#i didn’t sleep well and didn’t expect to help my dad told me he wouldn’t need help so I wasn’t prepared for that bfkdbdj

[yoohyeon]

God I’m so tired… 😭 My dad ask for help to do the floor of one of our neighbour’s app and it took 2 hours longer than I expected 😭

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 7 - Condemnation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: As you try to cope with Alastor's absence, you find solace with the King of Hell, who presents an interesting offer. However, some unexpected news from Husk forces you to rethink your plans.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, actual plot, Lucifer is a cunning shit, slow burn, Husk is going to be in trouble, and of course 18+

3.2k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 (You're on it!) Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

The last few days (weeks?) have been a blur. It was a weird switch going from sleeping terribly because you longed to be near him - to sleeping constantly so you didn’t have to feel your body long from him. Anyone who came to your door was just told you weren’t feeling good. “Just caught a stomach bug, don’t come in! I would hate for you to catch it.”

Today you decided it’s time to finally leave your room. Charlie needs help and there are things around the hotel that need to be done before her meeting with Heaven. You aren’t one to let others down just because of your own emotional baggage.

You throw some makeup on to try to brighten your face. Usually, you wouldn’t be bothered but all the crying significantly darkened your eyes. I’d rather not let them see me like this. The less questions the better. Plastering a smile on your face, you head down to the lobby to get the list of ‘to-dos’ from Charlie. Surprisingly she isn’t there when you arrive, so you take a seat next to Angel on the floor. You lean your head against his leg as a silent ‘hello’.

“Hey toots, how ya feeling?” he says without looking up from his phone. “Better, thanks.” You say cheerfully.

“Good! Guess you and Smiles must have shared cooties ‘cause he ain’t been seen or heard from since Lucifer’s visit.” A pang hits your chest, but you try to brush it off. He’s probably just pissed off.

Charlie rushes down the stairs and scoops you into a lung crushing hug, “So so so soooooooo glad you’re feeling better! I didn’t realize how much you did around here! Could you do me a huge favor and go pick up a few things from the city and take them to my dad? He said he can meet you at this address. I have to go pack - Thank you!” Just as quickly as she came down the stairs, she hurries back, leaving you with a short list and an address.

For the first time in weeks, you leave the hotel without Alastor or his shadow close by. It’s not that you’re afraid of going out alone, but you realize you enjoyed his company more than you thought. You glance up at the radio tower as you walk away from the hotel and can make out a dark figure with glowing red eyes staring down from the window. Well at least that’s confirmation he’s still around.

You pick up the few things from a local shop and walk across the city to the address Charlie gave you. This doesn’t look right. The building you walk up to is more of an abandoned warehouse for a drug deal rather than a cozy meetup with the King of Hell. Cautiously you walk through the door which looked like it had been kicked in already. Just as expected, it’s an empty building with piles of trash scattered about. Graffiti and posters plaster the inner walls. You triple check the address on the small paper and it matches.

Sooo now what?

After waiting and pacing for a few minutes, you hear someone call out to you. You turn to see Lucifer standing outside a portal in the middle of the building.

“You didn’t actually think I stayed within the city, did you?” he chuckles as he motions for you to enter into the portal with him. Once inside you look around to see a large open room filled with…ducks? And this guy was trying to give me a hard time?

“Is – is this your office, sir?”

He boots a few ducks out of his path. “Yes, this is where I work on – important – matters. Also, no need for formalities, Lucifer is fine. Those bags for me?”

You almost forgot why you were even standing in the King’s office. All the piles of rubber ducks grabbed your attention and now you wanted to look through them out of pure curiosity. Handing over the bags, you keep scanning around the room. Lucifer notices your curious glances, “Would you – like to see my most recent project?” he asks nervously. You feel your face light up at the offer and he can’t help but mirror your excitement.

He starts to show you all the ducks he’s created, their names, what they can do. His eyes glimmer excitedly every time you display even the slightest interest in one. What feels like a mere fifteen minutes ends up becoming a couple hours. As he shows you the last of his collection, a solemn look crosses his face.

“Thank you for this. I don’t get a lot of visitors and haven’t really been able to share my work since Charlie…grew up. Plus, it’s nice to see you smile, especially after our first encounter.”

Your breath catches at the memory of that night. Not so much the crying in the arms of the devil part - rather the grief you felt shortly after. “Oh – thank you for taking the time to show me. Truthfully, I haven’t had much reason to smile lately so it’s a lovely change.”

His smile drops. There's a long pause as he fights with himself to find the right words, “Did he…Alastor I mean…hurt you that night? You can tell me. I know Charlie is close with him, so you probably don’t feel comfortable -”

“He didn’t hurt me. At least not in the physical sense.” Frowning, you curse at yourself for being too honest. You can’t help but feel at ease in his presence. He was Lucifer, King of Hell and easily the most powerful in all the seven rings. What ulterior motives could he possibly have or need? He has no reason to be anything other than genuine in his worry for you. He made it all too easy to tell him anything. Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord/Demon

He looks at you pitifully. I hate when someone looks at me like that. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” You force a smile then hang your head towards the floor to hide the truth. The wounds were too fresh. The last thing you want is another breakdown in front of him. He’s seen enough tears from me. 

Two fingers pull your chin up to his gaze, “Your eyes tell me a much different story. Tell me, does he know of your power?” he asks delicately.

Weird, Alastor never really asked me to show him what I could do. He always just said he could ‘sense’ it. Your brows gather at the realization, “Not exactly. He knows I have it, just not what I can do fully.”

He lets go of you with a sigh of relief, “Probably for the best.”

“Wait, do you – “

“I do not know, though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. You must have something special to survive down here.” He flashes a devilish grin that makes heat rise to your cheeks.

Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have. Can’t hurt for the King to know, right? “Well you were gracious enough to show me your special collection. Let me show you something that’s special to me in return.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to his chair and motion for him to sit down. “Do you have anything sharp?” you ask. He hesitates slightly before grabbing a small knife from his workbench.

“So - I don’t know how this will work with the whole ‘fallen angel’ thing but...trust me?”

His worried eyes are surpassed by a warm smile, nodding for you to continue. You kneel in front of him and take his hand palm side up, “Sorry, this might hurt a little.” He flinches as you slice into his skin and golden fluid gushes from the wound. I didn’t know angelic blood was so beautiful.

Flipping his hand over, you press your lips to his knuckles. A hiss leaves your throat from the sting as the cut heals and blood disappears. Lucifer pulls his hand away to inspect his palm. “Wow…that is…..definitely something,” he breathed in amazement. His hands find yours as he stands to help you up from the floor, but he doesn't let go. Eyes widened in curiosity, “Do you feel anything when it happens?”  

You shrug, “Depends on the wound. Stuff like that just stings. Other times it feels like my body is getting ripped apart.”

Lucifer hums, drawing nervous little circles in your palms with his thumbs, “The gift of healing is something truly amazing.” He seems to lose himself in thought but continues to ghost across your skin. The light touch from his tracing sends you into full body chills.

“You're beautiful.” he whispers under his breath.

You catch his attention to pull him out of his own mind. “I’m sorry?”

“IT’S beautiful - the gift. I mean you’re beautiful too I just - I mean …” You try to hide your giggles as he continues to stammer like a schoolboy. It was refreshing to see him flustered like this, vulnerable and unsure of himself. He stops to take a breath and recollect his thoughts, “I'm sorry I’m just trying to figure out what you, of all people, could possibly want or need from that…demon.” His voice sharpened bitterly at the word. He really likes to poke the sore subjects doesn’t he.

“I didn’t need anything. And I wanted…it doesn’t matter what I wanted. He made his intentions clear that night that I was only some tool for him. He never cared. And I knew better but yet here I am - “

“Heartbroken…?” 

Tears swell in your eyes as he said the word. Uhg not again…Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show. 

Lucifer wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you against him. He softly presses a kiss to your forehead then to each cheek, taking your fallen tears with his lips. Your body freezes at the sudden affection. This feels wrong…

“Look, I know things are getting bad out there, but I can promise you safety - true safety. You can stay here. Away from the sinners, the exorcists, him…you can be here with me and away from all the evil that floods the streets –“ “No!” you interject louder than you mean to. He cocks his head at your sudden outburst, looking offended but softens when he sees tears continue down your face. “I see why Charlie likes you so much my dear. You both try so hard to see the best in everyone and want to help. It’s unfortunate such kind souls like yours are taken advantage of far too often.” You feel his grip tighten at your waist as he presses a hand to your cheek. This feels so very wrong…Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close

You grab his wrists, not to move them away but rather to make sure they don’t travel your body any further, “I have ways of keeping myself safe, Lucifer. I appreciate your offer but I can’t…I won’t…hide away. I refuse to be caged when there are people out there that need help.”

He lets out a low chuckle and rests his forehead on yours. His eyes close as he sighs, “Your determination and stubbornness remind me so much of her…”

“Who?” you whisper.

His lips hover above yours, “Lillith.”

This IS wrong. “Luci –“

Before you can say anything else his lips interrupt yours. His kiss is gentle yet unwavering. Your body aches from how tense your body has become. Any other sinner would kill to be in your position right now, but your mind is only focused on one person – and it isn’t the one kissing you. I hate this...

Like a saving grace, Lucifer’s phone begins ringing with Charlie’s adorable baby picture lighting up the screen. He pulls away and answers it reluctantly, “Heeeey you! How’d the m – oh? Yes, we will be right there.” He hangs up with a groan and intertwines his fingers with yours, “We will have to put this to the side for now. Apparently, the meeting with Heaven didn’t go well. Charlie needs us back at the hotel.” With his free hand he opens a portal into the hotel lobby and pulls you alongside him. 

Stepping into the lobby, his hand keeps a firm grip on yours. You walk in just in time to see Charlie bursting into tears and running upstairs with Vaggie and Alastor trailing close behind her.

“Charlie wait – “ Vaggie tries to stop her but halts at the banister, knowing she is far too upset to talk right now. Lucifer finally lets go of you and rushes to follow his daughter, shoving Alastor to the side as he makes his way up the stairs.

His face twists into a snarl at the King’s boorishness. Realizing he wasn’t alone Alastor glances over his shoulder to see you staring. A strange mixture of hurt and relief fills your body seeing him for the first time since that night. He didn’t look like his usually pristine self. He looked…tired? Disheveled? Why does he look like he’s been worse off than me? As if he’s suffered just as much? You notice his smile falter as he looks back at you before turning to see Lucifer making his way back down the stairs.

“She seems to need some time alone.” Lucifer announces with a hint of hurt in his voice. Ignoring Alastor, he walks over to you and takes your hips forcefully, making you flinch at his grip. “I think it’s best I take my leave for now. Promise you’ll at least consider my offer, please? I’d hate for you to..” he glares back at Alastor to ensure he was watching, “…get hurt in any way. You’re worth protecting my dear.” He places a long kiss to your forehead and vanishes in a stream of red ribbon. 

You rub your sides where he had grabbed you to take away the sting. Your face contorts uncomfortably at the remnants of his touch and kiss. Alastor takes a step towards you almost unconsciously. You snap to his eyes, silently begging for him not to come closer. You want nothing more than to run to him, to feel his touch, his warmth, his safety but you know it'd just hurt more. He stops, offering a nod as he dissipates into his shadow without a word.

Vaggie fills you in on what happened in the meeting with Heaven. Your stomach turns at the idea of the Exorcists targeting the hotel and your friends. You know you’re going to be needed more than ever come that day. I need to be stronger; they’ll need all the help they can get.

You lay down for the evening hoping sleep would come easy but find your eyes only burning into the ceiling. The Extermination, Lucifer’s offer, Alastor…Your mind didn’t know what problem to try and figure out first. After lying awake for a couple hours, you give up and decide to go for a walk to clear your thoughts. As you walk through the lobby you give a quick smile to Husk who was closing up the bar for the night.

“And where are you off to so late?” he hollers, making you jump from the sudden break in silence. 

“Just need to clear my head, Husk. Have a good evening.” you continue walking towards the front doors. He quickly catches up and puts a paw on your shoulder, “Mind if I join? Some fresh air sounds pretty good right now.” You shake your head and step to the side for him to lead the way. 

The two of you walk in a comfortable silence around the small path circling the building. Distant yells and car horns fill the air from the city below. “Quite an exit from the King this afternoon. Sure got Al riled up.” Husk says casually. You stop dead in your tracks at the comment, “What do you mean?”

“If Al comes for a drink, it’s just that. A single drink. Tonight you would have thought he was trying to drown himself.” “If you came along to try to guilt trip me, don’t bother. He did this to himself.” you bite, continuing down the path in hopes he would drop the subject. 

Husk stops you again, “I ain’t trying to get in between whatever messed up relationship you two have, but as someone who is usually at the brunt of his bad moods, he hasn’t once bitten my head off since you came around. You have an…interesting…effect on that evil bastard.”

You shake off his hand, frustrated at the continued prodding. “That’s exactly what he is. Nothing more than a selfish, heartless -”

“He can’t be too heartless considering...” Husk stops himself seeing your head whip around. You walk back towards him, keeping your voice low, “Considering?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and takes a deep breath, “Look he never confides in me. I mean he barely speaks to me other than when he needs something. The liquor really did a number -”

You grab his shoulders to stop his rambling, “What did he say?”

“I - I didn’t even know he had the word in his vocabulary -”

“HUSK!?”

“He said…he loves you.”

If it wasn’t pounding so loudly in your ears, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Any air in your lungs felt as though it was sucked out, “What…”

“That was all he said before leaving for the radio tower. It about broke him seeing Lucifer with you. I never thought he’d say something like that out loud.” Husk says quietly, as if afraid someone else would hear the confession. You stare at him for a while, trying to process what he was saying. Your head starts to spin. Is he just trying to lie his way back to me? Why would he even tell Husk anything? Did he really lose his tongue from the liquor? “I - I need to s-sit down.” your knees buckle but Husk grabs you before you hit the ground.

“Woahh - alright yeah let’s get you inside.”

He helps you inside and sits you on the lounge chair in the lobby, “You okay kid?” 

You finally catch your breath and rest your head in your hands, “Yeah, just a lot to take in today. Thanks Husk. I’ll be good.” He takes the hint that you need a few minutes to yourself and starts to head to his room. 

“Actually wait - mind pouring me a double real quick?” you try to ask but it sounds more like a demand. Husk reluctantly walks back to the bar to pour your usual, “You uh - sure this is a good idea?”

No but fuck it.  

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you again.” you slam back the drink, not letting a drop go to waste. You needed to feel the burn to ground yourself and prepare for what you were about to do. 

Husk leaves you in the lobby. You wait a few moments to allow the liquid courage to burn through your veins, then make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

Here we go.

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @phamtasic @ohnah2022 

[navybrat817]

What Happens in Vegas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Drinking, drunk wedding, accidental marriage, supernatural element, dubcon elements, soft!dark vibes, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wasn't able to get all 4 birthday stories done, but I hope you lovelies enjoy the ones I plan to share. Here's 1 of 2! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer as well for letting me scream about this. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The fluorescent lights of the strip flashed as you stumbled along the sidewalk. Fast paced and surreal, the city that never sleeps offered a little something for everyone. Entertainment, architecture, adventure. While your intention for the evening was to grab a drink with some friends and nothing more, you decided to do something bolder. Crazier. Because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?

“Goin’ to the chapel and we’re… gonna get maaaaaaried,” you sang, squinting as your guy, date, whoever he was, helped steady you. “Who or what was your name again? Randy?”

“That’s not my name. It’s-”

“Randy. ‘Cause you’re a rando,” you declared, making him laugh.

Forgetting the guy’s name should’ve been your first clue to call it a night and go back to your hotel. Randy was cute enough though and bought all of you drinks. When you told him most of your friends were hitched or close to getting married while you were still single, he joked that he’d marry you.

“Fuck it! Let’s get married!”

Which was how you found yourself on his arm heading to a chapel.

Your second clue to go back to your room should’ve been that none of your friends stopped you. Not a single one told you to stay or offered to go with you, which was strange. Not that each of you hadn’t done stupid stuff before. Letting you go off with a stranger though? In an unfamiliar city?

Bitches. All of them. Noooooo. I love my girlfriends. They’re just DRUNK, like me.

You did feel sad for a second. While your friends all had family who would’ve thrown a fit if they eloped or married a stranger, you didn’t. Your dad would never give you away. Your mom wouldn’t wipe her tears as she heard you say your vows. So who cared what you did?

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Here,” Randy said, pulling you toward a door. “This place is supposed to be really nice.”

“OOOOOOOOH. Reeeeeeeally nice,” you said, gasping once you stepped inside.

You expected cheesy decor to smack you in the face, but instead found yourself in a luxurious entryway. Sparkles of gold lined the sleek floor and walls all the way up to the high ceilings. The art depicted landscapes you only had the pleasure of seeing in dreams. The room almost had a glow to it.

Or maybe it's the alcohol blurring my vision.

A voluptuous redhead walked through a set of doors to greet you. Her heels didn’t make a sound as she glided across the floor. Glancing at Randy, you caught him adjusting the front of his pants. Was he drooling? You found it amusing rather than let it upset you.

“Welcome to the Enchanted Valley where all your dreams come true. My name is Natalia. How may I help you this evening?”

“We’re getting married,” Randy answered, though he didn’t glance at you.

“Is that so?” she asked, tilting her head as she turned her attention to you. The gold from the walls sparkled in her eyes as she waited for your confirmation.

Swaying a little, you gave her a two finger salute. “That is so,” you answered before you added, “Do you also do annulments?”

Snorting, she gestured behind her. “Before we get started, you must be at least 18 years old, must not be currently married, must not be kin, and I’ll need to see a government form of identification. As long as that’s clear, you’re free to proceed with your ceremony. Do you have witnesses?"

“No ‘cause my bitchy friends didn’t come here. I don’t even have flowers,” you said, hiccuping a little. “Don’t tell them I call them that. I love them soooooooooo much.”

“That’s just fine. I’ll ask James and Wanda if they wouldn’t mind witnessing this…” Natalia tried to find the word as her eyes darted between you. “Blessed union.”

Randy followed Natalia like a lost puppy into the chapel as he struggled to get his wallet out. “You single?”

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “Why am I doing this?” you mumbled, swaying as you dug your wallet out. “Why didn’t I just get a tattoo or something?”

“Because a ring on your finger is easier to remove than ink on your skin.”

“Holy fucking… fuck,” you said as you looked up. “Where did you come from, you… gorgeous specimen?”

You understood why Randy practically eye-fucked Natalia since you were doing the same with the man in front of you. His steel blue eyes reflected the gold of the room the same way the redhead’s had and you were scared you’d fall into an abyss if you stared for too long. His light brown hair had to be the softest you’d ever seen. If you had to guess, he was at least 6’4” with a broad chest and shoulders and didn’t have the audacity to button up his shirt.

Is his left arm made out of gold? Or is it painted gold? How drunk am I? Would Randy object to me giving this god of a man the ride of his life?

“I’m James,” he said, the timbre of his voice causing your knees to wobble as he held up a bouquet of colorful flowers. “I’ll be one of the witnesses for this blessed union.”

“Nothing blessed about it. I don’t even know the guy. But he said he’d marry me and I said ‘fuck it,” you giggled, taking a step forward. Your shoe caught on nothing. Nothing. You just fell forward.

And the beautiful man caught you in his embrace.

“Careful, beautiful,” he said as he helped you stand upright and placed the flowers in your hand. His touch warmed you as he ran his hands along your bare arms. “You would marry a stranger then? With no friends or family here?”

“You smell really good. How do you smell so good?” You said, putting a hand on his chest with a grin. “Friends are busy and I have no family.”

His brows furrowed and you wondered how pathetic you sounded. You weren’t looking for pity. “Did he give you any token of affection?”

“Mmmmm. You know, he didn’t. We don’t have rings or anything.”

James traced a finger along your cheek. “And he dares to call himself a man,” he whispered, tutting when you leaned into his touch. “Doesn’t seem like he's fit to marry such a delectable creature.”

Eat me up, James.

“It’s okay,” you said, hoping the sad feelings of alcohol weren’t about to hit you. It sucked being alone and you knew you’d come to regret this later, but who cared about tonight? “Do you have gold streaks in your hair? Why are you so pretty? It’s like you’re not even REAL.”

“I’m very real, beautiful,” he smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth as your cheeks got hot. “Do I have the pleasure of knowing your full name?”

“My full name? So formal,” you teased, giving it to him without hesitation as you ran your fingers through his hair. You should’ve asked permission before touching his soft hair. You shouldn’t have touched him at all. But logic left your mind the moment you stepped into the city.

James closed his eyes as he repeated your name, making it sound erotic and sensual. You liked hearing it on his tongue. “You will not marry him,” he whispered, opening his eyes. A ring of gold surrounded his pupils before it went away. Maybe one of the girls slipped a little something into your drink to help you relax more.

Whatever it is, I want more of it.

“Tell you what,” you smiled, booping his nose with a giggle. “If you object with good reason, I won’t marry Randy Rando. Deal?”

James smirked after a moment, a darkness clouding his eyes as he stepped back to shake your hand. “Deal.”

Before you shook it, you noticed a gold ring on the floor by his foot. Did he drop it? “Is that yours?” you said, crouching down to grab it. It wasn’t very dignified how your dress rode up, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Here.”

He didn’t take it from you. “It is mine, but do you not wish to keep it?”

You frowned, confused as you glanced at the band. It had some sort of lettering around the solitaire diamond that you didn’t recognize. “This isn’t ‘finders keepers’. It’s yours. It’s nice, but it’s rude of me to take it.”

With a low hum, he accepted the ring back. “There aren’t many who would return something of value,” he said, slipping it on his right pinky finger. “You have a giving heart.”

“Oh, it… It was nothing,” you said, shrugging a little to hide how badly you wanted to preen at his compliment.

I’m really acting like I’ve never seen a good looking guy before.

He kept an intense gaze on you as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a small stone. It would’ve looked like a normal pebble if not for the gold speckles. “I know this may not look special, but would you take this as a token for giving my ring back?”

Whaaaaaaaat?

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” you said, tucking the stone into your purse before you selected a flower from your bouquet. “Would you accept this from me?” you asked, wanting to do something nice.

A pleased look crossed his face as he took the flower and inhaled. Your head spun a little. Something felt different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Thank you,” he said, running his teeth along his bottom lip as he fixed the bottom of your dress. “You really are the most beautiful bride.”

“And you, James, you beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, god of a man, will make the hottest groom when you get married.”

“Hey!” Randy shouted from the chapel when James opened his mouth. “We doing this or what?”

Oh, yeah.

“Wish me luck!” you said, giggling as you went through the doors and not looking back to see if he followed. “Wow.”

It was as if you stepped into an enchanted forest. The colors of the room were lush and welcoming, a blend of evergreen and sage. Flickering fairy lights and flowers adorned the dark brown pues. Natalia stood in front of Randy and a slender woman you didn’t recognize sat on his side of the chapel. The lights were playing tricks on you again when she looked at you, her eyes a flash of red as she smiled.

That must be Wanda. And I’m never drinking again.

“Ready?” Randy questioned when you got to the end of the aisle.

How romantic.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, looping your arm with his as you held your bouquet. “Take it away, Natalia.”

“Dearly beloved,” she began.

Truthfully, you didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony as Natalia spoke. You didn’t question that she hadn’t looked at your identification card or confirmed anything else she named off. It probably wasn’t a real wedding ceremony. You weren’t going to be Mrs. Randy Rando.

Not when James is here. Wait, what?

“If there are no objections,” Natalia spoke, glancing over your shoulder. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I object,” James announced behind you, making you cover your mouth as you giggled. He did say he’d object with good reason. You wondered what he’d come up with.

“On what grounds?” Natalia asked, smirking as if she expected him to interrupt.

“Because she’s my wife,” he answered.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?!” You laughed louder as you spun around, falling against Randy with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, barely holding you upright.

James walked down the aisle toward you, a gold shine covering him from head to toe. Pointy ears stuck out through his hair and his eyes had a hypnotic glow as he smiled at you, his teeth sharper than before. He looked like a beautiful nightmare.

Ready to eat you up.

“You can see me as I really am, beautiful, can’t you?” He asked, a melodic lift in his tone that was both sinister and alluring. “Glamour doesn’t work on mates.”

...the fuck?

“M-Mates? We’re mates? What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at Randy for help. His eyes had a glossy glaze to them, like he wasn’t seeing you. Was he in shock? Did he know what was going on? “Dude, snap out of it. Look at his gold skin! And his pointy ears!”

“She can see you,” Natalia said with pride. “Congratulations, Bucky. You’re finally married.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” James smiled, waving a hand at Randy. His nails looked sharp enough to claw through his skin. “Get rid of him. He’s crowding my bride.”

“I’m… I’m way too drunk for this,” you mumbled, your knees giving out. With unnaturaul speed, he made his way to the end of the aisle and caught you.

“Hey! That’s my…” Randy looked confused as he blinked. “Well, she's not my girlfriend, but. Huh?”

“No, she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s my wife. And when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember being here,” he said, nodding over to Wanda. “I’d wipe your memory myself, but I’m not letting my mate go.”

“The fuck are you…” he trailed off when Wanda waved her hand, a ball of red light floating in front of his face.

“You sleep now,” she said as the light touched his forehead, not bothering to brace his fall as he collapsed.

“What the hell?” You slurred as Natalia grabbed his ankles to drag him out of the chapel, Wanda on her heel.

“I wouldn’t worry about him since you accepted my hand in marriage,” James said, touching your cheek with a fond smile. “I’m sorry for not courting you longer, but we didn’t exactly have much time, did we?”

“We’re not married,” you argued.

“By Fae law, we are,” he explained as your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Did he say Fae? “You returned something of value to me that I dropped, which was you saying ‘yes’ to my marriage proposal.”

“No,” you whispered. That couldn’t be true.

“You accepted my token of my affection, which was me pledging myself as your husband. And you gave me a token of affection in return, which was you pledging yourself as my wife.”

The stone. The flower. No. Fucking. Way.

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as he propped you up in his arms.

“I wanted a bride, so I came here. You’d be surprised how much of my kind has infiltrated this city. We do love our realm, but your people are so easy to manipulate,” he said, gesturing to the room. “Gambling, drinking, strippers, quick weddings. You just throw your hard-earned money away like it’s meaningless. Your currency goes a long way where I’m from.”

“I want to go home,” you said as he tightened his hold on you, even stronger than he looked.

“You didn’t see me at the bar tonight, but I saw you. I knew you were destined for me,” he continued happily as if you didn’t say anything. “And when he suggested marrying you on a whim, I made sure your friends didn’t try to stop you and that your path led here. Don't worry. They're safe. I wouldn't harm them.”

Who is he? What is he?

You shook your head, surprised that you hadn’t gotten sick from how your stomach turned. “I’m not your wife,” you said, trembling when his entire body began to glow.

“You are not just my wife. You are my queen. Even if you hadn’t accepted my token of affection, I wouldn’t have let you marry someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering. You’re mine,” he said through his teeth, angry at you denying him before he took a breath. “My poor bride. A woman with no family and friends who don’t look out for her. You have me now. And you’ll be happy by my side.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping by some miracle a bit of pain would wake you up. But the creature who called himself your husband wasn’t going away. “This is a bad dream,” you whispered, as if lying to yourself would help.

“Oh, my love,” he said in false comfort. “There are no bad dreams in the Enchanted Valley. And this isn’t the Vegas you know where you can simply write this off as a mistake. There is no divorce in my world. Well, your world now.”

“James, please,” you begged as your heart pounded.

“We’re married now, beautiful. Call me Bucky,” he smiled, smothering your protest with a kiss. Heat spread along your lips and flowed through your veins, wrapping around your heart like a vice. It was enough to suffocate you, but fate wasn’t ready to claim your life yet. “Now sober up. We have a honeymoon to start.”

I couldn't tag Bucky as "fae" without giving some of the surprise away! This idea was inspired by @adayka's beautiful art here. Maybe we can revisit this new couple down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[m0llygunn]

Apologies and Promises (eddie munson x fem!reader)

Part 3 to Same Old Song and Dance 01 / 02 Summary: Hurt feelings hidden under the shallow guise of anger and indifference, in an inebriated state there’s no choice but to face the layers of truth.

Tropes: enemies to lovers (kind of), mean stubborn idiots in love, honestly idk at this point. Warnings: 18+! mature language, ‘bullying’, forcible wrist holding, pet names (princess, sweetheart, angel, baby), mentions of oral (m receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, vomit mention. Author’s note: I am resisting the urge to over explain why theres no smut and this chapter was needed to progress feelings (i know smut is a selling point IM SORRY... but soon i swear it'll be back). wc: 7.2k+

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73 @ropickle @suethh @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @emma77645 @yujyujj

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You didn’t wait around for him to show but you also didn’t expect to have to wait around for him to show.

You’re not disappointed. Why should you be? You didn’t want him to pick you up anyways. 

If anything, you’re pissed. 

He relentlessly badgered you last night about it. Wouldn’t leave until you agreed to let him drive you to school. He was so insistent, that he nearly slept on your floor using that stupid notebook as a pillow.

You’re not disappointed. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Want me to knock him out?” Steve offers and you can’t help but laugh. 

Steve was dropping off his coworker-turned-best friend, Robin, when you were walking into school. He’s a close family friend— and Nancy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, so you happily stopped for a chat. 

“Steve. I hate to break it to you but Munson’s a veteran school fighter. He might not win every fight but he’s definitely been in more fights than you.” You say, patting Steve on the cheek as he comically deflates before you.

“Hey! I won the last fight I was in and I’ve been working on my biceps, can’t you tell?” He says, flexing his arms. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, watching Steve flex his unnoticeably larger arms until he rounds up his antics and leans back against his car. “Your dad at that work conference thing too?” You ask, curiously wondering if it really is a work trip your dad’s on right now. 

“Absolutely. Any chance to get away, right?” Steve says with a somber laugh. 

“I know the feeling...any chance.” You reply, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “Might throw a party, might not.” He says indifferently. You perk up at the idea of a party. It’s always the same crowds that show, you know the list of attendees like the back of your hand.

“You should, I can get Nance to come along, maybe you can rekindle.” You say, hitting Steve’s arm. This could be to his benefit too, Nancy has been bringing him up again recently and that’s always the catalyst to the ‘on again’ portion of their relationship.

“You got some kind of insight?” Steve replies, eyes studying you.

You purse your lips, choosing your words wisely. “Can't say. Bad enough I already told you my business, can’t tell you her business too, Stevie.” 

Steve smiles, shaking his head, accepting your answer because he knows that’s as close as he’ll get to you spilling Nancy's secrets. 

He knows all about your rivalry with Munson, and as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he was actually the first one who suggested sleeping with him quite some time ago. It was a joke of course… yet here you are. You figured he deserved to know that he was some sort of prophet, so you filled him in. Not in as much detail as you did with Nancy, but you told him the gist of it. 

Your conversation with Steve simmers to a lull, both of you watching over the crowd of students funnelling from the parking lot into the school. You’re not explicitly looking for it, but you can’t help but notice the lack of a certain obnoxiously loud van. 

“You’re good, right?” Steve asks, shoulder bumping your own.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You sure?” He asks again, turning towards you enough to gauge your reaction. You shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe a little embarrassed.” You say, shifting back and forth on your feet, eyes still flickering over the bustling parking lot. 

“Don’t be. Fuck him.” He says making you snort a laugh.

“Fuck him?” You question, smirk playing on your lips.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. But he did stand you up so…” Steve says trailing off. You try to laugh it off but it sounds more like a scoff. 

“Yup. Eddie Munson stood me up.” You say, words rolling off your tongue in a confusing cross between regret and hurt even when you meant for it to be a joke. A laughable comment between two friends who know how you and Eddie interact, who know he’s nothing more than a nuisance to you, nothing more than an incessant house fly that just won’t quit circling you. 

You never thought you’d be saying that in this lifetime. You never thought he’d have the opportunity to stand you up. 

You tell yourself you’re not disappointed, but the words sure do taste like it. 

You shrug your shoulders, shaking off your thoughts. “I should go, bell’s about to ring.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was during your second period math quiz. A timid, curly headed freshman knocked on the door interrupting the silence of the room. 

Mrs. Rotman stood from her desk, crossing the room, engaging in a whispered conversation with the boy. She turned to look around the room, eyes flitting over the students before landing on you. She turned back to the boy, whispered something to him and sent him on his way. 

You tried to pretend you were busy doing your quiz but it was hard with her eyes focused on you as she walked in your direction.

“Honey, your fathers in the office for you. Something about a family emergency. Don’t worry about the quiz, sweetie.” She whispered, leaning down to your level with sullen eyes that made your heart rate pick up.

“Family emergency?” You questioned anxiously. 

“Yes dear, go on and head down to the office.” She said, patting your back. 

Leaving behind your quiz that you barely had a chance to start on, you quietly let yourself out of the class. 

Speed walking down the hall, opening the door to the stairwell with enough force for the sound to echo against the cement walls and linoleum floors, you hurry to descend the stairs. With your mind busy, rifling through what potential family emergency would bring your father back to town, you didn’t even notice him standing by the stairwell exit until you stepped down onto the landing. 

There’s a moment before he looks at you. A moment where your heart beats faster. A moment where you’re flooded with scary feelings. A moment were you remember last night. And a moment were you remember this morning.

“Oh for god's sake.” You groan, leaving that moment behind, churning everything into a genuine annoyance because you fell for such a stupid trick. 

“Princess, funny seeing you here. Daddy’s been waiting.” Eddie says, smirk plastered on his face, waiting with his back against the wall, trying to exude some sort of coolness that he doesn’t possess. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit, burning hot from the inside out. Eddie deflates in front of you, smirk dropping as he steps away from the wall towards you.

“No?” He says, almost like he’s asking you. 

“Why the fuck would you think this was okay?” You sneer, voice raising in volume. He shrinks further.

“Just wanted to see you.” He shrugs, eyes falling to the ground.

If he 'wanted to see you', he wouldn’t have stood you up. 

“You wanted to see me?” You scoff bewilderedly.

“Yeah, and apologize for this morning.” He says, eyes flickering up to you.

You spin on your heels, ready to explain the situation to Mrs. Rotman and go back to finishing your quiz. You don't want to hear an apology for that.

“Shit— Princess, come back!” He calls after you. You hear feet clambering, catching up to you just as you clear the first set of stairs. His grasp captures your wrist and you get the eeriest sense of deja vu.

“Princess, c’mon, let me apologize.” He says, voice pleading as you try to tug yourself free.

“No. You can apologize to Mrs. Rotman’s math class for interrupting everyone during the quiz.” You huff, using all your weight to try and free yourself. 

“No, let me apologize to you.” He insists. You feel your heart rate pick up and in an instant you spin, startling Eddie with your fast movement. 

“Do you think this is funny, Eddie?” You spit, brows furrowed, face flushing hot in anger.

With his mouth pulled in a flat line, he shrugs. 

You know he's hardly phased by your spitfire and you step closer to up the ante. 

“No, seriously? Are you having fun, Eddie? Answer the question.” You say, burning your gaze into his. 

He doesn't indulge you in an answer, he just looks at you with round eyes. He doesn't cower, he doesn’t spit heated words back, he just remains looking at you with his stupidly big eyes. You're not even sure if his disposition is meant to soothe you, but it does and you hate it. It irons out nearly every wrinkle of anger and you hate it. 

“I know none of this matters to you, Eddie, but it matters to me.” You say, mustering up every blazing emotion you have left in you but it comes out too gentle to be anger.

“What matters to you?” He asks quietly, his face softening, eyes getting impossibly rounder. His grip on your wrist loosens as he steps closer to you. 

You press your lips closed, breathing deeply to compose yourself. Your sentiment is ambiguous, you recognize that. Whether is was purposeful or not is a mystery to even you. You wouldn't admit this matters, whatever this is between you and Eddie, never. You couldn't.

Even if you didn't leave space for ambiguity, you know what he's asking right now. Does he matter to you, does this matter to you?

“School, idiot.” You say quietly. You cover ambiguity by shutting him down and embellishing it with an insult. It's a lie, you both know it. It’s an orchestrated move at this point; he steps right, you step left.

He moves in closer to you, toe to toe, his chest less than arm's length away. His grip on your wrist slides down, stopping just before your palm, inches away from being a hand hold.

“You're only upset because I took you away from your quiz?” He asks quietly, amusement hinting in his tone. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Yes.” You reply flatly. You lick your lips instinctively and you mentally scold yourself.

“No, you're not.” He laughs softly, eyes only watching your lips now. “You're really that desperate to finish a math quiz?” He asks, amusement becoming forthright.

He does think this is funny and it makes your blood boil. 

“Stop doing that.” You sneer but it comes out weak.

“Stop doing what?” He asks, eyes still unmeeting of yours.

His overconfidence and arrogance buzzes around in your head, spurring on your anger. You feel cornered by him calling your bluff and nothing good has ever come from that, especially when your heart is beating so fast you can't hear your own thoughts.

“Assuming you know me, Eddie. You don’t.” You snap, hammering your words into him like nails in a coffin, punctuating your words with a tug of your wrist but his grasp hardens, not letting you go.

He finally looks up at you, eyes meeting your gaze and you can tell your words stung by the mirrored reflection of hurt. He looks taken aback. Whatever he thought was about to happen, you pulled it out from under him like a mean trick and hurt switches to anger.

“So you’re really only upset because you’re here?” He scoffs, brows pinching.

“I just fucking said that.” You spit back.

“And you’re not at all upset because I didn’t pick you up this morning?” And that's all he has to say to send you into a flighty panic. You won't look truth in the eye, you can't.

“Eddie. Let go.” You seethe, tugging your wrist harshly. You bring your other hand to his in an attempt to pry his fingers off. His grip isn’t enough to hurt you, it’s simply unrelenting, a desperate attempt to finish this conversation.

"Princess—" He starts but you interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to give him another opportunity to throw your own feelings in your face.

"Let go." You say, your volume raising out of desperation.

“Fine. Just fucking relax for a minute, Jesus Christ.” He groans, when you start swatting at his forearm. His own annoyance rises and it pisses you off because what does he have to be annoyed about? He’s not the one that got stood up. 

“I am relaxed!” You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut and stamping your foot. 

Eyes still closed, you listen to your own voice echoing off the walls, forcing you to hear yourself. It sounds like a reverb of hurt between the two of you. Despite the meaningless message your words attempt to convey, it sounds like a slip of honesty, a slip of your true feelings and how he’s affected them. It sounds tears short of being an angered cry.

A beat passes before the echoes subside, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Princess.” Eddie whispers softly. His voice isn’t loud like yours, it doesn’t vibrate off the walls but it still echoes in your consciousness, occupying a space hugged tightly next to your heartbeat. 

You feel fingertips ghost over your cheeks, delicate in nature despite residing in the antagonistic warland that you and Eddie have fostered together. Your heart catches in your throat and you hate it. 

Your face pinches in its default anger. You ready yourself to scold him, but when you open your eyes and all you see is soft, warm brown staring back at you, it doesn’t come. You hate it. 

He closes his grasps on your face, both hands holding you gently by the jaw. Both hands.

Your wrist set free, you pull away, storming back down the stairs. He steps forward, you run away— another orchestrated move.

Hearing yourself is too much, you need air. You need somewhere where your own thoughts can't reverb like your words against cement and linoleum. You need something to get you thinking straight.

Scuffing sneakers echo behind you as you clear the staircase, cross the foyer, and push open the door to the parking lot. You expect a hand around your wrist again but it doesn’t come. 

You slow to a walk and so does he, his steps crunching on the pebble covered pavement as he trails behind you quietly.

You round the corner of the building before leaning against the wall, expectant hand held out towards Eddie.

He tentatively raises his arm, fingers grazing yours, palm just barely ghosting your own, before you smack him away.

“No you idiot, cigarette.” You say, exhaling deeply. 

He mumbles an embarrassed apology before digging through his pocket.

“Here.” He says quietly, passing over his carton of camels.

You pull one out, placing it between your lips, Eddie’s eyes watching your every move. Flickering the lighter that was tucked into the empty space of the box, you light it up, smoke pluming from the corners of your lips as you take your first drag. Eddie swallows harshly, lost in thought.

“Well?” You snap, his eyes fleeting back to yours. 

“R-right. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning, princess. I’m really really sorry.” He says softly, strumming the chords of your heart with his words. You hate it.

“Why should you be sorry about that, I didn’t want you to anyways.” You say, trying to sound indifferent. You don’t though. You hear your own voice just like you did in the stairwell and you sound like a little kid who hasn’t quite mastered the art of fibbing. It’s a jejune lie, not even a good one.

“I said I would though, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He says, round eyes set on you.

The sun glimmers against his hair making the wavy brown strands look golden, a perfect match to the gold in the eyes staring at you right now.

He’s genuinely sorry, you believe him, and you hate it.

Continuing on your juvenile streak, you pocket his lighter before handing back his carton. You know he sees you do it but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Whatever, Eddie.” You mumble, taking a drag from your cigarette. 

You let your head fall against the brick behind you, eyes scanning thoughtlessly over the surrounding thick tree line. Eddie takes a step, his shoulder hitting the wall as he leans against it, still facing you. 

“Don't you wanna know where I was?” He asks carefully, a testing tease lingering around his words.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest, your burning cigarette skillfully held out to not get ash on yourself. Eddie exhales a light laugh before leaning into you. 

“Well, princess.” He starts, leaning in even closer. “I accidentally slept in because I was too busy staying up all night thinking about this girl who gave me the best head of my life.”

“Gross.” You scoff, hiding your smile by taking another drag.

“Fuck yeah. It was certified sloppy toppy. I think I was reborn yesterday, died and got as close to heaven as I ever will.” He says, body twisting so his head knocks against the brick wall dramatically. 

“Now you're just sucking up.” You grimace, taking another drag.

He laughs softly before the both of you fall into a quiet lull. You partially expected him to make some kind of joke out of ‘sucking up’ but he doesn’t. Only the sound of trees blowing in the wind can be heard, along with scattered chirps of birds in the distance.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, breaking the silence. You let your eyes flicker to him before focusing back on your barely burnt cigarette. You drop it, stomping it out under your shoe. It was a waste of a cigarette, but Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You reply, facing towards the tree line again. 

“Okay, princess.” He sings, clearly not believing you. “But everything aside… we’re good?” He asks, watching you carefully.

“Eddie.” You exhale. That’s a big thing for him to ask of you and he doesn’t even realize it. How can you say that everything between the two of you is good when… What even is there between the two of you? Are you even friends? It's another truth you're not willing to face.

“Princess, tell me we’re okay or else you’ll keep me up another night.” He says, slouching his shoulders. 

“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh. He steps closer to you, hand raising and grasping a piece of your hair. You watch in your periphery as he swirls it between his fingers.

“I’ll never get another wink of sleep, I’m begging you. Tell me we’re okay or tell me how to fix it.” He says, tiptoeing even closer to you.

“Eddie.” You laugh again, shaking your head. The hair between his fingers falls but he’s quick to reach for the strands that fell into your face, skillfully tucking it behind your ear.

“All I’m asking for is your forgiveness. What d’you say, angel?” He whispers. You turn your head, looking at him skeptically with raised brows. 

“Angel? I think that’s hardly a fitting name.” You scoff.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. After last night.” He says, hand retreating from you to grab his heart dramatically, throwing his body back against the brick wall in a swoon. 

“Suck up.” You say trying to hide your amusement. You watch him as he continues his antics, biting your lip to hide your smile. 

He turns to you, looking up through his lashes, feigning a faux innocence.

“So what d’ya say, princess?" He questions, quirking a brow at you. "Want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a deep grin, eyes amusedly awaiting your response. 

You pause, not necessarily thinking about his offer but more so distracted by the way the sun reflects off of his eyes making them glow golden again.

He takes your pause as a yes, stepping into you, hands grabbing behind your ears, cradling your neck. He presses sloppy kisses all over your cheeks and up to your forehead, all while you protest through giggles. It’s sickeningly sweet. Truly sickening. You hate it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you ask my friends where I was yesterday, princess? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” Eddie mocks into your ear startling you.

“Oh no.” You groan to yourself, flashing Nancy a preemptive apologetic look. 

“Princess, d’ya happen to have a lighter? Mine seems to have gone missing.” He says, moving on from his original remark, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. 

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke, it’s a dirty habit.” You say flatly, keeping your focus on your lunch and Nancy sitting across from you.

“Oh, that’s crazy I could have sworn I saw you hanging out in the back of the school with some guy smoking earlier? I must have been mistaken.” He says, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he throws one leg over the cafeteria bench, straddling it. 

“We weren’t ‘hanging out’.” You scoff.

“Right, right. I was groveling, my bad, princess.” He laughs. 

You look up at Nancy and she’s shaking her head, lips pursed tightly, holding back her ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. Eddie doesn't typically bother you at lunch, so to Nancy, this very much looks like him 'getting worse'.

“Eddie, don't you have somewhere else to sit?” You say, shrugging his arm off your shoulder. 

“What? Can’t come have lunch with my girl?” He teases, scooting closer to you, his knee pushing against your thigh, your shoulder practically resting against his chest. 

“I just barely forgot about the stunt you pulled earlier, you’re pushing your luck, Munson.” You warn.

“Don’t call me that.” He says flatly.

“Munson? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You laugh.

“Nope, not to you it isn’t.” He replies flatly, grabbing a grape off your lunch tray before you can stop him. 

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You say, his arrogance pinching at your agitation.

“Lighter.” He sings, eyes sparkling with amusement meeting yours, stealing another grape in the process. Turning his head, he focuses on Nancy. “Wheeler, how’s it going?”

“Good.” She laughs, still shaking her head. 

“Heard you tattled on me to Princess.” He says, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his face.

“Eddie, leave her alone.” You huff. You feel his hand raise up your back, settling slowly, before rubbing back and forth. He leans in closer to you, face brushing against your hair.

“Gotta share the attention sometimes, princess.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles the shell of your ear and you feel your heart rate pick up.

You sit up straighter, Eddie’s chin knocking into your shoulder as you reach into your front pants pocket.

“Lighter. There. Leave.” You say, finding his free hand to push it into his hold. 

“Good girl.” He teases, quickly pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You feel yourself burning hot and it takes everything in you not to hit him back with some sort of insult but you know if you do he’ll just stick around for longer. 

He gets up from the bench with a coy wave of his fingers and a polite nod to Nancy, disappearing into the crowd of the lunch room.

“Nancy, if you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god.” You say, holding back your smile as you watch your friend’s eyes burst with amusement. 

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so!” She laughs. 

“I can see it in your eyes Nancy, I know you’re dying to say it.” You reply.

“I won’t say it… but I will say that you’re blushing pretty hard right now.”

“Out of embarrassment! That was embarrassing, Nancy.”

“People aren’t usually that smiley after being embarrassed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie kept his eyes on the prize all night. Not in a creepy way, just to make sure you were okay… and because he just liked looking at you. You were making it awfully hard though, the way you kept disappearing between the groups of people occupying Harrington’s infamous Saturday night party. 

His goal was to sell what he needed to sell, then he could have his fun. So when he sold his last eighth, his heart rate picked up as he bounded through the waves of people to find you. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a pang of nerves when he finally found you, all alone in the kitchen, getting yourself a drink. 

Steve decided late Friday night that the party was on. He called you up and from there you called Nancy. It’s a practiced drill at this point, Steve calls a few people, who call a few more people, and the word gets around pretty quickly. Eddie got news that night, and it was a given he would sell. He always sells at Harrington parties, similar to how you’re always drinking at them. 

“All your friends scurry off on you, Princess?” An all too familiar voice says right into your ear.

“No.” You say flatly, turning to see Eddie at your side. 

“That’s funny, I only see you.” He says, eyes teasingly looking around you before settling back to meet your gaze.

“You should get your eyes checked, there’s like 20 other people in here.” You say, motioning to all the other bodies occupying the room. 

“You know what I mean.” Eddie says, hip bumping yours gently as you pour from a bottle of something highly alcoholic into your cup. 

“Do I?” You laugh before quickly shooting back your drink. 

“Look at her, she’s a professional.” Eddie teases as you scrunch your face through the burning sensation in your throat, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of your lips from your overzealous tilt of the cup. Without as much as a second though, Eddie’s hand raises to you, wiping your chin dry. 

“Why are you so nice now?” You ask, leaning closer to him so he can hear you over the music. 

“I’m not.” He smiles, eyes leaving yours to watch as you set the empty cup down on the counter. He knows he’s lying, you both do. 

“Is it because I sucked your dick?” You giggle.

You take another step closer to him where he leans against the counter. His eyes meet yours again with a mixture of amusement and shock looming on the surface of his gaze.

“You’re more drunk than you look, princess” He holds your gaze, amusement taking the reigns until his eyes lower to the short distance you’ve created between the two of you. 

“I’m not drunk.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. Eddie watches you, you can tell he’s smiling and you’re not even looking at him. 

“Where’s Wheeler gone? You were with her all night.” He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head, meeting his gaze, lifting your eyebrows as you decipher his question. 

“You were watching me all night?” You ask teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. 

“Princess.” He exhales, rolling his own eyes jokingly. The way his little nickname for you rolls off his tongue makes your already dizzy head spin. 

“She went upstairs with Steve.” You answer, letting your hand rest on the counter, pinky brushing the material of his jeans where he leans against the marble countertop. 

“I hope she’s not as drunk as you are.” He replies, eyes on your fingers as you continue to brush them against him. You shake your head. You could tell him that their rendezvous was premeditated, and a recurring pattern between the two, but you don’t want to talk about them. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? First you took care of me when I was sick, now you’re looking out for my friends. Such a sweet boy.” You coo, leaning into Eddie, removing your hand from the countertop and placing it flat on his chest to stabilize yourself. 

“Baby, I think you're too drunk, look at you being sweet.” He laughs and you dip your head, hiding the way his words affect you. You’re always ‘princess’, never ‘baby’. It makes your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

You can’t help but notice how he doesn’t touch you though. He’s always poking and prodding at you in one way or another. Last time you saw him, he was all hands and kisses to your cheeks, but now, nothing.

“Did you make a lot of money tonight?” You ask, stepping in closer to him, your thigh pressing into his as you stand beside him.

“I did good enough.” He shrugs, arms staying closely to his sides and it almost makes you want to pout. He should be grabbing your hand or twirling your hair, doing what he always does. 

“You were busy all night.” You mumble, your head down, watching as you kick at his shoe before stepping over it with one foot. Still leaning against the counter, he shifts, arms moving at his side and you almost get excited before you realize he's just crossing them over his chest. You lower your hand, sitting it closer to his hip as you move to stand directly in front of him. 

“You were watching me all night?” He mocks, copying your same lilt.

“I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” You whisper, head down. He’s still not touching you.

“You did.” He replies, exhaling a laugh. You rest your other hand on his crossed arms, hoping he’ll get the hint but he doesn’t and you sigh, slouching into yourself. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asks, quietly.

“You.” You reply flatly. 

“Yeah, but you’re all pouty. You don’t pout. You scowl. Yell. Threaten violence.” He teases gently, dipping his face enough to meet your gaze. 

“You’re not touching me.” You mumble, words so quiet you can barely hear them yourself over the blaring music.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, leaning his ear closer to you. You step in closer to him, pushing your way between his legs.

“I said, you’re not touching me.” You grumble, annoyed that you have to repeat yourself. Even more annoyed when he hears you and still doesn’t touch you. You huff, pushing your body flat against his, but he stops you, hands on your shoulders holding you away from him.

“Princess, I can’t. You’re drunk.” He says firmly, serious eyes meeting yours. Your knee shakes as you try to stop yourself from stomping your foot. 

“You can. You just want to piss me off.” You say, funnelling all of your emotions and forcing them into a short lived anger. 

“Trust me, that’s not why.” He says softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your shoulders. You happily focus on his simple caresses on your bare skin, but the feeling it gives you just leaves you wanting more.

“You're touching me right now, Eddie. Just keep doing that.” You whine, giving him your best pout paired with doe-eyes. His gaze soften, eyes fluttering over your features.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, flashing you a small smile.

“You like it though, that’s why you keep coming back.” You whisper. Eddie’s mouth pulls in a flat line and you think you might have said something wrong. His grip on your shoulders falls and you’re sure you did.

You’re sure you did until you feel his hands meet your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands slip up his chest and around his neck and you hug yourself to him tightly. You absorb every ounce of him you can, every inebriated sense of yours captivated and buzzing with feelings and flutters. Even through the thump of the bass vibrating throughout the kitchen, you swear you hear his heart, or maybe it’s yours, either way it doesn’t matter because Eddie Munson is holding you just like you wanted him to. 

“I was waiting for you to come find me.” You whisper into the skin peeking out of the collar of his shirt as you press your head to his shoulder.  

In the bustling of the party, you stand chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other like this was the only way things were meant to be. He responds to you through the movement of his hands, rubbing up and down your back, touching you, just like you asked. Soothing you like you didn’t know he could. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Eddie, you’re not doing it right, you’re supposed to just come in. I’m not supposed to have to ask you.” You whine. 

“Princess, I can’t.” He says, smiling as you try to tug him through the front door of your house. 

“You can, you did it before, remember?” You say, giving him your best pout.

“You were sick.” He says, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he stands firmly outside, your tugs not making him budge in the slightest. 

“I'm going to be sick right now, if you don’t come inside.” You whine, punctuating your words with little stomps of your feet.

You may have taken a few more shots after Eddie broke up your hug earlier. You knew you had him at that point so maybe you took them just to spite him. It made sense at the time and as the night progressed, you were right. He was by your side the whole time, never more than an arm's length away. And when it was time to go home, you didn’t even have to ask, he was already offering you a ride and guiding you to his van.

“Princess, you’re killing me.” He says exasperatedly through a smile before stepping into the doorway. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Jesus, just drink the water, princess.” Eddie laughs. 

“I’ll do it if you lay down with me.” You say stubbornly. He shakes his head and you drop yourself down onto your pillow. “Please, Eddie. Please.” You plead, your eyes catching the dizzy image of him in the lowlight of your room.

“Drink the water and I’ll think about it.” He says sternly.

“Lay down and I’ll think about it.” You mock, copying his tone.

“You are so…” He laughs, trailing off.

“Good at giving blowjobs?” You giggle, filling in his sentiment. His gaze drops to the floor as he sits on the edge of your bed, shaking his head in disbelief of the moment. 

“I was gonna say ‘impossible’.” He corrects with a laugh. 

You furrow your brows. In attempts to prove him wrong you sit up, taking the water from him and silently finish it small swallow by small swallow until your belly feels impossibly full of water. 

“Done.” You huff, falling back to your pillow dramatically. 

“Good.” He says, hand patting your calf that’s sprawled against the comforter next to him. 

“No. Good girl.” You say, correcting him through giggles. He squeezes your calf, before sitting up enough to put the glass down on your bedside table. 

“Good girl.” He says to appease you, smirk heavy in his features. 

“Was I good enough for you to lay down?” You ask, flashing him innocent eyes. He exhales deeply and even in your spinning state, you know he’s weighing his options. His eyes track the span of the bed before looking back at you, seriousness written across his features.

“No funny business.” He says firmly, making sure to make eye contact so you know he’s serious.

“No funny business.” You agree, nodding your head waiting for him to give in. 

“Only for a few minutes. Sober you wouldn’t want me here.” He says, removing his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Yes she would.” You mumble with a pout but quickly get excited when Eddie starts shuffling to lay down. You prop yourself up ready to cozy into him but he stops you.

“Nuh-uh. On your side of the bed, princess.” He says, motioning for you to lay back down. You throw yourself to the mattress with a whined cry. 

“You’re no fun.” You huff, whine building in your chest.

“I’m not here to have fun, princess. This is serious business.” He laughs. 

You continue pouting on your side of the bed, turning enough to watch as Eddie settles into your mattress. His hair sprawls over your pillow, just like before, his throat bobbing as he swallows before turning his head to you.

“Go to sleep.” He says and your jaw drops. His lips curl into a smile, eyes dancing in amusement. 

“You’re mean, you couldn’t even say goodnight? Just go to sleep?” You shrill, trying to focus your gaze on Eddie to get your glare across. 

“Go to sleep.” He repeats, smirking as he reaches his arm to your bedside table, switching the light off, leaving you both in the low glow of the moonlight that sweeps in through your half open curtains. 

“Eddie, I can’t unless you say it nicely.” You argue.

“Princess. Please go to sleep.” He says with teasing lilt.

“No.” You giggle.

“I said it nicely, c’mon princess.” He groans.

“Eddie.” You whine, hearing the annoyance in his voice.

“Princess.” He mocks.

You scan your eyes over him, the low light helping you find where his hand lays at his side. Quietly, you tiptoe your fingers across the mattress until you brush against his hand. Before you can close your grasp, he rips it away with a tut. 

“Eddie, I held your hand when you wanted me to.” You whine.

“That was different.” He replies.

“No it wasn’t! Just hold my hand.” You say, pushing yourself up to try and grab his hand where it lies on his stomach now.

“Lay back down.” He laughs pulling himself further away from you. You drop yourself to the bed, your bottom lip quivering. It’s not for dramatics though, you know Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No. I’m tired of doing this, I just want you to hold my hand.” You whisper back. Eddie says some kind of teasing response but you ignore it, feeling too lost in the spinning of your head. 

In your current state, you feel a lot of things. Most importantly, you’re confused. These nights usually end with Nancy and Steve. Eddie's existence would have never even crossed your mind, but now, all you want is to be close to him. It doesn’t help that he’s been making you practically beg for his attention all night. It might seem sudden, but it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you feel your eyes grow wet. Your breathing starts to come out in harsh whines from your stomach that get caught in your throat.

When the first tear falls it feels catastrophic. It feels destructive, disastrous even. It feels like a break in your guard and you aren’t quick enough to catch it. There’s no snark left in the world that could patch this up right now. So you hide.

Pushing your face into your pillow, your tears free fall.

You feel shifting on the bed and you push your face further into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Eddie asks softly, sounding closer to you now.

You don’t offer a response, your throat feels too tight to speak. You feel like you’re drowning in more than just tears.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He replies gently, all teasing gone from his voice. “I’ll hold your hand, here.” He finds your hand, taking it in his but it’s too late. The floodgates are open, set on their path of destruction, open to exposing damage.

His hand wraps around yours and you feel small. Not because of the size difference but because there’s a reason you don’t show these feelings. There’s a reason it’s easier for you to scowl and yell. This side feels too bare, too soft, too uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar and scary. It feels like offering yourself up to impending disappointment. It feels like waiting for someone to pick you up and they don’t. 

He pulls your hair, you pull his back. He stands you up, what can you do besides pretend it didn’t hurt?

You should yell, you should scold, you should threaten violence. You should tear your hand away, kick him out.

But you don’t. You couldn’t, not anymore. Not right now.

You just want Eddie, all games aside. You want him in the silence of the night, not through the bass of the music where one of you has to move left while the other moves right. You don’t want to dance the line of whatever this is anymore. 

You pull his hand, willing him to come closer, a silent plea through your tears, and he does. He shifts closer until you're pressed to him, your intertwined hands hugged between your chests as his other hand wraps around you, resting against your back. He soothes you with quiet promises of everything being okay intermixed with his own apologies that only make you cry harder. 

Maybe you’re not the whole reason that you two have ended up here, but you’re half of it, and it takes two to play this game. If you tap out, you’re half of the way to it being over.

If you walk away and he follows, isn’t that just the game changing again? A game of cat and mouse?

Maybe all these metaphors are stupid. Maybe they’re all a figment of your imagination that blossomed as a child from the first time he pulled your hair. Maybe you’re too old for these playground antics. Maybe you’re too old to not say how you feel. 

“I was sad when you didn’t come to pick me up.” You whisper, your sob-filled secret sailing into the darkness of the room as if his chest wasn’t there to catch your secret. 

Your words are as much for you as they are for him, you couldn’t admit your hurt before, but now you do. 

Truth tastes soft in your mouth, not at all like the burn of alcohol you’ve drowned yourself in. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t fix everything, it just creates a storm in your belly. A fight between everything you know, everything you’ve done, and something new. It’s unnatural, it makes you feel sick. 

“I know, princess. I’m sorry.” He whispers in return, his hand rubbing against your back. You imagine with every pass of his hand on your back he’s helping you fight the furries of the storm rising inside of you, but with the storm rising, there is nowhere else for these feelings to go but up. 

“I don’t want you to say sorry, I just don’t want you to do it again.” You cry.

Your throat constricts as you feel bile rising. 

“I won’t. I promise, okay?” He says softly. His words would have eased every metaphorical storm inside you, but this storm has turned literal, you’re about to vomit.

“Eddie, I'm gonna be sick.”

It’s a rush of limbs and a dash down the hall. Everything pours from you, every uncried tear, every burn, every furry, every roar of the storm. Everything you know, everything you’ve done, it all leaves you. And in its wake all you have left is Eddie’s hand rubbing your back, telling you it’s okay. It’s soft and unnatural but you let it absorb you entirely. It burrows into you, finding a place you never knew existed, a place where softness thrives and doesn’t need to be hidden by the guise of anger and indifference.

Eddie brings you back to your bed and in the silence of the night, apologies and promises lay side by side, holding hands. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[alittlebitofloveliness]

i uh.. i’m sorta scared to request cus u feel like a celeb with how damn good your writing is😭 anywaysss a super sad soda oneshot would literally make my day please ahahaaa

Hi lovely! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you for your request. i hope this lives up to expectations lol, its based off this line from canon:

"The only noise was the nurse's soft footsteps and Soda's light breathing. Darry looked down at him and grinned half-heartedly. "He didn't get much sleep this week," he said softly. "He hardly slept at all." "Hhhmmmm," Soda said drowsily, "you didn't either.""

****************************

Sodapop had never much liked church.

He’d always had trouble sitting still, and when he was little spending two hours sitting still and listening to a sermon he could hardly understand was like torture. As he got older, sitting still never became any easier, now matter how hard he tried, and the leniency afforded to a squirming child wore thin once he was about eight. But church had been important to mom, and anything that was important to mom was important to dad too. Darry had hated church as much as he did, always too practical to put much faith in it.

“How am I supposed to not believe in Santa but believe there's a man in the sky watching over me?” Darry had asked dad one day when mom was in the kitchen making sandwiches for the church picnic. Dad had taken him and Darry aside then and explained that their thoughts were their own and they could think them all they wanted, but that church was about more than the preachers stories and prayers to God, that it was about community and helping people and learning to dress nice and act properly, so they would all have to keep going. That had sated Darry, ever the dutiful son, and he’d gone in good spirits and kept his disbelief to himself further such that mom and Ponyboy- who’d been fascinated by the stories ever since he could start to understand them- who believed in God wholeheartedly wouldn’t overhear him.

Soda hadn’t been too sure for a while whether he believed in God or not. He’d spent more time focusing on trying not to squirm too much under mom’s glare to puzzle out his thoughts on the universe, and when he was outside of church he was much more focused on fooling around town with Steve than he was thinking about God. He figured it best to leave such thinking to smart folks like Darry or deep folks like Ponyboy, or even pious folks like mom, than for someone dumb like him to think over it. Chances were, no matter how hard he tried to puzzle it out, he’d get it wrong. He tended to get a lot of things wrong. He’d gotten most of his math test wrong the week before, and he was already failing english. So yeah, better leave such thoughts to people who could actually figure it out. It didn’t matter anyway. He still went to church either way, still listened to mom’s scolding after each sermon, and then promptly washed his hands of the whole mess until the next sunday morning.

Then mom and dad had died and they’d stopped going to church. Well, he and Darry had. Pony still went, though whether it was because he still believed or because he felt closer to mom doing it Soda wasn’t sure and he hadn’t dared ask, not when Pony had been in such a fragile state, hardly speaking for months. Truth be told, it had scared him something awful. It had scared Darry too.

Still, much as he hadn’t liked church there were some things he remembered vividly. He remembered the hard bench under his knees when they knelt to pray. He remembered the times mom had dragged him to confession after he and Steve had done something particularly bad, and he remembered the stories. In particular, he remembered the stories of purgatory, of the inbetween, of waiting for heaven or hell, being stuck between salvation and damnation. Mom had always been terrified of purgatory, always abhorred the thought, seemed more averse to it than the idea of hell. Soda hadn’t understood. He’d rather be stuck between life and death than stuck in a pit of fire being tortured forever. When he’d said as much mom’s eyes had filled with shadows.

“Waiting can be it’s own kind of torture, dearest.”

He hadn’t understood then. For all his trouble sitting still, he’d still thought snakes and fire and pain had to be worse than waiting for something- even salvation.

Now though, he’s starting to understand. 

Ponyboy and Johnny have been missing for almost three days, and Sodapop is starting to lose his mind. Here he is, helpless, unable to do anything to find them, to help them, unable to do anything but wait. 

Per usual, mom was right. This is torture. 

He is not used to being unable to do something. Usually he does everything, anything, all the time. Together, he and Steve are a whirlwind, both unable to stop moving for more than a minute at a time, a wild, reckless, fun loving, unstoppable force. But he can’t find a kid brother who doesn’t want to be found, can’t search for a kid who left no clues- and even beating the shit out of Dallas hadn’t made the hood tell him where the kids went. Even though he knows Dally knows.

So all he can do is wait. Darry is in a similar state to him, unable to do anything and horrified by it, but Soda is still so mad at him he can hardly find it in himself to care. He knows Darry didn't mean to hit Ponyboy, just like he knows Pony didn’t mean to be late for curfew- but he still did it, and now Pony is missing. Their fourteen year old kid brother, who loves books and movies and doing dumb shit with Johnny, who is tough but not mean enough to properly defend himself, is missing. 

Shit. How did his life come to this? A year ago all his biggest worries were passing English and trying to get Sandy to go out with him. Now, he’s got dead parents and a missing kid brother and a girlfriend who's been so cagey recently he knows something is wrong even if she won’t tell him what.

Darry is in the recliner, reading the newspaper but he’s been reading it for the past three hours and hasn’t turned the page even once. Soda is on the couch, knee bouncing, not doing anything at all. The clock on the wall ticks methodically, mocking him. The face reads 12:37. This will be the third night Pony has been gone. Soda can’t help but wonder where he’s sleeping, if he’s warm enough, if he’s scared. His nightmares are bad enough when he’s home. What if he has one while he’s away? Sure, Johnny’ll take care of him, but he doesn’t know how, not really, not like Soda does. Johnny doesn’t know that Pony will need him to look away for a minute while he wipes his eyes, and then need to talk for a few minutes before he goes back to sleep. Johnny won’t know he needs someone to stroke his hair to calm him down, but that he’d never in a million years ask for it.

The clock ticks, the minute hand creeping closer and closer to the top of the clock. Soon, it will be once in the morning, just five hours before his opening shift at the DX. He should get some sleep, he knows, but he can’t face that room, that empty bed where his baby brother should be, safe and warm, not out somewhere in the cold. He can’t shut his eyes on the couch either, not when sleeping could mean missing the moment Ponyboy calls or walks through the door. So he sits, knee bouncing, and he waits, his other brother holding his own vigil in the armchair. They’re united in their terror, pulled apart by anger and remorse, and their salvation is a rusty haired kid running from a crime he didn’t commit, somewhere in the darkness.

Part of Soda is tempted to say that this, the waiting, is the worst thing ever, but then he remembers that after purgatory can be heaven, yes, but it can also be hell, and that is not something he is prepared for right now, or ever again. It was bad enough losing mom and dad. He’d rather spend forever waiting for Ponyboy to come back than to find out something terrible has happened to him.

Still, each second that passes is an eternity, and each minute an infinity without Ponyboy here with them, and the clock mocks him evermore as time passes and nothing happens.

“Do you think,” Darry clears his throat, looking the sort of young he only ever looks this late at night, when Ponyboy is asleep and the gang is gone and he can be Darry instead of Superman, “do you think he’s alright?”

Part of him wants to say nothing, to give him the coldness of silence until Pony is returned to them, to let him suffer for his hand in their brother’s disappearance, but Darry is all he has right now, the only other person on earth who understands, and Soda cannot bring himself to be that cruel.

“Yes.” He says instead, because Ponyboy has to be alright, and he cannot torture himself with thoughts of his personal hell when he is already being tormented living in this purgatory.

Darry nods and goes back to staring blankly at his newspaper. The clock reads 2:13 the next tim he deigns to speak.

“You should get some sleep, little buddy.”

“I can’t.” He tells him honestly, and Darry doesn’t fight him, too tired or too defeated or maybe just too guilty to even try. 

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, “me neither.”

They sit like that, trapped in purgatory, until the sun rises over the horizon. Eventually, Darry rises to go shower, Soda goes to start breakfast, and they begin the fourth day without Ponyboy.

The day passes much like the night, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Pony doesn’t call. He doesn’t come home. Dusk falls, and Soda and Darry take their places in the living room.

Purgatory continues.

They wait.

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul Silva x daughter!reader - burning bridges

Hi, could I request a Saul silva x daughter reader? Can she have shadow manipulation powers? - Anon💜

Standing in front of the mirror in the lounge, you turned to the side so you were able to pull your armour a little tighter so it would fit better.

There was a knock on your door and you glanced over.

“It’s open.”

You watched who walked through before you went back to putting your amour on.

“I never agreed to you coming on this mission.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t your call.”

Your dad sighed heavily, walking over to put your shoulder pads on for you despite the glare you had given him.

“Maybe not, but I’m still your father (Y/N). They should have asked me.”

“When will you give this up dad? Whether you agree to it or not I will still go on these missions. They have nobody else.”

“They can find other people!” He hissed.

You spun around, glaring harshly at him.

“Where?! Where the fuck do you expect them to find other fairies like me dad?! Huh?! I am the only one who can manipulate the shadows! The only one who can take out hordes of the burned ones!”

“You’re still a kid!”

You scoffed, grabbing your other shoulder pad to put it on, and you turned back to the mirror.

“Yeah, guess you forget that sometimes too huh?”

You secured it and walked over to your room, heading to the desk and you looked at the report that you were sent.

You picked it up, walking back out to the fire place and tossed it inside so your dad wouldn’t be able to track you.

You walked over and stood next to the light switch.

“(Y/N) you are not going on that mission.”

“You have no say in my affairs.”

You turned it off and he shouted your name, running over he turned it on but you were gone.

Sighing, Saul ran a hand down his face, looking at the fireplace.

There was no way he could get that paper now, it was long gone.

His relationship with you had been tense since you learned about what kind of powers that you had, a lot of people wanted you thrown out of the realm, calling your cursed.

You needed help trying to control them and he was so busy with Sky at the time he neglected to give you the help you needed.

You got hurt.

You blamed him for it, you always had.

Truth be told he blamed himself as well, and he was trying fix that, trying to make it better, but you wanted nothing to do with him now.

The Queen saw you as a force to be reckoned with, she wanted you to join her army where if you played your cards right you would fly through the ranks.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want you to be a solider is some army that wouldn’t give a shit about whether you died on one of their missions.

Saul marched back to his office, hoping he could find somebody to tell him exactly where you were sent.

Your mission was easy, you were to track down and take out a burned one that was getting a little to close to one of the cities.

It wasn’t exactly hard to track, leaving destruction in its wake was a good method of tracking.

When you found it that’s where things become a little more complicated.

Reaching into the shadows, you felt the coldness wrap around your hand before you pulled out two swords.

Grinning from ear to ear, you twisted them between your fingers.

You had the advantage of shadow manipulation, being able to move and jump through them, making avoiding the attacks aimed for you a lot easier.

Finally bribing it down after nearly an hour of fighting, you held your hand out, wrapping shadows around it, making the body vanish.

You didn’t want locals to worry about this, so you hid the body in your own shadow realm, planning on dumping it at a later date.

You took a few extra days, ensuring the surrounding area was clear before you returned to Alfea.

Heading back to your room, you hung your armour back on the stand by your desk.

You laid down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep, for somebody burdened with powers like yours, sleep was hard.

It was easier when you were a child, you had your dad looking out for you. Singing you that same song your mother used to sing when you couldn’t sleep.

Now you didn’t have that, so, you made your way outside to the specialist training ground in order to train instead.

You never realised that you weren’t the only one out there training, you didn’t know your dad was out there was well.

But he noticed you when you came out and he put his sword away.

You began to bend the shadows to your will, forcing them to take shape, surround you, do whatever it was that you wanted them to do.

In all the years of know what your powers were, this was the first time Saul was seeing them.

You had never showed him, never trained with him when he asked you too.

He had been so worried about your safety he never realised how strong you were, how capable.

You were so at peace, so relaxed, it was like you were at home, like nothing else in the world mattered.

Saul quietly made his way over.

“You’re good.”

You didn’t stop, but you did glance at him.

“Watching me now?”

Saul sighed, running a hand over his head.

“I’m sorry.”

You stopped what you were doing this time, looking at him.

“I mean it, I am so sorry (Y/N). I know I should have done right by you, I swore I was. I didn’t, and for that I’m sorry.”

“You think that makes everything better? Makes all the tears of choosing that bastards son over your own daughter just because I was cursed with these powers?”

He reached a hand out but you stepped away, the shadow of a sword forming in your hand as you aimed it at him.

Saul backed away, his hands raised in the air.

“No. No of course not.”

“You think after all these time I’ll just come running into your arms and we’ll play happy families? He is not my brother. He never was. Shit dad, you look after Bloom better than you do me and that girl doesn’t even belong with us!”

“She needs to learn control.”

“And I didn’t?! I shadow travelled myself to the damn roof when I was a kid by accident and nearly fell! I did the same thing into the park and sliced my leg open! You didn’t give a shit then!”

Saul ran his hand down his face, looking away before turning back to you.

“I did!”

“Did you fuck!”

You walked closer, placing the blade of your sword at his throat and he stayed still.

“I am only at Alfea to complete my course. Then I am going to join the queens army, I will leave, and you will never hear from me again.”

“I don’t want that! I never wanted that! You’re my daughter (Y/N), I just want to keep you safe. Do you really think they give a shit about what happens to you?!”

You shrugged a little, pulling your sword away.

“They give more of a shit than you ever did Saul.”

You barged past him back to your dorm.

Saul watched you leave, and you didn’t so much as spare him a single glance.

Saul didn’t know what to do, after all this time you wanted nothing to do with him.

You didn’t care if he was your dad or not, you didn’t care about family anymore.

You just wanted to hurt him, and it was working because watching his own daughter, his own flesh and blood be angry with him, so eager to leave tore him apart.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it either

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

129 for 🦷!

---

 He lets Chris talk. 

“I thought you were, like… I thought that me being born was what made you weird.” Chris explains. 

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously, but does not interrupt. 

“Like, maybe… Like, maybe if I hadn’t you and mom would be fine, and she’d be alive, and… And you wouldn’t have to do stupid things like cheat on Marisol with her clone.”

“Christopher…” Eddie starts, but his throat is too tight. No. No, none of that is right at all. 

“But then…” Christopher takes a deep breath. “But then my mouth hurt and they told me that it was stress and going to church would fix it, but I need surgery.”

Eddie feels frozen. He feels terrified. This feels wrong. He doesn’t want to hear that they made Chris feel even a fraction of the way he felt, growing up. He thinks he will shatter like glass. How could he have fucked up so badly that Chris ended up in the exact worst place for him to be?

“And,” Chris continues. “And… And when I wanted to actually talk to them about why I was upset, Grandma… She kept saying no wonder I was so unhappy, because Mom ‘did such a number’ on both of us.” 

“No,” Eddie shakes his head again. “No, no, no.”

“So…” Chris sighs. “So I was mad at you. And I was mad at Mom. And I was really mad at me.”:

Eddie could puke.

“And it was like they were trying to make it worse,” Chris says quietly. 

“Make it worse?” Eddie asks.

Chris nods. “Like they didn’t want me to feel better. They wanted me to be mad at you and Mom. But being mad at you just made me more mad at me, because…”

Because he thinks he screwed up Eddie’s life.

Fuck.

“Could they have done that to you too, Dad?” Chris asks nervously.

“Do what, buddy?” Eddie asks. 

“Made you feel worse and worse instead of trying to help you feel better,” Chris says. 

Eddie swallows, throat aching with unexpressed emotion. He’s talked a lot about it in therapy, actually. The ways they did that to him. Not just showing up on his doorstep during one of the worst moment of his life, telling him needed help, taking his son, and offering him no help at all. No. It started long, long before then.

Maybe it started before he even remembers, but he can certainly say it started at least with this. Telling him he was too close with his male friends, that he needed to grow up and think about how it looked, or girls would never be interested; and then they couldn’t stand the girl who was interested. That she wasn’t good enough for him, but that sleeping with her ruined her and what was he thinking? That he needed to man up, do right by her, marry her and enlist, and don’t worry, they’ll help take care of the baby, only to use his absence as an excuse for why they should take custody of Christopher, to call him a stranger in his son’s life. On and on and on. The war messed him up and they didn’t like how he had changed; he needed to get his act together to provide for his son. He needed a solid career plan; no, not that one. A boy needs a mother; why would he ever consider forgiving her? 

It never ended. Eddie could never win. The constant stream of expectations and criticism had crushed him since long before Shannon and Christopher. Maybe part of why Eddie loved being a father far more than he had ever liked being a son or a husband, was that Christopher’s needs were so clear, and his love came so easily. For so long, Eddie understood the rules. 

He’s not sure he does anymore. But god knows he’s trying. 

Eddie realizes it’s been close to a minute since Christopher asked his question. He needs to respond. 

“Uh, yeah,” he admits finally. “Yes. There was… A lot of that. They did that to me and to your mom.”

“And Mom?” Chris asks.

Eddie nods. “She relied on them a lot when I was in Afghanistan. They… Well, your grandma especially… They weren’t always kind to her.”

“Or you?” Chris asks.

“Or me,” Eddie admits. “But listen, Chris… Maybe that really did have a big effect on me. Well, not maybe. I know it did. But it was still my responsibility to address it sooner, so it didn’t hurt you, too. And it did. And I’m very sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Chris says. “I don’t think I understood, before I spent that much time with them.” 

Eddie’s chest almost caves in from the force of his relief. 

But it’s not that easy. It could be that easy. To lean into the narrative that his parents are the source of all his problems. To take Christopher’s out, and lay all the blame on them. He’s mad at them right now, rightfully so. It’d be easy. But that’s exactly what they’d do. And while he has a lot to be guilty for, responding to situations like them is not one of them. 

“A lot of it was still just me, though,” Eddie says. “Okay? You have to know that. I did fuck up, Chris. It’s not anyone’s fault but mine. Especially never yours.” 

Chris sighs a little. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And, uh, if you want to talk about that, we can,” Eddie offers. “Because I think we should. At some point.”

Chris twists his mouth. “Maybe later?”

“Okay,” Eddie relents. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He tries not to seem disappointed. It’s not that he’s eager to talk about Kim or Marisol or… Or the other thing he’s been sitting on. He just wants it out in the open, so it’s not sitting like a bomb between them. 

“But Dad?” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 3

Masterlist 

Warning: mention of blip, death, life support, jealousy, panic attack 

Word Count: 3.9 k

So the problem with taking a long nap, it was hard to fall asleep. It also didn’t help that your stomach was a little upset from dinner. FRIDAY informed you that the common floor had ginger ale and crackers. You sat on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap and crackers next to you. You preferred drawing comics or line art, realism wasn’t your thing. But drawing portraits of people helped you remember them and the memories. You were drawing your mom when she was in the courtroom. It was rare that she let you come with her and watch her do her thing. She was afraid that you were going to be a target if people connected you to her. 

You missed her so much and you wished she was here to help you through this. When the doctors came into her room at the hospital and told you your options, it was the hardest decision you had to make. But you knew your mom better than anyone, she was your best friend, and you knew she wouldn’t want to be in a vegetative state. So, she was taken off life support and her organs were donated to help save lives. You whipped a tear from your eye before it fell onto your sketchbook. “Why are you crying in the dark?” A voice laced with a Russian accent asked. You jumped, not expecting a voice. In front of you was a blonde-haired girl wearing sweatpants and a SHIELD training shirt. She was fresh out of a shower; her hair was damp and braided. 

“Maybe because I don’t like crying when it’s bright outside,” she shrugged and made her way to the kitchen. You spun around to lean on the back of the couch. The blonde was taking out the leftovers from dinner. “Who are you?” If you were to make an educated guess, she was related to Natasha in some way. 

“Your Stark’s kid,” she deflected your question with a statement of her own. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have more of you running around.” 

“Probably does,” you said. “I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad,” she placed her food in the microwave and turned to face you, arms crossed against her chest. Her green eyes flickered to the beanie you still chose to wear. “I find it unfair you know who I am and I don’t know you.” She smirked and turned to take her food out of the microwave. 

“Where is the fun in that, Stark?”

“Easton,” you corrected her. She raised a questioning eyebrow at you. “I go by my mother’s maiden name since she is the one who raised me and Tony didn’t.” Your mom never spoke ill of the man when you questioned why he was never around. Instead, she told you the truth that she never told him she was pregnant. You stopped asking questions because you didn’t need him. Your mom was all you needed. 

“Well, Easton,” she smiled. “It was nice meeting you. Try to get some sleep.” She walked back over to the elevator and stepped inside. 

“Sleep tight, blondie,” you sat back down on the couch and focused on your drawing. But you didn’t miss the look of surprise on her face as the metal doors closed. You chuckled, popping a cracker into your mouth. You weren’t worried about the mysterious blonde that got food quickly and left. You figured she was supposed to be here since Tony’s AI didn’t alert anyone or alarms didn’t go off. Now you weren’t an Avengers super fan but you knew of them through the news and research for your comics but you didn’t recognize her. She must be a new addition post the Blip. You sighed, biting the end of the pencil. 

You weren’t part of the half of the population that was taken. There was a part of you that wished you were. The car accident happened a few months before the Blip. So you grieved your mom and those you lost. It was hard. You threw yourself into your drawings, and your research, and traveled the world to help others to ignore your grief. It worked. Was it unhealthy? Yes. But you helped a lot of people, wasn’t that worth it? 

You cleaned up the crackers and cleaned the glass you used. There was an ache in your bones and you knew it was time for bed. 

*

You were back on the common floor in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and waiting for your oatmeal to be done. You thanked every god that existed that your taste buds still liked coffee. The microwave beeped and you took it out. As you ate it you made a list of things you needed to do before the weekend was over and your doctor appointment tomorrow morning. Your new room was fully furnished even with kitchen appliances so you could donate your furniture except the desk and bean bag in your office. You could put the desk you had in your bedroom or near the window in the living room. The hall closet would be before seasonal clothes, extra supplies, and a few things you kept that were your mom’s. You had a lot of stuff which meant you needed to go through everything and donate the stuff you didn’t need. But you weren’t sure how long you would be at the tower? Was it a permanent placement? Or until you got better, if you got better. You didn’t like to think about that. “How did you sleep?” Natasha asked, walking up to the coffee pot and pouring herself some. 

“Okay,” you took a bite of your oatmeal. “I think that nap messed up my sleeping schedule.” You giggled. You couldn’t help but stare at the redhead in front of you, trying to compare features from the blonde you met last night. They had similar eye color and teasing look in their eyes. They even smirked the same.      

“You're starring,” Natasha smirked. “I’m sorry but I’m spoken for and I don’t think Tony would like that.” You looked away from her so she didn’t see your embarrassment but a playful smile danced on your lips. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you looked back at the Black Widow. “Or you're just that mesmerizing to look at.” Natasha groaned, gently slapping you on the shoulder. 

“You flirt better than your father, I'll give you that,” you giggled. “Well I was thinking if you weren’t that tired,” she leaned against the counter. “We could borrow a few of Stark’s cars and go to your apartment to get your things. I can bribe Bucky, Steve, and my sister to help.” Sister? Interesting. But you didn’t dwell too much on that. 

“Why are you offering to help?” You asked with a tilt of your head. 

“This can’t be easy,” she stated. “With your diagnosis, reaching out to your biological father, and moving into a new place with new people,” you smiled. It was not easy. “But I bet having stuff you're familiar with can make it easier.” She was right. The bed was comfortable but you missed your mom’s guilt. The walls were bare, missing your photos and artwork. 

“Thank you, Natasha.” 

“Don’t mention it. I’ll go round up the delinquents. Do you need clothes to wear?” You looked down at your sleeping clothes. You could change into the clothes you were wearing yesterday but they were dirty. 

“Uh yeah,” you scratched the back of your head. “I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a place at the tower.” It was common practice for you to take an overnight bag when you went somewhere due to your random spots of fatigue. You expected to be back at your apartment by lunch night. Natasha frowned. 

“Did you not expect Tony to help you?” The Black Widow asked. You shrugged. 

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you told her. The frown remained on Natasha’s face. 

“Wanda will have something for you to wear. FRIDAY, can you inform Wanda to meet Y/n at her room with clothes?” The AI confirmed she would alert the witch. You smiled. 

“Thanks again, Nat,” you weren’t expecting this level of kindness from the other Avengers. 

“Just tell FRIDAY when you're ready,” you finished your breakfast and cleaned up the dishes. By the time you took the elevator to the floor you were on, Wanda was outside your door with an armful of clothes. You laughed. 

“Got enough options?” You teased, opening the door for her. She huffed with a roll of her eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure what would fit or your style,” she dumped the clothes onto the couch. “So I brought a lot,” she surveyed the mess she created. “Okay, I may have gone a little overboard.” You giggled and started to go through the pile. You settled on a SHIELD shirt, that matched the blonde’s last night, and a pair of black shorts. But a few dresses did catch your eye and you made a mental note to ask her to burrow them. After a quick shower and changing into clothes, you informed the AI that you were ready. 

“Miss. Romanoff and company are in the garage,” you grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone. “Step into the elevator and I’ll bring you down.” 

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” you said, walking out of your room and to the elevator. Once inside, your mind began to race. You leaned back on the metal wall, looked up at the ceiling, and stared at your reflection. Was your apartment clean? You couldn’t remember. It was another effect of chemo - you called it chemo brain. Sometimes you couldn’t remember if you turned off the oven or locked the door. It was why drawing helped so much to pinpoint and focus on specific memories. 

So was your apartment clean? Gods, you hoped so. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried to push down your anxiety at the thought of 4 Avengers walking into a messy apartment. The elevator doors opened and you saw Natasha, Buck, and Steve next to a moving van and the blonde you met leaning against a red Mustang. The sight made you smile. “Hey Blondie,” her head snapped to you. 

“Blondie?” Natasha questioned looking at who you assumed was her sister. 

“Easton,” she smirked. “You are the reason I was pulled out of bed.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I believe that was your sister,” you tilted your head to Natasha. The three Avengers watched the interaction with confusion all over their faces. “We met last night. She knew who I was but refused to tell me her name so from now until she tells me her name she will be Blondie.” Natasha shook her head with a defeated sigh. 

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” she said, hitting her sister’s arm. Whatever she said made Bucky chuckle. It was Russian that you knew but you and Steve looked at each other, the only ones not understanding the language. Her sister frowned, rubbing the spot Natasha hit. “You’ll be riding with my sister,” you huffed. Her name was still a mystery but the blonde looked smug. “We’ll follow you.” 

“Sounds good, you smiled, getting into the passenger seat. You didn’t catch whatever Natasha said to her sister before they got into the van. The blonde got with a sigh and turned on the car. “What did she say to you?” 

“Put your address in,” she handed you her phone with the maps app already up instead of answering. You did as she asked and plugged it into the charger. “She told me to stop being difficult.” She began the drive to your apartment. 

“Difficult?” You didn’t think she was. “Why are you being difficult?” But you were curious why she kept her name a mystery. You couldn’t find much about her online with a quick Google search. 

“It’s more fun,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Do you not think so, Easton?” 

“Whatever you say, blondie,” you smiled. “Whatever you say.” 

*

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped out of the way for the Avengers to enter. It was a 2 bedroom, 1 ½ bathroom. You used your second bedroom as your office and art studio since no one was coming to visit you. You were lucky to afford a place like this on your own and a glance around it wasn’t a mess. Bucky carried in some moving boxes. “So all the furniture is gonna stay beside the stuff in my office. The pots, pans, and utensils will be donated. I guess we’ll pack as much as we can today and I’ll come back another day to finish it.” 

“Anything you want to prioritize?” Steve asked. 

“My clothes,” you smiled. “As much as I love Wanda’s clothes, I don’t think this is my vibe.” Natasha laughed. 

“I’ll handle your clothes.” 

“Steve and I will get your furniture from your office,” Bucky suggested. 

“And I’ll stand here and look pretty.” 

“Ya delayueta (idiot),” you teased. Bucky, Natasha, and the blonde looked at you, mouths open. “I pick up on languages easily,” A quick Google search also didn’t help. “It’s Russian for idiot,” you told the blonde super soldier. Steve smiled, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“She’s not wrong.” She gasped, clutching her chest. 

“Steve Rogers, how could you?” You smiled. 

“I’ll buy pizza if you do some work, blondie.” You said and walked over to your hall closet to get a cooler and some reusable bags. Packing up the kitchen was going to be your job so you could go through the fridge and pantry. Natasha headed off to your bedroom and Steve and Bucky went to your office which left the blonde in your living space. She put a box together and began to take the pictures off the wall. You couldn’t help but watch her. The living room was decorated with pictures and items from your travels and the research you’ve done. She would look at the picture for a little bit before putting it into the box. It was odd, a stranger was going through some of your most prized possessions, packing them up so you could move into the Avengers’ tower. What a strange life you were living. 

“So,” you looked at the blonde. “What languages do you know?”

“I’m fluent in English and German but I’ve traveled a lot and I can put up with delicate differences.” She nodded, picking up a handmade mug you got while volunteering in South Africa. You continued to watch her. There was an odd look on her face. You frowned, going back to cleaning out the fridge not wanting to think too much about it. 

*

Yelena walked into the spare room you deemed as your office. The space was cleaned out of a desk, a bean bag, and an art easel. There was something about you that Yelena found intriguing but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She put together one of the moving boxes and began to take the artwork off the wall. They were all line drawings of various sea creatures with watercolor accents. Her favorite was the blue whale with her calf. Once they were safely in the box, Yelena opened the closet. She wondered how you could afford this place on top of your medical expenses. A majority of the stuff was extra art supplies and canvas, all still in their original packaging. But what caught her eye was the flying cabinet. She couldn’t help herself as she knelt in front of it and opened the bottom drawer. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably but Yelena was a spy at heart and her curiosity got the best of her.  

She wasn’t surprised that she found more of your artwork but the contents of the pictures were surprising. It was the Avengers in comic book format. The mission they were on Yelena didn’t recognize so she assumed you made it up. The details were impressive. She put the comic back and picked up another drawing. It was a realistic portrait of a woman. Yelena didn’t know her but she saw similar features of you in her. She made the educated guess she was your mother. Natasha called her on her flight back from St. Petersburg and explained your story to her; diagnosed with cancer and the only family you had left was Tony because a car accident killed your mother. It was weird learning about your life through pictures she had to pack. You’ve traveled and seen the world by choice. You had a loving mother and now a father that brought you in without question. Those relationships weren’t brought together by a Red Room mission. She understood the feeling that grew when she saw you. Jealousy. She was jealous. Jealous of a girl who was dying unless she got a bone marrow transplant. It was ridiculous, uncalled for. But she couldn’t help it. Every time she learned something about you, a warm feeling built in her chest and she envied everything. “For a spy, you're pretty easy to sneak up on,” Yelena jumped, turning around quickly. You were standing in the doorway with a playful smile on your face. “Whatcha got there, blondie?” You asked, walked over to her, and sat down. Smiling, you looked at the picture in her hand. “That’s my mom. It was right before the car accident.” 

“They never found out who caused it, right?” You nodded, taking the picture from her. Yelena frowned, not liking the sadness radiating from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.” You placed the photo back where it belonged. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you stood up, holding out your hand to help her up. Yelena hesitated (she wondered if you noticed) but finally took it. Your hand was smooth against hers beside the small callus on your finger. “You would have seen them eventually. The pizza is here. I guess you did enough to deserve it.” You teased her. Yelena chuckled, rolling her eyes. She wondered how you kept your heart. It was what Melina said to her and Natasha before the Red Room took them - ‘don’t let them take your heart.’ Life had not been easy for you but you still managed to keep your smile and sense of humor. It was another thing on her list to envy. 

“Your evil, Easton,” you giggled, looking back over your shoulder. 

“You don’t know half of it.” 

*

FRIDAY told you that Tony was in his lap. You held a box that was decorated in red and gold, tight underneath your arm. In hindsight, you should have known who your father was based on the color of the box but you only saw it once or twice. When the lab door opened, Tony looked up from his workbench. “Hey kid, how was moving out of the apartment?” He asked. 

“Good,” you sat down on an empty stool next to him. “I have to go back again but a majority of my stuff is here.” You watched his eyes glance at the box. 

“Well, let me know if I can help,” you nodded, tracing the lid of the box with your finger and looking away from him. Tony pulled up another stool. “Hey,” you looked at him. “What’s wrong?” You sighed, handing him the box. 

“The letters she wrote to you,” he took the box, eyes wide as he stared at it. “You can read them or not or destroy them. It’s your choice.” 

“Thank you,” you nodded, standing up. 

“One more thing,” you let out a shaky breath. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Do-do you want to come?” You were afraid to ask him, unsure of his response. But your mom didn’t allow him to be in your life, you wanted to give him the chance. The ball was in his court. You could tell he was shocked by the invitation. 

“Of course. I’ll be there,” you felt the weight leave your shoulders. Since your diagnosis, you’ve gone to your doctor's appointment alone. “Just let me know,” you smiled. 

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Tony,” you left his lap, hearing a ‘see ya’ from behind you. You took the elevator to the floor and into your room. It was a mess, boxes everywhere. You sighed, grabbed your mom’s quilt, and sat on the couch. The quilt belonged to your great-grandmother, who passed away before you were born. She gifted it to your mom when she graduated high school. It was blue and white with stars. You had great memories of you and your mom wrapped in this quilt reading a bedtime story by the campfire. You sighed, falling deeper into the couch and allowing the quilt to keep you warm. The mess could wait and be dealt with another time. 

*

His leg began to shake as he stared at the box still resting in his hand. He felt a panic attack building inside him. It was a long time coming with everything going on but he didn’t have time for it. On shaky legs, he stood up and opened a drawer at his desk pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. It was rare that he drank but he needed something to take the edge off. He picked up the box and sat down on the small couch. 

There was a part of him that thought about destroying the box of letters. He didn’t have to know what he missed in the past; he had you now and could look towards the future, no matter how short it may be. No, he couldn’t think like that. He poured his drink. “Tony, your heart rate has elevated. Should I contact Pepper?” 

“No, FRIDAY, I’m okay,” he wasn’t sure if he was okay but he opened the box. He wondered if there was an order to the letters. Each one was titled - 1st Christmas, High School Graduation, 5th birthday, and every milestone he missed Jessica wrote him a letter. Tony wasn’t sure how long it took before her words began to blur and he wasn’t making sense of anything. He missed you graduating high school and traveling with Captain Mills to help research how global warming was affecting sharks. He missed all of this because he wasn’t given a choice to be in your life. The beating of his heart was the only thing he heard in his quiet lab. His breathing was erratic as he picked up his full glass and threw it at the wall. The glass shattering startled him as he sat on the ground, back against the couch. He pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes, hoping it would help but it wasn’t. He couldn't stop the growing panic inside of him. It was too much.  

Soon he felt fingers running through his hair. FRIDAY must have notified Pepper and he was so out of it that he didn’t hear Pepper enter. “I’m here,” he mumbled. Pepper hummed, pushing some strands off his forehead that were stuck due to sweat. 

“That was a big one,” she stated. “Just sit with me, okay?” Tony didn’t have the energy to resist her as he rested his head on her shoulder. The sweet smell of her lavender perfume washed over him. He felt better, felt grounded. His heart rate evened out and his breathing wasn’t as erratic. “Do you want to talk about what triggered it?” She asked softly. 

“Later,” he said. “Can we just be?” Pepper nodded, holding him tighter. And they would talk about it later. But for now, they were just Pepper and Tony. Not the CEO of Stark Industries or Iron. Not a mother of 1 and a new father of two. In the quiet and empty lab, they were safe in each other’s arms. Just being Pepper and Tony. 

_ 

Taglist:  @likemick

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 9

For the duration of the week, Loki felt concerned about the twins after seeing them with Chris. It niggled at him almost constantly. The only time he didn’t really think about them was when he was with Claire. He had her take over some of the lessons quite a bit that week, partly so he could just enjoy watching her.

Having her scarf at home really helped him to adjust being around her scent, he didn’t rely on the vaseline quite as much as he had at the start. Though he was slightly ashamed to say that he even slept with the scarf next to him on his pillow, it seemed to calm him. He found he had the best sleeps he’d ever had with her scent nearby.

The whole issue with Claire using his gloves to masturbate with, of course, still remained high in his thoughts. So much so he decided to test something out one morning…

He arrived to the school wearing the gloves, making sure to keep them on as he went to his classroom. He deliberately arrived a little late, knowing that she would be there already setting up. When he walked in, he greeted her with a charming smile as always and she greeted him back.

However, he noticed her eyes were drawn instantly to his hands. He could’ve sworn that he spotted her cheeks turn a bit pinker before she turned away from him and began busying herself with writing up today’s work on the chalkboard.

With a big smirk on his face, he went to his desk to get sorted. He removed his gloves and tucked them into his jacket pocket, draping it over the back of his chair.

‘How’s Bat?’ Claire asked, eventually turning around to face him, her cheeks back to normal.

‘Asking after the cat before me? How charming.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Of course. She is the boss after all, isn’t she?’ Claire grinned.

Loki grinned back at her. ‘She is indeed. She’s good, apart from having an utter mad moment this morning at three am. Yelling and skidding around the floor, before ending it by jumping onto the bed and attacking my feet.’

Claire laughed. ‘Brilliant. I love hearing about Bat’s adventures.’

‘How would you like to see the star herself again this weekend?’ Loki offered.

Claire raised her eyebrow and her heartbeat quickened a little. ‘Oh? What’s the occasion?’

‘It’s my dad’s birthday on Saturday, I’m hosting a mini party. The rest of the teachers are invited, some of dad’s friends and colleagues from the hospital will be there, too.’

‘Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?’

‘Of course not. My dad’s been wanting to meet you, actually.’ Loki smiled.

‘Really? You’ve told him about me?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Of course. You’re my perfect assistant, plus he was delighted to hear that you knew about him and his work. Any chance to talk about that, he will lap it up.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, I’d love to come.’ Claire said excitedly.

‘Excellent.’ Loki grinned.

-

Saturday rolled round and Loki had everything prepared at his place for his dad’s party. He had the double doors open from the kitchen out into the back garden patio, where he had a fire pit blazing to keep everyone warm. As there was going to be too many people to have everyone inside the kitchen comfortably. He had plenty of alcoholic drinks laid out ready on the counter inside, along with a huge spread of food on the dining table.

Claire, Jessica, Michael and David all arrived together first after sharing a taxi. Hannibal and Matt were not long after. Severus didn’t want to go, as expected and Jeremy couldn’t make it. Then some colleagues and friends of Lucius arrived.

‘I should have known I’d find you with Bat.’ Loki grinned at Claire when he found her crouched down in the corner of the kitchen, petting Bat.

‘Of course. If I go missing, just look for Bat.’ She grinned back at him. ‘When is your dad arriving?’

‘Any minute now.’ Loki said excitedly.

‘Does he know about the party?’ Claire asked as she continued stroking Bat.

‘Nope, he thinks he’s just coming round for dinner.’ Loki grinned.

‘I hope he likes surprises, then?’ Claire laughed.

‘He does, nice surprises anyway.’ Loki chuckled.

Michael stood at the window, keeping an eye out, he spotted Lucius coming down the road so called at everyone to hide while Loki went to the door to let him in. Of course, as soon as Lucius stepped inside, he could smell everyone there, but it was still a lovely surprise.

When Lucius walked through to the kitchen everyone threw their hands up and shouted surprise!

‘I should have known you were up to something, Loki.’ Lucius laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

‘Did you really think I’d let your fiftieth birthday pass by without a party?’ Loki smirked.

‘True.’ Lucius laughed. ‘Thank you all for being here.’ He said as he looked around everyone.

Everyone began to mingle, Loki dragged Lucius over to meet Claire straight away, since she was the only person there that he didn’t know yet.

‘Dad, this is Claire, my assistant that I’ve told you about.’ Loki introduced, he wasn’t sure why he felt really happy about them finally meeting.

‘Ah, lovely to meet you. Loki has told me all about you.’ Lucius took her hand in his and briefly kissed the back of her hand before letting go.

‘So good to meet you. Happy Birthday!’ Claire smiled widely.

‘Thank you. Tell me, how are you finding working with my son? I hope he’s not too demanding.’ Lucius chuckled.

‘Oh he’s ruthless, makes me do all the work, I never get to rest. Beats me black and blue daily too, just the worst boss ever.’ Claire teased.

Loki mocked a gasp and put his hand over his heart. ‘I let you have that one hour off the other day!’

The three of them laughed, then Lucius had to go mingle with others but he made sure to talk to Claire plenty too, she had so many questions about him starting up the hospital and the school and Lucius loved talking about his work, even if he couldn’t tell her the full truth about it all.

Everyone had a good time, eating and drinking while mingling. Lucius, Loki, Claire and a few of the others were outside by the firepit.

'Then he realised that the only way to get' Lucius suddenly paused mid-sentence.

He turned around and spotted a shadowed figure in the dark. Claire felt shivers run down her spine as she followed Lucius’ gaze. Then the figure stepped forward out of the darkness, it was Chris. He had the typical smirk on his face as he walked over to them.

‘My invite to my own dad’s birthday party must have gotten lost in the post, hmm?’ He glanced to Loki, then looked back at Lucius. ‘Happy Birthday, dad.’ He handed him over a giftbag.

‘Thank you, Chris. It’s good to see you, son.’ Lucius gave Chris a squeeze on the shoulder, then he looked at Loki, who was close to combusting on the spot.

Lucius stepped closer to Loki. ‘Let’s try and get along just for one night, hmm? Please?’

Loki tore his eyes away from Chris and looked at his dad, his gaze softened and his shoulders sagged very slightly as he nodded in agreement.

Claire felt a little awkward but luckily Jessica came over and dragged her away.

‘If you try anything funny tonight, you’re out of here. Just because dad thinks there’s still good in you, doesn’t mean I think so too.’ Loki snarled quietly at Chris when Lucius went off to talk to one of his colleagues.

Chris put his hands up in defence. ‘No funny business from me.’

Loki really wasn’t happy having Chris in his home, especially uninvited, but he would deal with it for one night for his dads’ sake. He knew that Lucius still loved him, that he felt partly to blame for the way Chris ended up.

So, Loki gritted his teeth and bared it, inviting him inside to get a drink and food.

Claire had been petting Bat again inside, but when Chris and Loki walked into the kitchen, Bat went running over to Chris and started purring around his legs. Chris chuckled and crouched down to give her a scratch.

‘Can’t believe you’ve still got this little runt.’ He sounded surprised.

‘Of course, I do.’ Loki said in response.  

‘I remember the day I found her as if it was yesterday. She must be what, fifteen now?’ Chris stood up and Bat wandered off to look for her next victim to coax affection from.

‘Fifteen and a half.’ Loki said dryly as he sipped his drink, eyes locked on Chris to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything.

‘You found her?’ Claire asked Chris.

Chris grinned. ‘I did. Tiny abandoned kitten at the riverside, in a box. She was around six weeks old, completely helpless. I’ve never been a huge cat fan, but I knew Loki was. I got her seen by a vet, got some supplies and a little ribbon for her neck, then gifted her to him for his birthday the following week.’

Claire wasn’t sure why she found herself so surprised at hearing that. With their relationship currently, it was really hard to imagine.

Loki was reluctantly dragged away as a few of Lucius’ older friends wanted to find out all about how Loki was getting on with teaching.

‘Did you name her or did Loki?’ Claire asked Chris as she went to get some food from the table, Chris followed her over.

‘Loki did. I would have picked a more sophisticated name, obviously.’

‘Bat’s a cute name, she suits it.’ Claire shrugged and did her best to keep a little distance from him as she kept moving along the table, piling stuff onto her plate, but he ended up crowding her at the end of the table.

‘Not as cute as you are.’ He teased, leaning in close so she could feel his breath against her neck.

Her cheeks turned a little red as a bad shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t know how to respond to that, but she managed to back away a little and held her plate up on front of her, so she had something between them.

‘I need to speak to Matt about something. Catch you later.’ She said quickly and began walking away from him.

‘Not if I catch you first.’ Chris growled low, but Claire heard what he said.

She made a beeline for Matt and Hannibal who were sitting just outside near the fire pit.

‘What’s Chris doing here?’ Hannibal asked her.

‘Not really sure, I know he wasn’t invited and Loki isn’t happy at all, but he’s putting on a happy face for his dad’s sake.’ Claire said quietly.

‘Yeah, Loki looks like he wants to deck him.’ Matt said while looking at Loki, who stood just inside the kitchen speaking with a few people, but his focus wasn’t entirely on them as he just glared over at Chris, who spoke to Jessica and Michael.

‘They weren’t always like this.’ Lucius sighed sadly as he had overheard the three talking when he went to join them.

‘No?’ Claire asked.

‘No. Loki adored Chris when he was a baby, right up into his teens. He looked up to him. And while Chris didn’t like to admit it, he always had a soft spot for his younger brother.’

Claire smiled, but then it fell. She couldn’t imagine the two being that close, considering how they acted now. ‘What happened that tore them apart so much?’ She asked.

‘That’s not my story to tell, I’m afraid. Though even I don’t agree with some things Chris does, he’s still my son.’

Claire looked back over at Loki, then at Chris. What on earth drove them apart so much?

‘I’m surprised they can be civil enough at work.’ Hannibal commented.

‘They both like their job too much to let it effect that.’ Lucius said.

To everyone’s surprise, Chris managed to behave himself for the duration of the party. Claire made sure to stay away from him unless with someone else. She found herself sticking close by Loki for the night, especially when she began feeling tipsy from the wine.

When people began to leave later into the night, Loki noticed Chris hovering, often looking at Claire. Which of course worried Loki.

‘Is there a chance any of you can get Chris to leave with you? I’m getting worried with the way he’s hovering around and trying to get Claire on her own.’ Loki said quietly to Jessica, Matt and David.

‘I'm just leaving, leave it to me.’ Jessica patted Loki on the shoulder.

Jessica headed over to Chris. ‘Hey Mr, be a gentleman and walk a lonely woman home, will you?’

Chris rolled his eyes but to Loki’s relief, he obliged to walk her home. He said bye to Lucius before heading out, he tried to speak to Claire, but Loki managed to get her away from him in time. As soon as Chris left, Loki visibly relaxed.

‘He really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?’ Claire asked Loki softly.

‘He does, but I had to let him stay, for dad’s sake.’ Loki sighed.

‘Well, I’d say that definitely makes you the better man, putting issues aside for the happiness of your dad.’ Claire smiled at him and put her hand on his arm, squeezing.

Loki swallowed hard at her contact, god he wanted more of her. He was so relieved that he managed to control himself better around her now, though he still found it challenging.

‘Thanks, Claire. I must say, having you here too has made this all the better.’ Loki admitted.

Claire felt her cheeks heat up at his comment.

‘Well son, thank you so much for this party. It's been really wonderful.’ Lucius interrupted.

‘You’re welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed it and that everyone managed to keep it a secret.’ Loki grinned as he gave his dad a big hug.

‘Lovely to meet you, Claire. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.’ Lucius said warmly to her.

‘You too.’ She smiled at him.

Loki walked with his dad to the front door. ‘She’s lovely, Loki. I can see why she’s your soulmate. I wouldn’t worry too much about Chris, I’m sure he’s only toying with you.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Loki grumbled.

Lucius squeezed Loki’s shoulder before heading out. When Loki went back to the kitchen, he realised it was just Claire left. She had started tidying up.

‘You don’t need to do that.’ Loki said as he rushed to take the plates from her.

‘It’s ok, I want to help. Can’t leave you with all of this mess since everyone else has buggered off.’ She laughed.

Loki’s heart melted completely.

‘Well, on one condition.’ Loki said firmly.

‘What’s that?’

‘You let me walk you home afterwards, since it’s so late.’

‘Ok, deal.’ Claire nodded.

[potionsprefect]

Special Conversations

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Ethan holds some meaningful chats

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

10 September

Ethan opened his eyes and stared at the clock on his bedside, groaning slightly when he realised how early it was. Whilst he was used to getting up early, he did enjoy the times where he didn’t have to. He loved the days where he could spend time with his wife.

Thinking of his wife made him smile. Ethan turned over in bed to face Victoria, she was still asleep, the mountains of pillows around her helping her sleep upright. Victoria had complained the night before how uncomfortable she was so Ethan had found some spare pillows and arranged them for her. It appeared she had slept better as a result.

Ethan’s eyes drifted to her belly, in just over a week, they would have their twins with them. He couldn’t believe that he was going to be a Dad, it had been a long nine months but the moment was nearly here.

Ethan scooted closer, a gentle hand resting on Victoria’s belly, his eyes lighting up when he felt gentle kicks.

“Good morning you two.” Ethan whispered. “I hope you slept as good as your mother did. She hasn’t been sleeping well because you two have been kicking her but it seems like she did last night.” He smiled.

His reply was another kick. “Not long to go now. In just a week you’ll be in Mommy and Daddy’s arms. We’re so excited to meet you. I can’t wait to finally hold you and give you all the love you deserve.”

Ethan looked up to see Victoria was still asleep. He brushed her hair out of her face, his hand lingering on her cheek for a second.

“I want to talk to you about your Mommy. She is the most amazing human being I have ever met. She’s kind and brilliant and funny and she is going to be a great Mom to the both of you.”

Ethan felt a hand on the back of his head, light fingers running through his locks. Victoria was awake. He chose to keep talking.

“When I first met your Mom, I didn’t think I would ever start a family. I thought it would just be me on my own. But there was something about your Mom that was so mesmerising that I couldn’t stay away from her. And she showed me just how many possibilities there are in the world. I just needed to be brave and take them. And that’s what made me fall in love with her. I’m glad I did, because now we’re expecting you two. And we can’t wait.”

Ethan pressed two kisses to Victoria’s belly, resting his head and smiling when he got kicks in reply.

“That was beautiful. You’re getting sentimental in your old age.” Victoria laughed.

“Less of the old Rookie.” Ethan turned to face her grinning.

“You’re awake early.”

Ethan sat up. “Part of the Doctor routine.”

“For the next few months we won’t be doctors. We’ll be Mommy and Daddy.”

“A job I’ll happily take on.” Ethan pressed a kiss to her head.

“I loved that speech of yours. I hope you’ve got one for when they arrive.” Victoria cradled her belly.

Ethan rested a hand on top of hers. “Not long to go now until you find out.”

Truth be told, Ethan had his speech from the minute they found out Victoria was pregnant.

And it wouldn’t be long until he could process his love to his twins.

21 September

Ethan stared down at the two Moses baskets watching his kids sleep with a big smile on his face.

“It feels so good to finally bring you home.” Ethan smiled. “You’ve completed our family.”

He watched Luke and Lily’s chests move up and down, a soft, quiet sound emitting from them as they slept.

“I’m going to make sure that you grow up happy and healthy. I never knew this was something I wanted so badly and now that you’re here, I’m so excited. Your Mom and I have a lot of plans for you.”

His heart warmed when Luke yawned and stretched. Ethan heard the shower turn off which meant that Victoria had set a new record for the longest shower.

“I let your Mom have a shower so it’s just you and me at the moment. I have so many wonderful things to say about your Mom. She is the kindest person I have ever met and she’s already a brilliant Mom to the both of you. You’re very lucky to have her. As am I.” Ethan smiled.

He looked down at Jenner who was sleeping beside the baskets, he had taken to staying by the twins’ side since Ethan and Victoria had brought them home, just as he had stayed by Victoria’s side whilst she was pregnant.

“You already have your first best friend. Jenner has stayed by your Mom’s side whilst you were in her tummy and now he’s ready to protect you when you need him to. Just like Mommy and I will.” Ethan said.

He felt a warm body sit beside him and an arm loop through his. Victoria laid her head on his shoulder. “Is this your speech to them?”

“You heard?” Ethan asked.

Victoria looked up at him and smiled. “I always hear the best bits. She leaned down and gently stroked Lily’s cheek. “I can’t believe they’re really here.”

“They’re so tiny.” Ethan said.

“I imagine they’re going to be tall like their parents when they grow up.”

Ethan laughed. “I can’t wait for when they are. But for now. I’m content with them staying small for a little while.”

“Me too. I’m enjoying all the cuddles. From the tiny and tall humans.” Victoria pressed a kiss to Ethan’s cheek.

The couple stared down at their children, content with their new life. Ethan never believed this would happen to him but he now realised just how much he wanted it.

His wife and his two children were his world and he would do anything to protect them.

Guess who is born tomorrow? 😉

Tag list: @ohchoices @swiftiexstarwarssimp @queencarb @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @gryffindordaughterofathena @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @coffeeheartaddict2 @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @udishaman @headoverheelsforramsey @shanzay44 @itsjustamesshonestly @josiesopenheart @mysticalgalaxysstuff @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @kachrisberry @rookiemartin @jamespotterthefirst @a-crepusculo @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @rosebudde @lucy-268 @liaromancewriter @bex-la-get @writer-ish @toadfrog26 @tessa-liam @peonierose @cariantha @kyra75. @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[luckyricochet]

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Eilidh learns how terrible the night can be.

A/N: Cèlidh (KAY-lee) - A traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering usually involving dancing and Gaelic music

Eilidh Hamilton’s Diary

Mum and Dad say I need to keep on looking after Granny. They both asked if they could take different shifts now that the attacks are at night, but they’re both needed during the day. I expected as much, so it wasn’t so surprising when they told me but it seems like I won’t be getting much time to myself for the foreseeable future. It’s not as if I was getting much of that in St Andrews, but…I’m not sure how to express what I feel. Maybe because I don’t have any opportunity to actually work it out, all my time it seems is focused on Granny. And maybe instead of writing here in this diary I could think instead, but even that time wouldn’t be enough. I need more.

I keep telling myself everyone has to make sacrifices in war but I can’t help but complain anyway. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do anything anymore, except be by myself. I know it’s a selfish, horrible thought. Mum, Dad, and Granny deserve so much better than me, and I don’t want to give it to them.

I keep hoping one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be such a bitter pill and all of this will go away. But that only happens after some time. And like I said, I don’t have much of it right now.

A hand on her shoulder. Soft, but with a little pressure. Eilidh frowned in her sleep and then turned over, rolling the hand off of her. She opened her eyes and saw in the dimness the shape of her mother, dressed and carrying a bag.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early,” she whispered. “But we’re leaving now, so it’ll be you and Granny until we get back.”

“When?” Eilidh groaned, still half-asleep.

“We’ll try to be back before eight tonight,” her mother answered. “If anything happens, we’ll telephone.”

“Is Granny up?”

Eilidh’s mother glanced out into the hall. “Not yet.”

Eilidh forced herself awake enough to catch a glimpse of her clock. She probably had another hour of rest before she would have to rise.

“Well, okay,” she muttered. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Footsteps padded softly out of the room, followed by a shuttering of the door. London was awake even though it was still early, with the cars passing on the streets and a newspaper boy hawking the headlines on the corner. Eilidh pulled her blanket higher, trying to enjoy the warmth of her bed for as long as she could. When she finally sat up to change, she didn’t feel like she had taken advantage of the extra time.

As refreshed as she could be, Eilidh stopped outside her brother’s room. He hadn’t spent much time here, as she recalled. If he wasn’t at school, he was on the street playing football or riding his bike. He wasn’t someone content to stay at home.

She knocked. “Granny? Do you need help getting dressed?”

Some muffled noises answered her. “No, I don’t think so…”

A minute later, the door opened. Eilidh’s mouth fell open slightly. Her grandmother stood before her, not wearing the type of sensible dress and hose that she normally donned, but Will’s slacks, a woolen jumper, and church jacket. Everything was too large her but also too frumpy to all be layered atop of each other, rendering Granny some bizarre model for Will's school uniform and a Sunday service at the same time.

“Granny, these aren’t your clothes,” Eilidh said. “Do you have your luggage in there? Why don’t you take those off and we’ll pick something that fits you.” She gently pushed Granny back into the room. “What about this?” She pulled out a blue dress, cardigan, and stockings from the suitcase that was at the foot of the bed.

“Hmm…” Her grandmother appraised the outfit Eilidh proposed, skeptical.

“You love this dress,” Eilidh said. “We can’t go out with you dressed in boys’ clothes, can we?”

“Boys’ clothes?”

“Yes. Boys’ clothes,” Eilidh said firmly. She began to take the mismatched garments off. “Don’t these feel more comfortable?” She wrangled her grandmother into her own clothes and then let out a breath. “Isn’t that better?”

Her grandmother examined her arms, like she had never seen what she was now wearing. “I supposed it does.” She laughed a little, as if she was surprised with herself.

Eilidh almost joined her, and then the memory of last night returned. Her smiled faded. “Granny, I’m sorry I was sharp with you yesterday evening.”

Her grandmother also stopped smiling, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“When we arrived, I got frustrated with you. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right for me to yell. It wasn’t your fault.”

A moment passed, while Eilidh wondered if Granny actually remembered what had happened. She shrugged, and then pointed at her, somewhat devilishly. “That’s that temper of yours, isn’t it?”

Eilidh looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, it is. Should we go on a walk?”

“Walk” was a generous label for what they really engaged in, just a brief constitutional down the end of the road and back. But there was plenty out there to keep both Eilidh and her grandmother stimulated, even at the slow pace in which they moved. Blooming flowers, sounds of the street, people to watch, the feeling of the sun. The world continued on. And it had been so many years since Eilidh had appreciated this area, she took her time to take it all in before they returned back to the house—which felt decidedly empty when Eilidh closed and locked the door again.

As the days wore on, Eilidh soon realized that her thought about the empty house was not to be an anomaly. Her parents left for the hospital early in the morning, and didn’t come back usually until after Eilidh had made dinner. In between then, Eilidh wandered the halls of her childhood home, mulling how it no longer seemed as comforting as it once had.

She saw pictures of herself and Will on the mantle and bookshelves. His shoes were still by the door, his coat on the rack. Even in the bathroom, his razor sat unused in the cabinet, his toothbrush in the cup on the sink. He had been buried now for a week but everything about the house seemed to indicate he would come walking through the door any minute, alive and well. Eilidh couldn’t help thinking that he would whenever she heard footsteps.

As different as the house now felt, though, it was still her home. Eilidh made an effort to notice the things that reminded her of this fact. The sheets were still a little scratchy like they had been when she was little. One of the legs of the dining room table sported a few scratches from where Eilidh and Will had dug the tines of a fork over the wood in a moment of foolhardy childishness. Things that her parents could have changed or fixed over the years, and didn’t. Constants that Eilidh now saw as signs that this was indeed her home, and not just another house in London.

She tired to vary her days with other activities she could take advantage of with her grandmother. All of her art supplies from her school days were still here, so Eilidh dug them out of the drawer and they painted for a few afternoons. Eilidh peeked over at Granny’s paper every once in a while, impressed to see that even in its somewhat garbled state, her grandmother’s vase of daffodils was a better attempt than her own botched depiction of the Swilcan Bridge on the Old Course. When they grew tired of painting, they went into the yard and tended to the small garden in which her parents had begun to grow vegetables. They turned on the radio and and danced to whatever was playing, one of Granny’s favorite pastimes from the old days; she had always been able to last the longest at a cèilidh. Glenn Miller wasn’t exactly the same, but it filled the void at least. Anything to keep Granny occupied.

If she wasn’t occupied, her grandmother asked a lot of questions. Why they were in London? Because of Will. Then where was he? Underground, he was killed. When they could leave? Not for a long time. Where were her parents? At the hospital. Would they be attacked? I don’t know.

Within a few days of her arrival, Eilidh’s father had showed her the bomb shelter in the yard. It had been added when Eilidh had been in Scotland, so she never saw how it had been installed—a metal shed-like structure with a domed roof, tucked into four feet of earth. Inside were rough wooden bunks, torches, canned food, bottles of water, and other essential items her parents had stockpiled away. Once Eilidh saw it, she immediately made sure to put some things that would appeal to herself and Granny in it, but it was still a depressing sight. If there was one place where a person could get bored and restless, it would have been in there. She fervently prayed the Germans would soon grow bored of dropping bombs on them. 

The high-pitched whine of the air raid siren woke Eilidh with a start. Her disorientation only lasted a minute, though; the sound was unmistakable. “Mum? Dad?” she shouted from her room, struggling to find her coat and shoes in the dark. She abandoned them hopelessly and wrapped herself in a quilt instead.

Her parents were already out of their bed, waking up Granny in the next room. “Mum, we’ve got to go, now!” her father was saying, urging her out of bed and into a jacket. But Granny moved slowly on the best of days and now, with the loud commotion of the bombs and the siren, was obstinate.

“You’re mad, James—you want to go outside—in this?!” she argued. The sentence came out in pieces, barely audible above the din. “I’m staying here.”

Outside, the bombs fell. BOOM. BOOM. The windows trembled from their impact. Flashes of yellow light crept through the curtains that had been drawn for the blackout, illuminating the room with fire for a second. In the brief moment when she could see, Eilidh noted the unmistakable worry in her parents’ faces.

“Mum, this whole house might be flattened!” Eilidh’s father shot back. “Now come on, we’re going! The shelter is right in the back—” As he spoke, the house shuddered violently. Eilidh crouched down instinctively, glancing up at the ceiling with terror, which was now sprinkling dust on them from the force of the blast. She glanced back at her parents and grandmother, biting her lip until it bled so she didn’t panic. Granny wasn’t going to be moving any time soon; they all knew it.

“Eilidh, get to the shelter,” her mother muttered to her.

“But—”

“We’ll be right behind you, now go!” Eilidh’s mother glared at her so fiercely Eilidh acquiesced without further argument, tripping over her own feet in her haste to fly down the stairs and into the garden.

Even the short sprint from the door to the shelter was exhilarating—the world seemed to be collapsing around her. In the open air, Eilidh felt every bomb dropped through her entire body. They shook the ground she ran on and electrified the air she breathed, sparking her insides with energy and making the hair on back of her neck stand up. The RAF was doing its job and anti-aircraft weaponry answered each Luftwaffe plane with a blast of flak, but it did little to calm the adrenaline that pumped through Eilidh’s blood, so galvanizing that she hardly acknowledged the pricks of pain on the soles of her socked feet from the gravel path leading to the shelter. She kept her eyes trained on it coming closer and closer, not daring to peek to the sky even for a second. She threw the door open finally after fumbling with the latch, ducking and scrambling inside. She turned around, hoping, expecting, to see her parents and grandmother close behind like her mother had promised.

But the yard was empty.

Eilidh froze in disbelief—Surely they couldn’t still be inside?—and then collected herself enough to climb halfway out of the shelter, alarmed. It was dark and she had to strain her eyes between the intermittent flashes of light, but there was no one coming toward her in the gloom, and it was impossible to try and see what was going on through the windows with the blinds shut. Eilidh knelt on the steps of the shelter, half-exposed, her mind racing. What to do. What to do!? As far as she knew, her parents were still in the house, trying to convince Granny to leave its safety and brave the outdoors to reach the shelter. They’ll never convince her, Eilidh thought wildly, She’s as stubborn as a mule, she won’t go, not unless they drag her out kicking and screaming—

Some manic force nearly took over Eilidh then, imagining the scene inside. I’ve got to go help them, she thought. Of course she won’t go with them, but me—I’ve been the one with her all these years, I’m the one who’s been taking care of her—She forced herself to do what she had been too scared to do a minute before and looked up, watching the shadowed aircraft and clouds of smoke in the sky, a futile attempt to guess when would be safest when she knew in reality it was all up to chance, but she readied her feet anyway, steeled her mind—

NOW—!

And the world exploded. The sky seemed to split and a deafening CRACK ripped from the tear in the air, accompanied by a blinding flare somewhere not far from the front of the house. Eilidh cowered and felt herself being thrown by the blazing hot force of a shell back into the shelter. She landed haphazardly on the hard floor but ignored the bruise she felt on her shoulder, and, for a moment, the thought of her family that had just gripped her a moment earlier, scrambling to cover her head and make herself as small as possible. The roof shook and the air was filled with the screaming siren, whirring engines, deep ack ack bursts, noise Eilidh was dimly amazed to register at all now that her ears were ringing so loudly her head ached. She pressed her arms against them and held her eyes shut tight, trying to block the sounds out and not see the fire, but when she tried to ignore the present, her mind drifted, to the past, to Will. Is this the last thing he had heard, the last thing he had felt? The thought tormented her, and she contorted herself into a ball, wishing she was anywhere but here and that her memories were anything but what they were.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 7 - Condemnation~ (Sneak Peek)

Out here kicking my feet like Alastor - Got part 7 queued for Friday then MAYBE part 8 next week (if ya'll like it enough) 💜 Need to catch up? Masterlist

The last few days (weeks?) have been a blur. It was a weird switch going from sleeping terribly because you longed to be near him - to sleeping constantly so you didn’t have to feel your body long from him. Anyone who came to your door was just told you weren’t feeling good. “Just caught a stomach bug, don’t come in! I would hate for you to catch it.”

Today you decided it’s time to finally leave your room. Charlie needs help and there are things around the hotel that need to be done before her meeting with Heaven. You aren’t one to let others down just because of your own emotional baggage.

You throw some makeup on to try to brighten your face. Usually, you wouldn’t be bothered but all the crying significantly darkened your eyes. I’d rather not let them see me like this. The less questions the better. Plastering a smile on your face, you head down to the lobby to get the list of ‘to-dos’ from Charlie. Surprisingly she isn’t there when you arrive, so you take a seat next to Angel on the floor. You lean your head against his leg as a silent ‘hello’.

“Hey toots, how ya feeling?” he says without looking up from his phone. “Better, thanks.” You say cheerfully.

“Good! Guess you and Smiles must have shared cooties ‘cause he ain’t been seen or heard from since Lucifer’s visit.” A pang hits your chest, but you try to brush it off. He’s probably just pissed off.

Charlie rushes down the stairs and scoops you into a lung crushing hug, “So so so soooooooo glad you’re feeling better! I didn’t realize how much you did around here! Could you do me a huge favor and go pick up a few things from the city and take them to my dad? He said he can meet you at this address. I have to go pack - Thank you!” Just as quickly as she came down the stairs, she hurries back, leaving you with a short list and an address.

For the first time in weeks, you leave the hotel without Alastor or his shadow close by. It’s not that you’re afraid of going out alone, but you realize you enjoyed his company more than you thought. You glance up at the radio tower as you walk away from the hotel and can make out a dark figure with glowing red eyes staring down from the window. Well at least that’s confirmation he’s still around.

You pick up the few things from a local shop and walk across the city to the address Charlie gave you. This doesn’t look right. The building you walk up to is more of an abandoned warehouse for a drug deal rather than a cozy meetup with the King of Hell. Cautiously you walk through the door which looked like it had been kicked in already. Just as expected, it’s an empty building with piles of trash scattered about. Graffiti and posters plaster the inner walls. You triple check the address on the small paper and it matches.

Sooo now what?

After waiting and pacing for a few minutes, you hear someone call out to you. You turn to see Lucifer standing outside a portal in the middle of the building.

“You didn’t actually think I stayed within the city, did you?” he chuckles as he motions for you to enter into the portal with him. Once inside you look around to see a large open room filled with…ducks? And this guy was trying to give me a hard time?

“Is – is this your office, sir?”

He boots a few ducks out of his path. “Yes, this is where I work on – important – matters. Also, no need for formalities, Lucifer is fine. Those bags for me?”

You almost forgot why you were even standing in the King’s office. All the piles of rubber ducks grabbed your attention and now you wanted to look through them out of pure curiosity. Handing over the bags, you keep scanning around the room. Lucifer notices your curious glances, “Would you – like to see my most recent project?” he asks nervously. You feel your face light up at the offer and he can’t help but mirror your excitement.

He starts to show you all the ducks he’s created, their names, what they can do. His eyes glimmer excitedly every time you display even the slightest interest in one. What feels like a mere fifteen minutes ends up becoming a couple hours. As he shows you the last of his collection, a solemn look crosses his face.

“Thank you for this. I don’t get a lot of visitors and haven’t really been able to share my work since Charlie…grew up. Plus, it’s nice to see you smile, especially after our first encounter.”

Your breath catches at the memory of that night. Not so much the crying in the arms of the devil part - rather the grief you felt shortly after. “Oh – thank you for taking the time to show me. Truthfully, I haven’t had much reason to smile lately so it’s a lovely change.”

His smile drops. There's a long pause as he fights with himself to find the right words, “Did he…Alastor I mean…hurt you that night? You can tell me. I know Charlie is close with him, so you probably don’t feel comfortable -”

“He didn’t hurt me. At least not in the physical sense.” Frowning, you curse at yourself for being too honest. You can’t help but feel at ease in his presence. He was Lucifer, King of Hell and easily the most powerful in all the seven rings. What ulterior motives could he possibly have or need? He has no reason to be anything other than genuine in his worry for you. He made it all too easy to tell him anything.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

Hell Hath No Fury Chapter 3

Once again, I really cannot express how overwhelming the response to this very unplanned story has been. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I really try to thank each person who reviews personally, but those of you who review as a guest or without an email account attached, I can’t thank…but I appreciate all of your reviews and the fact you took the time to read this story!

I know you all have been waiting for this chapter, but I needed to rewatch “Knockout” and “Rise” again before I felt I could do this chapter justice, because I didn’t want to mess something up. And I was close enough in my season 3 rewatch that I was almost there, so I didn’t want to skip ahead (also, sorry…I did watch the LA episode a couple of times…it’s one of my favorites, so it delayed me a little).

More than one person has expressed interest in seeing Castle’s dad help Beckett find the shooter…and I’m going to sit the record straight here. He will not be a part of this story. I’m sorry to those of you who really wanted to see that interaction, but I’m not doing it here. His father was not a part of the show this early on, and I’d like to keep it that way here. Plus the shooting took place because of Beckett’s mother’s case; she was the target. There wouldn’t have been a shooting if not for that, so I don’t see a reason to bring him into the story.

Now that I’ve had my morning therapeutic cry…thank you Stana for that…I know you guys are all waiting for Castle and Beckett to see each other. I really hope it lives up to your expectations. So here we go…and I still don’t own Castle…or the characters…unfortunately.

xxxxx

Beckett had been in a hurry to get to the hospital to see him, but now that she was there, walking through the doors that led to the ICU, her pace had slowed; she suddenly realized she didn’t know what she was even going to say. She knew she would have to say something…staring was creepy. But what was she supposed to say to the man who saved her life, who had taken the bullet meant for her? She paused outside his door for one more moment before putting her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, effectively tugging it tighter around her.

Stepping inside the room silently, she offered him a smile. “Hey,” was the only word that she was able to get out right then. Seeing him alive, awake sent a small wave of relief through her. For the first time since the shooting she began to believe that maybe he really would be okay.

“Hey,” he replied, still offering her a small smile despite his discomfort.

Martha looked between the two and noticed the tension. She stood then, nudging Alexis gently. “Come on, Alexis. Why don’t we go home and get some real dinner and a hot shower?” she suggested to the girl.

“But I want to stay!” Alexis tried to protest.

“Nonsense. Your father is awake and doing well now. We both need to clean up, and I am not ashamed to say that my days of being able to sleep in contorted positions in chairs are far behind me,” Martha replied.

“Grams is right, Alexis. Go home and rest up. I’ll be fine, and you can come back tomorrow after school,” Castle told his daughter, his voice sounding tired, weak, more hollow than his normal excited exuberance.

“Fine. But you better do what the doctors tell you,” Alexis warned her father.

“Scout’s honor,” he offered his daughter the best smile he could muster.

Alexis simply rolled her eyes. “You were never a scout.”

Beckett couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, looking down at her feet as she remembered their first case together when he’d tried the same line on her, and she’d bought it. “Don’t worry, Alexis. I’ll make sure your dad follows doctor’s orders,” she offered the girl a smile.

Alexis seemed to accept that. She did know the detective cared about her father very much and was more than capable of keeping him in line.

“There, now you see? It’s settled. Richard, I expect you to be a good patient. We’ll come back and see you tomorrow,” she told her son, giving his cheek a soft kiss. “Katherine, he’s all yours. Good luck,” she said simply, knowing her son was not the best patient.

“Night Dad,” Alexis kissed her father’s cheek as well. She started to go out of the room, but turned back to Beckett. “Call if he’s not listening.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t have a problem,” Beckett replied to the girl. Once the door had closed behind both redheads, she turned back to Castle and really studied him. He was pale, obviously in discomfort; the way his voice had sounded when he spoke was not like she was used to hearing from him at all. She couldn’t help the fresh waves of guilt that washed over her. She had so many things to say to him…so many things that they needed to talk about…but she wasn’t sure what to say to him; and it seemed like for once, he wasn’t sure what to say to her either.

“How are you doing?” Beckett finally asked him softly. She figured that was a relatively safe topic.

Castle shrugged slightly, wincing at the motion. “The doctor said he still wants to monitor me for some things in the next 24 hours. But as long as I don’t set off any alarms, they should move

me down to a regular room tomorrow afternoon,” he answered, studying her every bit as much as she’d been studying him, trying to gauge what she was feeling, what she was thinking. They’d had the huge fight where she’d said they were over, but then Montgomery had sacrificed himself for her, then with the funeral and the shooting, they hadn’t had a chance to talk at all.

Nodding, she was silent again for a moment before taking a step closer to his beside. Her fingers wanted to take his hand, but her brain stopped them. “Thank you…for saving my life,” she murmured softly, meeting his eyes for the first time since she’d entered the room and doing her best to mask her emotions from showing in her own.

“That’s what partners do, right?” he replied. He did shift his hand to take hers then, the pain medicine he was on making him a little braver than normal. He figured she wouldn’t pull away from the touch anyway; she had taken his hand before in moments of comfort.

“Is that what we are? Partners?” she softly repeated the words from their earlier argument. “Just try not to make a habit out of getting shot, ok?” she tried to joke…deflect and lighten the mood the way he effortlessly did so often, but it fell flat on her lips. Why was she so bad at this; why was this so hard? She was a very articulate woman, so why couldn’t she just communicate how she was feeling?

He gently squeezed her hand, sensing she had more to say and hoping that if he waited her out a little, she might continue. He was slightly rewarded for his patience when she stuck out her foot and hooked it around the chair leg to scoot it closer to the bed so that she could sit next to him without having to release his hand. That was positive at least.

She looked at their joined hands for a moment, trying to find the words to say. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Castle…” she started, pausing then and swallowing hard. She needed to get through this; she felt like after everything that had happened between them, everything that had been spoken…and unspoken… between them, she owed him at least this much. “I was so worried…if you hadn’t made it…” she tried again, feeling a few tears stinging her eyes and she did her best to blink them away.

“Kate…” he interrupted her softly. “I’m okay. I’m right here.”

She looked at him then, no longer able to hide the emotions in her eyes. “I watched you die in that ambulance, Rick. And for a minute, my heart stopped too,” she admitted, her voice laced with emotion that she usually held back.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her confession, and wondered for a moment if the medication floating through his system was making him read more into it than what she might really be trying to tell him.

“It was like that night my mother was murdered all over again, only worse…because that bullet was meant for me.”

He realized then maybe it really was the medication after all, because what she was saying right now seemed to be coming more from a place of guilt than what he had hoped had been her feelings for him.

She got quiet then, bringing her free hand up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “Why the hell would you think you should take a bullet for me?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that question; well, he knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to it. “To be fair, I was only trying to save you, not actually take the bullet for you…” he tried to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m serious, Rick.”

There she was using his first name again. “Because…” he started, swallowing hard then. “Because you’re my partner. I’m supposed to have your back,” he chickened out of telling her the real reason. This wasn’t the place for that conversation. Besides, she had a boyfriend, he reminded himself. Not that he particularly cared about Josh or his feelings, but he knew she wasn’t a cheater, and he wouldn’t intentionally put her in that position.

She remained silent for a moment then, looking back to their hands. Apparently he was no more ready to jump than she was. Maybe that was a good thing; maybe they both needed to get through this whole situation before they could jump. She knew, though…both of them knew, really…that the feelings for each other were deeper than friendship at this point, or even partnership. But they weren’t ready…certainly the hospital was not the place for the conversation. For now…for now, this would have to be enough.

“I hear I have Motorcycle Boy to thank for saving my life,” he commented then, changing the subject. “Tell him thanks.”

She stiffened slightly at the mention of Josh. “I did,” she answered, unable to look at him for a moment. She really should tell him. “But Josh and I…we aren’t…we broke up...” she trailed off. Why couldn’t she just find the right words to say? Why was talking to him like this so hard?

“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say; the fact that she was no longer with the doctor was surprising. She’d seemed to like him enough; the last time they’d really brought him up, she was ready to try to make their relationship work. And he was certainly around enough now…he saw the two together all the time, and it had hurt thinking they might be becoming more serious. “I’m sorry,” he felt the need to say. He wasn’t sorry that Josh was gone…but he was sorry if she was hurt by it.

She finally looked at him again. “Don’t be,” she said softly. “I wasn’t being fair to him," she started. "I really, really liked him…but that wasn’t enough anymore. Our relationship just wasn’t what either of us wanted it to be…and someone told me I have a habit of staying in relationships with men I don’t love,” she added quietly, her words leaving a lot unspoken.

Her words surprised him; she’d actually listened, and acted based on what he’d said. Though part of him did wonder if they would be having this conversation had he not been shot. “Really? Sounds like a smart person…a genius, really,” he smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

His attempt to get her to smile succeeded; she couldn’t hide the slight grin as she rolled her eyes. “A genius, huh?”

He nodded. “It’s true.”

Shaking her head, she let her fingers gently play with his. “Not a genius…just someone who really knows me,” she gave him an almost shy smile then, letting her words hopefully heal some of what had been said in anger during their fight when she’d told him that he didn’t know her. He did know her…better than anyone, she’d realized. She was just used to keeping everyone at arms length; the fact that someone got that close to her had made her panic.

He returned her smile. “Still…he sounds like a smart man. And brave…you’re scary when you’re angry,” he joked.

She gave a soft laugh at that. “He is,” she met his eyes. After a few moments of silently gazing in his eyes, she took a deep breath and released it slowly, finally looking away from him. “You should rest. I’m sure you’re tired,” she realized then.

“Yeah,” he admitted, shifting slightly in his bed. “You should go home,” he added. When she stood, he squeezed her hand. “I mean home as in your apartment. Not the precinct.”

She stood still for a moment, no longer surprised that he knew exactly what she was most likely planning to do. “Castle, I need to see if the boys found anything.”

“You can check that tomorrow.” He knew she’d be working the case; it was connected to her mother. The shooter had been after her. He knew there was no way of getting her to back down now.

“Castle, I’m fine,” she insisted, trying to reassure him.

“Kate…” he started, but stopped when she pulled her hand away from his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Castle,” she stated, and with one last smile in his direction, she left.

He sighed in frustration. She was the most maddening, infuriating, stubborn woman he had ever met.

xxxxx

“Tell me you found something,” Beckett stated as she passed Esposito’s desk on the way to hers. Tossing her jacket on the back of the chair, she perched on the edge of her desk, giving the murder board her full attention.

“How’s Castle?” Ryan asked.

“Awake,” she answered simply.

“Did you ask him if he remembers anything?” Esposito came to perch on the edge of Beckett’s desk next to her in a stance usually adopted by Castle.

She shook her head. “No. He just woke up; I didn’t want to ask for details yet. I’ll go back tomorrow after he’s had a chance to rest and process what happened.”

“Yeah, well, something had to have tipped him off to tackle you the way he did,” Esposito pointed out.

“Hopefully he saw something, but the way the shooter has been able to cover his tracks and just disappear, I’m not going to hold my breath,” she leaned back slightly on her hands as she worked her way through the evidence once more. “There has to be something we’re missing; someone had to have seen something. The shooter had to have left some kind of DNA behind…some lead for me to follow.”

Esposito shook his head. “Not necessarily. If the guy is former special forces, he’s going to know how to become a ghost. It’s part of the training.”

She knew he was right. She’d been a cop long enough to know that professional hits were the hardest to track down; as good as she was, even she couldn’t run down a lead if there was nothing for her to run with. “Then we have to draw the ghost out of the shadows.”

Ryan approached the two then. “How do you draw out someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

“By giving him what he wants,” she stated simply. When the two men exchanged questioning glances and looked back at her, she continued. “Me.”

xxxxx

Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews. I love hearing all your feedback and comments. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!

[mamirhodessxox]

Hey There Delilah (Part 2)

Cody Rhodes x Fem OC!Reader

(Delilah Jones)

Storyline: Delilah was born and raised by the beach in L.A and grew up in a home where her parents expected her to go to Harvard & become a well known woman who marry’s a man who is a lawyer after high school. But that’s not what she wanted, She always wanted to own a boutique/flower shop & she did, once her parents discovered she wouldn’t attend college they left her to fend for herself but allowed her little sister Kinsley to visit or sleep over whenever, Her little sister always had an eye for WWE but Delilah never understood why but little did either of them know one of Delilah’s customers would become well acquainted. (Creds to @alyyaanna for helping me w the storyline)

Contents: Toxic parents, Angst, Fluff, Smut in later chapters, Based in May 2023, Alcohol, Violence, Alcohol.

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

It was officially summer break, Kinsley would often sleep over at Delilahs or help out with the shop, Today on the other hand it was scorching hot, it was usually warm in California but it was warmer than usual, Delilah had the AC blasting & the door wide open which gave her the Privilege of hearing the ocean waves crash into each other, Kinsley sat behind the register braiding her hair while Lilah groaned and sat next to her while Cody walked into the shop “Well aren’t you two just a ball of joy.” Kinsley perked up and nudged Lilah while her head was on the counter “I feel like I’m in hell.” She mumbled before sitting up while Cody let out a light laugh & set down slushies in front of them “Got you two something cold to drink.” Lilah sighed in relief and took one “Your the best person ever.” Kinsley smiled and waved a little at Cody “Why don’t you two just go in the water, you’re across the beach anyways.” He asked before taking a sip of Lilahs slushie leaving her a bit bewildered.

“Because the store needs to be open. And I need to run it.” Cody rolled his eyes in a playful manner before patting her hand “Why don’t I get you guy’s something to eat and we close up the shop, it’s hot, first day of summer break and have s beach picnic and play in the water, I don’t need a pretty girl like you getting sick from heat stroke. That goes for you too missy.” He pointed at Kinsley who was busy staring at the colors of her drink “Co-“ he pointed his finger back at Delilah and tilted his head. “Fine..” he nodded approvingly at her response and walked off from the shop to get lunch for the sisters.

At least an hour later Lilah and Kinsley sat on a blanket right on the beach and Cody had just came back with some sort of food, they didn’t care they just wanted to eat. Cody sat down and handed them sandwiches and out of pure curiosity “Lilah have you ever drank?” She smiled tilting her head “Yeah, water” he shook his head “No like, Alcohol.” She shook her head “Nuh-Uh, Mom and dad always told me it would take me down the wrong path in life.” Kinsley furrowed her brows “But dad drinks beer, plus they already say you went downhill anyway..?” Cody chuckled shaking his head “Alcohol doesn’t take anyone down the right path in life unless you let it.” She hummed and nodded her head “I mean I guess I could try it one day but never beer.”

He smiled nodding “I would never imagine someone so petite and classy like you ever even go near a beer bottle.” She smiled before taking a bite of her food while Kinsley ran off to go play in the water, Cody scooted closer to Lilah while she stared at his neck “What’s the story behind that?” She questioned but never judged, all of the questions she had were out of kindness and curiosity, He liked that about her, he liked how genuine she was, she was humble, respectful and pure, he liked that she was actually personally interested in him as a person and not a celebrity, especially since she met him authentically and didn’t even recognize who he was. He came back to reality and knew she was talking about his neck tattoo and smiled “It’s just some logo for my wrestling thing, I promise you it was not supposed to be that big.” She smiled and traced her nail over it “I like it, A little big but I like it. I’ve always wanted a tattoo but my parents are against it.”

From what he gathered he noticed that her parents didn’t approve of many things despite her adulthood in life, they didn’t appreciate how she made a business by herself, or anything, they certainly wouldn’t approve of him by pure assumption of who he is. “Doll your a grown woman, you’re allowed to get whatever you want with your own money.” She shrugged “Most of my actions will have an impact on whether or not Kinsley will be allowed to see me, They’ll take her away from me like that.” He furrowed his brows shaking his head “That’s not right at all, in-fact it’s disgusting.” Lilah shrugged “It usually turns into an argument with them everytime I go to church with Kinsley.” He furrowed his brows and played with her hair “Take me to church with you, it’s tomorrow right? Sunday Mass? I’ll go with you.” She smiled at the offer and nodded her head “we’ll be here waiting then.”

🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷🌸🌷

The next morning Lilah wore a summer dress and helped Kinsley get ready for church, Kinsley hated going to church every sunday since she wanted to sleep in but her parents were strict and heavy on her attending Mass. The pair left the store & saw Cody walk up to them “It’s that one little church down the street right?” Lilah nodded with a smile “Yeah, we usually walk there.” And that they did, they talked, laughed and then quieted down when they arrived at the church where her parents awaited for their arrival & immediately they glared.

They attended mass & sat all together, Cody next to Lilah, Kinsley next to her parents. Cody listened thoroughly and followed along the process they were all doing over anything brought up in the bible, Cody ran his hand up Lilah’s thigh making her breath hitch & look at him with a flustered & shy expression and held onto her hand shaking her head. At the end of mass they all met outside & saw a very dissatisfied expression on her parents faces

Lilah & Kinsley’s father scoffed running a hand down his face “Are you serious right now Delilah? Your letting a man with a goddamn neck tattoo near your little sister?” Cody raised a brow “We’re in the modern day and we still judge people over tattoos? That’s quite childish and embarrassing honestly.” He nipped back at their father while their mom stepped forward “Lilah honey is this really who you see yourself living life with? We know who he is, he kicks people for a living.” Lilah frowned and fiddled with her fingers “Mama he’s ni-“ her father butted back in “He’s a goddamn man who dressed up as a galaxy atom for a living for Christ’s sake.” Kinsley glared

“His name was STAR DUST thank you!” Cody crouched to Kinsley “Sweetheart let the adults handle this okay?” Her father glared “Get the hell away from my child!” Lilah became overwhelmed “Can we please just get church over with this is embarrassing! We’re arguing infront of people & getting dirty looks.” Her mother scoffed grabbing Kinsley “We don’t want you or him here at lunch with us today, she’ll come back tomorrow. Have a nice evening Delilah” She frowned while Kinsley pushed her morher away and ran back to Cody & Lilah and hugged his leg “I wanna stay with them!” Their father scowled and straightened his coast “This is not what god would want for you Lilah, Your a screw up in life, seriously? You’re having this man hang around you & your little sister clearly being a bad influence, You were not supposed to live a life like a circus show, Your an utter failure.” She frowned shaking her head “You don’t know what God wanted for me in my life, I’m a grown woman Mama! You’re upset because neither of you can control me under your roof anymore.”

Her mother was frustrated and strutted off into the church’s parking lot with her father following along leaving the 3 standing there alone while Delilah felt a wave of overwhelming feelings and emotions and started tearing up which made Cody turn to her and hold her face in his hands “Don’t cry sweetheart, everything they say is untrue, You’re not a fuck up, your far from it, hell your doing better than me & I make a lot of money.” She sniffled while Kinsley frowned hugging her side while Cody wiped off any tears even if they kept coming “You did such a good job defending yourself ‘m so proud of you sweet girl.” He gave her a hug while she hiccuped and sniffled when her body started overflowing with guilt & just clung onto him like a koala “c’mon sweetheart let’s get you two back home and we can figure out what we can do with the rest of the day alright?” She nodded and held her little sisters hand before walking back home.

Lilah walked inside of the flower shop sighing and sitting down on the stool behind the register while Kinsley scampered upstairs to take a well deserved nap. “How are you feeling doll?” Cody hummed out standing next to her and running his hand up and down her back while she shrugged, she was easily overstimulated socially & sighed, her poor little brain was confused as to why she had feelings for him when she just met him, she was confused why her parents detested her & overall confused with what she was doing wrong.

“I’m fine just- overwhelmed.” She pouted out while Cody held her close and kissed the top of her head “You’ll be fine pretty girl, ‘jus need you to relax for a little bit and it’ll be as if today never happened.” She smiled and looked up at him before kissing his cheek which made him hum out and look at her “Your such a sweet little thing.” She smiled at him and hugged his arm “Your so nice to me.” He smiled at her muttered words and nodded before making her look at him “You have such a pretty face sweetheart.” Lilah was utterly confused with her emotions, half of the things she didn’t know were normal to be feeling. She felt tingling and aching inbetween her legs which made her thighs tighten up against each other and started tearing up letting out little whined and whimpers, which he very clearly noticed but acted like he didn’t on purpose. He gave her a kiss & pulled away “I’m gonna let you girls rest and visit tomorrow’kay?” She frowned nodding not knowing what to do with the things she was feeling.

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By the next week Kinsley was on a road trip with her parents & it was already sunday, Cody & Lilah were at church by themselves this time without anyone going with them & he had no idea how to properly behave, Lilah was busy reading the bible along with what the priest was reading out & Cody was bored so he dipped his hand under her dress and toyed with her thighs for a bit which made her hitch her breath & look at him, he gave her a warning look to stay quiet so she complied like the good sweet girl she was but let out a quiet squeak when he fingers pushed her panties aside,

there was that feeling again, the feeling where she felt all wet & achey, she whimpered and leaned over towards Cody frowning while trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid drawing any attention “Cody I feel tingly..” he smiled and moved his middle finger around her clit which made her let out a soft gasp “I got it from here sweetheart just sit & look pretty okay?” And that she did, she let him to whatever he wanted, He would tease her over again by pushing a finger into her pussy and pulling it back out to tease her clit which made her tear up and bury her face in his arm until he permanently shoved his finger back into her pussy & started thrusting it in a quick motion while he held her jaw

“Don’t make a fucking sound am I understood?” She nodded her head while tears streamed down her face “M-My tum-tummy feels weird..!” He hummed and went faster “That means your so close princess, you gonna cum huh? Make a damn mess all over this fucking church hm?” She bit on his coat and clenched her thighs around his wrist while he kept fucking her overstimulated cunt with his finger before pulling it out and patting her clit which made her take a deep breath & start shaking.

Soon she noticed she felt relief & also felt cum leaking from her hole, Cody kissed the top of his head smiling in accomplishment before pushing her panties back in their proper place while kissing her cheek “You did so good sweetheart.” She breathed heavily and held her thighs shut while her eyes were all glossy & drool ran down her mouth which he cleaned up before church was over.

He didn’t even have to put in much effort into touching her which made him automatically know the feelings she felt for him.

🏷️ list: @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @valkyrurr @alyyaanna @niknakbucks92 @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

[41319kbex]

Hell Hath No Fury (3/?)

Once again, I really cannot express how overwhelming the response to this very unplanned story has been. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I really try to thank each person who reviews personally, but those of you who review as a guest or without an email account attached, I can’t thank…but I appreciate all of your reviews and the fact you took the time to read this story!

I know you all have been waiting for this chapter, but I needed to rewatch “Knockout” and “Rise” again before I felt I could do this chapter justice, because I didn’t want to mess something up. And I was close enough in my season 3 rewatch that I was almost there, so I didn’t want to skip ahead (also, sorry…I did watch the LA episode a couple of times…it’s one of my favorites, so it delayed me a little).

More than one person has expressed interest in seeing Castle’s dad help Beckett find the shooter…and I’m going to sit the record straight here. He will not be a part of this story. I’m sorry to those of you who really wanted to see that interaction, but I’m not doing it here. His father was not a part of the show this early on, and I’d like to keep it that way here. Plus the shooting took place because of Beckett’s mother’s case; she was the target. There wouldn’t have been a shooting if not for that, so I don’t see a reason to bring him into the story.

Now that I’ve had my morning therapeutic cry…thank you Stana for that…I know you guys are all waiting for Castle and Beckett to see each other. I really hope it lives up to your expectations. So here we go…and I still don’t own Castle…or the characters…unfortunately.

xxxxx

Beckett had been in a hurry to get to the hospital to see him, but now that she was there, walking through the doors that led to the ICU, her pace had slowed; she suddenly realized she didn’t know what she was even going to say. She knew she would have to say something…staring was creepy. But what was she supposed to say to the man who saved her life, who had taken the bullet meant for her? She paused outside his door for one more moment before putting her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, effectively tugging it tighter around her.

Stepping inside the room silently, she offered him a smile. “Hey,” was the only word that she was able to get out right then. Seeing him alive, awake sent a small wave of relief through her. For the first time since the shooting she began to believe that maybe he really would be okay.

“Hey,” he replied, still offering her a small smile despite his discomfort.

Martha looked between the two and noticed the tension. She stood then, nudging Alexis gently. “Come on, Alexis. Why don’t we go home and get some real dinner and a hot shower?” she suggested to the girl.

“But I want to stay!” Alexis tried to protest.

“Nonsense. Your father is awake and doing well now. We both need to clean up, and I am not ashamed to say that my days of being able to sleep in contorted positions in chairs are far behind me,” Martha replied.

“Grams is right, Alexis. Go home and rest up. I’ll be fine, and you can come back tomorrow after school,” Castle told his daughter, his voice sounding tired, weak, more hollow than his normal excited exuberance.

“Fine. But you better do what the doctors tell you,” Alexis warned her father.

“Scout’s honor,” he offered his daughter the best smile he could muster.

Alexis simply rolled her eyes. “You were never a scout.”

Beckett couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, looking down at her feet as she remembered their first case together when he’d tried the same line on her, and she’d bought it. “Don’t worry, Alexis. I’ll make sure your dad follows doctor’s orders,” she offered the girl a smile.

Alexis seemed to accept that. She did know the detective cared about her father very much and was more than capable of keeping him in line.

“There, now you see? It’s settled. Richard, I expect you to be a good patient. We’ll come back and see you tomorrow,” she told her son, giving his cheek a soft kiss. “Katherine, he’s all yours. Good luck,” she said simply, knowing her son was not the best patient.

“Night Dad,” Alexis kissed her father’s cheek as well. She started to go out of the room, but turned back to Beckett. “Call if he’s not listening.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t have a problem,” Beckett replied to the girl. Once the door had closed behind both redheads, she turned back to Castle and really studied him. He was pale, obviously in discomfort; the way his voice had sounded when he spoke was not like she was used to hearing from him at all. She couldn’t help the fresh waves of guilt that washed over her. She had so many things to say to him…so many things that they needed to talk about…but she wasn’t sure what to say to him; and it seemed like for once, he wasn’t sure what to say to her either.

“How are you doing?” Beckett finally asked him softly. She figured that was a relatively safe topic.

Castle shrugged slightly, wincing at the motion. “The doctor said he still wants to monitor me for some things in the next 24 hours. But as long as I don’t set off any alarms, they should move

me down to a regular room tomorrow afternoon,” he answered, studying her every bit as much as she’d been studying him, trying to gauge what she was feeling, what she was thinking. They’d had the huge fight where she’d said they were over, but then Montgomery had sacrificed himself for her, then with the funeral and the shooting, they hadn’t had a chance to talk at all.

Nodding, she was silent again for a moment before taking a step closer to his beside. Her fingers wanted to take his hand, but her brain stopped them. “Thank you…for saving my life,” she murmured softly, meeting his eyes for the first time since she’d entered the room and doing her best to mask her emotions from showing in her own.

“That’s what partners do, right?” he replied. He did shift his hand to take hers then, the pain medicine he was on making him a little braver than normal. He figured she wouldn’t pull away from the touch anyway; she had taken his hand before in moments of comfort.

“Is that what we are? Partners?” she softly repeated the words from their earlier argument. “Just try not to make a habit out of getting shot, ok?” she tried to joke…deflect and lighten the mood the way he effortlessly did so often, but it fell flat on her lips. Why was she so bad at this; why was this so hard? She was a very articulate woman, so why couldn’t she just communicate how she was feeling?

He gently squeezed her hand, sensing she had more to say and hoping that if he waited her out a little, she might continue. He was slightly rewarded for his patience when she stuck out her foot and hooked it around the chair leg to scoot it closer to the bed so that she could sit next to him without having to release his hand. That was positive at least.

She looked at their joined hands for a moment, trying to find the words to say. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Castle…” she started, pausing then and swallowing hard. She needed to get through this; she felt like after everything that had happened between them, everything that had been spoken…and unspoken… between them, she owed him at least this much. “I was so worried…if you hadn’t made it…” she tried again, feeling a few tears stinging her eyes and she did her best to blink them away.

“Kate…” he interrupted her softly. “I’m okay. I’m right here.”

She looked at him then, no longer able to hide the emotions in her eyes. “I watched you die in that ambulance, Rick. And for a minute, my heart stopped too,” she admitted, her voice laced with emotion that she usually held back.

He wasn’t sure what to make of her confession, and wondered for a moment if the medication floating through his system was making him read more into it than what she might really be trying to tell him.

“It was like that night my mother was murdered all over again, only worse…because that bullet was meant for me.”

He realized then maybe it really was the medication after all, because what she was saying right now seemed to be coming more from a place of guilt than what he had hoped had been her feelings for him.

She got quiet then, bringing her free hand up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “Why the hell would you think you should take a bullet for me?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that question; well, he knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be to it. “To be fair, I was only trying to save you, not actually take the bullet for you…” he tried to lighten the mood a little.

“I’m serious, Rick.”

There she was using his first name again. “Because…” he started, swallowing hard then. “Because you’re my partner. I’m supposed to have your back,” he chickened out of telling her the real reason. This wasn’t the place for that conversation. Besides, she had a boyfriend, he reminded himself. Not that he particularly cared about Josh or his feelings, but he knew she wasn’t a cheater, and he wouldn’t intentionally put her in that position.

She remained silent for a moment then, looking back to their hands. Apparently he was no more ready to jump than she was. Maybe that was a good thing; maybe they both needed to get through this whole situation before they could jump. She knew, though…both of them knew, really…that the feelings for each other were deeper than friendship at this point, or even partnership. But they weren’t ready…certainly the hospital was not the place for the conversation. For now…for now, this would have to be enough.

“I hear I have Motorcycle Boy to thank for saving my life,” he commented then, changing the subject. “Tell him thanks.”

She stiffened slightly at the mention of Josh. “I did,” she answered, unable to look at him for a moment. She really should tell him. “But Josh and I…we aren’t…we broke up...” she trailed off. Why couldn’t she just find the right words to say? Why was talking to him like this so hard?

“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say; the fact that she was no longer with the doctor was surprising. She’d seemed to like him enough; the last time they’d really brought him up, she was ready to try to make their relationship work. And he was certainly around enough now…he saw the two together all the time, and it had hurt thinking they might be becoming more serious. “I’m sorry,” he felt the need to say. He wasn’t sorry that Josh was gone…but he was sorry if she was hurt by it.

She finally looked at him again. “Don’t be,” she said softly. “I wasn’t being fair to him," she started. "I really, really liked him…but that wasn’t enough anymore. Our relationship just wasn’t what either of us wanted it to be…and someone told me I have a habit of staying in relationships with men I don’t love,” she added quietly, her words leaving a lot unspoken.

Her words surprised him; she’d actually listened, and acted based on what he’d said. Though part of him did wonder if they would be having this conversation had he not been shot. “Really? Sounds like a smart person…a genius, really,” he smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

His attempt to get her to smile succeeded; she couldn’t hide the slight grin as she rolled her eyes. “A genius, huh?”

He nodded. “It’s true.”

Shaking her head, she let her fingers gently play with his. “Not a genius…just someone who really knows me,” she gave him an almost shy smile then, letting her words hopefully heal some of what had been said in anger during their fight when she’d told him that he didn’t know her. He did know her…better than anyone, she’d realized. She was just used to keeping everyone at arms length; the fact that someone got that close to her had made her panic.

He returned her smile. “Still…he sounds like a smart man. And brave…you’re scary when you’re angry,” he joked.

She gave a soft laugh at that. “He is,” she met his eyes. After a few moments of silently gazing in his eyes, she took a deep breath and released it slowly, finally looking away from him. “You should rest. I’m sure you’re tired,” she realized then.

“Yeah,” he admitted, shifting slightly in his bed. “You should go home,” he added. When she stood, he squeezed her hand. “I mean home as in your apartment. Not the precinct.”

She stood still for a moment, no longer surprised that he knew exactly what she was most likely planning to do. “Castle, I need to see if the boys found anything.”

“You can check that tomorrow.” He knew she’d be working the case; it was connected to her mother. The shooter had been after her. He knew there was no way of getting her to back down now.

“Castle, I’m fine,” she insisted, trying to reassure him.

“Kate…” he started, but stopped when she pulled her hand away from his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Castle,” she stated, and with one last smile in his direction, she left.

He sighed in frustration. She was the most maddening, infuriating, stubborn woman he had ever met.

xxxxx

“Tell me you found something,” Beckett stated as she passed Esposito’s desk on the way to hers. Tossing her jacket on the back of the chair, she perched on the edge of her desk, giving the murder board her full attention.

“How’s Castle?” Ryan asked.

“Awake,” she answered simply.

“Did you ask him if he remembers anything?” Esposito came to perch on the edge of Beckett’s desk next to her in a stance usually adopted by Castle.

She shook her head. “No. He just woke up; I didn’t want to ask for details yet. I’ll go back tomorrow after he’s had a chance to rest and process what happened.”

“Yeah, well, something had to have tipped him off to tackle you the way he did,” Esposito pointed out.

“Hopefully he saw something, but the way the shooter has been able to cover his tracks and just disappear, I’m not going to hold my breath,” she leaned back slightly on her hands as she worked her way through the evidence once more. “There has to be something we’re missing; someone had to have seen something. The shooter had to have left some kind of DNA behind…some lead for me to follow.”

Esposito shook his head. “Not necessarily. If the guy is former special forces, he’s going to know how to become a ghost. It’s part of the training.”

She knew he was right. She’d been a cop long enough to know that professional hits were the hardest to track down; as good as she was, even she couldn’t run down a lead if there was nothing for her to run with. “Then we have to draw the ghost out of the shadows.”

Ryan approached the two then. “How do you draw out someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

“By giving him what he wants,” she stated simply. When the two men exchanged questioning glances and looked back at her, she continued. “Me.”

xxxxx

Thanks again to everyone who reads and reviews. I love hearing all your feedback and comments. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story!

[liquidluckandstuff]

Harry, Ron, blanket

Drabble Prompt

Harry knew Ron hated his hand-me-downs. He never really said it, but he was embarrassed whenever he had to wear something that seemed old or hand made. Harry knew that he wished that he could have newer things, but was never able to afford it. He often made excuses to trade his newer clothes with Ron so that he wouldn’t feel so bad. Harry didn’t mind, he liked knowing his things had a story behind them. 

He had so few things in his life that were made with love. 

So when he went to his friend's house for the first time, and saw a torn up blanket that was far more torn and old looking than anything else he owned, Harry seemed surprised. Especially when Ron kept it safe on his bed and seemed extremely attached to it. 

“Oh,” Ron blushed when Harry finally asked about it. “It’s uh, my baby blanket. My mom made it for me when I was little.”

Harry nodded as if he understood. “Oh, but why do you still have it?” 

“Well, it’s special. Some people have teddy bears, some people have blankets. It’s something special you usually keep from when you were little,” Ron explained. 

Harry felt a strong feeling in his chest like someone jumping up and down. “Oh, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Really? Why not?” 

Harry stared at his best friend like he had grown two heads. “Ron, my parents are dead.”

“Well yeah, but they must have already had something for you. A blanket or a toy or something.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know where I used to live, and it’s not like my aunt would tell me anything. I guess the closest thing I have is my invisibility cloak but I’m not about to sleep with it,” Harry shrugged and turned away. 

Ron rarely cried, but something in Harry’s words hurt him. He had to turn away to wipe his tears before he turned back to his best friend with a strained smile. “Come on, let’s go outside.” 

Hours later, after everyone else had gone to bed, Ron was laying down with his precious blanket wide awake. What Harry said was bothering him. Ron knew he took his family for granted sometimes, but at the moment he felt grateful for every moment he got to spend with them. 

He knew Harry would give anything to have what he had, and he knew there was something he could do to help him. 

Ron waited until he was certain Harry was asleep before he snuck out of his room to find his parents. Thankfully, they were both still awake though they looked ready to head up the stairs to their own bed. 

His mother looked at him with wide eyes and before she could get a chance to barrate him about being awake, Ron told his parents what Harry had told him. 

They listened to their son’s concern for his best friend with intent once they realized what he had to say. “I know it’s silly, but can’t you do something? Maybe you can make him a blanket or something mom. He doesn’t have anything.”

Molly already had tears in her eyes and moved to hug her youngest son. “Oh Ron, I’m so proud of the man you are growing up to be. We will see what we can do. Now off to bed.”

Nothing more was said for several more days, and Ron thought his parents forgot about it. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when a small package was handed to Harry at dinner one evening he already had a smile on his face. 

“Happy late birthday,” Mr. Weasley told Harry with a grin. “We had to go through a lot of trouble to get that but… well…”

“It was Ron’s idea,” Mrs. Weasley added. “We just went a step further.”

Harry looked confused at them, but carefully opened the package. Inside was a small red blanket with tiny snitches that flew around in patterns. “Why?” But Harry’s answer came when he brought the blanket closer to him and was able to smell it. He couldn’t remember anything besides an overpowering feeling of love. “Mum?”

“We were able to get it from your old home. Where you lived with your mum and dad. There isn’t much left of it, but -”

“Thank you,” Harry said with tears in his eyes. He raced over to hug each of them in turn, knowing his gratitude could never be expressed properly. 

When he reached Ron, Harry gave him the biggest hug of them all.