’t understand that I���m not worried about Korbin’s punishment, but my own. I might be the victim, but who’s to say Wiegman won’t believe her? It would be just my luck if she punished me and Lucy too.

- Here. I saved some painkillers for you last night.

- Why are you so perfect? I mumble. Everything seems so easy for you.

- I told you yesterday that I’m far from perfect, she smiles, taking a bite of her toast.

- No matter what you think. There’s nothing you can’t do. Not only are you athletic and beautiful, but you can cook, take care of people, and you have such confidence that you scare everyone. Not to mention th—

- I think that’s enough, Ona, she teases.

- What? I could go on for hours listing all your qualities, I pout.

- You become who you want to be, she shrugs.

- If you were so different before, what were you like? I ask, curious.

- Far from who I am today, she teases.

I puff out my cheeks, knowing I won’t learn more today. It’s hard to imagine Lucy being any different from who she is now.

- I thought I was allowed to know more now, I pout.

She looks up from her breakfast and smiles tenderly at me. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve just spent time together doing something as simple as this. It’s a breath of fresh air. I missed her. A lot. I’m really glad to have her back, even more than before.

- You’ll know more. I just love teasing you.

- You could at least give me a hint.

- Hmm... she pretends to think. No. I might lose my credibility... and my intimidation. Isn’t that what you said yesterday?

I blush, remembering. That’s exactly what I told her. Intimidating and scary. Those were the words that kept coming to my mind when we first met. She was tough on me, even though I understand the reasons now.

- This isn’t funny!

- Yes, it is, she laughs. It’s so easy to tease you.

I stick out my tongue, which seems to amuse her even more.

- Although, I still wonder why you are... I’ve never mistreated you as far as I know.

I shrug and take a bite of my barely-touched pastry. She seems to understand that I’m avoiding the conversation because she entwines her fingers with mine in my free hand. I watch as she starts making small circles on the back of my hand with her thumb.

- I don’t know. Everyone here finds you intimidating after all, you know.

It’s because of my reputation, she chuckles. Although I was tough on you at first, I’m much less so now. I hope you realize that.

- Of course, I laughed. I guess you still intimidate me because deep down, there will always be a part of me that remembers you were once my supervisor... After all, you were the first person who could stand up to me and tell me the hard truths when I needed them.

- I’m far from just that now. You realize that, right? she teased.

- Yeah, sure... But I know you'll still turn into my supervisor whenever I mess up.

- Definitely not, she said, rolling her eyes.

- It's not a complaint. It might be weird, but I actually like it when you put me in my place, I chuckled.

- I see, she laughed. Well, you're lucky I'll still be your supervisor here.

- You were serious?

- Of course. No matter what we are outside of here, you'll still be my student until we finish the year. We're both intelligent adults, after all. At least, I know I am, and I hope you can understand my intentions.

She laughed as I playfully slapped the hand still holding mine captive. I found myself shyly playing with her fingers, surprised at how much I wanted to be more physically affectionate with her. I had forgotten how dating a teacher could have its drawbacks. I couldn't even argue against her point. We needed these boundaries here, not just to fully heal but also to keep our relationship safe.

- Why me? I asked, lifting my head. I mean... I'm just a problem kid after all... You could easily find someone better.

- Please. You’re not going to make me list all the reasons you’re important to me again, are you? she raised an eyebrow.

- Why not...? I don't even know what you see in me.

- Alright, let's talk about it then.

- Really?

- Our relationship has to be based on communication. Neither of us knows what we’re getting into, but if we want this to work, the first thing we need to do is keep being honest with each other.

I nodded, completely agreeing with her. Communication is key, especially for two people like us who have our doubts. We made the mistake once, and I doubt it will happen again.

- Alright, she sighed. To be honest, it was really hard for me to bounce back after Kiera. The first thing I told myself was that I’d avoid getting involved with addicts, she laughed.

- Seems like that plan didn’t work out... I replied with a small smile. But you’ve been with other people since her, right...?

- Yes, of course, I’ve tried. But as I told you, it was never serious. I didn’t invest in those relationships, so they only lasted two or three months.

That’s exactly what she told me yesterday. It must be something she’s afraid of too. She started stroking my hand again, her eyes locking onto mine. I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her. She doesn’t seem to realize how much she means to me. She’s changed my life.

- If I want you, rather than someone else, it’s because I feel good when I’m with you. That’s all that matters to me. It was the same with Kiera, who completely transformed me, but with you, it’s different again. It’s better, and I’ll do everything I can to make it work between us.

Her sincerity touched me. She likes me. Why is it so hard for me to accept that? My self-confidence, of course. I really need to work on that.

- With others, I’d bury myself in my work, but with you, that won’t be possible, she joked.

- True, I chuckled. I believe you, Luce, but it doesn’t change the fact that you could have any woman at your feet.

- You’re exaggerating, she laughed.

- No, I’m serious. You probably don’t even realize it.

- Good thing I only want you then.

I bit my lip at her words, spoken so naturally. I’ve never been lucky in life, and yet here she is. It’s overwhelming. I feel like I don’t deserve her after everything I’ve been through. I’m not used to feeling happy. She gently lifted my face with her hands.

- Don’t doubt it, she whispered. You have no idea how hard it was for me to hide my attraction to you. You might be a defiant kid, but I love that about you just as much as you love my responsible side. I never saw you as incapable. You’re a person with strengths and weaknesses, just like everyone else.

I absorbed her words like a breath of fresh air. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

- Thank you...

- I’m sorry again for how I reacted.

- It’s okay, Luce...

- No, she shook her head. You have no idea how much I regret it. It’s always been us against the world from the start.

- I’m the one who’s always run away, Lucy. So I’m not going to hold it against you for doing it once. Now, stop with the sweet talk, or I might have to kiss you.

- Alright, I get it, she laughed. But stop doubting my feelings. They’re real and mutual.

- I’ll try, I teased.

- I would never mess with you. We both have our pasts, but I believe we can overcome them together.

I nodded, fully agreeing with her. We help each other get better. Everything between us has always been spontaneous. We’ve built trust, and it’s like I’m invincible with her by my side. She smiled softly at me.

- Let’s take things as they come. Everything will fall into place naturally, like it always has. Don’t you think?

- Yes, you’re right.

- Good. Now, finish your breakfast so we can go. I don’t want to be late for my boss.

- Whatever you want, Commander.

- Stop with that nickname, she muttered.

- I’ll try, she laughed.

We finished our breakfast after that conversation. I took my time, as if it would delay the inevitable meeting. Once we were done, we cleared our trays and headed toward the administration office. That anxious knot in my stomach was coming back, but I tried to push it down as best I could.

- I can feel your stress from a mile away, she said.

- I’m scared.

Lucy sighed and stopped, prompting me to do the same. She opened her arms.

- Come here.

I looked around to make sure no one was around before I stepped into her embrace. She held me tightly and kissed my forehead.

- I won’t let anything happen to you.

I wish I could believe her, but anything can happen. I’ve always lived in fear, after all. She pulled back and offered me a reassuring smile.

- I’d love to stay like this, but we have to go. Trust me, okay?

I took a deep breath and nodded. She hugged me one last time before guiding me toward the administration office. I noticed by the hallway clock that we still had some time, but Lucy is a stickler for punctuality. I’ve gotten enough punishments from her to know that. We walked through the administration hallway like it was a death row corridor. I hate that feeling. I distracted myself by looking into the offices around us, but some of the doors were closed.

- I’m just going to say hi to the colleagues. Go sit by Wiegman’s office.

I would have preferred if she stayed with me, but I didn’t say anything. I just kept walking without her. I slowed down, though, when I recognized the person already waiting in front of the door. It felt like my vision was playing tricks on me, but I quickly realized it wasn’t when she stood up from her chair as soon as she saw me.

- "Oh my God, Ona!"

- "M-mom?"

I step back in shock. What is she doing here?! Her eyes show concern, and for once, it really feels like she’s worried about me. Since our last argument, the tension had eased slightly. The distance from school must have made her think. The last time we spoke was to change my phone plan, and the conversation went surprisingly well. Lucy's chuckle snaps me out of my trance just before she bumps into me.

- "Sorry," she says, grabbing onto my shoulders. "I thought you were sitting down."

She frowns when she sees the look on my face, then glances up to see what's causing my reaction. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, as if she already knows who we're dealing with.

- "Hello," she says uncertainly.

- "Hello," my mother replies in the same tone.

Lucy steps forward to shake her hand. If someone had told me I’d see this scene one day, I wouldn’t have believed it. I don’t even know what to think.

- "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I thought this was just a routine meeting!" I then turn to Lucy.

- "They called to tell me that you were involved in a fight and that I should come as soon as possible if I could," my mother explains.

- "Did you know about this?" I ask Lucy.

- "No! It must be part of the protocol... Excuse me, Mrs. Batlle, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Lucy Bronze, Ona’s supervisor."

- "So, we finally meet. Sarina has mentioned you quite a bit. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. I’m Abby. »

- "Oh, I see," Lucy says, a bit awkwardly. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Watching Lucy getting along with my mother is something I never expected. Well, not entirely unexpected. Lucy was the first to tell me that I should make peace with her if it was still possible. I sigh as my mother starts chatting away with Lucy. She looks super uncomfortable, probably unsure how to navigate between us. It’s kind of cute.

- "Mom, stop bothering her."

- "Oh, you’re not bothering me at all," Lucy quickly replies.

- "No, Ona’s right," my mother laughs. "Once I start, I can’t stop. Let me take a look at you, Ona. You’re in quite a state."

- "I’m fine," I say, stepping back as she approaches. "Bronze took care of me."

It feels weird calling her by her last name, but I don’t really have a choice here.

- "I’d still like to check, even though I don’t doubt she did a good job."

I sigh and let her grab my cheeks.

- "Gently, please," I groan.

Her eyes scan my face while mine are fixed on Lucy, who’s teasing me. She’s watching the scene unfold with amusement. There’s nothing funny about this, and I’ll make sure she knows it later.

- "Did you take a painkiller?"

- "Yes, Mom," I roll my eyes.

- "Thank you for taking such good care of her," my mom says.

- "I was happy to do it, though we’d have preferred to avoid all this," Lucy replies.

- "Of course... Was there a reason behind all this?"

- "In a way. We’ll discuss it in the office if you’d like."

My mom nods and finally lets me go. We then sit down, with me in the middle again. It’s a strange situation. I glance at Lucy, who smiles at me in an odd way before looking away. No one dares to speak. It’ll be our turn soon. I’m not sure how the meeting will go, but if my mom is here, it’s probably not a good sign. And even if it goes well, we’ll probably end up arguing.

- "Who were you talking to earlier?" I ask Lucy to distract myself.

- "I just made the rounds to say hello."

- "Hmm..."

- "What?" she smiles.

- "Nothing... I just wish you’d stayed with me."

- "Oh," she smiles. "Sorry, but they’re still my colleagues, I had to greet them. You can come with me next time."

The idea of communication appeals to me. I shouldn’t be afraid to tell her things. Well, it depends on the topic, of course. I glance at my mom, who’s watching us curiously before smiling at me. She’s also acting strange today. She’s never been this kind to me before. I awkwardly return the smile before lowering my head. It’s hard to believe she flew six hours to see me. She must have flown overnight to be here this early. I wonder how she managed to get time off. She usually barely has any free days with her job. I sigh and shake my head. Maybe things are finally changing.

- "Do you think we’ll have to wait much longer?"

Just as I ask Lucy this question, the office door we’ve been waiting at finally opens. All three of us look up at the door.

- "Apparently not," Lucy murmurs.

A small group files out, led by Ingrid. She steps aside to let Korbin and what I assume are her parents exit. Ingrid takes the opportunity to shake my mother’s hand before her eyes land on me. A smirk spreads across her face.

- "Ouch, you look rough, Batlle," she mocks.

- "Ha ha," I grumble, pulling my scarf up over my nose.

- "Leave her alone," Lucy intervenes with a hint of amusement. "She already feels ugly enough as it is," she adds, making Ingrid laugh.

They exchange a quick handshake while I look at Korbin, who seems to have been staring at me since she walked out. She’s glaring at me. This girl is really insane to keep looking at me like that after beating me up. Lucy was right when she said I didn’t touch her. She doesn’t have a single scratch. My view is interrupted by a hand waving in front of me. I look up at Lucy and realize I’m the only one still sitting. I quickly stand up and watch as Wiegman says goodbye to Korbin’s parents. She asks Ingrid to escort them out and handle the rest of the process. Then she turns to us.

- "Abby! It’s been so long."

If I wasn’t sure these two knew each other, I am now. My principal is hugging my mother. I think this scene is even more unsettling than her meeting Lucy. I still don’t understand why I hadn’t heard of het before. She steps back from her to shake our hands respectfully, one by one. She invites us into her office, which we enter. I find myself sitting in the middle chair again. It feels like I’m on trial with the way I’m surrounded.

- "Alright," Wiegman begins. "I don’t think I need to explain why we’re here..."

- "No, indeed. You just have to look at me... Ouch!"

I frown at Lucy, who just kicked me. She gives me a stern look, clearly sending a message. I quickly get it and stay quiet, sinking into my chair with my arms crossed. Wiegman clears her throat before continuing.

- "Miss Bronze had already informed me that you’ve been getting bullied for a while. So it’s partly our fault for not taking action sooner."

- "I didn’t expect it would lead to a fight," I shrug.

- "Korbin crossed the line in several ways. The fact that she made homophobic remarks should have been a warning sign for us."

- "Homophobic remarks?" my mother repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Damn. I didn’t expect her to say that in front of my mom. I look over at Lucy for support. My mom doesn’t know about that part of my life yet, and I definitely didn’t want her to find out like this.

- "Mr. Thomson, Ona's teacher came to inform me about these matters," Lucy intervenes. "These remarks were based on rumors that had been circulating. Korbin just used them to morally attack your daughter."

I let out a small sigh. My girlfriend is perfect, there’s no other word to describe her. She just saved the situation with a single sentence.

- "These are things you should have talked about, Ona," says Wiegman.

- "I’ve never been the type of person to openly discuss my problems," I retorted.

- "That’s not a solution," my mother says. "You can see where it’s gotten you."

- "Oh, don’t start. I’m willing to let things improve between us, but until recently, you didn’t even believe what I was telling you. It’s no wonder I didn’t confide in you!"

- "Ona..." Lucy warns me.

- "I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You’re the only one I feel I can confide in because you earned my trust," I say to Lucy. "It’s going to take time for things to improve with you, Mom. It won’t happen overnight."

- "You know I want to make up for things, but for that to happen, you need to give me a chance to do so," she replies.

- "How do you expect me to do that after everything you’ve done to me? You’re closer to Mapi than you are to me!" I accuse her.

- "You’re the one who always put up barriers between us! I accept my mistakes, but it’s your turn to accept yours! It’s too easy to blame everything on me!"

- "Yeah, well, start by apologizing then! My whole life is your fault! It’s because of you that I started acting like a rebellious child and kept making mistakes! It’s also your fault that our relationship consists only of confrontations! You never understood me, let alone listened to me! How can a mother be like that with her child?! It seems like you still don’t realize how much your actions have affected me!"

- "Ona-"

- "Don’t touch me!"

I violently pull away from her grip. I calm down when I realize it wasn’t my mother, but Lucy who had tried to touch me. I hadn’t recognized her voice because I was so consumed by anger.

- "I-I need to go out. Excuse me."

I don’t wait for their permission before pushing my chair away and leaving. I need to get some air to clear my head. My vision is blurred by the tears that have formed. I hear Lucy calling after me, but I don’t stop. It was certain that something would go wrong with my mother being here. We’ll never get along. I lock myself in the restroom, but I don’t even make it to a stall before Lucy catches up with me.

- "Don’t lock yourself away," she sighs.

She pulls me into her arms again. I struggle at first, but then I realize it’s pointless and give in, letting myself lean against her as my tears flow freely. It’s hard to catch my breath because of my anger, but she calms me down by holding me tighter.

- "Shh. It’s okay, it’s over."

- "I-I’m sorry."

- "Don’t apologize. You have every right to be angry."

I try to regain my breath. She brushes a few strands of hair away from my face before kissing my forehead. Her fingers gently wipe away my tears.

- "You’d better not say that-"

- "I won’t say anything," she interrupts me. "You handle the situation with your mother in your own way, and I’ll support whatever decisions you make. Just know that she’s trying to make things right... awkwardly, sure... but she’s trying."

She gently rocks me until I’ve fully calmed down. I expected her to lecture me, but it seems I was wrong.

- "We should go back... I told them I’d bring you back."

- "Two minutes," I mutter.

She doesn’t say anything and gives me the time I need. I slowly pull away to grab a tissue and blow my nose.

- "If you’re feeling overwhelmed, just look at me, and I’ll step in. Okay? There’s no need to get this worked up."

- "Okay... Thanks for earlier, by the way. You really saved me."

- "I told you I’d protect you."

We share a smile before heading back. We sit back in our places, and I make sure to keep my eyes on the floor. The tension in the room is palpable.

- "Alright, let’s continue," Wiegman says. "Korbin mentioned a relationship between the two of you."

I freeze at her words. I knew she would bring it up. Does she believe her? I hope not. I glance at Lucy, who doesn’t seem stressed at all, or she’s hiding it very well.

- "That’s not the case," I reply. "We have a special bond, but not in that way."

- "I know. I don’t believe it at all, but I wanted to let you know. Korbin found out that you two are sharing the same room. She thought I wasn’t aware of it and that it could be used as grounds to get you both expelled."

- "We were discreet though," I murmured.

- "I know, but it just shows she must have been following you everywhere. As I said, I didn’t take her argument into consideration because I’m the one who approved the room change, and in any case, I know that you’re far too professional to break that rule, Miss Bronze."

A wave of relief washes over me that I try my best to hide. I would have felt terrible if Lucy had been punished because of me. I hope this remark doesn’t make Lucy doubt our relationship going forward. I don’t really want to end things just as we’re starting.

- "I also wanted to inform you that Miss Bronze will remain your supervisor until the end of the year since trouble seems to follow you. We think it’s the best course of action, along with your mother."

If only she knew that I’m actually glad about that. It means Lucy will be the only one to take care of me. I play along and just nod in understanding.

- "Are we done?" I ask bluntly.

- "Yes," she chuckles. "You’ll be able to leave soon. Just know that you’ll be under constant supervision from now on. You may not be responsible for what happened to you, but the next incident involving you could be severely punished if you don’t speak up beforehand."

- "Fine," I mumbled. "I’ll discuss it. Am I allowed to go out this weekend?"

- "I don’t see why not, for now."

I thank her with a sigh of relief. I’m getting tired of seeing the walls of this camp for the past two weeks. I wouldn’t have been able to stand staying another week. She stands up to indicate that the meeting is over.

- "Can she have the rest of the day off?" Lucy asks finally. "She needs to rest."

I had forgotten about that detail. Wiegman looks at me for a moment, as if judging whether I deserve it or not.

- "I’ll give her the day off, and you as well for taking care of her last night. I’ll also grant you tomorrow off so you can recover. You’ll spend that time in Bronze and Engen’s office. Make good use of it... like catching up on your studies, for example, since it seems your new course isn’t your strong suit."

I’m surprised by her decision. This means I won’t have classes for the rest of the week. It’s surprising coming from het, considering she hates when her students skip classes.

- "Thank you..."

- "I hope I won’t see you back here anytime soon."

I smile and shake the hand she offers. I wait for Lucy to do the same before leaving that dreadful office. I was ready to go, but Lucy stops me. We watch as my mother and Wiegman chat like old friends.

- "At least say goodbye before you disappear for good," Lucy tells me.

I sigh but nod. After all, she did come all this way for me, so the least I can do is say goodbye. She eventually joins us, closing the office door behind her.

- "I’d like to invite both of you to lunch if you’d like. Sarina has given her approval, of course. I’d really like to get to know the person who has transformed my daughter."

I didn’t expect this offer. I look to Lucy to indirectly gauge her response. She smiles at me before nodding.

- "I’d be happy to, Mrs. Batlle," she replies.

- "How about we drop the formalities? And call me Abby, I’ve told you that already."

- "Alright... I’ll try. But we should probably change before we go. I doubt a uniform will make a good impression outside," she chuckles.

- "Oh yes, of course."

- "Wait for us in the parking lot, we’ll be right there," I tell her.

- "Oh... It’s just that I don’t have a car, I came by taxi."

- "I’ll be driving," Lucy chuckles. "My car is over there. It’s better if you wait for us at the entrance. It’ll be easier for you."

- "You don’t mind driving?"

- "Not at all. I know the city, so it’ll be more convenient."

- "That’s true. Well, I’ll wait for you at the entrance then."

- "We’ll be there in a moment."

She agrees, saying we can take our time. We go our separate ways. I wait until we’re far enough away before talking to Lucy.

- "I can’t believe she suggested such a thing."

- "See? She just wants to make an effort."

- "I hope it goes well..."

- "There’s no reason for it to go badly if you stay calm."

- "Hmm... But it’s only nine o’clock..." I sigh. "We’ll have to keep ourselves busy until lunch."

- "That’s not so bad. It’ll be a chance to reconnect."

- "Great..."

- "You’re not the one who should be complaining. I’m going to spend the day with my mother-in-law, who doesn’t know I exist. I wouldn’t want to see her face the day she finds out I’m your girlfriend."

I chuckle, imagining the shocked expression my mother will probably have when she eventually finds out. I really should tell her that I’m bi someday. It’s about time. I’m an adult now, so she won’t have much to say about it. Besides, there’s a good chance I’ll move out after school if my relationship with Lucy continues. My life and my loved ones are here now.

- "We’ll see... In the meantime, let’s face this day. It’s going to be very... amusing," I say sarcastically.

Lucy chuckles, ruffling my hair. She doesn’t realize how much I’m dreading this day. To think I was supposed to be resting... I have a feeling it’ll be quite the opposite. Only time will tell in what way.

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life”

“If I had someone like you”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART FOUR

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Max makes amends for his wrong ways, reader forgives him, Max’s declares some very crazy things- however reader has something crazier that he doesn’t take too kindly.

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, soft max, angry max, fake relationship, mentions of J.Verstappen, Google translate, NO PROOF READ!! , maybe reader being a dick?

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/N/N (Your Nickname)

Word count: 4,137

Inspo: It hurts me- Elvis Presley (Song)

A/N: So a month later and we have this, please enjoy! I need to get me a Max. I’m sorry it’s terrible I just had such readers block- and yeah there’s no excuse for it being bad.

Well of course Max and Kelly was the talk of the weekend. Some pleased they was back together, others not so much… myself included- mine was out of pure jealousy.

I avoided Max like the plague, hid in the most random spots to avoid any contact with him-

The second most spoke about during the weekend was me and Lando, people pining us together. I love Lando dearly, and he loves me- but strictly platonic, even the thought of anything more makes me cringe.

Every so often he would bring the conversation up of moving back to London. And I would just brush it under the carpet, I wouldn’t lie and say I haven’t look at the odd apartments near home, or even considered moving back in with mum and dad, it just seems kind of the best thing for me and the baby- I have nobody at home expect Lando, and used to be Max…

“Y/N?” Glancing up like a deer in headlights I turned my head to Lando confused-

“Sorry, did you say something…” with and apologetic smile, I nervously picked at the pleats in my dress, looking back down at my lap.

“I said we’re about ten minutes away from your mum and dads”

“Oh- I can’t wait to see them.” Sighing I rested my head back in a bliss.

“Me neither it’s been a while-” laughing a little Lando turned a corner onto a familiar street. My childhood home standing bright and proud.

“Is it weird I’m nervous to see them again…”

“Of course not.”

Humming, Lando pulled up at the side of the road. And as if both thinking the same thing we glanced around at the many cars parked around nearby.

“Well if they’re throwing you a surprise welcome home party. It’s not much of a surprise.” In unison we both glanced at each other breaking out into a fit of giggles.

“Let’s go act surprised” rolling my eyes playfully we both got out the car creeping up the drive and knocking the door.

And within seconds it swung open revealing my mum, dad rushing down the hall in a hurry.

“There’s our little girl!” Smiling wide, I stepped indoors embracing them both tight.

“I have missed you both so much.” And just like that relief washes all over me, the calmness your parents can bring is a different kind. And I cannot wait to be able to give the same to my baby.

“And Lando! It’s been a minute!” Turning in their arms, reaching out and dragging him in.

“Your daughter has kept me miles away.” Another round of laughter rang out.

“Not the fact you’ve been playing cars all around the world kid” patting his back my dad swung his car over his shoulders dragging down the hall and out into the garden.

Mum turned around back to me smiling wide. “How’s the baby?” Her hands come up clutching my stomach.

“Oh well- they’re fine, a few more weeks and we should know the gender!” My face hurt from smiling so much. “Is dad okay?”

“Yes, honey- you know what his like he won’t tell you how excited he is.” Nodding my head as she waved it off.

“Come your dad got the barbecue out!”

“This is his way of showing his love? Cause he knows I love a barbecue-”Stepping out onto the patio, a loud cheer erupted, glancing up I laughed covering my face, and praying I looked surprised- I mean it still was a surprise the amount of family and friends here.

“Welcome home darling!” One at a time each family and friend greeted me some still doing their rounds on Lando.

Mum was right the barbecue was going, dad and my two uncles standing around it chatting, all three nursing a beer.

Truthfully I was in a bliss. I felt at ease- like once again the world was lifted off my shoulders- I could breathe without a care in the world.

That’s when it was decided for me… moving back home would benefit us. I had family here. The baby’s family is here- Max has no say in the baby’s choice all the time his playing stupid hot and cold- who have I really got back in Monaco? Just Lando now- just him and that’s the scary party, because even at times there’s no Lando.

“Y/N/N!!” Turning around to my mothers call, she gestured me over, excusing myself through the crowd I took her hand as she pulled me the last length.

“I think this is the first time his ever been late.”

“Who?” Looking up at the back door, on the patio, there he stood as always. Making the most grandest of entrances. Always, always showing up unexpectedly- And once again popping that little balloon of happiness.

“Why is he here?” All the colour drained from my face, replaced with a bright red- rage fuelling within me- with a hint of sadness and embarrassment.

“He is your friend right? Or do we class him family how long you’ve known each other- I know you see him more often than us lot but still.”

Creeping down the steps my dad was quick to greet him along with other family members, Lando giving him a curt nod of acknowledgment, then turning his head to me in shock. Mouthing a quick “you ok?”

“Max, how are you honey?” Pulling him into an embrace, his eyes landed on mine.

“I’m okay, how have you been?” Rubbing her shoulders they both pulled away from on another.

Taking him in- he looked rough, his eyes were dull, complimented with nice bags underneath clearly from a lack of sleep, he still tried and made himself look presentable his hair styled back, though a loose strand fell out onto his forehead- yet he wore it well. His smile didn’t really quite reach his eyes like he was holding back or had no energy to do so- and yet despite seeming so frazzled he looked so good. And I hate that.

“I’m good! I’m going to be a grandmother! As you know-” giggling happily turning back towards me, her hand reaching up to my arm in a comforting way.

“I know- I’m very excited!” Smiling shyly he rubbed his forearm, taking a quick glance at me again.

“I’m thinking it’s going to be a girl.” She started rubbing my belly once again, my eyes were only focused on Max, I couldn’t get any words out. “You know what I’m like Max, some say I’m a witch for how correct I am with these things!”

“Either way, longs their healthy right”

“Either way, I think you and Lando would force them into racing!” Nudging his arm Max laughed a little.

“Well they’ve got Verstappen blood, I doubt we would have to force them that much.”

My eyes grew wide as I stared at Max, before looking at my mum. Then back at Max. Then back to mum.

“Verstappen blood?” Confused my mum glanced between us both, all three of us looking at one another in turns.

“Why your bl-” pausing- her finger pointed at us both, her eyes growing wider by the second, a gasp falling from her.

“Your the fath-”

“Shhhhh!” Cutting her off, I waved my hands infront of her.

“You haven’t told your parents…?” Mumbling quietly max lowered his head slightly.

“Have you told yours?” Now back glaring at Max. He slowly nodded his head.

“That’s what I’ve been needing to talk to you about.” Sheepishly he looked down at the small gift bag in his hands. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself I turned back to my mother holding her hands.

“Mum please- don’t tell anyone okay. Not until I’m ready…”

“What about your father?”

“I’ll tell him later. I promise…” Pausing I looked back at Max. “You.” Jabbing my finger into his chest. “Indoors now.” Picking my dress up slightly I hurried indoors trying not to draw so much attention, or give off that I’m absolutely raging inside-

Once in the kitchen, I looked back at max standing over the other side of the table who was wearing a small genuine smile.

“That wasn’t funny at all Max. So wipe that smile off your face”

“Just happy to see you again…” he placed the gift bag onto the table.

“Cut the crap. And just talk.”

Raising his hands in defence he pulled a chair out for me to sit before sitting down himself.

“How have you been?”

I think if looks could kill, Max would’ve been killed roughly 33 times.

“How have I been?”

“You know, in general… the pregnancy- how’s the baby been?” The tension grew as his sentences become frantic and rushed.

Kinda cute him being nervou- No Y/N his not cute. His a dick.

Clearing his throat he put his hands up once again in surrender.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you since, well after we was at yours…” raising his eyebrows, trying to hint at the last night we shared. Staring at him for a few moments, I then slid into the chair he pulled out, finally accepting the conversation. Truthfully a part of me just wanted to be in his presence, is it bad of me for enjoying being the centre of his attention… maybe.

“Then why didn’t you?” Crossing my arms over my chest I leant back into the chair.

“Well- so as I said, I told my parents… my mum was-” my heart skipped a beat or two, praying that the response was all good- kinda hoping they was excited it’ll make this whole thing easier- “There’s no words I think she cried for about an hour, she like jumped on me!” Chuckling a little at the memory a smile still playing on his lips. “My dad however… not so much.” And just like that the smile was gone, and my heart dropped- one out of two.

“He said a baby out of wedlock wasn’t something he wanted of me, told me to keep it a secret… kinda filled my head with crap and made me believe I shouldn’t do this… or I couldn’t do this like, be a dad- and that’s where Kelly comes into this.”

I hated her name rolling of his tongue, I would’ve rather had a drop of poison. The jealousy churned my stomach.

“It’s fake- all of it with us… I mean I know it’s fake, I think she is getting a little to comfortable.” Fiddling with his hand infront of him he looked up at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… my dad had told me I needed to cut contact with you… that it’ll be easier- that way, just like move on and I kinda believed him- I thought I wasn’t good enough to be a dad, yet being around my nephews- makes me want a baby even more, and that’s when I realised the mistake I made… if you don’t forgive me I understand, I wouldn’t either. But I really hope you can find it in your heart somewhere to… or even just let me be apart of our baby’s life- I want to be a dad, so fucking much, I feel like it’s meant for me” truthfully he tugged at my heart strings, maybe it’s the hormones… but could I really forgive him that easy? Life’s been hell-

“Why didn’t you just call?…”

“Someone blocked you and I couldn’t figure out how to undo the block!!” Frustrated he pulled his phone out. And as angry as I once was- nothing could beat the smile slowly forming at his stupidity. Who doesn’t know how to unblock someone?!

“Please show me how it’s been driving me insane- I even searched up online but I couldn’t figure it out!” sliding his phone across the table. I looked up at him taking in his face once again... and just like always he was again forgiven.

“You swear you want this Max?” Biting my lips I picked at my dress once again, praying he says the words I want to hear.

Looking up from his phone, scrambling his hands over the table he quickly reached over holding onto my hand with both of his.

“More than anything in the world. I promise” his eyes spoke of pure genuine.

“This is the last time I forgive you. I swear on this Max- the last time” Squeezing his hand I stood up from the table making my way back to the garden.

“Y/N? The gift-” Max was following behind holding the bag out. Glancing down at it then back up at him I took it gingerly.

Pulling out a wrapped box from inside the bag, a small ribbon tied around in both pink and blue. Max took the bag placing it onto the table before taking the box from my hands holding it for me to pull the lid off.

Inside was a beautiful crystal set, of three bears- engrave on them was my name on one, max name on another and the baby bear still empty.

“Once we have a name I can go get it engraved on there-”

“Thank you Max.” Gulping, I felt my cheeks warm- how can something like three little bears make me well up so quickly. Closing the box back up I took it from his hands hugging it close to my chest. “It’s beautiful- thank you.”

“I think your beautiful…” his hand reached up brushing a strand of hair out my face…

“I’m sorry for everything.”

“We will see-” stepping back from his touch squeezing the box a little tighter.

“Also get Lando to look at your phone, I’m sure you both need a catch-up.” Smiling a little, reaching out and rubbing his arm gently, he nodded in response.

“I’ll prove myself- honest.” Stepping around me he headed out into garden, possibly going to find Lando.

Placing the box on the table I took a few deep breaths. One parent happy another not- my mum just found out who the dad is, my father doesn’t have a clue… Max is back, and his not technically single-

And me- I want to scream, I so wanted ti hate Max, but how can I? I don’t think I ever can hate him that’s the truth.

“Darling, you okay?” Turning around there my mum stood in the doorway smiling softly. And that was all that was needed for me to let the tears go.

“No-” I felt my lip start to tremble as she rushed in shutting the door behind her.

“Oh honey, sit down-” smiling sadly I took a seat once again, my mum pulling a chair around and in front of me.

“Talk to me-”

Taking a few deep breaths, I straightened my back, “where do I start-” we both giggled leaning into each other.

“You and Max? That’s a start-”

“Well if you mean what happened, we was both drunk mum, it really was a mistake- that happened twice” looking around awkwardly avoiding her wide eyes, “Max has been a bit difficult, his been a bit of a no show- and then after the second night we spent together- he completely cut me out, and seeing him today has been the first time in a while and well… as you know I didn’t want to see him.” Pausing I looked back at mum, “but I’m glad you did now because I found out the truth- his dads not happy were having a baby out of marriage. His mums happy- but his dad has basically forced a relationship onto him and told him to basically leave me and this baby- and Max believed it at first and he is saying now he realises that he wants to be a dad.” Huffing out a breath, I smiled finally wiping my face.

“And ontop of it all- I don’t know what to do- but I got this thing to figure out and it’s either for the better or, it’s failed, you know…”

“Well, that’s a lot to take in…” smiling she brushed my hair out my face, just like Max done not longer than five minutes ago. “Well, I’m pleased to know who the dad is, I’m glad it’s someone like Max even though his been acting silly… he is a sweet boy. And he deserves this family you are both creating.” Squeezing my hand reassuringly she continued. “But make it his last chance-”

“Mum- I don’t know if the other problem is going to ruin that whole family dynamic.”

“Honey, your a family for a reason, families are there for each other no matter what.” Standing up she rubbed my shoulders.

“Did you want to talk about your other problem?”

“No no, I think we have sort of covered it…” waving her off I stood up also.

“We better head out honey, hopefully everyone will start leaving-”

Smiling at each other, we linked arms heading back out into the garden.

And as if summoned Max was at my side, staying true to his word of proving himself.

“I got you a drink.” Holding the glass out to me, i accepted it smiling a little. “Thank you-”

My mum leant through and gave Max a tight hug whispering in his ear- whatever she said made him smile, a cute shy smile-

“Thank you.” Pulling back from each other, mum excusing herself.

“Did you want any food?” Both looking over at the barbecue, my stomach churned.

“No I feel like being sick…” laughing a little I sipped at my drink trying to hold down any sickness.

“Need me to get you anything?-” wide eyes he rubbed my shoulder gently. “Max, relax- your making me feel even more sick with all the questions.” Smiling a little, I moved past him going to sit down.

And within seconds him and Lando was both sitting down either side of me.

“So when you telling your dad?”

“What?” Looking over at Lando then over to Max.

“Well Max said your parents didn’t know and now your mum knows so when you telling your dad.

“Later.” Looking over at my dad I sighed, waving my hand infront of my face.

“You okay?” Max asked once again.

“I’m fine- just a little hot.” Max started waving his hand also in front of me.

“Why don’t we go indoors?”

“I’m fine.” Drinking my drink once again it was now Lando’s turn to pipe in.

“If you feel hot maybe we should sit in the shade?”

“I need 5 minutes.” Standing up I rushed off away from them both. And straight to my dad.

“You want some food darling?” My dad smiled at me hand resting on my arm.

There was bare to none food left, everyone had got there quickly. And just as quickly I shook my head.

“Dad can everyone go now-” swallowing I looked around at everyone- I don’t know when but at some point it got too much. The heat, the sickness, the problem. All of it.

“Err, sure honey.” His head darted around as he found a spot to put his beer down, and one by one, people started migrating out, giving me waves from a distance and a smile.

I was grateful, my dad really served- I felt guilty ending the day short but I just wanted a moments peace… and once everyone was gone and everywhere was cleaned up.

Well I say everyone gone- Max and Lando both defused leaving, sitting back down on the outside furniture and engaging in more conversation.

With them distracted I went down into the garden a little more, sitting at the little table and chair there. Under a tree with a lovely breeze blowing through and calming me. I was at peace.

My hand subconsciously rested onto my stomach, and the thought of knowing my baby was there, calmed me even more.

“Hey…” awaking me I glanced over my should at Max.

“Hi-”

“Can I sit?” Nodding over the chair, I nodded along clearing my throat.

“Sorry about kicking everyone out early.”

“Why you apologising?” Tutting and shaking his head, he sat down across the small rounded table.

“Just feel bad…”

“Don’t even begin to feel bad-”

“I already do-” laughing a little I leant towards the table, or more towards Max… the table definitely the table.

“How you feeling now?”

“A lot better…” pausing I looked down at my hands, fiddling with them.

“I need to speak to you about something…” looking back up at Max, his eyes were already on me as he nodded.

“I need to tell you something too-” smiling a little, I nodded my head.

“Okay well I’ll start-“

“Y/N I love you, not just as a friend or best friend- I think I genuinely love you.” I watched as he swallowed hard, my heart pounded, begging to be released and handed to him to look after.

“I’m moving back here-” I don’t know why- I could’ve said I love you back or, thank you- but no I chose to potentially ruin any moment we was about to have, his face hadn’t changed- I had no idea if he even heard me- he was like frozen in place.

“Max?”

“So let me get this straight. I tell you I love you- And your telling me you’re going to move across country, take my baby with you, and be hours away from me? When I’m trying to make emends for the things I’ve done.”

Nodding my head slowly, I chewed at my bottom lip.

“Right- so.” He paused turning away looking across the garden.

“Are you doing this out of spite of what I’ve done?”

“What? You seriously think it’s like that-”

“It’s how it seems.”

“No Max it’s not. Your never in Monaco, who is to say you’ll get 5 minutes when I go into labour or when the baby is here? My family are here at least I’ll have someone while your gone- do you understand that.”

Getting up from my chair I moved to stand in front of him, catching his attention.

“I have people here always… your never around. And you don’t realise how terrified I am to do this Max… I’m basically doing this alone and I’m so scared.” Once again the tears built up, rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m scared, what if I don’t know how to be a mum? And our baby won’t exactly have a dad around permanently- his in different countries all year round never home- what if this baby doesn’t feel loved enough Max? I’m so scared that this baby won’t realise how much it’s loved by us- it’s okay saying it but they need to be shown it-” letting out a sigh of relief, looking down at him I quickly wiped my face.

“So don’t judge me for helping our baby.” Max’s hands were covering his mouth, rubbing his face slowly, seeming like his staring past me. “I just feel like, every time I get close I’m really falling backwards…”

“Exactly how I’ve been feeling with you-” sniffling I wiped my face once again, Max finally sat up straight looking up at me.

“Let me help- atleast…” Max hands reached up taking mine and slowly pulling me closer, and like the sheep I was I followed along, now standing between his legs.

“I got it all covered…” lying through my teeth, Max already knowing- shaking his head. His hands slid to my hips, guiding me to perch onto his leg.

“Just let me take care of you-” it was like being in a trace, the way I just followed whatever Max done. “I’m okay…” it was like another comfort blanket, I curled up on top of Max, his arms around me securely, I knew he was still annoyed the heavy breathing gave it away. “Please stop fighting me… I want to try and accept this some way-”

“Okay…” sighing I closed my eyes, now finally accepting peace.

“I love you too max… always have.” Pausing once again, I leaned back looking up at him, “But you aren’t mine to have exactly…”

“Don’t- go there, I need to get my whole situation sorted, I just wish like-”

“Like what?”

“If I had someone like you- life would be a lot easier.”

“In a prefect world” laughing a little I rested my head back onto his chest. “I’m sorry”

“What did I tell you about apologising?”

“Not to do it…”

“Then don’t. It makes sense you being here, our baby ne-”

“Your baby?” Sitting up I turned around Max head basically snapped as he looked over.

And there stood dad.

“Well, I beat you to telling your parents.” Max mumbled guiding me off his lap, both standing in front of dad who stood there with two teas in hand. And a face like pure thunder…

A/N: Okay, sooooo Max is forgiven once again!!! How we feeling about the reader back in the UK? Orrrrr do we have a moment we’re the reader if about to leave and Max changes her mind? Keeps her in Monaco? Hmmm, anyways I hope you enjoyed a sorry it’s been so long!

Masterlist

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

[wandering-winchesters]

Nightmares

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The reader has a nightmare and Dean is there to wake her. After, he questions what caused the nightmare.

Trigger Warning: Mention of abuse, death and implied assault.

Word Count: 2,331

A/N: I wrote this for myself, I have been in my feelings a lot recently and needed an outlet. I hope you find comfort in it as well. Requests are open x.

Masterlist

Fear does not even get close to describing how I feel at this very moment. The face leering above me, should be impossible. He couldn’t be here, it’s just not possible. He died. Not at my hands, but I watched it happen. 

“Miss me?” He whispers, the s, whistling when he speaks. His hands come up to grab my face, his touch burning my skin, although no marks appear. “‘Cuz I missed you,” He grins now, pulling me closer to him. Rage fills my every nerve, I try to strike him, bite him anything. But I can’t, my body seems paralyzed. He laughs, the shrill, evil sound bringing back all sorts of cruel memories. I scream, and suddenly it's all ripped away. 

“Hey, wake up. It’s okay, you’re okay.” I sit straight up, pulling away from the hands that are shaking my body. Falling straight onto the floor, completely disoriented and unable to distinguish where I am. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” I yell, scurrying backwards across the floor until my back hits the wall. Panicking, I reach around to find something, anything that I could use as a weapon. Nothing. My hands are empty. My breathing is shallow, my chest tight and my throat burning from the screams that had left my mouth moments before. The room is pitch black, but I know he’s still there. The light clicks on and I immediately focus on the other person in the room. His hands raised, to show they were empty. His head cocked slightly to the side, a look of avid concern engraved into every inch of his face.

“Hey, it’s just me, Y/N.” He says, his voice low and calm. Recognition sweeps across my body, my eyes lock onto his and I relax. Dean. It’s just Dean. He must see me relax, because he drops his hands back to his side and approaches me. He reaches down, extending both his hands, offering them to me silently. I thank him quietly, and take them. Letting him pull me to my feet and then into his embrace. I willingly sink into his arms, allowing his scent to overwhelm me. The sound of his heart beat a comforting constant rhythm, causing my own to slow. I tuck my head under his chin, resting it fully against his bare chest. He doesn’t question it, just brings a hand to the back of my neck, weaving it into my hair and scrunching his fingers. Playing with my hair in the way that he knows calms me.  His other hand is on the small of my back, tracing circles and holding me pressed against him. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not daring to pull away or even attempt to move. I am positive that if I tried to stand on my own, my legs would give out from beneath me. 

“Don’t be, I was awake anyways.” A lie and we both know it. However, neither of us choose to debate it. “You wanna talk about it?” He asks, pulling back slightly so he can look down at me. I glance back up at him, sleep still heavy throughout all his features. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to speak. He nods in understanding, not pushing me any further. 

He loosens his grip on me, his hand hand from my neck dropping, but leaves the one on my back. He guides me back towards my bed, I sit on the edge, my knee bouncing. 

“You can go back to bed, De. I’m okay now.” I glance up at him, his face clearly showing that he knows I am lying. He doesn’t argue, nods his head and presses a kiss to my forehead. Something he does often, even though we aren’t together. 

“I’m not far if you need something.” He says, before turning and closing my bedroom door behind him. 

I wrap my arms around my core, trying to calm myself. Something I have done since I was a small child, but nothing seems to stop it now. I lay down, wrapping myself up in every blanket I can find, in hopes of warming my chilled body. Even though I know, the chill is internal, not something the warmest fire or blanket could resolve. According to the clock on my bedside table, I lay there for thirty minutes, restless and sleep evading my grasp. I sigh and toss my blankets to the side, clamoring out of my bed and over to the door leading to the hallway of the bunker. 

The lights are still on, someone is still up. I hear noise coming from the library and decide to head that way. I make a pit stop in the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, I figure whichever brother is still awake will appreciate a cold beer if they’re still awake this late. My feet are cold, the tile floor sending a chill through my body. I should have brought one of the blankets from my bed with me, but I am not going back to get one now. I round the corner into the library and see Dean, slouched in the corner of the couch, one leg outstretched, the other planted firmly on the floor. On the couch that the boys had dragged in there specifically for me to curl up on, while I read up on whatever lore necessary for the next hunt. The TV is turned on, some old movie playing quietly on the screen. He sees me coming and chuckles, I am a sight, I’m sure. My hair pulled up in a messy bun, sleep shorts hugging my hips and one of Dean’s well worn shirts adorning my body. I offer him a sheepish smile, handing him one of the beers. He shifts his body, so I can sit comfortably next to him. He pops the cap off his beer, taking a sip before turning to face me, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. I settle into the corner, leaning back and crossing my legs under me. I look down at the beer in my hand and debate on whether I want to struggle with the lid or just ask him for help. I choose the latter, I hold it out to him and shake it back and forth, gently. “Help, please?” I say, a small smile forming on my lips. He laughs again, reaching over and popping the bottle top off easily. Handing it back to me, but not before giving me crap about not being old enough to drink if I can’t get the lid off. I roll my eyes at him, but thank him all the same. We sit in silence for awhile, watching the movie play out before us. I have no idea what was happening, but I was thankful for his company nonetheless. I feel his eyes on me every so often, glancing at me before focusing back on the television. 

“Y/N,” He breaks the silence, I look over at him and he is focused on me now. His beer mostly gone, I can tell he has questions. Things he wants me to clarify and it makes anxiety bubble up within me. 

“You want another beer? I’ll go get it.” I say, standing quickly and moving to take his almost empty bottle. “What? No, sit down.” He sighs, grabbing my arm as I go to take his beer. I comply, knowing that I owe him an explanation. I sit back on the couch, returning to my prior position. I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and pull it over me, a barrier between myself and the outside world. 

“You were talking in your sleep before you screamed, something about how he should be dead? You watched him die yourself? And then you screamed and, god, I have never heard that sound come from you before. What was that one about, sweetheart? Did something happen to you? Something you haven’t told me?” He poses the questions gently, his eyes watching me for any reaction or glimmer of an explanation. I stare at my lap, my hands coming up to rub my arm, a method of self soothing that I had adopted long ago. 

“De, I, I don’t know where to start.” I mumble, stuttering over my words in the beginning. My throat feels closed off and it is difficult to speak. My eyes flutter closed as a flash of memory floods my brain. The hard floor pressed against my back, the metal digging into my wrists, his face hovering above me. The things he had done, mostly unknown by myself at that moment in time. My consciousness fleeting in and out, thanks to the concussion he had given me in the process of breaking my will. 

“Hey,” Dean rests his hand on my knee, snapping me back to reality with a jolt. “you’re not there, wherever your thoughts are. You’re here, with me and you’re completely safe.” He says, his thumb moving back and forth over my skin. I nod, clearing my throat. 

“Dean, do you remember when your dad called you and told you that he needed you to come get me and keep me with you for awhile?” I ask and Dean nods, his lips curving up in a slight smile. 

“A call, I will forever be thankful for.” He states and I smile back, momentarily distracted and reminded of the day when Sam and Dean showed up outside of the motel room John had left me in.

“What he didn’t tell you was why. Your dad found me, he was hunting a demon. That demon happened to be possessing my boyfriend at the time. What I didn’t realize is that the entire time I was with him, he was possessed. I fell for all of his tricks, all of his advances, sweet nothings and every promise he made me. He had an easy time of it, he promised me an escape from my family. I was desperate to get out, so when an attractive, seemingly kind man offered me that, I jumped at the opportunity. It didn’t take long after I moved in with him for everything to change. He became cruel, snapping at me over the smallest things. Controlling what I did, who I could see.” I pause, taking a shaky breath. Dean squeezes my knee giving me the courage to continue. “If I didn’t do what he wanted or if I talked back, he would beat me…” Over the next few minutes I go into more detail of the things that he would do to me, the way he treated me and the closed brushes with death that I experienced. I don’t even realize that tears have started to fall from my eyes, until Dean brushes one away with his thumb. His face unreadable, but his body tense. 

“The night your dad found me, was the closest I ever came to death. I watched your dad kill him. He used one of the bullets from the colt to kill him, in the process killing the body that the demon possessed. I don’t know who he was, or anything about him but his face haunts me, almost every night. I wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for your dad. If you hadn’t come to get me when he asked, I don’t know what would have happened to me or where I would be now. I think he knew that, which is why he had you two come get me. Take me in.” I exhale, my breathing accelerated now, a small sob escaping my lips. The feeling of getting everything off my chest and out into the open a relief, one that I never thought I would get. I drop my head into my hands my tears flowing freely now, sobs emanating from deep within me. 

“C’mere.” Dean mutters, his hands gripping my ankles and pulling me across the couch towards him. He pulls me into his arms, his hand pulling my head into his chest and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Ive always known there was a reason for what dad did, but I never expected it to be that. The demon is lucky that he’s already dead, otherwise he would have absolute hell to pay.” He murmurs, his lips moving against my forehead, his words soft but the anger showing through them. 

“I didn’t want you to think less of me, Dean. I thought that if you knew then you would look at me differently, think of me as weak. That you wouldn’t let me come with you and Sammy on hunts.” I say, pulling my body closer to his, the need for comfort overwhelming any other thought in my head. 

“I could never think any less of you, Y/N. You are one of the most amazing people I know and I am so lucky to have you in my life. Please never doubt that, baby.” His words shock me, especially the use of baby. He has called me sweetheart many times, out of comfort or teasing. But never anything else. 

“Dean?” I ask, my voice timid and quiet. He hums in response, looking down at me. “Thank you, for listening. For waking me up from my nightmare and comforting me. I couldn’t have gotten through tonight without you.” I look up at him, our eyes locking. I rest one of my hands on his cheek, angling his face towards me. I inhale, steeling my nerves and lean up, closing the distance between our lips. I hesitate, close enough to almost taste him, close enough I can feel his breath against my lips. He leans down, closing the distance and kisses me. It is unlike any kiss I have had in the past, its slow, meaningful and there is no hint of an ulterior motive. Just this, just a kiss. Just me and him. It’s enough, I’m enough. 

[rafedaddy01]

Part 1 Part 2

Rafes pov:

This girl. Damn it. I can’t believe she let me take advantage of her like this. I’m such an asshole. Fuck! What the fuck was I thinking.

Normally I would not care about violating a girl like that, but fuck me.. something about this girl has me hooked.

Since the first night I saw her swaying her ass at toppers party I knew she’d have me pussy whipped

And she did just that.

I even tried avoiding her for a week after that but she just had to bump into me.

I just dropped her off at home and I can’t believe it but I miss her

It’s not even about sex anymore, don’t get me wrong I will turn her into a little sex kitten, but it’s more than that.

Her hair, her eyes, her lips, her body, every fucking thing about her is perfect. And she’s mine.

When I found out she was a virgin I can’t lie I was happy. It means that nobody’s even touched her and the fact that I did and get to be her firsts just has my cock hard

I get home and get into bed, I probably shouldn’t call her, it’s too soon

And just like that I find myself listening to her soothing voice. Goddamn it this is hard

“I had fun tonight” her voice is the voice of an angel.

“I did too” I answer back

“When can I see you again?” She almost whines, it makes my cock stir

“Tomorrow kitten. Tonight you need to rest” I tell her as I imagine her laying next to me and stroking my cock

The first time I met her she was so shy but after I fucked her she loosed up a bit and we spent the rest of the night talking about the most random things. She told me about her ambitions in life and I told her a little about myself. I didn’t tell her what a psycho I am and all the shit my family, my father, does but I’m sure she knows.

“Sleep tight, kitten” and with that we end the call

My dreams are filled of this girl who showed up out of no where and captured my heart.

*

It’s the next day and my kitten is sitting in the passenger side of my car as we look at the view in front of us

“It’s so pretty” she says as she leans her head on the seat

“What do you say we try something new tonight” I tell her

She turns to me and smiles “what’s that?” Her voice is a little raspy and by god if it doesn’t wake my cock up

“Have you ever given someone a blowjob?” My jaw clenches at the thought of another man touching her

“No” her voice breaks my focus

“But I’d love to suck yours” she flutters her eyelashes as I watch her shift into a more comfortable position and reach over the console

“C-can you tell me what to do?” Her cheeks flush and by god it’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen

I smirk as I get more comfortable and unbutton my jeans, freeing my aching cock

“Grab the base of it, kitten” she does “good”

“Now.. wrap those perfect lips around the tip and suck” I instruct her and watch as she does exactly what she’s told, darting her tongue out and licking my pre cum off the tip before wrapping her plump lips and sucking

I groan as I restrain to shut my eyes “good girl, keep sucking and when you feel more comfortable take more of me down your throat” I tell her as I bring a shakey hand to her hair and stroke it out of her face

Her eyes stay glued to me as she pushes more of me down her tight little throat, I watch with fire in my eyes as she sucks me perfectly. Her eyelashes flutter as I grip her hair and tug, she moans around my cock and I swear I’m ready to bust like a teenager getting sucked for the first time

“Fuck” I hiss out as I throw my head back, she continues working my shaft and licking as her teeth graze it and her hand grips the base as she slowly strokes what doesn’t fit in her mouth

“Shit, kitten, you’re so fucking good at that”

She hums in appreciation to my praise and that does it for me

“Fuck fuck fuck” I cry as my grip on her hair lessens and she takes me deeper, my cum spilling in her warm throat

She licks me clean as she pulls away and I watch the string of saliva drip down her chin, I wipe it with the pad of my thumb and stroke her cheek “you did so good”

“I did?” She gets all shy on me

I nod “you sure you’ve never done that before” I let out a breathy laugh, she shakes her head

“Put I enjoyed it” she says squirming in her seat

“Yeah? Just how much” I say as I trail my fingers up her thigh and between her legs, bunching up her dress as I do. I stifle a groan mixed with a moan when I come in contact with her drenched panties

“Holy fuck, kitten. Sucking my cock got you this wet” I ask her as I rub her through her panties

She leans her head back against the window and spreads her legs wider as her teeth sink into her bottom lip “yes”

Fuck me, this girl is gonna be the death of me

Part 4

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae

[thatonebirdwrites]

Aura

Follow-up to L-Corp, Chill, and Scotch (Lena's POV) and Catco and Family (Kara's POV) and Kara and Heat and Plumerias and Ink

Sam exudes an aura of concern when she returns from picking Ruby up from soccer practice. The text Lena had sent about the texts had been nebulous at best, and she had felt too exhausted to do much more than send an emoji in reply to Sam’s concern.

Lena lays tucked in with blankets on the sofa, her thick glasses perched on her nose, with a book on her lap. A glass of water sits on the table next to her along with a cup of tea, courtesy of Kara before she’d left Lena to rest. Not that Lena was particularly good at resting. Two schematics sit on the table with scribbled equations to calculate the geometry of a more energy efficient solar cell, and next to that the hologram ball that represented Hope crunched a simulation on impact of moss covered buildings over the next five years.

“Lena, how are you feeling?” Sam sits on the armrest, and her concern intensifies when Lena gives her a half-shrug in response. She glances at her daughter. “Ruby, can you check on the soup?” The earthy scent of the soup from Sam’s crockpot serenades the penthouse, which comforts Lena far more than she will admit.

“Yeah, sure.” Ruby pauses by the sofa. “Hi Aunt Lena.”

“Good evening, Ruby,” Lena raises a hand, but to her horror, she can’t hide the tremor, so she tucks her hand back under her blanket. Thankfully, Ruby doesn’t comment, as conscientious as her mother.

“How’d the doctor go?” Sam eyes her with a practiced look of a mother. “You’re paler than this morning.”

“Tests.” Lena pats her side where the heart device hangs. “Holter test for a month, blood tests will take a few days to tabulate, EMG today was irregular. I’m in a waiting period.” She attempts a smile, but she feels raw still. Sam, of course, sees through her, and her friend’s eyebrows scrunch even further, her lips pursed with worry. “I — I talked with Kara.”

“Already?” Sam frowns. “She couldn’t wait a day?”

“She happened to be nearby, and I insisted on it.” She tucks her bookmark into her spot and lays it on the table. “I — I miss her.” She laughs bitterly. “Even if I’m angry and hurt still.”

Sam gently pats her leg, still hidden under the blankets. “I could tell. Take your time, okay? You don’t have to rush anything.”

“Do I?” Lena looks down at her fingers, notes the yellow hue around her fingernails and paleness to her skin. She recalls her doctor’s face when she reviewed the EMG and listened to Lena’s heart — Dr. Quin had tried to school her face into neutral expression but not before a look of concern fluttered over her stern features. “I’ve been literally working myself to death. And bringing you and Ruby along for the ride. I’m sorry, Sam. You both deserve better.”

“Lena.” Sam shifts to her knees next to the sofa and grasps her hand. “You’re our family, okay? We’re just happy to be able to help. Just like you’ve helped us. So don’t worry about it. We got your back. Now will you eat some dinner? Eat some color back in your cheeks?”

Family. It’s such a strange word. In Lena’s life, family meant death, loss, manipulation, lies, and yet here is Sam and Ruby who exemplify the opposite of that. She still finds it strange, even as she seeks comfort within it.

Kara claims to want to repair, to never lie again, and so far, she has been truthful. Lena will give her that, but she’s also tired. She doesn’t want to sort through motivations or intentions to figure out who to trust.

“How do I trust her again, Sam?” She knows it’s an impossible question.

“Do you want to?” Of course Sam cuts to the bone. Her hand is warm over Lena’s and her gaze gentle, despite her words.

Lena nibbles on her lower lip. “I — yeah, I wish I could.”

“Then take it slow.” Sam squeezes her hand. “Your health comes first, hun.”

Third time that day someone says that to her, and Lena’s starting to get the hint. She leans back against the pillows again. “Fine. Refill my tea, will you?”

Sam’s smile soothes Lena, and serves as yet another reminder that she doesn’t have to face this alone. She does have people on her side.

<<….***…..>>

It’s a misty night, and a rainbow aura surrounds the moon. Lena shivers, despite the sweatshirt, the blanket tucked around her, and the hot mug of tea in her hands.

She’s ill, far more than she dares tell anyone. Sam suspects it, and Ruby fears it, considering the flowers and drawings Ruby had delivered the last two nights after school. Her attempts at soup has definitely gotten better, but when she’s at school and Sam at work, Lena is left alone with her thoughts.

Until Kara drops in to check on her. It’s been three days since their not-quite argument, and Kara insists on checking on her whenever possible.

She thinks of the phone call she had just an hour prior.

“We need you to return for further tests.” The nurse sounds calm, but she stresses the word 'return' heavily.

“Is this truly necessary? Surely an infusion should assist with my low iron and B12 and D.”

“It’s not just that that concerns us. We need to run viral and bacteria tests to make sure you don’t have Endocarditis or Myocarditis. Both could end up life-threatening if left untreated. It may be best to go to the Emergency—”

“I will not go to the hospital. Pencil me in for tomorrow, the earliest time you have.” Lena leans against her counter, the act of standing leaving her breathless, and her chest aches.

“Ms. Luthor, if your symptoms worsen, please go to the Emergency Department immediately. Otherwise, we have you down for nine am. Do you have any questions?”

“No.” As soon as she hangs up, Lena leaves her phone on the counter, face-down, collects her water, and snags a blanket. She curls into the balcony chair, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and watches the sun slowly set over the Pacific.

When the cape flutters and boots drop onto her balcony, she knows it’s Kara. “Checking on me again?” She doesn’t look at the Super, but keeps her gaze on the moon, the sun long set, and the stars starting their glittering appearances.

“Yeah. I — I just want to help.” She leans against the railing near Lena, and her suit evaporates into her glasses. “Do you need anything?”

“Tea would be nice,” Lena admits, “Since I’m not allowed to drink caffeine or scotch.” She’s a trifle bitter about this rule still. “An herbal mint blend is in the cabinet by the stove.”

“Okay. A pot of tea incoming.” Kara disappears inside, and Lena’s left with her thoughts again. Over and over, her brain reviews the data from the nurse, and it sinks her deeper into despair.

“Here you are, milady.” Kara bows and sets the pot of tea on a small side table to Lena’s left. The mug steams, and when Lena grasps it, the warmth provides a counterpoint to her wellspring of despair. “Did you get your results yet?”

Lena catches Kara’s intent gaze on her chest. “Yes.” She doesn’t want to share the results, but the way Kara tilts her head as if listening, she’s certain Kara knows anyway. She can hear Lena’s heart, which is a trifle unfair.

A not quite comfortable silence blooms between them. Lena sips her tea and watches as the aura forms around the moon. Gorgeous and transient, which feels like an apt metaphor for life. Well, maybe without the gorgeous part. Lena’s knows more sorrow and hurt than she does gorgeous and loving moments.

“Shouldn’t you be resting inside? It is fairly cool out here,” Kara says. She leans against the railing, that crinkle between her eyebrows.

Lena sips her tea and considers whether it’s worth throwing it at Kara. It wouldn’t be the first mug she’d chucked at Kara, but she’s too tired. Her body aches, her dizziness irritating, and she’s moved past anger and into a sullen contrariness. The mint and honey soothes her throat, but does little against the deep cold in her bones.

“It’s warmer for one…”

“Kara, stop.” Lena sighs and shakes her head. “I understand you are concerned for my well-being, but maybe let me have these small pleasures?” She attempts a smile, but even that feels too exhausting.

Kara snags the chair next to her. “I just don’t want you to overstress yourself.”

“Let me be the judge of that?”

“Lena, you didn’t listen to your body or any of us for months.” Kara gently lays a hand on her knee. “You asked me how could you learn to trust me again. So I ask you, how can I trust you with your health?”

Lena takes another sip. “I understand your point, but you’re the one who said trust must start somewhere.” The rainbow aura has such a lovely lensing effect due to the water droplets in the air. It’s such a rare sight for National City, and she wants to watch it for a trifle longer.

“So we’re just going to use each other’s words against one another,” Kara huffs.

Lena glances at her, and this time her smile is genuine. “If the shoe fits…”

“I never did understand that saying, you know.” Kara settled into a cross-legged position, her hand still on Lena’s knee. Her warmth sinks through Lena’s sweatpants, her thumb rubbing back and forth in an almost comforting way.

She should be angry still. Should order Kara to go home, but she finds she can’t. She doesn’t want to be alone. Tomorrow will be a horrible day, and she desperately wants some semblance of normalcy.

But she’s not sure anymore what that is for her and Kara. She drags her finger along the rim of her mug. “How was your day?” It feels stilted, awkward, but she hopes Kara can see that she’s trying.

Kara shrugs. “Another clickbait article. Though I did finally convince Andrea to let me cover an alien rally at the statehouse. They are asking for community gardens, inspired by your work actually.”

“Oh?” Lena can’t stop herself from looking at Kara, who is now looking up at the moon. The light plays across the planes of her face, and her beauty never fails to take the breath from her lungs. “How?”

“The way you’re turning buildings into moss carpets. They want some rooftop or alleyway gardens, or maybe even gardens that hang from the side of their apartments.” Kara gives her a timid smile. “There’s a lot of hunger in those communities since not all refugees can eat Earth’s food.”

Lena returns her gaze to the moon’s aura. “Perhaps I can fix that. I’d need a rundown on their digestive systems or at least a genetic profile of any food they can eat.”

“Lena…” A hint of awe filters into Kara’s voice. “You’d really do that for them?”

“I didn’t know it was a need,” she says, simply. No need to belabor the idea. “Food is essential, so why not find a way to meet their needs?” She shivers despite the blankets and takes another sip of her tea. “I need a project to keep my mind busy.”

“You also need rest.”

“Kara.” Lena gives a little laugh. “You’re as bad as Sam. I don’t need another mother.”

“Then what do you need?” Her thumb continues to rub Lena’s knee.

Lena takes a long sip from her tea. A cloud drifts across the moon, splinters the aura effect, and she’s left with only the muted glow of her balcony lights and the stars above. Her chest aches, not just because she’s ill, but also because she misses the easy warmth Kara and her had before their falling out, before she’d learned the truth from Lex.

She knows they can’t go back to the before. Too much has happened. Too much hurt between them, and yet they are still here, together on the balcony, unable to let go of one another. The bonds that bind them together, as frayed as they’ve become, still hold firm. That must mean something, right?

“Tomorrow I return to the clinic,” Lena says, softly, and looks into the amber liquid of her mug. “I’m not particularly good at this. Asking for support. Sam usually barges in on me and gives it. You seem to know innately whether I want it or not. Jack was like that too.” Tears prick her eyes. “It’s possible, if this next round of tests is positive, I’ll have to have surgery. Anemia and a likely heart infection.” Her lips twist in a mixture of a grimace and smile.

“Oh.” Kara’s hand briefly tightens on her knee. “Do you need someone there with you?”

“I — I’d like that. Work it out with Sam, please.” It hurts to say it, but relief trickles through her at the same time. “Tag-team it.”

“Okay. I can do that. Is it ok if the others send you cards? I know Kelly in particular has been very worried.”

“Kelly’s allowed to visit. The rest? I’m not quite ready yet.” She trusts Kelly, mostly because Kelly never lied to her. She had also stayed present with check-in texts since Lex’s death. “Give the cards to Sam for now.”

“Okay, will do. Is there anything else you need tonight?” The earnest worry in Kara’s expression melts some of the frost around Lena’s heart.

She drinks the last of the tea and puts the mug down. The fear of tomorrow’s tests curl through her, and she battles with herself. Does she dare ask? Dare let Kara close?

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. Kara’s cologne — a mixture of fruity and earthy that blends so well in Kara’s vicinity. God, why does she have to look and smell so damn good? Even in her weakened state, Kara has an electrifying effect on her.

“Hold me?” The words are little more than a whisper, but of course Kara hears her. She’s always been able to hear her, no matter where Lena is.

Warm and study arms curl around her, and Lena leans into Kara’s warmth. She closes her eyes, and basks in the comfort. The hurt hasn’t fully left, she doesn’t truly forgive Kara, but perhaps Kara is right. Small steps help.

<<….***…..>>

Fear of loss defines most of Kara’s life. She holds tightly to those she loved, trying desperately to keep them all alive. In doing so, she’s had to pay for her mistakes in painful ways. Her mind spins through them as she paces at the edge of the DEO’s control center, her cape whipping back and forth with each turn.

When she told Lena that she seeks repair, that she will be better for her, she means it. It’s for that reason she asks J’onn and Brainy about mind-healing since she doesn’t trust Earth's mind-healers due to her secret identity and alien nature. Her mind may be similar in some respects to humans, but there’s aspects most human therapists can’t even begin to fathom.

J’onn understands her loss, having lost his entire people too, and his sessions involves the use of Brainy’s tech to refile her traumatic memories. To avoid triggering her, Brainy and J’onn set it up like a library, which Kara finds endearing. She spent a lot of her teen years in libraries, reading everything she could find to better understand her new world.

Sure, this therapy has been helping, but at the same time it leaves her feeling out of sorts. Add in Lena’s worsening condition, she struggles to hold back her panic.

Between her other duties and visiting Lena, Kara does laps around the world to calm herself. As a further distraction, she flies down in time to stop or lessen the destruction of disasters. She’s saved more people in the past few months than the prior year combined.

What else can she do to distract herself? Andrea proves a grueling and unrelenting boss, and her assigned articles no longer brings Kara any joy. Her Supergirl investigations currently centers around who used a phantom zone projector to unleash random, very angry aliens on the populace. She’s already investigated three potential signals, but her and her team is always a step too late to catch the interloper.

She desperately wants to put all that aside and focus only on Lena. She doesn’t, mostly because Lena will scold her for failing to do her duty. Kara will endure any fight if it means a step toward reconciliation.

She needs Lena, and she is not going to lose Lena, not without a fight.

“Kara, if you don’t stop pacing, you’ll carve a canyon in my center,” Alex says, irritated. “If you’re worried about Lena, just go bother her.”

“She’s resting.” Kara stops her pacing by the line of chairs and computers. Most of the technicians left for the evening, but Brainy works with two over some sort of scanning protocol. The hum of machines simmer at the edge of her hearing.

“What’s going on with her?” Alex looks over one of the screens, but her attention is split between it and Kara.

“I can’t share much,” Kara admits. “She’s ill, and tomorrow morning Sam and I’ll tag-team staying with her.” She runs a hand through her hair. “She might need surgery.”

“Surgery? Jesus, Kara.” Alex turns to her, her hands on her hips. “It’s gotten that bad?”

Kara nods. “Alex, I can’t lose her.” Tears sting her eyes, and she blinks them away, unwilling to let the DEO’s workers see her crying. "I -- I love her so much." It's the second time she's admitted it out loud.

"Oh, Kara." Alex sweeps her up in a hug. “You won’t. She’ll get through this. She always does.”

It’s a hollow comfort, but Kara appreciates it still. She takes a deep breath and briefly rests her head on her sister’s shoulder.

She thinks of how Lena asked to be held, how fragile Lena felt in her arms, and how pale she looked when Kara helped her back to her sofa. She’d stayed only until Sam’s return, then left silently.

She pulls away with a sad smile. “Thanks, Alex. I won’t be available tomorrow morning, but let’s see if we can make some progress tonight.”

Her sister nods and grasps her shoulder. “Good. We have a lead. A warehouse by the docks.”

<<....***.....>>

Sam insists on driving Lena to her appointment. Neither of them speak. Sam seems to be waiting on her, but no words form in Lena’s head. How can she articulate the fear? It’s hard enough to rely this much on others, all because of her failure to care for her body properly.

When Sam parks, she finally speaks, her tone casual, but her expression holds worry in her forehead and eyebrow crinkles. “So, I can get a wheelchair for you. Less energy used that way.”

“Okay.” Lena hates the idea, but the fight in her has bled away during the restless night.

Sam breathes in sharply. “No argument? Damn, Lena, it’s bad, isn’t it?”

She shrugs. It’s not an answer, but Sam’s always been perceptive, reading her body language like it’s a book.

“All right. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Lena shrugs again. She briefly closes her eyes to fight the urge to weep again.

She hates how weak she feels, how much her chest hurts, how lightheaded and dizzy she is. Sure, maybe she should have gone in late last night, when the chest pain worsened, but emergency departments are not her favorite place. Too much exposure, too much room for mistakes due to how overworked most are.

The car door on her side opens, and Sam’s there with the wheelchair. She gently helps Lena into it.

She doubts anyone will recognize her, but still she wraps a scarf around her hair and slips on her glasses. Glasses had fooled her, so she figures it’ll fool others.

“I might need surgery,” she says, quietly, as Sam wheels her to the entrance. “If it goes badly, my will has been updated as of Tuesday. A copy sits in the locked desk drawer in my home office.” She plans to make sure Sam and Ruby are cared for by giving over half her wealth to them, and the rest split between several important charities and L-Corp’s educational grant programs. Only a small segment will go to Kara.

“Lena… it won’t come to that. Everything will go fine, and soon you’ll be up and walking, ready to tackle your next big project.” Sam’s tone is firm, as if she is willing this future into existence.

Lena’s never been an optimist, so she says nothing in reply.

[enchxanting]

our love is god [ethan landry] pt. 5

read part 4 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: major character death, depictions of murder/suicide

a/n: okay here we get to see the toxic psycho behavior start to come out! this part is so different from the last that it gave me whiplash to write. n e ways hope you like

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even before I turn over, I can feel Ethan’s eyes on me. 

He grins. “Hey, good morning,”

“Hi,” I say, sitting up against the backboard. “Have you been up very long?” I check the alarm. It’s relatively early still, only 8:15.

“No, no,” he says. “I just didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

There’s an awkward tension between us, neither quite knowing what to do now. Eventually, Ethan clears his throat. “So I, uh, I had a really special time with you last night, and I kinda want to keep hanging out? If you want to, I mean.”

“You mean like, go on some dates?”

“Um, yeah? If that’s cool?”

I don’t know if he’s ever asked a girl out before because he absolutely cannot look me in the eye, but his expression is so sweet that I lean over and gently kiss him. 

“That would be great.”

He smiles, and I almost lose myself in this moment, until I remember the rest of last night. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I say, untangling myself from his arms. “I gotta go see Tara.”

Ethan frowns. “Wait, why?”

“I have to apologize. She’s all alone right now, Sam left last night.”

“I don’t see why it’s your job to tell her you’re sorry, though,” he says. “She literally slapped you.”

I pull on some discarded jeans and a t-shirt. “It’s more complicated than that,” I sigh. “I don’t want this to become a big thing. Easier to just apologize now, you know?”

He gets up and wraps me in his arms, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Alright. At least let me drive you? It’s too far to walk right now.”

I know that it’s a bad idea to bring Ethan, but the feeling of his arms around me and the faded scent of his cologne is intoxicating. I can’t help but be persuaded.

“Fine, okay,” I say. “Thank you.”

He gives me one more quick kiss on the neck before pulling away to get dressed.

***

Usually, the drive to Tara’s is ten minutes long. Thanks to Ethan’s driving habits, we make it in five.

Pulling up to the house, a wave of nausea and jitters passes through my body. I’m considering turning around until Ethan takes my hand in his. The non-verbal reassurance calms me down, and we walk into the house together.

I’m surprised to find that the door is slightly ajar, deadbolts forgotten without Sam in the house. I know that she’s still gone– her car is missing from the driveway– but my theory is confirmed when I find a note on the kitchen table: 

At gmas. Don’t text. Call when you can have a real conversation -Sam.

“That’s brutal,” Ethan whistles.

“Yeah.” I remember how Sam looked at all of us last night, and it sends chills down my spine. I push it away. “I think I should bring her something.”

Ethan laughs. “Don’t you think that’s over the top?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, whatever. I just want this to work.”

Opening the fridge, I find a bottle of orange juice that Tara once mentioned was her favorite. “Hey, that’ll work.”

Ethan grabs a ceramic cup from the cabinet and hands it to me. “How about making it special? Got any mixers?”

“Like Sam keeps any alcohol in this house,” I scoff, pouring the juice into the cup. “Plus, a mimosa isn’t the best hangover cure.”

“I don’t know… I was thinking something more like this.” He reaches underneath the kitchen sink, pulling out a bottle of drain cleaner. 

I laugh, thinking he's kidding, but he doesn’t crack a smile or put the bottle away. “Come on,” he continues, pulling out an identical cup. “She’ll puke her guts out and you’ll get a little revenge before you apologize.”

He pours in blue liquid and mixes it with equal parts orange juice. I can’t lie, I’m a little horrified. “Don’t be a dick, Ethan, that stuff could kill her.”

He pauses for a second, and I can’t read his expression before his face softens. “You’re right, Y/N. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

He leans in and kisses me unexpectedly, and even though I’m still weirded out by his suggestion, I melt into him, letting the moment take me.

“Is okay,” I mumble into his mouth. “We gotta go. She’s probably waking up now.”

Without looking, I grab the cup from the table, distracted by Ethan’s eyes raking over me. It feels good to be wanted like this. I smirk at him and turn on my heels. 

He follows me up the stairs, and together we approach Tara’s door. I know she’s in there by the sound of her sleep music playing softly, even though it’s past 9:00 at this point. Tara’s usually an early riser, but I’m willing to bet that the hangover is preventing her from starting her day.

Out of courtesy, I knock gently on her door. “Tara? Are you in there?”

No reply. Not wanting to give up, I turn the knob and let myself in. She’s laying in her bed, facing away from us. “Hey, Tara?”

Tara turns over, and I can tell she’s not happy to see me. “What are you doing here, Y/N? And with… Ethan?”

Even though she’s trying to ice me out, she’s clearly interested in whatever happened between us. I clear my throat. “Yeah. Listen, Tara, I know both of us said a lot of stuff we didn’t mean last night–”

“Did we?” she interrupts. “I don’t know, you seemed pretty fucking sure of yourself when you got in the middle of my family business.”

Her words hurt, and I can feel Ethan shift uncomfortably behind me. “I know. Can we just forget about it?”

I hold out the cup and she eyes me suspiciously. “What, did you spit in this or something?”

“Jesus, Tara, no,” I sigh. “I came to say sorry or whatever. You said it’s your favorite.”

This seems to persuade her. She takes the cup from me, sitting up in her bed. “If this makes me feel better, I’ll consider accepting your apology.”

This makes me smile slightly, and I can see a glint in her eye that tells me she might not be as mad anymore. She lifts the cup to her lips and drinks, and I relax a little, thankful she accepted my peace offering. 

But something is wrong. Really, really wrong.

As soon as she swallows, her face scrunches up. She drops the cup, spilling the contents on her comforter.

“Tara?” I say, “What’s going on?”

She’s hacking now, and I see her start to convulse. I’m full-on panicking now. “Oh my god, Ethan, call 911!”

He’s completely checked out, watching Tara choke. “Fuck, Ethan, just do it!” I scream.

This seems to wake him up, and he grabs his phone from his back pocket. “Jesus, it’s fucking dead!”

This can’t be happening. I take her head in my lap, trying to elevate it so she doesn’t choke, but there’s no use. Tara wheezes and wheezes, then suddenly goes still, blood starting to trickle from her mouth.

I’m frozen. I can’t do anything but stare slack-jawed at Tara’s gaunt face in my lap.

Then it hits me, and I start screaming.

“Oh my god! Fuck, fuck, how could this happen, how could we kill–”

Ethan suddenly slaps his hand over my mouth, frighteningly out of character for him.

“Y/N, stop, please, stop! Someone’s going to hear.” He retracts his hand, and I feel my eyes welling with tears. I’m shaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” I say. “I just killed my best friend.”

We sit in silence for a second until the reality of the situation dawns on me. “Holy fuck, what are we going to tell the cops?”

I can see the cogs in his brain turning, and he stumbles around the room. Suddenly, Ethan stops and picks up a copy of The Bell Jar from Tara’s desk.

“Okay. Now, we did a murder, and that's a crime. But, if this were like a suicide thing…”

“A suicide thing?” I don’t follow.

“I mean, you can do Tara’s handwriting just as well as your own, right?”

I suddenly understand what he’s asking me to do, and the thought makes me sick. But we have no other option. 

I gently lift Tara’s head off of my lap so I can get up and rip out a piece of paper from her half-full history notebook. “Fuck, what do I say?”

Ethan thinks for a second. “We have to tie it back to last year. Make sure to talk about her fight with Sam last night.

It feels impossible, but I force myself to start writing.

Dear world,

You might think what I’ve done is shocking. To me, though, suicide is the obvious answer to the impossible challenge life has given me. 

Though Richie Kirsch and Amber Freeman did not kill me last year, they stole something much more valuable– my will to live. 

The absence of my father and sister, the deaths of some of my closest friends, and then the departure of my mother, all combined, made me realize that there is no one left who really knows me, no one who really cares. 

I can’t live like this any longer, alone and afraid of an enemy who isn’t there. I died knowing that there was no other option for me. I hope you can understand.

Tara

By the time I’m done, I’m shaking so hard that I drop the pen. The page is stained with my tears, but there’s no time to rewrite it.

I collapse on the ground, and Ethan wraps his arms around me. “I know, I know,” he says.  “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

taglist: @miawastakens

[carahhhhx]

“i’ve had a stinker lads”- harry lewis

I heard Harry’s keys in jingling in the lock “You home lovely?” he shouted “yeah i’m in the bedroom H” i replied hearing the blonde boy close the door and started walking towards the bedroom, “i missed you today” he said wrapping his arms around my shoulders “i missed you too” i said turning around and pressing a light kiss to his lips “do you mind if i go out to simon’s tonight?” he asked “uh no i don’t mind” i said giving him a fake smile “you sure because you seem a bit unsure?” he asked “no no it’s fine you can go i don’t mind i’m going out with the girls anyways” i replied and with that the blonde boy pressed another kiss to my lips before walking off into the bathroom to sort his hair out.

“right i’m leaving now give me a ring if you need a lift home” he said “will do” i replied giving him a squeeze before he went “oh and you look beautiful” he shouted before closing the door “okay he really did forget” i mumbled well putting my shoes on.

Never ever would i imagine walking into a restaurant and asking for a table for one it’s not something i’d be comfortable with but tonight i felt like i had to treat myself.

Harry’s pov

I approached the Mar Minter house not expecting to see Talias car in the drive not even thinking about it i knocked the door and saw Talia “hi harry” she said pulling me into a hug “uh hi talia?” i said more sounding like a question “you alright?”she asked “i don’t suppose you’re going with Casey tonight?” i replied “no no casey said she was busy tonight why?” she asked “well i asked her if it was alright if i came here tonight with the boys and she said yeah she was going out with you and the girls” i told her “i don’t know harry she said she was busy tonight i’ll ring Frey, Faith and Ellie now and see what they have to say” she replied leading me into the same room as the boys “alright harry” behz shouted “yeah yeah” i replied sitting down and pulling my phone out to text Casey.

Casey’s pov

haz🤍

hi lovely you okay ?x

Cas🩷

i’m good you.

haz🤍

not really Casey i’m really confused.

‘oh fuck oh fucking hell he knows i’ve lied’ i thought to myself switching my phone off in a panic and ramming it into my bag, feeling it vibrating multiple times but i refused to get it out regretting lying to him.

“Casey?” i heard a familiar voice say “Talia hi?” replied to her, seeing her sitting down opposite me “so you going to tell me why you lied to Harry?” she asked, i sighed “i didnt have the heart to tell him Tal he forgot about our date, the date HE planned” i told her “oh babe you should’ve told him” she replied grabbing my hand “you should’ve been honest with him Cas he’s worried sick back in ours assuming the worse” she spoke again “i’m sorry i lied and dragging you into this tal, i panicked” i replied feeling myself getting emotional “let’s get you back to ours so you can talk it out yeah?” she said looking at me with sympathy “i cant face him tal i’ve lied to his face” i replied she smiled pulling me up “lets go cas you can’t avoid him” she said pulling me to pay for the tab and leading me into her car.

Harry’s POV

“Tals just texted me she’s found Casey and bring her back to ours” Simon said “good i just don’t understand why she’d lie to me”i replied sighing “Sure you didn’t miss date night or something” JJ asked trying to be funny “oh boys i’ve had a stinker an actual stinker, TONIGHT was date night , oh my god that’s why she’s lied and that’s why she posed on her story a picture on her story of her in London, oh my god im an idiot and actual idiot how could i forget i planned the bastard date” i ranted on until Josh placed his hand on my shoulder “Harry breathe calm down mate take a breath” he said just as i calmed down i hear Talia shouting “we’re back” as she walked into the room, Casey trailing behind her “H can we talk?” she asked fiddling with her rings “yeah let’s go somewhere else?” i asked her “you can talk in our room” simon said “cheers mate” i replied heading to the couples room.

“Cece i’m so sorry i forgot about our date it’s been a such a long week and it completely slipped my mind, i’ll never do it again i swear i just can’t imagine how upset you were”i rambled quickly holding onto her hand “oh harry i’m so sorry i lied to you” she replied pulling me into a hug “i love you” i said “i love you too h” she replied kissing me.

____________________________________________

hi this is my first post on here, i hope you enjoy it.

if anyone has any they’d like me write i’ll try my best to write them the way you imagine them!!

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @deedala @darlingian @suchagallabitch @energievie @creepkinginc @lingy910y @gembu-tortuesouscafeine @mickeysgaymom

1. if you could switch bodies with anybody for only one hour who would it be and what would you do?

Hmmmm. If it was ‘anything’ I’d switch with something with wings. But if it has to be a person then I guess the next best thing? Like a Circe du Soleil arial performer? Yeah, I think that’d be cool, but also after an hour I’d be kinda done. Perfect.

2. whats your most trivial / dumbest hot take?

I don’t have baths after dark. No one should. The nighttime monsters are gonna get you, if you’re wet after sundown. I don’t make the rules 🤷🏽‍♂️

3. If you had to teach a college course what would it be in?

Something animal related. Or problem solving and problem prevention. Like, I always say you can’t teach common sense but… maybe I could try?? Cause I think I’d be pretty good at it! Maybe not college. Get them earlier. While they’re malleable. Teach them how to spot shit that’s about to hit the fan. And what they can do to prevent it! Teach them how to walk into a room and register the 13 things that need to be addressed / fixed / saved / cleaned before they walk back out of the room. Yeah. I’d be good at that.

4. season 12 of shameless is suddenly happening and you’ve been put in charge! what plot point(s) are you gonna make happen?

I want them all to be settled and happy. I don’t need life to be perfect. But just…

I like Lip being into the building and decorating, but he’s soon gonna miss using his brain, so I’d like him to move into either the architecture side of things or the business management and franchising side of things.

I love Ian & Mickey being happily married forever and ever, and they’ve gone through so much shit, they should just get to be happy, but! I hate that all mentions of Ian’s bipolar were cut from season 11. This doesn’t just go away. Show me how well they deal with it now, but also how it’s still hard, and how it touches a part of Mickey’s hurt and trauma that he doesn’t want to achonowledge, and how sometimes it makes Ian self-loathing and mean and Mickey scared and angry, and when they get like this they lash out at each other. And then show me how, even when things are hard, they continue to fight for each other and choose each others, because they will ALWAYS choose each other.

Sandy is going to come back and Debbie and her are gonna make a real go of it.

Carl is going to buy and run The Alibi and it’s going to be awesome.

5. who would be your godly parent? (can be any mythology).

The Black Rabbit of Inlé.

Oh, there's no more to fear in death than in the changing of the seasons.

You all know how some rabbits seem just to throw their lives away between two jokes and a theft: but the truth is that their foolishness comes from the Black Rabbit, for it is by his will that they do not smell the dog or see the gun…But the truth is — or so they taught me — that he, too, serves Lord Frith and does no more than his appointed task — to bring about what must be. We come into the world and we have to go: but we do not go merely to serve the turn of one enemy or another. We go by the will of the Black Rabbit of Inle and only by his will. And though that will seem hard and bitter to us all, yet in his way he is our protector.

6. what’s something you love about yourself?

I’m funny, kind, competent, hard working, and creative. I hate myself a lot, but I’m also pretty fucking awesome. Two things can be true at the same time. I contain multitudes. 🤷🏽‍♂️

7. describe your day in 5 emojis:

😭🥓🍳🥲🛍️

8. what shameless character do you think you could beat in a fight?

Jimmy-Steve, Liam, and Fiona. Tommy, Kermit, and Kate. Iggy and Walter Milkovich (if they’re high, which they will be). Also Karen, Ned, and Kash.

9. tell us 2 truths and a lie, we’ll try to guess the lie!

10. do you have a pet(s). if so how did they get their name?

Mouse was named after Michael ‘Mouse’ Tolliver (Tales of the City) by Ruth and after Mouse the Temple Dog from Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files by me. Full Name: Mouse McFeathers.

Howard was named after the foreman in charge of a big building project at the farm, at the time when we rescued him as a kitten. Howard Alan Crisp, giving his name to our three kittens Howard, Alan, and Crispy. Full Name: Howard ‘Bonk Bonk’ Bambino.

Wiggins was named after the cyclist Bradley Wiggins, because he was big at the time, and it was better than Froome, which was the other name on the table, and closest to Arthur, which is what I wanted to call him. In the end we let Mouse choose by writing all the names on pieces of paper, folding them up, and picking the one she swiped off the table. Full Name: Wiggins Dangerbean.

11. show us a meme (or picture) that captures your essence

12. whats your typical coffee / tea / beverage order?

Chai Latte

I would like to tag @suzy-queued @vintagelacerosette @sam-loves-seb @lupeloto @shameless-notashamed @transmickey @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @francesrose3 @jademickian @sickness-health-all-that-shit @metalheadmickey @gardenerian @callivich @celestialmickey @look-i-love-u @rutherinahobbit @palepinkgoat @whatthebodygraspsnot @depressedstressedlemonzest @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @too-schoolforcool or just hand you a flower and let you pet a puppy 🐶

[evilhagspage]

Always an Angel, Never A God: Chapter One.

1×9--Home

Synopsis: Reader, an estranged friend of the Winchesters, reconnects with them in their hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. She accompanies them on their hunt, and canon typical chaos insues.

Warnings: Swearing, canon-typical violence and spookiness, mentions of dead family members, estranged/missing family members, fucked up family dynamics. Use of Y/n and she/her pronouns, and written in first person.

A/N: Me when I lie when I said this would be out at noon 😮‍💨🫶🙃 my phone glitched tf out and didn't post it?? Anyway, if the summary doesn't describe something you're interested in please read something else! I am sensitive and not open to criticism lmao!!

Act One

***

I exhale a shuddering breath as I pass the sign reading, "Welcome to Lawrence." It's been years since I've been back; and I'm only brave enough to come back now because my dad's dead. It sounds callous, I know, but growing up as a hunter's daughter was hard. Really, really hard. Although, I imagine no matter what my father's occupation had been, we would have had a tumultuous relationship.

I pull myself out of my thoughts as I turn down Missouri’s street, a psychic that my dad knew in his hunting days. I take my hands off the wheel one at a time and shake out the tension as I pull up to her house. I have a somber moment to myself, taking in the sweet, quiet neighborhood. It fills me with a squeezing melancholic feeling in my chest.

Missouri obviously knew I was there, given her gift, and she swung open the door with a wide, bright smile. I return it and make my way up the steps.

"Hi, baby!" she exclaims, bringing me in for a warm hug.

"Hey, Miss Missouri. How's it going?"

"Oh, much better now that I see your beautiful face!" She punctuates this with a loving pat on my cheek. "How are you feeling?"

I try to stop my face from falling. "I've, you know. I've been better."

She gives me a softer, empathetic look. "I know, sweetheart. Life hasn't been kind to you. Let's go inside, we'll talk about it, okay?"

I nod at her, swallowing the lump in my throat.

***

I swipe my hands down my pants, drying the nervous sweat that's collected there. Missouri comes back with a cup of tea for each of us, sitting across the coffee table from me. "Thanks," I say, holding the warm cup in my hand and letting it ground me. The sweet aroma flows up to my nose, and I can't help but smile. "Chamomile! How did you remember it’s my favorite?" She gives me a humorous look, and I remember. "Oh, right. Psychic."

She chuckles. "Yeah, and I can handle more than tea. Why don't you get out that list for me?"

I try and fail to stifle my shock. It's such an odd feeling to converse with a psychic; one moment, it's a normal conversation and the next they reveal their innate ability to see your innermost thoughts. It makes me feel exposed. I reach into my bag and pull out my notebook, staring at the first bullet point. Mom.

"What do you want to know about her?" Missouri asks.

I sigh, furrowing my brows. "You know, I...I don't even know. I mean, there are so many things I wish I could know about her. You know, like was she a hunter? What's her favorite color?" I laugh humorlessly at that one, as Missouri nods along. "But, I guess what I want to know the most is, is she okay? And if she is, would she want to…to know me?"

Missouri takes a moment, shifting forward in her seat and looking down in thought. "You know, your father has asked me about her many times. And each time, it's been fuzzy. Almost like, I can see that there's something behind the window, but it's all smudged and blurry. Even now, I can't quite make it out. I'm sorry, baby."

I nod, biting the dry skin off of my lip. Something about that answer doesn’t satisfy me. I know Missouri wouldn’t lie to me on purpose, but I can’t help but wonder if she is withholding something. “Yeah, it's okay. Maybe...maybe that just means I'm not ready to hear it."

"Maybe. I know, that doesn't make it easier."

"Not really, no," I chuckle honestly.

We sit there for a moment in somber silence. Missouri breaks it, asking, "What's next on your list?"

I shift to get more comfortable in my seat, and look down at my notebook again.

"Ah, them. I'm surprised, y'all were always so close,” she prods.

"Yeah, yeah. We, uh, we definitely were. Things, uh, things have just been so different, recently, you know?"

"Well, y'all have all been through a lot."

"Yeah, you’re tellin’ me," I agree.

"So, what do you want to know about Sam and Dean?"

I pause, looking down again. I try and fail to take in a deep breath. I swallow the lump in my throat that forms every time I think about the Winchester brothers. "Well, I'm sure you know that it hasn't been as long since I've talked to Dean. We still keep in touch, it's just been a lot more few and far between than it used to.”

“And why is that?” she questions, although I can guess by her face she already knows the answer.

“It’s my fault, really. Ever since my dad…you know, I sort of began to distance myself.” Missouri nods, encouraging me to continue. “I just–it became more difficult to be around John all the time. To have him try to step up as my father figure when he didn’t even raise his own kids. And Dean…Dean is my best friend, right? But he has become John’s little shadow. He tries to emulate his every move, anticipate his every thought, and it’s exhausting. And without Sam as a buffer…it just got to be too much.”

She looks at me, searching. “What about Sam?”

I pause, confused. “What–sorry, what do you mean? I thought we were talking about Dean?”

“I’m confident that you and Dean’s conflict will resolve with time. I want to know about Sam, because that’s who you really came here to ask about. Right?”

For the millionth time this afternoon, I'm stunned by her insight. "Well, I wouldn’t, um, I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s true…completely…” My rambling peters out at her knowing look. Sighing, I concede. “Yeah, Miss Missouri. I miss him so much. It’s the type of missing someone that makes it hard to breathe, you know? And I know, it’s rich to be mad at Sam for needing space when I have distanced myself from Dean. But, I don’t know…I’m just so hurt. We used to talk every single day. About everything. And we haven’t talked since–”

"Since he ran away to college?" I nod. "Yeah. What do you need me to find out about him?"

I feel the lump in my throat come back. I exhale down at my lap, wishing that talking about Sam didn't make me so emotional. "Is he okay?" I ask finally, voice slightly trembling.

"Oh, Y/n," Missouri coos, rising from her seat to sit next to me on the couch. She takes my hands in hers, looking into my eyes. "He's okay. He's happy."

"Would he, um, would he want to talk to me again?" She closes her eyes, signaling to me that she's searching the other side for info. Her eyes move back and forth rapidly behind her lids, her brows furrowing. "What? What is it?"

"He's, he's actually really close. They both are." I lean forward, my heart pounding.

"Really?" Her eyes fly open as someone knocks on the door. My mouth drops to my chest, eyes wide. "No fucking way..."

"Y/n! Watch your mouth," Missouri scolds.

"Sorry, I just, is it?"

"Yeah, it is." She rises to get the door.

***

I'm frozen on the couch as I hear the rumble of their voices for the first time in ages. My heart flutters as Missouri addresses Sam, apologizing about his girlfriend. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend, much less what could have happened to her. Their voices get louder as they walk into the living room where I'm sitting. The thick stomp of their boots halt dead in their tracks as they see me. I look up, watery eyes taking in Dean and Sam Winchester. "Hi," I say meekly. They both stare at me, blinking slowly and their mouths slightly agape. Sam's cheeks blush, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. His hair is longer, falling into his eyes and flipping around his ears. Dean looks the same, maybe some more freckles dotting his nose, sporting his old leather jacket. He's the first to break, a bright smile creeping onto his face.

"Y/n?!" He asks. I nod shyly and Missouri slaps him on the shoulder, launching him forward, encouraging him towards me. I stand to meet him and he embraces me quickly, cupping the back of my head. We sway for a second, before he squeezes, holding me back at arms length to drink in my appearance. "You look great, sweetheart," he says cheekily.

"You don't look so bad yourself, stud," I giggle back. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He steps back, smiling at Sammy. He nods his head towards me in encouragement.

"Heya, Sammy," I start apprehenseively. He takes a step towards me, a smile highlighting the dimple in his cheek.

"Hey there, stranger," he says softly. He takes a couple more steps, meeting me in the middle. "Can I, uh, can I hug you?"

"Yes, please," I breathe, practically launching myself in his arms. I squeeze him around the middle, silent tears threatening to make their way down my face. It's been so long since I've heard his voice, and even longer since I've seen him in the flesh. I feel my whole body relax in his embrace. "It's really, really good to see you," I sniffle, hastily wiping my face.

He pulls me back, petting a hand through my hair. "It's good to see you too."

I reluctantly pull away from Sam’s warmth, and Dean asks me, “So, what are you doing back here? It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

I blush a little in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have pulled away so much.”

He shakes his head, being genuine as he consoles me. “Nah, come on, bubba. You don’t have to do all that. I would definitely prefer it if you didn’t go MIA on me again, but I get it. Life’s sucked recently.”

“Thank you, Dean. You’ve certainly matured since we last talked.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately. “Shut up, punk.”

“You first, asshole.” Sam grins, watching us fall back into our comfortable back and forth. Missouri clears her throat at my use of language, and I shoot her an apologetic look. “Oh, I’m here to talk to Miss Missouri about some, uh questions I had for the other side, so to speak. She worked with my dad a while back. She’s the best,” I beam.

“Which brings us to why you’re here: your father’s missin’?” she asks.

“John’s missing?” I ask, concerned.

"Yes, we, uh, haven't heard from him in a while," Dean explains.

"Oh shit," Missouri shoots me another exasperated look. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Y'all quit standing around, you're making me anxious." We all scramble towards the couch as she scolds us, the boys getting comfortable on either side of me. Just like old times. "So, your father. How can I help?”

"Yes ma'am. We were wondering if you could, uh see him? Is he okay?" Dean asks.

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

"Boy, do you see me sawing some tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air." Sam and I snicker during her monologue, and Dean leans back in his seat, defeated. She whips her head back to him, reprimanding, "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table I'mma whack you with a spoon!"

He looks at us, in shock, defensively replying, "I didn't do anything."

"But you were thinking about it." Dean turns to me, raising his eyebrows. I just smile back at him, enjoying this.

"She's good, Dean."

He rolls his eyes at me playfully, and Sam asks, "Okay, so our dad--when did you first meet him?"

"He came in for a reading," Missouri responds, "a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say...I drew back the curtains for him."

The fire she's referring to is the one that killed Sam and Dean's mom. Dean was four, and Sammy was just six months old when it happened. The papers said it was some faulty wiring, some tragic freak accident. But we know better. It was something supernatural, we just don't know what.

Dean's interest had peeked when she mentioned the incident. "What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?"

"A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."

"And could you?" Sam prods.

Missouri looks serious, almost sad. "I..." she falters, shaking her head.

"What was it?"

"I don't know. Oh, but it was evil." I sit back, looking at her pensively. The boys deflate, as if their fears have been answered. "So, you think somethin' is back in that house?"

"Definitely." Sam answers.

"I don't understand."

"What?"

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why's it actin' up now?"

"I don't know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once--It just feels like something's starting."

"Well, that's a comforting thought," Dean quips.

"Tell you what. Why don't I come to the house with you, see if I can feel out what's there?" Missouri offers.

"Yeah, that's about the best option we've got right now," Sam says. "Thank you, Miss Missouri. That's really kind of you to offer."

"Of course, baby. Any way I can help. Let me go get some of my things and then we can head on our way, okay?" We all nod in agreement as she makes her way upstairs.

"So, you comin' with us?" Dean asks me after a moment.

I sit there, taken aback a little. "Me?"

"Yeah, of course. It'll be nice to have the old gang back together."

I smile at this, looking down at my hands to hide my blush. "Yeah, that would be nice." I think for a moment, feeling insecure. "I just, I don't know, I'm out of practice. And I don't want to intrude on this family thing..."

Sam speaks up this time, saying, "Dean's right, we could really use your help. And, you wouldn't be intruding...you are family, Y/n." I smile at him softly, thinking.

"Okay. Sure, I'll help. But, y'all are going to have to catch me up on everything since we've talked last. Especially you, Sammy. I want real stories, not just 'oh, you know it was fun.'" As I tease him, a sadness washes over his face, and I worry I crossed a line. Just as quickly as it came, it left. He extends his pinky towards me, an old tradition of ours.

"I pinky promise," he says. We seal the deal, and I turn towards Dean, offering him my other pinky.

"Come on, no. I don't do that shit."

"Please, Dean? How else will I know you will keep your promise?"

"'Cuz I'm a man of my word."

"Mmnm, not good enough and you know it." He gives me an exasperated look, and I dramatically pout at him. Stick out my bottom lip, tilt my eyebrows, bat my eyelashes, the whole nine. He rolls his eyes, before wrapping his pinky around mine. I use the contact to yank him closer and plant a sloppy, loud kiss on his cheek, smacking exaggeratedly. He grimaces and wipes off his cheek aggressively. "Thank you, bubba!" I tease, using our childhood nickname for each other as even more leverage.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a selfless angel. Now get your ass in the car."

Excitement washes over my face at the revelation. "Y'all still drive the Impala?"

"Oh yeah. That's easily been Dean's most stable relationship," Sam teases.

"Shut up," Dean shoots back.

"Hey! Y'all quit misbehavin' and let's go!" Missouri hollers, coming back down the stairs.

"Yes ma'am!" we say in unison, scrambling out the door.

***

Act Two

***

Jenny, the current owner of the Winchester's house, whips the door open, looking frazzled. Out of breath, she asks, "Sam, Dean? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny. These are our friends, Y/n and Missouri," Sam intros in his softest, kindest voice he could muster. I stand between the boys' broad shoulders, trying to look welcoming and trustworthy.

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show them the old house," Dean chimes in. "You know, for old times sake."

She looks anxiously over her shoulder, shaking her head as she tells us, "You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy."

Dean's thin veil of patience drops completely. "Listen, Jenny, it's important. Ow!" He exclaims this last part as Missouri presumably smacks him across the head.

"Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" she chastises. "Forgive the boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out." I crane my neck to glance at Dean, who's standing there scratching his head and looking at Missouri stunned.

"Hear you out about what?" Jenny asks.

"About this house."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny looks at us, confused and probably scared. "Who are you?" she asks after a moment.

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us, just a little."

She looks between the four of us and over her shoulder a few times, chewing her lip in uncertainty. After a moment, her desperation seems to outweigh her apprehension, and she steps to the side, nodding at us inside her home.

***

We find ourselves standing in her daughter, Sari’s bedroom. Missouri looks around, feeling out the space. “If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” she says.

“Why?” Sam asks her.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” I look towards him, and he seems to be taking in the room with a newfound sadness. I glance around, looking at the window facing the street, the walls, the ceiling where Mary supposedly was when John found her. I look down again to find Sam transfixed on the ceiling as well. Behind us, Dean shuffles through his jacket, pulling out an instrument. “That an EMF?” Missouri asks him.

“Yeah.”

“Amateur.” Dean fixes her with a glare, before nudging Sam and I to point out the EMF meter beeping frantically. “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved. but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.”

Sam looks back over at her. “Wait, are you sure?” She nods. “How do you know?”

“This isn’t the same energy I felt last time I was here. It’s something different.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Not it,” she explains, moving towards the closet. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.” My heart sinks.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And, sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“I don’t understand.” Sam says, stepping closer towards her.

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted to a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.” My hand reaches up to cover my mouth in shock. What could want to hurt an innocent woman and children so fiercely?

“You said there was more than one spirit.” Sam clarifies.

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

“Well one thing’s for damn sure–nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again,” Dean says with a strong, resolved voice. “So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

***

We make our way back to Missouri’s house, where we find ourselves now, gathered around her dining room table. Scattered in front of us is a collection of assorted herbs, spices, roots, and oils. As we sort through it, Dean asks, “So, what is all this stuff, anyway?”

Missouri answers, “Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends.”

“Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?”

“We’re gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, and west corners of each floor.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the drywall. Jenny’s gonna love that,” Dean teases sarcastically.

“She’ll live,” Missouri replies slyly.

“And this’ll destroy the spirits?” Sam asks this time.

“It should. It should purify the house completely. We’ll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we’re up to, things are gonna get bad.”

I glance at her, then the boys, feeling slightly nervous at our impending tasks. Dean is hyperfocused on building the hex bags, while Sam gives me a reassuring smile. I return it, and look back down as I feel blood rush to my face.

***

Back at Jenny’s home, Missouri guides her and her kids out of the house, while I sort through the supplies in Dean’s well loved duffel bag. I hear Jenny tell Missouri worriedly, “Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you guys here alone.”

Missouri continues to herd her out, saying “Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.”

We split up then, Sam and I splitting the top floor, Dean taking the ground floor, and Missouri taking the basement. She had given me a weird, knowing look when I offered to go with Sam that I haven’t been able to shake.

I decided to plant my hex bag in the wall of Jenny’s en-suite bathroom. I raise the hammer and begin to hack into the drywall, when I hear the bathroom door slam shut. I whip my head around to see if maybe someone was there, but no one is. “Sam?” I call out tentatively to no answer. “Shit.” I rise trepidatiously, moving to the door and trying the handle. Locked. “Fuck!” I exclaim, shaking the door and pounding on it, begging it to budge. Suddenly, the tap in the sink and bathtub turn on by themselves, pouring and spraying out water aggressively. I take notice that the drains are seemingly plugged, too. Is this ghost trying to frickin’ drown me in here? I turn back to the door, pounding, tugging, kicking with all my might. “Sam! Dean!” I scream, begging for one of them to hear me. The water from the sink is now pouring off onto the ground. “Shit. Shit!” I look around the room, begging my brain to regain control and find a solution. I see the hex bag and hammer forgotten on the ground and rush over to them. I fiercely hack at the wall, and throw the hex bag inside the gap. A flash of bright, white light appears and rushes out of the room, under the door. The water stops, and the door creaks open a smidge. I take the opportunity and run out, searching for the boys and Missouri.

I crash into Sam’s old bedroom to find him lying on the ground, presumably regaining consciousness. Dean’s crouching over him, cradling his head. “Sam?” I ask hurriedly, rushing over to them. At the sound of my voice he peaks up, sending a tired smirk my way.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, blinking slowly and frog-like.

I make eye contact with Dean, asking, “What happened?”

He shakes his head, sighing, “I guess we were dealing with some bad mothers here. You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. You?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Kitchen’s a damn mess, though.”

***

Act Three

***

Missouri, Sam, Dean and I stand in the kitchen a few hours later, taking in the scene before us. “You sure this is over?” Sam asks.

“I’m sure,” Missouri answers. “Why? Why do you ask?”

“Never mind,” he relents, sighing. “It’s nothin’ I guess.” I hear Jenny open the door and walk closer to us.

“Hello? We’re home!” she calls before stopping in the kitchen, looking around at the mess. “What happened?”

“Hi,” I say, being the one closest to her. “Um, we’ll pay for…all this,” I gesture behind me. Dean glances over at me, confused.

Missouri steps in, “Don’t you worry, Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” He stands there, for a moment, not moving. “Well. What are you waiting for boy? Get the mop.” He begins to begrudgingly walk away, before she scolds him. “And don’t cuss at me!” I hear him mutter something under his breath as he continues to walk away, and I can’t hide my smile.

***

Later that night, we find ourselves parked outside Jenny’s house again. I yawn from the backseat, trying to rub the sleep away from my eyes.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks Sam from the driver’s seat.

Sam sighs, “I don’t know. I just…I still have a bad feeling.” I reach across the seat to squeeze his shoulder.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But, I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean slides down to rest his head on the seat back, closing his eyes. Sam shifts so his back is in the corner of the seat and window, so he can look at me and the house easily. I fold my arms across the seat and rest my cheek on them, smiling sleepily up at him. He smirks back at me, showing off his dimple. His eyes quickly flit behind me, catching sight of something towards the house. Fear grows in his eyes, and he hurriedly slaps Dean on the shoulder, waking him up.

“Dean. Look, Dean!” We whip our heads around to see Jenny, standing at the window of her bedroom, screaming for help, banging and clawing on the glass. We quickly jump out of the car, Dean barking orders.

“Y’all grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.”

“I’ll get Ritchie!” I holler, sprinting into the house and up the stairs to the nursery. Ritchie is standing up in his crib, face red and nose running with sobs. “It’s okay baby, I got you. Come here, sweetheart, come here,” I coo the best I can while I cradle him to my chest. I rush outside with him, meeting Sari, alone, at the door. We run across the lawn to Dean and Jenny, and I look around feverishly for Sam.

“Sari, where’s Sam?” Dean asks breathlessly.

Between sobs, she answers. “He’s inside. Something’s got him.” Dean and I make eye contact, before looking back towards the house. The door slams shut on its own, trapping Sam, and whatever else, inside.

***

Act Four

***

Dean rushes to the trunk to get anything that could help. I heard the family in the car, getting them as comfortable as possible. “Please, stay here. We’ll be back soon. You’re safe here,” I assure them. Dean is halfway across the lawn, and I jog to meet him. He turns around, tossing me a shotgun before hacking down the door with an axe. When he finally makes a hole big enough, we rush in, arms drawn. Sam’s inside the kitchen, his large frame pinned against the wall, feet off the ground. A figure made of hot, white fire stands with him, and Dean raises his gun at it.

“No, don’t. Don’t!” Sam pleads.

“Why not?” Dean shouts back.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

Suddenly, the fire vanishes to reveal a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair in a white nightgown, looking vaguely familiar. Dean stills, lowering his gun as they make eye contact. Her face is warm and inviting, her eyes sparkling in a comforting way. Dean softly murmurs, “Mom?”

“Dean,” she says with a voice like honey. “Sam,” she says, walking towards him. Sam’s face twitches in a sad smile, and hers falls from her face. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?” Sam asks. Mary smiles at him sadly, but doesn’t answer. She walks away from him, looking up towards the ceiling.

“You, get out of my house. And let go of my son,” she demands fiercely, chills erupting across my whole body. Once again, she bursts into flames. Once her entire form is engulfed, the fire climbs towards the ceiling and disappears. The force that was holding Sam releases him, and he joins us in our place as we gaze at where Mary disappeared. We glance at each other, completely stunned.

“Now, it’s over.”

***

Act Five

***

The next morning, I stand pressed against Dean’s shoulder, looking at the old pictures in his hands with them. “Thanks for these,” he says to Jenny.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours,” she replies. Dean moves to put the box of photos in the car. Jenny steps forward towards me. “Thank you, again.”

“Of course, Jenny. I’m just glad y’all are okay.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t know what would have happened if it weren’t for you and your boyfriend.”

I chuckle, heat rising in my cheeks. “What? Dean? He’s not my boyfriend. He’s like my brother.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant Sam,” she admits awkwardly.

My face feels like it’s on fire now, and I glance over her shoulder to see where Sam is sitting with Missouri on the front steps. “What-he…um,” I chuckle embarrassingly again. “S-Sam, is like, ew no. No, not Sam. I-I don’t have a boyfriend,” I stutter awkwardly.

Jenny laughs at me, apologizing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. Thank you guys, anyway,” she says as Dean rounds the car again.

Dean saves me from this excruciating moment by hollering up at Sam. “Sam, you ready?” He nods at Missouri, and they make their way back to us. Jenny thanks us again as we get into the car, driving away.

***

“Y’all don’t be strangers,” Missouri hollers at us from her porch.

“We won’t!” I yell back from the open window. She waves warmly before entering her home. “So, y’all can drop me back at my motel,” I tell the boys. They look between themselves mischievously before turning back to me.

“Well, we actually had a proposition for you,” Sam starts.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean continues. “We were wondering if you would want to join us on the road again. We worked pretty well together back there.”

“Plus, we missed you.”

“Yeah, like a lot. And, you smell nicer than Sam.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who uses, like, 14-in-1 shampoo, jerk.”

“It’s a multi-use product for a reason, and it takes up less room in my bag, you bitch.”

A smile breaks on my cheeks as I consider their proposal and watch their brotherly squabble unfold. It makes a giggle creep up in my throat, a warm familiarity filling my chest. They stop their bickering and look over their shoulders at me, noticing my silence. “Well?” Dean prods.

I squeal and lean across the seat to capture them both in a hug, unable to even come up with a witty remark. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Sam says, laughing at my enthusiasm.

“Of course, dummies!” I exclaim, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. “I missed you guys so much, too.” They wipe off their cheeks, grinning and blushing themselves.

“Okay then. Where to?” Dean asks us.

“Somewhere to get a separate shampoo and conditioner for you,” I tease. Sam giggles, tossing me a wink, and Dean glares at me from the driver’s seat, flipping on the music and throwing the car into gear.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he teases.

***

Unbeknownst to any of us, Missouri had a guest in her home when we dropped her off. She had entered her home, and set her purse down on the table before speaking. “That boy…he has such powerful abilities. But why he couldn’t sense his own father, I have no idea.” John Winchester sits solemnly on her couch, looking serious as ever.

“Mary’s spirit–do you really think she saved the boys?”

“I do.” John nods at her sadly, twisting his old wedding band around his finger. He still wears it all this time later. “John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why won’t you go talk to your children?”

His eyes brim with tears and he replies honestly, “I want to. You have no idea how much I wanna see ‘em. But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know the truth.”

***

[amandayetagain]

jackparse mostly Kent pov but it’s lyrics from my playlist in chronological order

I remember you and me / yeah I remember everything

i think there’s been a glitch / 5 seconds later I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch

put your lips close to mine / as long as they don’t touch / out of focus eye to eye / til the gravity’s too much

Save me til the party is over / kiss me in the seat of your rover / real sweet but I wish you were sober

two birds of a feather / say that they’re always going to be together / but one’s never going to let go of that wire

it felt just like a joke / I show you don’t / and now we’re talking / I know your ghost / I see her through the smoke

but it broke my heart / in a million ways / then I fell apart / in a foreign place / and all I wanna do / is find a way back to you

people have been asking where you’ve been / they say have courage and I’m trying to / I’m right out here for you / just let me in

and it broke me big time / it’s funny and I’m laughing baby / you think I’m alright / but I’m actually bloody motherfucking batshit crazy

no matter where I go / you’re always there somehow / it’s an endless cycle / even though your body isn’t right here in this room / I still feel your presence like the scent of a perfume

do you miss us? Us? / I felt it you held it / do you miss us? Us?

please don’t shut me out again / please don’t slam the door / you don’t have to keep your distance anymore

I meant “don’t go” / it came out as “goodbye” / you said “fine” / when you should have said “we could try”

cause that’s just the way life goes / I push my luck it shows / thankful you don’t send someone to kill me / I love you I’m sorry

why do we like to hurt so much? / that’s what you get when you let your heart win

guess you take all the pain that you think you deserve / won’t sleep cause it’s easy to hurt tonight

and I’ll dream each night of some version of you / that I might not have but I did not lose

when it kills your heart / but you can’t say no / when it burns you red / but you can’t let go / the deepest cuts / well they heal so slow

tell me why / there’s a wire in my brain / that doesn’t know the difference / in loving and in pain

So I replay every second / like I like how much that it hurts

and in my head / the visions never stop / these ribbons wrap me up / but when I reach for you / it’s just a supercut

I saw you there / but it was a shadow / a desperate attempt of making you feel close

and if the walls could talk / they’d make it sound like you were there

everything looks good on paper / displayed on the shelf / and nobody thinks they should save her / cause she’s doing well

I’ve tried to pray / I’ve bruised my knees / I’ve tried to bring you / back to me

Would it be enough? / if I could never give you peace?

I’ve seen it / in the poems and the sands / I’ve pleaded / with the powers and their plans / I tried to / rewrite it but I can’t / it’s the history / the history of man

do you tell all your friends / that things ended well / that I’m overdramatic it was chill / do you lie and say you don’t want to see me again? / cause I do it too / both of us like to pretend / so we feel like we’re cool

I hope in your head / you see me instead / cause you’ve been in mine every day since then

arguments in your garage / all the ways we sabotaged it / what it was and what it wasn’t / we’ve been swimming on the edge of a cliff / I’m resisting but going down with the ship / it’d be so nice right? Right? / if we could take it all off and just exist / and skinny dip in what we under the bridge