#i have been so fucking tired the last three days like. i think ive gotten 40 hours of sleep in

[unbloodiedmartyr]

(with the tone of a withered old man on the back porch in a rocking chair staring wistfully out into the woods) oh how i miss those good old days when i could shotgun 3 energy drinks and not feel a thing. didnt keep me awake, mind you, but it was a good bit. now a single oat milk iced latte will make my heart beat so fast you'd swear i just saw ronald regan raised from the dead! ah, the perils of age

[212-apricity]

mastermind, part eleven

we’re so back,

last gcse on friday AND bridgerton AND euros???😟😟 getting spoiled stoppp😍😍

goodness gracious im so sick and tired of this exam rubbish gosh i cant wait to be done😫😫,

anyways if you’re reading this rn im eternally grateful to you bc the way i wouldve left if i was you…

no but seriously i love you guys so so much😕😕, this is a very short one (apologies) bc its the first time ive written since like last year (we’re ignoring that) and i really hope you enjoy the scraps ive put together while on no sleep for the past 72 hours. as a result (look at me using exam terminology in my day to day life😋) there may be some typos or like whole sections that arent meant to be there so very sorry for that, i think it should be fine though

anyways have a great day/night, pls pls pls lmk what you think of it and PLEASE send me requests for absolutely anything🙏🙏🙏

warnings: none i think!!

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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“Here,” Theo hands me a sandwich he had managed to make with the little supplies we had left, “You need to eat something.”

I absent-mindedly take the plate from him and take a bite as he sits besides me on the tattered sofa and grabs the radio on the table, fiddling around with it.

“They’ll be okay darling,” he reassures for the millionth time, switching between stations, “I promise.”

I look to him with glassy eyes and lean my head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of my head.

He finally finds the right channel and holds my hand as I continue to eat the sandwich. We listen out for any news of our families or Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Theo and I had been moving around, camping here and there for a few months now. Lord knows where the other three had gotten to. Looking for them would be foolish and most likely unfruitful under these circumstances. Theo had been comforting me and making sure I sustained myself this whole time, I don’t really know what I’d’ve done without him.

“Theo, can I ask you something out of the blue?” I asked him as he lifted a cup of tea to his lips, raising his eyebrows and humming, “Do you still love me?” I questioned in a way that wasn’t accusatory, but rather of wonder.

His eyes glassed over slightly as he put his cup away and looked to me with a confused- almost offended expression. “Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know we just haven’t been this close and alone since.. The Yule Ball and I wasn’t sure where we stood.” I shrugged, trying to read his thoughts.

“Tesoro,” he started “I look for you in every crowd, I search for your eyes in the nature around me. I savour and stretch any moment we have together. I endlessly shame myself for leaving you  that day, but it was a necessary evil. I couldn’t let you get hurt. Not even a little bit. I lett you patch me up after fights even when I don’t like people helping me. I talk to you about my mother and father and I take delight in all your accomplishments. I love the way you talk to me, I love the way you are and I am eternally grateful that you’ve forgiven me somehow.”

I look at him with teary eyes and big smile on my face as he recisprocates and grabs my face in his warm hands smiling at me, “Doubt whether stars are fire; or the sun moves across the sky; or truth itself be a liar; but never doubt whether I love you.”

I kiss him softly.

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“Hey I wanted to ask you,” I began as the smooth chatter of the radio fades into the background and he looks at me with his blue eyes, “Do you think we should go back to Grimmauld place? I mean it’d be a lot safer than us being in the middle of fucking nowhere, we’d be able to see everyone else and we’re running out of supplies anyways.”

Just as Theo opened his mouth to respond, a letter flew into the tent in front of us as Theo and I instinctively grabbed our wands before seeing the parchment.

Theo gives me a confused look as I say, “Who’d know we were here?” and grabs the envelope.

He opens it cautiously as I keep my wand pointed at it, just in case, and starts to read the contents aloud.

“Dearest Y/n, it pains me to have to invite you to this bloodbath or anywhere near it but I am doing so with The Order’s direct command. We are all either stationed or arriving to Hogwarts for the upcoming battle, you and Theodore should get here as soon as possible, and please darling at least for my sake, try and keep out of danger. I cannot say much at this point but you must get here quickly. Come to your common room and when you arrive, I’ll be there. Yours, Sirius.”

Theo and I stand in silence for a few minutes, rereading the letter again and again until Theo backs away and starts preparing a bag big enough for one. I break out of my gaze and collect some of my things I need to bring and pass them to Theo to put in the bag but all he does is give me a look of confusion.

“What’s this for?”

“My things?”

Something crosses Theo’s face before he hides it with a blank look, he returns to his packing and clears his throat before saying, “No, you need to stay here.”

“What?” I say, astounded at his words, “What do you mean stay here?! I’m coming with you, Sirius told both of us to come.”

He abruptly stopped packing and sighed, giving me a look of desperation and exhaustion. “Listen to me,” he begged, stepping closer and taking my hands in his slightly shaky ones, “You need to stay here. You’ve already been though too much and if Bellatrix sees you I have no idea what she’ll do but I will not risk your safety. Not ever. So please darling, please listen to me for once and stay here.”

“Theo that’s so unreasonable, what if I’m in-”

“If you are in danger,” he breaks me off “Go to Grimmauld Place and send me a patronus immediately. If you come to Hogwarts with me, I’d be worrying about you the entire time anyways, and you’d be targeted along with Harry.”

“What if you get hurt?” I ask, shoving my thoughts aside for a moment, lowering my voice at the thought.

He pauses, staring at my eyes, his swimming in hesitancy, “Darling I’d rather it be me than you.”

“Theo-” he kisses me suddenly before I can protest, he runs his hands though my hair and the other on the small of my back. He kisses me for the first time, and he kisses me as though its our last. 

He breaks away and looks at me with teary eyes,

“Sei il mio cuore, la mia vita, il mio unico e solo pensiero.”

You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.

He looks lovingly into my eyes as though trying to memorise every detail about me before rolling is eyes, sighing and blinking tears away as he smiles and looks to the ceiling before bringing me to his chest and saying, “I know you.”

I look up at him with confusion as he holds me in his arms, his hands on either side of my waist as he looks down at me, “I know you, and I know that you’re going to come to Hogwarts anyway. No matter what I say.”

He smiles at me sadly as I snicker in his chest amongst tears, “But I swear if you hurt yourself,” he warns, resting his chin on the top of my head.

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LOLL that was so shit im so sorry...

anyways im so happy i FINALLY got this out like omggg it had been a MINUTE...

pls lmk what you thought and pls send me requests on what else to do‼️‼️‼️

[gabapentinblues]

1.8.2025 nightly journal, tw; ed, sh and si

i feel absolutely awful. ive had such a horrible day just feeling suicidal all day and like i cant picture any kind of future for myself. i feel terrible.

i literally feel scared, like i dont know how much longer i can deal with feeling like this bc all i can think about is wanting to die. wanting to walk into oncoming traffic or step in front of a train or throw myself over the side of a bridge. i encounter all of these things every day and i dont know how long i can control my impulses. its strange to feel conflicted like part of me is having these urges but part of me is still stopping myself from acting on them and wants them to go away. i dont want to be suicidal, but its hard to believe that this feeling is going anywhere anytime soon. i feel defeated and frustrated.

it was absolutely bitterly horribly cold outside which doesnt help my wanting to die at all. i accidentally forgot to take my meds again and i just want to stop taking them all together bc i swear theyre not doing anything for me.

i went to therapy and cried talking about how hopeless ive been feeling. my therapist said to keep putting words to it and talking about it even if it feels like im always feeling and saying the same things, that it takes a long time but i'll be able to get thru it. i want to give up so badly. i dont see what reason there is not to. all of the reasons i can identify are for other people and it just doesnt feel fair. she said that i have to sit with my depression and be honest and try not to do things that are going to make it worse and try to say yes to anything i can that might help even the tiniest bit. its fucking exhausting. i want to die but all i can do instead is sleep.

i want to quit my job and give up completely. im so tired of living like this. even days where good things happen or i feel okay for a bit are just over so quickly and im right back to this. no reason to keep going.

they really want to support me in therapy but i dont know how much they can really help me at the end of the day. im running out of hope. im reaching the part of the month where my pms will be starting too so im about to be even more suicidal on top of my regular suicidal. it was horrible last month.

im having a hard time believing that anyone truly cares about me too. i feel lonely. i think about my ex and i feel stupid. i think about my friends and i think theyre selfish. i dont think they really need me or care about me or wouldnt be able to continue without me. even my family, it feels selfish, like how badly do you really need me here? why? im miserable. its not fair. i cant picture anyone unselfishly caring about me and really taking the time to understand how i feel.

we worked on coping skills toolboxes today and i wish i had gotten to stay all day bc i started to feel a little better at group but then i had to leave to go to work.

i was absolutely miserable and suicidal the whole time i was there. my pants were too tight, my new piercings are sore, and i wanted to scream. i wanted so badly to just walk out, and then not being able to made me want to cry. and i wasn't able to cry either so i just kept picturing cutting myself when i got home but now i dont even have the energy.

i started getting vertigo on the train from not having taken my meds for two days. i took them right away when i got home. there wasnt even anything i wanted to do when i got home. i just wanted to stop existing.

i took three pastries from work and ate all of them, who fucking knows how many calories, i just ate until i felt sick and called that dinner. i don't even care because i just hate myself right now. honestly i feel so upset and powerless and hopeless maybe i will self harm. i feel like theres nothing else i can do. im so tired and im so angry and i feel like no one can help me.

i took a fast shower which wasn't really relaxing or nice or anything. my shower is disgusting and doesnt drain and the water never stays the right temperature. i just got out as fast as i could.

i made a cup of tea and watched an ed youtuber to trigger myself. i want to start starving again so bad. i hate that im binge depressed right now and not starve depressed, i want to be able to make that switch.

anyway i just feel absolutely awful, feel like no one cares about me and that theres no point in anything and im just going to cvt myself and sleep for 12 hours.

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 29: Into the Empty Storm

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

You have more questions than answers and are starting to think that maybe there aren't any answers. When you wake up, Chen provides you with some but maybe they aren't what you wanted to hear. You have a crisis of faith- but pick yourself back up. Change is coming.

A/N: Change IS coming, on like... Saturday. That's when the choice is! I'm letting you know now that the choice is a weird mundane choice that will change the story! Also, it's almost my birthday, and all I want is more free time to write y/n and these boys LOL. Hope you are all well. Smooches. (title is from a song called believe in nothing, i steal many titles from song lyrics)

Part 28 Part 30 Chapter Index

Your eyes fluttered open.

Your head was splitting but the stone ceiling was at least familiar.

What happened?

Everything was fuzzy. You tried sit up, but your body was too heavy and your arms too weak. Your fingers were tingling and numb, your muscles sore as if they had gone unused for weeks.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Chen’s voice came from your right, but this was not the infirmary. Your stomach was in knots and your shoulder was stiff. You sat up to greet your friend anyway, but your body objected with pain. “Whoa, whoa, hey slow down!” Chen carefully helped you lay back and then propped your head up a bit higher when you tried to sit up again. You were in your room. You hadn’t recognized it immediately.

You were confused.

“Why?” You choked out and then cleared your throat. Your mouth tasted like you hadn’t talked in just as long as your body hadn’t been used. Chen looked nervous and weary, like she hadn’t slept in just as long. “Why do I feel like this?”

“What exactly do you remember?” Chen hesitated. You closed your eyes and tried to remember how you’d gotten there.

That was right. It had been chaos.

“Everything went to hell when I touched the artifacts and…” You knitted your brow and tried to remember. “Oh, god, then Raiden tried to read me and that’s… that’s all I remember.” Your shoulder ached at the memory. There had been nothing else after that. Only pain.

“That was… Y/N, that was three days ago.” Chen braced herself for your panicked response. You stayed silent. Three days? How was that possible? It had felt like both a blink and an eternity of pain and darkness.

“What?” Your stomach dropped and it occurred to you now that there was an IV in your arm. Chen had likely been there the whole time keeping an eye on your vitals and making notes. There was a bedroll on the ground nearby as if to validate your thoughts. Why there? Why weren’t you in the infirmary? You already knew the answer.

You were too dangerous.

Three days was too long to be unconscious.

Your hands were still tingling. That was right. Raiden had shocked you because you had nearly killed Liu Kang and Kung Lao.

“Is Liu okay? Kung Lao?” Whatever had happened to you was less important.

“One thing at a time, Y/N.” Chen tried to urge you to lay back as you tried to sit up, but you shoved her hand away. “Please lay down. You need to take it easy, okay? You had… a little just… don’t panic when I say it, okay?”

“Tell me and then I’ll decide if it warrants panic or not.”

“I don’t want to make you any worse.”

“You not telling me is making it worse.”

“Just try to remember that it’s more complicated than what I’m about to say.”

“Would you just say it already?”

“You had a heart thing.”

You froze. Your ears were suddenly ringing. A heart thing? What kind of heart thing? What did that mean? You let Chen help you lay back down so you could focus on taking calm and deep breaths. Chen was checking your pulse on your wrist and watching you with concerned dark eyes.

A heart thing.

You were young! Healthy! Or at least you had been before those assholes had broken into your dojo and turned your life upside down. This wasn’t fair.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath until Chen was shaking your arm to remind you to breathe. You exhaled and your lungs ached in response. They’d been deprived of too much oxygen too many times now. You finally turned back to Chen whose brow was set in a permanent line of concern.

“Are you okay?”

“You said it was more complicated. How?”

“It wasn’t a heart attack. It was a cardiac incident. You don’t… there are no blockages or anything causing it, but…”

“Isn’t it still the same thing? Heart fails?” You didn’t know much about medicine but you’d seen enough bad Korean dramas to know that the two things were similar.

“It’s different, okay? Your heart is strong, Y/N. You’ll recover. It’s just going to take a bit.”

“I am so fucking tired of my fucking body just… fucking betraying me. Fuck. Just… fuck.” You wanted to rub your hand over your face but you felt so weak that you could have screamed in frustration if you had the energy. Instead, you continued to swear beneath your breath. Chen covered her mouth and laughed, her cheeks pink. Really? That made her blush? She could make dick jokes all day long but swear words made her blush? “I can’t seem to catch a fucking break.”

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.” Chen had a rare moment of seriousness and offered your hand a comforting squeeze.

“I know.” You heaved a sigh and closed your eyes, taking a few deep cleansing breaths. “I know.” You finally calmed and were able to lift your hand enough to rub over the gauze on your shoulder. It was aching. “I just had to get it out of my system.”

“I get it.” Chen pulled your hand away from the gauze. “Careful with that, please. I’m still trying to get that thing under control and understand what it is.”

“It’s the crack from that godforsaken bell Kung Lao and I found in Japan.” You said in a mocking tone that made Chen laugh again. You should have left the damn things where they were. Things had only escalated far beyond your control since you’d gotten back. You’d felt like you’d made progress before then. “Can you help me sit up?”

“I heard that part of the story. We’re trying to figure out what kind of a connection could cause that. Raiden’s still going with curse. Going with god-curse now actually.”

“Oh. Great.” You let Chen help you sit up and then scooted back against the pillows that Chen adjusted for you. You leaned your head back against the cold stone of the wall behind the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken tremendous effort to sit upright but you felt better now that you had. If you hadn’t used your body in three days, it would take some getting used to your muscles being used again. Thankfully, it hadn’t been any longer.

“Yeah, I imagine that can’t mean anything good. He didn’t tell me much more, just that it was important to tend to it and report any changes. I don’t think I was supposed to hear everything that I did.” Chen tended to the mess of medical supplies that she had set on the floor by your desk.

“You’re good at that.”

“Sometimes being a gossip comes in handy, Y/N.”

“You didn’t answer me before. Are Liu and Lao alright?”

“Lao’s fine. Not even a scrape. He’s proud of that.” Chen smiled sympathetically. “Liu needed a few stitches but he’ll heal up in no time. He’s resilient. Doesn’t ever complain. It’s sweet how worried you are for them.” You weren’t sure that you would ever forget the way that his blood had felt splattering on your skin. You’d been the one to hurt him. He’d been trying to save you from yourself and it had backfired. He’d tell you not to feel guilty but you felt guilty, dammit. There was no way around it. They had been so angry with Raiden for pushing you but you had volunteered to do what you did. It was important even if it had been the wrong choice. You hoped they weren’t losing their minds over you being out for so long. If you had been waiting on one of them to wake up then you would have been going completely crazy.

You wanted them to be okay.

“Thank you.” You were grateful that Chen was there to reassure you and take care of your health. You guessed that Chen had probably volunteered since you were considered dangerous.

“Happy to help, Y/N.” Chen smiled sympathetically. “I’m so relieved to see you awake, I can’t begin to tell you how much. And not just because Kung Lao has been here about a hundred times. He keeps asking to come in. How you’re doing. If he could take over for me for a while. I told him that I’d let him know when you were awake and he doesn’t listen.” Chen clicked her tongue in amusement. You rolled your eyes so hard that Chen snorted. Sweet but typical of him. “Liu came by exactly once and I told him the same thing. He took my word for it. So, par for the course with those two.”

“Sounds about right.” You leaned your head back against the wall again and closed your eyes. God, this was a mess. A cardiac thing? God-curse? There was a mark on your body that mimicked the crack in a cursed object. You’d been nearly choked to death by some gross pale demon-man and you’d maimed Liu Kang. Again.

Where was the line?

Would there ever be an end to this?

Guilt.

You were so tired of guilt.

And pain.

You would gladly take the pain for the rest of your life if it meant keeping the people that you cared about safe from whatever this was. You held your head in your hands and massaged your temples.

“Don’t get in a funk about this, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t argue with Chen, but you wondered if this ended in your inevitable death. It didn’t feel like things were getting better. They had escalated violently in the last few days. No matter what control you’d had over your arcana, when you lost control? You lost it to a point where it was dangerous to be around you. Was it fair for you to still be there?

You were putting them all in danger.

Was it fair to consider Liu Kang or Kung Lao’s advances when you were such a danger to them? When it suddenly felt unlikely that you would survive this?

It felt particularly cruel to connect with Kung Lao again after years of having thought he was dead. To have him back only for things to wind up like this. And for Liu Kang, a man you had an insane draw to, unlike any you had ever felt. You’d hurt him now so many times. You knew he was strong but how long until you accidentally hurt him beyond repair? Chen took some vials of blood and you felt almost instantly nauseated at the sight of it. You fanned your face and were grateful to find that your body was adjusting to being used again. Chen helped you stretch and stand and get used to your body again before helping you back down and removing the IV.

“Do you know what will make you feel better?”

“Sleep?”

“I mean, yes, but also… getting you crazy drunk and then having one of those boys come over here to take care of you.” Chen made air quotes and you whined in response. You’d almost forgotten that Chen’s brain lived only in the gutter. “You just have to pick your poison. Kung Lao or Liu Kang.”

“I know that you’re joking but I still feel compelled to tell you that’s a bad idea right now.” If you drank right now, then you would wind up a sobbing disaster of a human being wallowing in self-pity. You didn’t need that right now and neither did either of them.

No matter how you tried to push it away, you couldn’t get it out of your head that this was how you died.

It felt very unfair.

“I need to see you smile, Y/N.” Chen’s voice was dripping with concern. She clasped her hand over yours. “Please?”

“I can’t pretend to do that right now, Chen. I’m still processing that three days have gone by. I’m still processing what happened in there and what any of it could mean. This was supposed to give me answers and all I have are more questions and every fuck up is more violent than the last.”

“We’ll get your answers, Y/N. It’ll be okay. Raiden is going to find a way.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t necessarily agree. Raiden was a God. You were sure that if he knew your existence was putting them all in danger then he would do what was necessary to stop that from happening. Not that you thought that he wanted that for you. He would try to help but there was only so much anyone could do. You assumed he saw a picture bigger than just your life.

“Y/N…” Chen looked to you seriously. “I don’t like this.”

“Wow, really? Because I am having a great time.”

“What an unhealthy coping mechanism.”

“Don’t judge me. It’s working.”

“Is it though?” Chen smiled sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to get out of bed and get used to my body again.”

“You should rest a bit longer.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but resting for three days, Chen.” You wanted to do something, anything to feel in control of your body. Chen studied you nervously but then offered you a nod. Together you worked your body just enough to help you get used to being awake and moving around. There was so little that you could control that it felt good to have something small. Chen was willing to help you even if she had tried to get you to slow down. You refused and pushed through it. You knew your limits.

You wanted to feel like yourself and break the fog hanging over you.

After some time, Chen forced you to stop and you rested your hand over your sore shoulder. You could feel your heart beating beneath it. Everything hurt but it only made you want to fight harder to get past whatever this was. You wouldn’t let it win. You wouldn’t let that thing win. It had frightened you for a few minutes and, truthfully, it still scared the hell out of you, but the fear no longer crippled you. You were determined to beat it.

You were not going to die because of this.

“What’s this?” Chen pointed to the wilting flower on the desk next to your journal. You thought that you were much like that flower now. An unfortunate parallel, you thought. Chen was cleaning up some of her medical things and putting them into a small bag after rolling up her bed.

“Just a sweet trinket.” You smiled fondly at the flower. It was pretty, even wilting.

“Liu Kang? Seems like something he would do. Finding beauty in things that are even temporary or some nonsense.”

“It does sound like him but it was actually Kung Lao.”

“Is that so?” Chen pulled out the desk chair and sat. “Can’t say that I can picture him giving anyone a flower. And no offense, but I don’t picture you as much of a flower getting kind of girl, either.”

“And exactly what kind of girl do you think I am, then?” You laughed in surprise. Chen perked up when she heard you laugh.

“You seem more like a grand-gesture kind of girl. Not really a material things girl.”

“Nice save, Chen.”

“We’re off topic. The flower. Focus, Y/N.”

“Oh, right.” You picked up the flower, twisting the stem carefully between your thumb and forefinger. It was still hanging on. There was some life left in it. Not much though. “It’s just something from when we were kids. It was the last time I’d seen him. He gave it to me before we said goodbye and then… he died. Well, at least I thought he had died. Still wrapping my brain around that one.” You set the delicate thing on the desk again.

“Yeah, that’s a big thing.”

“Off topic again though. When he returned from his errand for Raiden, he had found me another. I need to press it between the pages of the journal or something.”

“…you are talking about Kung Lao, right?” Chen seemed skeptical.

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculously sweet. I’m having a hard time associating it with him.” Chen looked to the flower suspiciously as if she thought you were making up stories to tease her.

“Well, presumably the original flower was burned up in the fire so… it was nice of him to get me another. Not that he would have known I kept it. I guess it had been as important to him as it was to me.”

“You still had the original one?”

“Yeah. I had pressed it between the pages of my favorite book and got special paper to protect it. I hadn’t opened it in years but I assume it’s been burned to a crisp.” You felt the weight of your truth settling on your shoulders. Your life was gone. This wasn’t some crazy vivid dream that you’d eventually recover from. That life was over. There were moments where you missed the monotony but you were also grateful that it had happened to you and not to someone else. You had never fit in back home. Everyone else had belonged there. This was a better place for you.

“And you’re sure that this was Kung Lao, right?”

“I’m positive.” You laughed. Kung Lao definitely didn’t come off as sweet to most people, you realized. It was kind of adorable that it was just for you.

“You were really hung up on him, huh?”

“That’s a different life now, Chen. I thought he was dead. I cherished the little time we had.” Your ran your fingers through your messy hair. It was getting too long.

“Have you thought about going back? To see what happened?”

“I have,” you answered honestly. “But it’s a bad idea, I think. I killed people that night, Chen. And then there was the fire. They probably think that I’m dead. It’s not wrong to assume that either. Part of me died that day. I’m different. I can’t go back to being that woman and I can’t risk being seen.” You had put distance between the woman you had been and the woman you had become. You’d had to. It had been the only way to cope. “I’ve been nervous to talk about it. I can’t explain why.”

“You should probably ask Kung Lao to explain what happened.”

“Yeah, he just loves having a serious conversation. But you’re right. I’m ready to find out, I think.” Of all the crazy things that had happened in your life that one didn’t seem so crazy anymore. After what had happened in Raiden’s chamber, after maiming Liu, after having a heart thing, you could handle what had happened in your hometown.

“I didn’t quite understand the hang up that you had with Kung Lao. He’s such a… difficult man to get along with when you do what I do. But I suppose that I can see it now, knowing a bit more about the history between you two.” Chen admired the flower. “That’s a deep connection. He’s sweet to you… which I find difficult to believe so you must be special to him. Where with Liu…”

“Chen…” You turned your gaze. “Can we not talk about this right now? I know that you’re trying to make me laugh but I’m… I’m scared and my brain is having a hard time with all of this. Tomorrow, I promise, that all bets are off. You can tease me as much as you want but for right now, I need a break.”

“I get it.” Chen smiled and then got up, sat next to you on the bed, and wrapped her arms around you in a comforting hug. “I really do, Y/N.” She held you for a moment before you finally returned the hug. It felt strange to be hugged but nice. No romantic conflict involved. No stress about what it might mean. Just a hug. Comfort. You sniffled, not realizing that your eyes were misty with tears until then.

After Chen pulled back, you wiped your eyes and cleared your throat.

“This is only because you’re in such a state, Y/N. Trust me. Tomorrow? I’m back to pestering you.” Chen scolded and you smiled. “Besides, I wanted to bring up something more serious before I left anyway.”

“Oh, good. Serious with you never ends well for me.”

“It’s not anything medical. I gave you all the news there was to give for that. But with… everything that’s happened? People are starting to talk about it. I mean, they already were to an extent but more about how… scary it is.” Chen avoided your eyes and you felt a familiar and unpleasant frustration in the pit of your stomach. Gossip. “I just wanted to brace you for it. You might get some looks while you’re out and about. Raiden wouldn’t let me keep you in the infirmary just in case something happened. I’ve never seen him so worried, Y/N. It scared us a little.”

You figured Raiden was worried that you’d hurt someone and there was the confirmation. You had hurt someone. You’d hurt Liu. Three times now. You nodded in understanding. People usually feared what they didn’t understand. You were afraid of it too but you couldn’t exactly hide from what was happening. “I can’t blame him for being concerned. I hurt Liu.”

“Oh, no, Y/N.” Chen seemed surprised by your assumption. “He was worried for you, Y/N. I’m sure that our safety was part of his concern but he thought that a familiar and comforting space might help you. I think he’s worried that the heart thing was his fault.” Chen wiggled her fingers and made a sound to imitate the crack of lightning. You hadn’t considered that. You also hadn’t taken Raiden for the sentimental type. He’d come across as a fatherly man, you supposed, but your father hadn’t been sentimental so your idea of that was skewed. “I just wanted to warn you about the gossip and reassure you that it comes from a place of concern. We really like you, Y/N. You make time for us when many wouldn’t. They’re scared for you but also for themselves.”

“I get that.” You weren’t sure what to say about it. This was all too familiar. You felt so guilty that you weren’t sure how you were going to overcome it. The gossip wouldn’t help, you were sure. Your shoulder ached at the memory. It wasn’t as bad as it had been initially. Chen had briefly showed it to you while changing your bandages. It was literally a crack. “Thanks for the heads up, Chen. You’re always looking out for me.”

“I’m happy to.” Chen sounded nervous and you felt the woman’s gaze flitter from you to the door. “I’m afraid to leave you alone like this. I don’t… I feel like you’re not okay, Y/N.”

“I’m okay, Chen. I promise.” You reassured her. You knew you sounded morose. “I know I don’t sound it, but I’m okay. I’m so grateful that you were here when I woke up. You’re wonderful, even if I give you a hard time about teasing me.”

Chen smiled and offered you another quick hug. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will. I’m going to be fine.” You did your best to sound sincere. You knew that you tended to come off as sarcastic and while you weren’t feeling your best right now, you had to believe that you would be okay. Belief was an incredibly powerful thing, more so than you had ever realized before coming to Raiden’s Temple. “You can go. I promise that I’m okay.”

“I’m trusting you, Y/N. Try and take it slow today. I’ll be in and out to check in on you. I expect you to rest for a few days before going back to the crazy nonsense you’ve been up to.”

“I’ll do my best but I’m not good at sitting and doing nothing. I’m probably going to stretch a bit more before I rest for the night. Maybe take a walk. I promise that I won’t overdo it.” You bowed your head in respectful gratitude. Chen gave you one more hug before leaving you alone. After she left, you meditated and exercised. You needed to be okay.

You would keep fighting until you had nothing left.

[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family III

Part 3: Family Meals

A/N: This one gets a little bit more complicated for Y/N, feelings are definitely involved. Thank you everyone for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting!!! <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

---------------------

The next day goes by without incident. Harry takes Charlie to the park as I stay home and catch up on missed work. Around 3 in the afternoon, with the sun shining brightly, I leave the flat with an itch in my leg. I'd spent too long indoors. I text Harry saying that I was stepping out.

"Y/N?" Someone calls as I'm about to leave the building. I spot a familiar face and shout out in excitement.

"Marc! I forgot you lived in the same building oh my god!"

"I knew you were in London but I wondered why you never callled...you're living with Harry?" He asks tentatively.

"Yeah," I laugh awkwardly. "Mixup with the air bnb my first day, so we're all here. It's great though, a little hectic but great. Charlie loves it."

"I bet she does," he grins. I forgot he was so handsome. The thing with Marc and I was, we were friends but ever since he came down to LA last year we sort of redefined our friendship to include a few perks. But it worked with us, we only saw each other once in a blue moon. And we were chronically single-me being too busy with being a mother and Marc too busy because directing a magazine meant no time for relationships. So because we got along so well, and we enjoyed the time we spent. We decided to live a little and do something risky. It paid off.

"You should come over some time! Charlie would love to see you too, she still talks about the day we went to Disneyland." Marc crashed at my place last year and Charlie took to him immediately. Maybe because he had the same accent her dad had.

"Maybe I will...and maybe you and I could catch up too sometime if you're free..."

"I'm free now, Marc," I laugh at his attempt to sound discrete. Staying at Harry's, it might get complicated if I invite Marc over. At least until after Charlie's birthday. There were too many things going on until then.

Marc joins me for a bite and by the time I get home Harry and Charlie are home and playing with a new toy she'd gotten. I watch fondly and feel a sense of relief. Charlie loved her time here and that was all I needed to see. A big concern staying with Harry was confusing Charlie where we stood but we were all good so far.

The next couple days go smoothly too. Harry goes out some evenings with his girlfriend and spends most of the days with Charlie, unless he's working. Charlie and I see a play and visit some old friends and we settle into London quicker than expected.

"Are you busy tomorrow evening?" Harry asks that morning.

"I was just going to make dinner at home, big day on Sunday." I take my reading glasses off to focus on Harry.

"My family was thinking of coming tomorrow."

The statement lands with a thud on my chest.

"Oh. Well...I'm sure Charlie will be glad to meet them!"

"You've got to be there. Please Y/N? They're staying for Charlie's birthday on Sunday."

"I..." I glance at Charlie who's curled on the sofa with her stuffed animal. I'd have to see them either way now that I was living here. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Perfect," Harry reaches out to squeeze my hand and I have to remind myself not to jerk it away.

Yes-the last few days have been well. Logistically. But emotionally, I was just as confused and angry at feeling that way. Harry went on dates with his girlfriend but during breakfasts we shared, his gaze would linger. His hand would brush mine, as he showed me something funny on his phone. Or when Charlie forced us to sit with her and play with her stuffed toys, he would make up silly scenes that forced us to be closer. The vibes between us felt tense sometimes and other times it felt like I could lean over and kiss him and the three years apart would disappear.

"I'll let them know." Harry continues about settling the date. "It works perfectly because Gemma was suggesting tomorrow too, and Miranda's free too."

"Miranda?" I ask. Had I heard correctly?

"Yeah. She's got to fly out Sunday for a shoot next week so I won't be seeing her all week. Tomorrow works."

"Miranda's coming to the family dinner?" I ask again, my voice sounding hollow to me. Was Harry an absolute idiot?

"Yeah! My whole family knows her-she's been around for my mum's birthday and Christmas."

Harry really was an idiot. He didn't notice my tone of voice or how ridiculous that was.

"I'm quite tired," I close my laptop screen. "We'll talk later?"

"Yeah." Harry pauses, picking up on my abrupt excuse. "I'll-yeah..."

I don't let him finish. I head to my room and toss my laptop onto the bed, combing my hand through my hair and sighing. I had to stop getting worked up about Harry and Miranda. They were a gorgeous couple and there was no way Harry still wanted me. He was only this nice to me because of the daughter we shared-there were no other feelings involved. I think about inviting Marc, but decide it's too petty. This was about Charlie and maybe I really should just get serious about finding other living accommodations.

***

Charlie sits in front of the TV as I get ready for dinner. The nerves in my stomach are more knotted than a pair of headphones in a handbag. I smooth down my green blouse and look down at my slacks. Maybe I should wear a dress; I looked like I was going to a meeting.

"You look nice," Harry's voice comes from the open doorway.

"I don't look like I'm going to give my first big corporate presentation?" I ask. He shakes his head but I watch his eyes skim over the outfit. He bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Ugh! I knew it. I have to change!"

"No you don't," Harry says, catching my arm on the way out. "You look great in anything."

I roll my eyes, "I know I look great in anything, but I'm having a dinner and I need to find something more appropriate!"

Harry chuckles but follows me back to my room where I toss through the closet. "It's just my family, they don't care what you look like."

"It's not that simple,” I rant, untying the knot around my neck. Why did I even bring this top? “I can’t just throw anything on and call it a night! I have to feel good in it too!”

He steps into the room and tracks my frantic movements from closet to dresser to suitcase. He stops me on my second round to the closet and takes the blouse out of my hands to hold them. "I think you’ll look great in anything, pick something and get on. Just tell your nerves to fuck off.”

“Harry!” I scold, I didn’t want Charlie hearing or she wouldn’t stop saying it.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, a small smile on his face displaying his dimples.

Noticing it, I’m suddenly aware of how we’re standing together. His hands still hold mine, and when I look into his eyes, they’re watching me. This. This is what I meant. Everything was fine living together, but Harry’s gaze, every time I caught it, it would be on me. And it was a heavy gaze. He always seemed like he was deep in thought yet noticing every little detail about me, conflicted, but thoughtful. It usually made me feel self-conscious.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I give it a shot.

“What?”

“You got so serious,” I try again. “What are you thinking about.”

“You want to know?” Harry seems surprised, which surprises me. Why wouldn’t I want to know what he was thinking about? I nod, and he lets go of my hands. “I was just thinking about you giving a presentation in that outfit, I would-ouch!”

Harry rubs his shoulder where I’d pushed him. I cross my arms, “That’s what you get for making fun-”

“I wasn’t making fun!” Harry swears. “I was trying to say, what I wouldn’t give to sit in on that presentation.”

Heat rushes to my face, I look away from Harry back to my closet. This was too much. "Okay. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'll just...wear...this." I pull out a simple black dress with a pretty neckline and hold it out in front of me, as if it would stop Harry from walking over to me again. When I think he’ll stop, he continues so I take a few steps back until my back hits the closet door.

“Good choice,” he says but his eyes leave a heated trail from my untied blouse up to my lips and then my eyes that are wide in panic.

He’s incredibly close, and I’m freaking out so I nervously tell him I should get dressed. When he doesn’t back away, I lift the dress up in the little space between us. “Harry, I need to change. Are you going to watch me or give me some privacy?”

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. He quickly backs up and the pink blush creeps into his cheeks. “I’ll be outside with Charlie.”

A part of me wished he stayed.

***

I join Charlie in front of the TV as we wait for dinner. When his family came in, it wasn't awkward at all. They greeted me like I was still part of their family, and catching up was effortless. They fawned over Charlie and she adored it. It helped Gemma brought her boyfriend (bf), I wasn't the only non-Styles here.

"Is everything alright?" I ask as my eyes scan the room and find Harry typing furiously at his phone.

"Uh yeah," he responds. "Just Miranda. Had something planned later tonight and she didn't realise dinner would be this late."

"Well your family is coming from outside of London," I say, already regretting asking in the first place.

"Yeah," Harry mumbles, still typing. I was clearly not needed there so I join Harry's mom who's trying to arrange the bouquet Gemma brought. We talk as we work, setting up the table even though Harry was throwing this. His mom waves his help away when he finally realises and he easily goes back to Charlie who's showing off all her stuffed animals.

The mood shifts when Miranda appears with her bottle of wine and a suitcase. I try to ignore the sting I feel when he pulls her into an embrace and takes the bottle from her, I try not to compare myself to her. To the way Harry acts with her, and with me in private. I try not to think about what it meant, and try to focus on the dinner instead.

Harry's family remains just as nice, but the problem is it goes from having a family dinner for Charlie's sake to hosting a dinner. It's only when everyone is busy with their glass of wine that Gemma leans into me and says, "I told the idiot not to invite his girlfriend to a family thing but he said there was nothing wrong with that."

"He told me pretty last minute," I respond.

"Don't get me wrong-she's lovely, but it just makes something like this awkward."

"I'm alright," I lie through my teeth.

"Sure," Gemma winks at me before her attention is pulled away by her bf. At least there was one Styles that understood me without me having to say.

•••

"I'm starting school in September," Charlie informs the table halfway through dinner.

"You're growing up so fast," Harry's mum smiles at Charlie.

"That's a big step," Miranda comments and as much as I hated to admit it-she wasn't so bad with Charlie. She made a solid effort and Charlie responded well to her. She was her boyfriend's daughter though, and she usually avoided speaking to me unless Harry was involve, but I was okay with that. 

"Then I'll be five next year!" Charlie continues. I explain to the table how obsessed she was with turning five.

"Because that's when she gets to drink coffee right darling?" Harry nudges Charlie and she grins.

"Coffee!" She shouts and we all laugh but as she soaks in the attention she begins shouting it louder.

"Charlotte," I warn. She glances at me and then looks back at her plate.

"She's just excited we're all here," Gemma comments. "Isn't that right Ms. Y/L/N?"

Charlie beams at being called by her last name, like a teacher would.

"Has she not taken on your last name?" Miranda suddenly asks Harry and it goes silent at the table except for Charlie's humming.

"Uh no," Harry scratches his neck. The rest of the dinner table busies themselves in their food.

"She's always lived with me," I clarify, trying to sweep away the sudden awkwardness. The awkwardness comes from how Harry and I broke up because he didn't know what to do with himself when he realised he was having a baby. There was no way he was ever raising her alone. Not at first anyway, that was when I insisted she keep my last name. "So it makes sense."

Miranda glances between us but bf breaks the silence. "Gemma wants our kids to have her last name, I said hyphenating it wouldn't be too bad."

"It gets too confusing," Gemma says. "Styles is a nice, simple, last name."

"Always in Style," Harry exclaims at the same time I say something similar. We laugh which confuses Charlie enough to tug on my sleeve. She asks for more mashed potatoes and I give them to her. Soon after, Harry's mum brings out the dessert she brought and we all enjoy it with more wine. As the night nears, Gemma and her bf stay behind with Miranda. When Charlie begins cuddling into me on the couch, I put her to sleep, but she whines when I leave so I tell the group I was calling it a night and wash up while Charlie stands with me as I wash my face. She was being unusually clingy but I figure all the attention and new interactions were exciting but also exhausting for her. She just wanted her mum and that warms my heart.

"Did you want anything before you put her to bed?" Harry pops his head in as I'm tucking Charlie's toys around her.

"I'm alright," I smile. "Tonight was nice. Thanks for putting it all together."

"Thanks for staying," Harry moves into the room and kisses the top of our kid's head. I remember the other night when he did the same to me. "It was really nice with you, Charlotte, my family-it meant a lot."

"For her too," I look to our daughter who is finally settling into sleep knowing I had stayed and changed for her. "Although I'm paying the consequence being forced to sleep at 10pm."

Harry chuckles. "Best get your beauty sleep then."

"Yeah," I peel back the covers and wait for Harry to leave but he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and turns back to me.

"Tonight reminded me of old times," Harry says and I can tell he's lost in time as he smiles at the floor. "I haven't felt this happy in a while." His statement makes me sad, and when he looks up at me his expression is tinged with regret. But he forces a smile and nods. "See you tomorrow."

"Harry," I don't know what it was that makes me stop him. Maybe the way he looked at me with the unbearable sadness, or the fourth glass of wine I drank, or feeling the same immeasurable amount of happiness he did tonight. But I walk towards him and wrap my arms around his neck. I indulge myself and bury my nose in his neck and almost cry at the familiarity; the way his hands were always cold as they wrapped around me too, but warmed as they squeezed me to him. His fresh laundry smell mixed with the sandalwood perfume he favoured. Or his body and the way he engulfed me into his chest, like I could carve a home out of it and stay there again.

He sighs as he pulls me tighter, "Y/N-"

"Mom?" A tired voice asks behind me and I rip myself away from Harry to look at Charlotte. She's propped herself on her elbow and is looking between me and her dad.

Shit. Why did I do that? Why did I just make things complicated? Harry's girlfriend was right outside! Our daughter was in this room! I couldn't afford to confuse her or myself. Jesus.

"I'm coming to bed!" I walk towards her to soothe her and I hear Harry slip out of the room.

"She's having a hard time falling asleep," I hear Harry lie from the living room and my heart sinks further in my chest. If he was lying over a shared conversation, a shared hug, then something was wrong and I would have to make it extra clear tomorrow that we were nothing more than polite. Especially as it was Charlie's fourth birthday tomorrow. It had to be perfect.

•••

A small finger pokes my cheeks, "Mommy?" I had no idea what time it was but my head rings with a hangover. I hadn't drank this much in a while. I realise I wasn't having auditory hallucinations when Charlie's voice comes again. "Mom?"

"Charlie what time-" I try to crack an eye open and the clock says 6am. I groan and pull Charlie towards me, eyes still closed. "Why are you up so early birthday girl?"

"Mommy?" When Charlie doesn't respond to the mention of her birthday I know something might be wrong. I force my eyes open, Charlie stares up at me with sad baby doll eyes. My mom alarm starts ringing.

"What's the matter?" I ask, noticing the door was open. She must have woken up earlier.

She shakes her head and buries her head into my chest. I clutch her to me, unsure why she was upset. I'll ask her later, right now, I try to cheer her up.

"My baby is such a big girl now. Hey, what's the matter?"

"Does daddd love us?" She asks innocently. I'm startled by her question, so out of the blue.

"Of course he does. He loves you more than anything in the world. And I love you too. Although I would also love a bit more sleep." I tease her. She wraps her arms around my neck. "Happy birthday, Charlie. I love you."

"I love you too," she surprises me by getting under her covers; once Charlie was up, she never fell back asleep. Maybe this was a birthday miracle, but I snuggle into the warmth. Charlie's behaviour still niggles away at the back of my mind but I eventually drift off to sleep and just pray the rest of her birthday would be happier.

[yangrdn]

Destiny

pairing: Mj x Fem!Reader

a/n: hii! I liked writing this- my 1st attempt at writing angst 🤠 i hope u enjoy it too, reblogs and feedback show that you liked our work and morivates writers to do more !!

requested:anonymous: Hi can I have a MJ request? It can be about anything just be like really angsty. Maybe a car accident? idk it’s writers pick ☺️

summary: Regretting your break up came sooner than you thought.

w/c: 3.4k

warnings: hospitals, mentions of a car crash and cheating

my m.list

requests | guidlines

⋙⋘⋙⋘⋙⋘⋙⋘

Your feet drag you out of your apartment the second the words left Peter’s mouth. He had called you and explained to you what happened. Your purse over your shoulder, car keys in one hand and phone shaking in the other.

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to comprehend. Hot tears fill your eyes the second you hear his words for a second time through the speaker.

“She was in an accident, Y/N. They called her parents already and they’re on their way. I’m with Ned, he’s driving. Just, be safe a-” You couldn’t even listen to him anymore. Your vision turns blurry as sobs escape your lips. Peter sighs and tries to get your attention as he repeats calling your name.

“Y/N! I’m on my way to yours, we’ll drive together.” he says before hanging up and leaving you in the silence of your room. You only nod and lower your phone as you stare ahead of you, remembering what happened only a day ago.

The grin on her face disappears the moment she registered what you said. Your eyes turned glossy and you looked down, trying to hide the fact that you were about to cry.

“What? What did you say?” She came closer to you, in an attempt to take your hand and lock your fingers. You stepped back, back hitting the door behind you and pulling your hand back.

“Mj, you heard me…,” She shakes her head, muttering “no, no..” until she looked up to you again and the tears started spilling out her eyes. You only nod, not being able to drag out any words. You didn’t want to do this, and she knew. But you had to, after what Tony told you, that’s what she didn’t know.

Tony had told you about his job, and about the many times Pepper was in danger because of him. It started off as a normal conversation between him and you. He was just trying to warn you of the dangers of your new job as an almost-avenger.

You had gotten your powers after being bitten by a spider, the same way Peter got his. The only difference: you were better at keeping secrets. That’s why it took Tony almost six months longer to recruit you, after he recruited Peter.

Since Mj didn’t know why you were doing this, she kept asking you why. Pulling you in, but you resisting. Her hands reach to you, only for you to step back, again.

“I promise you, I don’t- I don’t want to do this, Mj. I just,” you looked up and let out a shaky breath,”I’m so, so scared! Please, just understand.” Were the words you let out before turning around, stepping out of her cozy home and walking home.

You weren’t going to forget this night.

And you didn’t. Oh, how much you wish to have stayed and hold her in your arms, telling her that everything was going to be okay and you weren’t going to leave, never.

Instead, you are waiting in front of your front door step for Peter and Ned to pick you up and drive you to the hospital, in which your now ex-girlfriend lay.

You don’t even notice them pulling up after seven minutes of waiting, until a black car honks and pulls you out of your crying state. The window rolls down and Ned waves at you. You quickly get up and sit in the backseat, taking out your phone and scrolling through the messages you got earlier today.

You had tossed your phone against the wall when you came home yesterday and ignored every call and message you got, most of them from Mj, which you now regret more than ever.

Mj 🌺

y didn’t u pick up?

look ik you probably don’t want to talk but at least give me a reason??!

hellooo?

A couple more of her asking for reasons and demanding to know why, two messages from Ned and the last one from Peter, telling you to drive to the hospital. You sniffle, tears threatening to leave your eyes, again, and look out the window at the houses and trees melting away as the car passes them. It was still morning, which is why it was dark. Why was she out this late?, you asked yourself and look at her messages again. She sent her last one at two am.

Mj 🌺

u can’t just do this and leave?

yk what? i’m gonna find out myself

A gasp left your mouth as more tears slipped past your eyes. She was on her way to yours to find out why you broke up. She tried to find out why you ignored her calls and texts and didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Ned?” You ask quietly when he stops the car in front of the hospital. Peter gets out and opens your door, taking your hand and helping you out. Ned steps out, too, and makes his way to the registration.

“I’m sure she’s fine, they-” before Peter could finish, you jog after Ned and stand next to him. An old lady, hair pulled back in a tight bun, wearing a white coat and tired smile sits in front of you. She glances up at you and then back at the computer screen in front of her.

“We’re here for Mj, she came in an hour ago-” The woman cuts off Peter as she nods.

“You three are related to her in what way?” She wants to know. Ned opens his mouth but shuts it when you’re about to interrupt him.

“Her brother,” you lie and motion with your hand to Ned and back at you. “And I’m her girlfriend.” She looks sceptical at first, as if she knows you’re lying.Then, glancing back at the screen and you, she gives you the floor and room number.

You instantly turn around and make your way to the elevator, the two boys behind you thanking the woman silently and following along with you.

You step out the lift and look at the long, empty hallway in front of you. On each side were big, grey painted doors with small windows. The hallway is empty, except for two nurses who sat behind the reception. There were paintings by kids hung up on the white walls and a long, white lamp luminating the corridor in low lights.

“Number 305, 305, 305,...” you murmur as you make your way past the doors on your right. Peter darts from door to door on your left, whilst Ned is following you and takes a double-look, as you seem to skip over them hastily.

“Guys, guys!” Peter hurries you to the closed door before him and peaks through the small window. You take a sharp intake of breath and grab the door handle swiftly, but you stop yourself.

“Wha- why did you stop?” Ned wonders out loud.

“I think I’m the least person she wants to see right now,” you say through glossy eyes and biteyour bottom lip. Peter scoffs.

“Dude, she wanted to see you. She’s been asking about you non-stop yesterday. The least you could do is go in and be the first one she sees,” he demands and slowly pushes the door open, “and explain,” he narrows his eyes at you and pushes you in, closing the door quietly after stepping in with Ned.

Walking in, you plant your feet at the end of her bed. There was a food try on a small table next to her, with a bouquet of flowers and a small card. You couldn’t make out much of what it read, except for a “get well <3”, which you assume must’ve been from Betty. It resembled her handwriting.

An IV connected to her left arm, that was draped over a white, thin blanket with black spots. The lights were low, but the wide and tall window let in an excessive amount of light, as it was getting brighter outside. The second patient bed in the room was empty and tidied, and the privacy curtains were on one side. The TV next to her head was turned on, silently playing some cartoon she must’ve watched before falling asleep. The room smelled like lemon-cleaner, which made Ned hold his nose before he got used to the new smell.

Her head was draped to one side and her eyes shut. There was a white band around her head and you could see that her hair was a little shorter; They must’ve cut it to attend her wounds, you think. That thought alone made your eyes turn wet again and step away from her. Peter shoves you back to the bed and motions to the girl laying on the bed.

“I can’t, she probably hates me now,” you shake your head as tears threaten to spill again and your hand goes straight to your chest, fisting the fabric on it.

“Y/N, you can’t ju-” There was movement on the bed, which made Ned stop talking. Mj moved her head, slowly opening her eyes. She looks around the room before her eyes settle on you three.

“Wha-” Her voice comes out harsh and croaked. Coughing, she goes on, “What the fuck.”

Ned stifles a laugh but goes back to serious when Peter glares at him. Your friend on the bed moved up again. Peter nudges your shoulder, signaling for you to go and help her. With wide eyes, you stare at him, arguing with your eyes to stay back.

“Wait- Y/N, go help her. I’ll tell the nurse she woke up,” Peter demands as he leaves the room, without sparing you a last glance. Ned leaves with him, silently apologizing and wishing you luck.

You walk to the small TV first, turning it off and moving it away from the bed and replacing it with a chair to sit on. You take the remote next to her bed and push the button for the bed to lift and make it easier for her to sit. She grabs the blanket tight in her fist and lifts her body up to sit straight, you help her and adjust the grey pillow behind her back.

“Uhm, hi,” you whisper, looking anywhere but her face as you sit down. She was confused, a frown sitting on her lips and her eyes squinted at your figure. You didn’t want to face her so soon, even less in such a situation.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to do and,” you sniffle,, letting out a sigh, your face hiding behind your hands as you rub your temple. “I came to- to see you and ask how you are?” It sounds more like a question leaving lips. You didn’t know how to start the conversation.

“What?” A small laugh leaves her lips, which calms you down. Her laugh and giggles always help you through difficult times and make you feel a kind calmness you only experience with her. She doesn’t seem mad, you think before mentally slapping yourself- she had just woken up from surgery after getting into a car crash because you wouldn’t tell her the truth.

“How do you feel?” You wonder. “Do you remember anything that happened?” She nods and looks down at her hands.

“No, no. This is going so fast. You- you broke up with me, for no reason, and now you’re here saying you’re sorry?” She searched for an answer. Her eyes were boring into you, waiting for a valid answer. She had every right to know, but it was complicated for you to explain.

“I’m-” The door opens and Peter walks in.

“The doctor’s gonna come in to check,” he comments as he sits down on the chair next to the small blue table. Taking out his phone and unblocking it, he starts mindlessly scrolling through it, ignoring you and Mj in front of him.

“Uhm, Pete?” You cough and tilt your head to the side, signaling for him that you weren’t done talking.

“What- Oh,” he whispered as he got up again. “How do you feel?” He walks up to the bed and looks at Mj. She glances at you and back at him, pursing her lips before talking.

“My head kinda hurts, my ribs hurt when I breathe, I can’t sit straight and my girlfriend broke up with me. I feel excellent!” She replies, sarcasm dripping off her voice.

That 's Mj for you. Sarcasm is what gets her through the day, there's not one situation in which she stayed serious. The day she asked you out, she reminded you of how obvious it was that you had a crush on her and that you’re not really good at hiding your flustered state everytime she catches you staring at her in class. Spending more time with her after your first date just proved it for you even further.

Peter lets out a breath and looks at you. “Should I-?” He points to the door and gives it a look. You nod and put your lips into a thin line as he leaves the room slowly, apologizing and closing it quietly.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have done that yesterday. It’s just,” you stop yourself and breath in slowly, stopping yourself from exposing your secret. She doesn’t know about your alter ego. All the times you wanted to tell her, you were too scared she’ll be mad you didn’t tell her sooner or ask why you lied about doing homework and went patrolling instead, facing any danger there was out there waiting for you as if it was nothing.

You were already scared something would happen to her because you told her your secret. And now? Now, she lay in a hospital bed in front of you, with broken ribs and a head wound, because you didn’t tell her about your secret.

“What? What were you gonna say?” She presses. You lean back on the chair, hugging yourself as you stare into her beautiful brown eyes.

“Will you promise to not tell anyone?” You ask, already scared of her reaction.

“Tell anyone what?” She frowns. “If you’re gonna tell me that you lo-”

“I’m Capes,” you blurt out before she can finish her sentence. To your defense, you already knew what she was going to say. Letting her finish would just drag this out longer.

“Capes?” She asks again. You nod and lean forward. Tony picked the name for you. It was simple yet mysterious. Most people think of somebody wearing a cape, who can fly, and is strong. Yes, someone like Superman. This was your disguise: making people think of your abilities as something completely else and not letting them know. This way, they could assume all they want, and never find out your true abilities.

“So, you’re...an avenger?”

“No, well yes, but actually no,” you shake your head and go on,” I fight with P- uh Spider-Man, but we do talk with the avengers and meet them,” you explain.

“And what exactly does this have to do with our relationship? I might have skipped something, but, why did you break up? Because you’re a superhero?”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” You shyly smile at her.

“Tony told me about the danger Pepper was in and-”

“Tony Stark?” Her eyes go wide as she clutches the blanket on her stronger. You nod, again.

“Yes, Tony Stark. The internship, remember?” You remind her. You had told her about having an internship with Peter at Stark’s. She supported you through it, always motivating you to do better. She nods and lets you continue.

“Tony told me about the danger Pepper, his wife, had and still has to go through. With the world knowing he’s Iron Man and who he’s married to, they could take her any time or do something to hurt him. I- I didn’t want this to happen to us. It reminded me of you,” you whisper.

“But I guess me not telling you and lying just got you in more danger.” You let out a breathy sad laugh. Her eyes soften when she understands.

Her hand rests limp by her side. You dared to take it and lace your fingers with hers. She glances down to them and back up to you, squeezing your hand lightly and sending you a light smile.

“I- I never knew…” “How? I never told you. I don’t want you to feel bad, it wasn’t your fault. I lied to you. All the times I stayed over at the library? I was on patrol. That one time I told you I was sick? Tony had called me in to try on a new suit. I’m sorry,” you apologize, looking at her with sad eyes.

“I know it wasn’t my fault. It’s just...I never would’ve thought you were the one fighting alongside Peter or that you actually went and saved a little girl and her cat from a fire, instead of arriving to our date on time.”

“Yeah, I know and-” You stop yourself. “What? Peter? What, no,” you laugh nervously, shaking your head repeatedly. How does she know?

“Don’t worry, it didn’t take me that long to find out. At first, I thought you were cheating everytime you and him left at the same time or skipped class together. It hurt, you know? But, after being sceptical for a long time I had enough.” You frown, a pang in your chest at the thought of her thinking you were cheating. You would never, she meant anything to you. Never in a million years would you think about trading her as if she was nothing just for something like a hookup.

“I followed you once and you ran into this, really dark and smelly alley, with Peter behind you,” she whispers. Your heart breaks. “Em, I’d never. I promise, you mean so much to me and I’d never trade what we have for anything else. I regret this so much. I’m so, so fucking sorry. Please,” you whisper and shuffle your chair closer to the bed. Your left hand rests against her cheek, wiping the tear escaping her eyes.

“Are you- Are you still mad?” You ask. “You have every right to be mad, I’m sorry. But I told you my secret and I have to know if you don’t tell anyone because even if we stay apart now, you’d still be in danger if people found out we dated,” you rant and look behind her out the window to calm down.

“Shut up,” she whispers as she comes closer to you, and you scoot closer, too, making it easier for her.

“What do-” She pulls you closer, resting her forehead against yours and breathes in. “I said, shut up,” she murmurs against your lips and pulls you in, pressing her lips against yours and grabs the back of your neck. Your eyes open wide with surprise before flattering close slowly, getting used to the kiss.

She pulls you closer by the neck, her soft lips moving against yours smoothly. You can hear your heartbeat thud with excitement in your own ears. This wasn’t the first time she had kissed you, but you still need to get used to her lips pressed against yours. Your noses bumps against each other, making you pull away awkwardly and look at her rosy cheeks

“Oh.” You turn around to look at the door, Peter and Ned standing there.

“I think this means you guys are good?” You turn back to look at Mj, her loving eyes already staring back at you. You quickly look down, flustered under her gaze.

“Yeah,” you respond and squeeze her hand three times. It was your secret way of saying ‘I love you’ before you came out to the others and were left to say goodbye in front of them.

Peter and Ned sat down on a chair and high fived each other, happy for their two best friends being back together. She looks at you. “Does Ned know?” She whispers your way, only you can hear her. You are taken by surprise. You didn’t expect her to mention your secrets in front of him. “Yeah, he does.”

“By the way, Peter,” She starts. He lifts his head and looks back at her, nodding. “How was it being recruited by Iron Man himself? Fought alongside Thor, yet?” She winks at him. He blushes and snaps his eyes to you, asking why she knows.

“I didn’t tell her:” You shrug and look back at her. “She’s just smart, y’know,” you add.

“Dude!”

⋙⋘⋙⋘⋙⋘⋙⋘

feedbach is appreciated シ

[cyhyr]

KakaIru Maze 2021: Decoding Ancient Lost Languages

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4540

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Mysterious Injuries, Old Gods, Sacrifice, Poisoning, Curses, Hospitalization, Hopeful Ending, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Hair Loss

A/N: *~*Throws Confetti*~* I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I'M. DOING.

I did the barest amount of research for this fic. *~*More Confetti*~*

Read on The Archive

~

Normally, Iruka would balk at the idea that he should be carried through the front gates after a mission, no matter how gruelling. He has an image to uphold, and what if one of his students were to see him broken and weak after one of his missions? He’d either never hear the end of their worry or, worse, lose their respect as a strong shinobi capable of teaching them.

So no, this situation is far from normal.

He holds on tight around Kotetsu’s shoulders and buries his face in his teammate’s hair. His back is on fire, carved wounds shifting and worsening with each step. Some kind of curse-seal, or a time-released jutsu; whatever happened, Izumo couldn’t use the mystical palm jutsu to heal it, not without causing further excruciating pain and making the wounds ooze and seem to cut themselves deeper into Iruka’s back.

They had cut their losses and abandoned the mission. Iruka’s fūinjutsu was vital to its success anyway, and he was—is—in constant agony.

Thankfully, they enter the village just after nightfall. Iruka can feel a bit relieved over that—most of his current students are home and inside at this time, so the chances of being seen by any of them are slim. He bites his lip to stifle a cry as Kotetsu pushes off a rooftop a bit harder than usual and it shifts him too much.

They’re halfway to the hospital when the ANBU team flank him and Kotetsu, escorting them the rest of the way. One of them, Cat, runs close enough to talk.

“Report.”

Iruka can’t. Kotetsu responds, “An injury that responds poorly to normal medical field ninjutsu.”

“Is he awake?”

Iruka nods, knowing Cat will see.

“Iruka-sensei, can you speak?”

He shakes his head.

Kotetsu says, “He’s been in too much pain to do much more than nod or shake his head.”

“Rokudaime-sama wants you and your other teammate to report directly to him once Iruka-sensei is admitted to the hospital.”

Kotetsu fumbles another step. Iruka grits his teeth and groans, holding back a scream. “Sorry, Ru,” he mumbles. To Cat he says, “Of course, ANBU-san. Izumo’s checking us in at the gate. I’ll collect him and report, once I drop Iruka off.”

Iruka doesn’t remember being admitted. He does remember Sakura’s startled cry as he’s placed face-down on a gurney and his wounds are finally able to be seen in harsh fluorescent lighting for the first time. Gods, he’s tired of being face-down in hospital beds.

Will something, anything, have the wherewithal to fucking strike him in the chest for once, please?

He passes out.

~

A hand is holding his own gently as he wakes, extremely disoriented and floaty on painkillers. He blinks his eyes open and turns his gaze to the man beside him. Iruka smiles faintly. “K’shi,” he slurs. Oh, they have him on the good drugs.

“You are never leaving the village again,” Kakashi whispers harshly. He bows his head and kisses Iruka’s hand in his own and continues, “Hokage’s orders.”

“I‘ll go rogue,” Iruka mutters, closing his eyes. “What’s in my IV?”

“From what Sakura tells me? Everything.”

“That explains.” Iruka stops, trying to think of the rest of his sentence, but a fresh flood of painkillers just flowed into his arm and he hums instead.

“I heard from Kotetsu and Izumo what happened,” Kakashi continues. “Are you able yet to talk about it as well?”

“Nope.” Iruka nuzzles into his pillow. He’s feeling really floaty and he’d like to go back to sleep.

Kakashi chuckles. Iruka receives a kiss to his hair and a tighter grip on his hand. “Sleep, then, my love. I’ll see if Sakura can get you on something less strong, enough that we can talk soon.”

“‘Kay. Love you.”

He falls back asleep.

~

When he wakes the second time, there’s a different kind of energy in the room—a different sort of love in the air, and Iruka knows it sounds crazy but he can just tell, even with his eyes still closed, when he’s around Kakashi or if he’s around Naruto.

Now, it’s Naruto.

Also, he can feel the carving in his back, so whatever they’d had him on before they’d lowered the dosage or put him on something else entirely.

“Hey, Naruto,” Iruka says, opening his eyes.

In the chair beside his head, the blond bundle sits, knee twitching. With his bandaged arm crossed over his other and his head bowed in thought, he almost looks like the adult he’s so close to being, instead of the teenager he still is. They argue good-naturedly about it all the time; Naruto insists that he’s an adult, but at eighteen, he’s still technically a teenager and Iruka reminds him of it as much as he can.

“Iru-nii! How are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a carving knife to my back,” Iruka scoffs. “Also, strangely drained.”

Naruto nods. “Sakura-chan said that the new pain medicine has the side-effect of making it feel like you’re chakra-exhausted. But,” he frowns, “she also said that the dose should be strong enough that you wouldn’t be in too much pain when you wake up.”

“It’s bearable, Naruto. You…” He sighs, “You didn’t see me when I came in, did you?”

He shakes his head. “I was out with Kiba and Shikamaru. Kakashi-sensei told me about you this morning, when we got back. You’ve been drifting in and out for, like, three days!”

Iruka buries his face in his pillow and groans. There goes his hope that the carvings won’t scar.

“He says he’ll be by later,” Naruto adds. He shivers comically. “I still don’t see why you’d pick him of all people, Iru-nii.”

Iruka smiles. “You have a different experience with him as his student.” The smile fades and he asks, “Has there been any progress made on fixing my back?”

Naruto sobers. “See, that’s the thing. Every time Sakura tries to get close with some kind of medical ninjutsu—or even with normal healing balms and stitches—the cuts react violently. Like there’s some bad chakra embedded inside them.”

“Has anyone had a Hyūga come and look at it?” Iruka muses. “If there’s chakra in the cuts, then a Hyūga would see it with the Byakugan.”

Naruto jumps up. “You’re a genius! I’ll go and check with Sakura-chan!”

Iruka watches him leave and sighs fondly. Kakashi did well with him, he thinks, and then closes his eyes and drifts.

~

At least he’s able to move around on his own now. Iruka washes his hands in the bathroom and then braces his palms on the sink. It’s been almost a week, and no one is any closer to figuring out how to fix his back.

Having a Hyūga look at the wounds didn’t help. It nearly blinded Hinata. Iruka still feels horribly guilty about it, but she can still see and activate her Byakugan, so he’s been told multiple times to let it go.

What she had seen made everyone uneasy though. A slimy discharge of chakra oozing from the wounds, bright and powerful enough that Hinata had to close her eyes against it.

Sakura has a small team of medi-nins on his case, researching at all hours. Two days, and they still haven’t found anything.

Iruka’s frustrated.

Kakashi visits every night and Naruto most mornings. It’s nice, but he’d rather be back in class with his kids.

He had to get a blood transfusion last night. His back hasn’t stopped bleeding, and the blood loss finally caught up to him.

Iruka turns his back to the mirror, takes off his shirt gingerly, and looks over his shoulder at the carvings. He frowns—it looks odd. This is the first time he’s gotten to see the wounds, and he can’t imagine no one's noticed…

He leaves the bathroom and hunts around in the stack of drawers by his bed. “Ha!” He finds a pad of paper and a pencil, and heads back into the bathroom.

It’s difficult, transcribing the still bleeding wounds onto paper through a mirror while looking over his shoulder. It’s even harder once the dose of painkillers he’s on fully metabolizes and he’s not yet done. Twisting his upper back, stretching and sitting on the edge of the sink so he can see his lower back—it aches.

A voice comes from the other side of the door, along with a soft knock. “Iruka-sensei? Is everything alright?”

Sakura.

He places the pad and pencil on the counter and slides the door open. “Sakura, has no one realized that the wounds are words?” he asks.

She looks startled. “Huh?”

“Could you please clean them for me again, and check that I’ve transcribed it correctly?” Iruka reaches back inside the bathroom and gives the pad of paper to Sakura. “I’m sure Rokudaime-sama will be interested in this.”

Sakura finally catches up. “Yes! Um, let me get you another dose of painkillers, and a flush kit. If you could sit back down, Sensei? I’ll be right back!”

Iruka just about collapses onto the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. Finally, some answers are on the horizon.

~

“It’s no language the cipher corps recognize, nor is it a code in our archives.” Kakashi has his arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the window. “But they do agree with your assessment—it’s definitely a message of some kind.”

Iruka sighs, picking at the hospital food. “Validation is nice, but I was hoping for an end to this pain.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“When can we expect word back from Sasuke?”

“If it is Otsutsuki, Sasuke should arrive as soon as possible, per my order. If not, he likely will only return a messenger hawk with the information.” Kakashi leaves the window and comes to sit on the mattress beside Iruka. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Iruka hums and leans against his partner, resting his head against Kakashi’s collarbone. It’s not comfortable, but it is comforting. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whispers.

Kakashi kisses the top of his head. “I miss you too, love. The house is too quiet without you.”

~

Iruka stares at the encoded characters transcribed from his back. He’s… discomfited. He’s been staring at the words for almost a half-hour, trying to make sense of it.

It doesn’t change.

Iruka knows this language.

Not… not well enough to read it outright, but enough that with the characters cleaned up and a fresh copy in his hands, one that was written down while the scribe (himself) wasn’t in immense pain, he recognizes it.

“Iru-nii!” Naruto steps in for his morning visit. “How’d you sleep?”

“As best as can be expected,” Iruka mutters. “Naruto, can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure!”

Thank the gods he still has his moments of dull-headedness. “In the office at home, I have a scroll with the Uzumaki clan seal on it. It’s the only one, middle shelf. I need you to get that scroll for me please.”

“Nii-chan, why do you have an Uzumaki scroll?”

Iruka sighs. “Go get the scroll, and I’ll explain when you get back, okay?”

Naruto leaves through the open window, his footing unsteady. But he leaves and that means that Iruka can breathe and take the time to think of a way to tell him, when he gets back, about how he found out that they are actually distantly related.

Actually, no—how is he supposed to—shit. Iruka drags a hand down his face.

Hey Naruto, oh this old scroll? Found it in the archives after Tsunade-sama left office! It was in a box marked with my parents’ names on it. Yeah, turns out that my father was a refugee from Uzushio, just like your mother! Oh, and funnily enough, Umino is also a branch family of the Uzumaki!

That’s… not going to go over well, is it.

~

Break a thing for fragments. Break the fragments for dust. Break the dust, and break what remains. Here is fire.

To forge a sword, to fight, to curse your enemies on the eve of battle. This is the story of blood and its exits.

A word that sanctifies the change that comes when the seared skin peels. Words spoken in ritual to inspire an unmerciful Change. To speak them aloud is to hear the sword hiss.

All these things share certain patterns.

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

…

Iruka wakes gasping, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He pats his lap for the scroll Naruto had brought him, and startles as he realizes that it’s not there. It—It had been there just, just a little while ago, hadn’t it???

“Mercy is found only in shadow,” he mutters to himself, looking around his room. “Mercy is found… There!” The scroll, the one with the Uzumaki clan seal, is rolled up and tucked neatly away on a table on the far end of the room. Iruka gathers his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He tries to stand.

And fails.

He catches himself on hands and knees, and then feels his elbows weaken and give way. His cheek hits the tile and he hisses. He tries to push up again, but can’t…

Can’t…

…

The Altar holds a spark.

Freol is the mouth, the door, the flame, the altar, and the reward.

Knife and sword shed blood for Freol; what is spilled is hers. Fires burn for Freol; what is consumed is hers.

~

“Iruka! Iruka, please, wake up!”

“The breath of Freol brings change and endings,” Iruka slurs, barely awake and compelled. He can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t speak anything other than this ancient language. “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’ Let those who gather near Freol be blessed and cursed. Mercy is found only in shadow. Mercy—”

“Naruto, tell me Sasuke has gotten back to us.”

“He hasn’t! And-and Kurama has no idea what Iru-nii’s saying, either!”

Kakashi shakes him, taps his cheek. “Iruka, come back, please.”

Iruka tries to say I’m sorry Kakashi but what passes his lips is a murmured, “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’”

~

Sakura stands in front of him solemnly. “We gave him a high enough dose of tranquilizer that he shouldn’t even dream, Kakashi-sensei. My team—”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop her from speaking. He knows he doesn’t look good, knows he hasn’t been home in over forty-eight hours, but he can’t… he can’t stop. Iruka… “What about the scroll that was in his room?”

“Naruto said Iruka-sensei had him collect it from his home office,” Sakura says. “But no one can read it. We have been able to determine that it’s in the same language as the carvings he transcribed from his back, though.”

Kakashi looks up. “The cavern he and his team had been in—where were they?”

Sakura turns to the map hanging up in his office, and points, “East of here, near a village on the coast. Naruto mentioned—”

“The scroll is from Uzushio,” Kakashi muses, “and it has an Uzumaki clan seal on it. I’ll bet we’ll find more information about all this in the ruins of Uzushio.”

Sakura nods. “But Kakashi-sensei, you can’t—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Take Naruto and go. Find out what’s causing this. Find out how to fix it.”

She nods again and turns to leave.

“Sakura,” he calls out, softer. She stops, but doesn’t turn back to face him. That’s good; he might not be able to say this to her face. “This part comes not from your Hokage, but from me, personally. Please. He’s… Iruka’s everything. Please, find something.”

She gives him a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and says, “We won’t let you down, sensei.”

~

Kakashi watches from the windows as the nurses check Iruka’s vitals and change out his fluids. She bows to him when she’s done and then turns to leave; Kakashi holds up a palm and says, “Wait.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“How… How is he?”

She smiles softly, gently. “We’re taking good care of him, sir.”

“That’s all Sakura told you to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

He sighs. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her smile turns just the tiniest bit mischievous. “A higher budget for the hospital in the next fiscal quarter wouldn’t be remiss, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her away, “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with as much humor as he can muster. She leaves, and he goes to sit in his chair by Iruka’s side.

They had to intubate him today. Kakashi couldn’t get away from the desk long enough to be here for him; not that it mattered, because they were keeping him sedated even before shoving a tube down his throat. But it matters to Kakashi because he can’t…

He can’t do anything.

He’s stuck here, managing the village, while his students are out looking for answers to whatever mysterious illness his partner has fallen to. And all he’s good for is holding Iruka’s hand, and maybe going and lobbying for an increase in the hospital budget.

His hair is limp and matted from long weeks in the hospital. Kakashi runs his fingers through the ends of brunet strands and hopes that, when Iruka wakes up, he’ll let Kakashi wash his hair.

“Please get better,” Kakashi murmurs into the clasp of their hands. “I need you. Please.”

~

“Sakura-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting real sick of goddesses thinking they can ruin everything, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Mercy is found only in shadow.

~

“He needs another blood transfusion.”

“Take mine,” Kakashi offers. “We have the same blood type.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Just take the damn blood,” Kakashi snaps. “Whatever he needs, please, just. Just do it. Take it.”

The nurses bow. “Yes, sir.”

Footsteps in the hall, rapidly approaching, signal Kakashi to a messenger. He stands up and crosses to the door just as Shikamaru slides it open, panting from his run.

Shikamaru turns to the nurses and says, “He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

The nurse looks at him, startled, and says, “Whyever for?”

“Naruto sent ahead a messenger.” Shikamaru glances at Kakashi and finally catches his breath. “The one word Iruka-sensei had said, Freol? It’s the name of an ancient deity of the Land of Whirlpools, one whose purview is to change its followers. One of the ways it does this, as Sakura describes it, is through a kind of radiation poisoning.”

“But that doesn’t explain the,” Kakashi gestures vaguely, and then ends helplessly, “speaking in tongues.”

“The message said they’ll explain that part when they get home,” Shikamaru says. “Naruto and Sakura are on their way back, arrival is estimated at thirty-one hours.” He turns to the nurse. “Can we perform a transplant?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d say yes. But Iruka-sensei doesn’t have any close blood relatives, and if his own marrow is compromised as you say we can’t assume an autologous transplant will be effective.”

Kakashi’s heart stops. “But—”

“But,” the nurse continues, “we can start him on a treatment regimen which will increase his white blood cell count. We’ll start checking in with frequent blood tests. We can also start on a broad-spectrum heavy metals sequestration; we’ll cover Iodine, thallium, caesium, plutonium, and curium. They’re the most common.”

Kakashi motions to her, and says to Shikamaru, “She’s my favorite.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Kakashi-sama.”

He groans. The nurse smiles and says, “I’ll go order those tests and treatments,” and then ducks around Shikamaru and leaves.

~

Kakashi holds the scroll open on his desk, reading the translation Sakura and Naruto brought back. It’s a puzzle in its own right, but coupled with the Uzumaki scroll Iruka had kept in their office, Kakashi finds himself even more thoroughly confused.

“I understand how you came to the conclusion of radiation,” he says. “But I don’t understand how this is supposed to explain why Iruka began speaking the language. Because that is what happened, isn’t it?”

“That’s where a little bit of Iruka-sensei knowledge comes in handy,” Naruto says. He steps forward and points to a line near the bottom. “‘Many others can open the way. Few can place a seal where there was none before.’ And then I remembered this one, off-hand comment Iruka-sensei had made when we were kids. That the people from Uzushio were really good with fūinjutsu.”

“And that has to do with Iruka?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto groans, like he’s the genius and Kakashi is being deliberately stupid. “Umino is an Uzushio family! ‘Few can place a seal where there was none before’! I’ve seen him do that, just, poof, barrier seals.”

“Naruto, I know he’s from Uzushio. What does that have to do with his condition?”

“Freol,” Sakura says. “When he and the other chūnin got close to that cave. She recognized him as one of hers and marked him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the same thing happened to Naruto when we got close.”

Kakashi stands up, vaults over the desk and puts his hands on Naruto’s shoulders. “You’re alright?”

“Kurama beat her up and kept me safe,” Naruto nodded. “But I could hear her. She said something like, ‘the flames will consume, or change, or seal at my whim.’ She was angry.”

Kakashi sighs and drops his hands. “And even Kurama doesn’t recognize this goddess?”

“Actually, once they came into contact, he did recognize her,” Naruto says. “Freol was a protector of the Land of Whirlpools, he says, a creator of soldiers superior to ninja.”

“Superior?”

Sakura interjects, motioning back to the scrolls on his desk. “Right here, see. ‘Hers is the flame which hides in the flesh and the soul and twists both into something new.’ But also, this line, ‘What is left behind is Changed, and may Change others in turn.’”

“Kurama was able to tell us about Uzushio as it once was, back in the warring states,” Naruto continues. “That there would be those who would willingly sacrifice themselves to Freol, for the chance to Change into something more. Something different.”

“A superior soldier,” Kakashi muses. “And this Change. This is what’s happening to Iruka.”

Both of them nodded. “That’s what we think.”

“How do we stop it?”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura’s face falls. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop the process once it starts. Freol marks those she wishes to undergo the Change, and then… Well, all of the writings we managed to find say that the sacrifices either come out stronger, or their families seal their bodies into stasis, or—”

She stops, choking on tears she fights back with every bit of training she’d gone through.

“Or they die,” Kakashi finishes in a soft, defeated voice.

All three of them stand silent in the office for a long time.

~

Kakashi finds himself sleeping in Iruka’s hospital room most nights. The treatment is hell on his partner’s body—the windows are covered with heavy curtains now, to keep out the sunlight which could very easily burn his skin on the medication; hair which was once limp and matted is now starting to fall out every time Kakashi pulls a brush through it; his lips are chapped and broken around the tube, his skin dry and thin everywhere else. The nurses had to change his IV from his arm to the back of his hand today, because the veins in his arm are becoming too thin to support the needle.

He’s dying.

Iruka’s dying, and all Kakashi can do is hold his hand and watch.

And, gods, the last thing they said to each other… Iruka was speaking a different language and Kakashi was begging him to wake up.

Will he really have to watch Iruka die, knowing that he’ll never get to hear I love you from those lips again?

Kakashi buries his face in his arms, carefully arranged over Iruka’s thigh. He used to have such thick, muscular thighs; it’s barely skin and bone now.

Alone, with only his dying partner to hear—or not—Kakashi lets himself cry.

~

“I’m going to try something.”

“Naruto, please—”

“No. Kakashi-sensei, Iru-nii is strong. And Freol won’t pursue him if he goes through the Change, right?”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“He’ll be stronger, just like the other sacrifices who survived. Kakashi-sensei, all Iru-nii needs to do is survive.”

“The Change—”

“We’ll deal with it when we’re on the other side of this!”

Naruto places his hands on Iruka, and the Nine-Tail’s Cloak bubbles up around him.

The monitors, registering Iruka’s nervous system, don’t react. He’s in no further pain.

Kakashi feels the tiniest bit lighter. “I hope this works, Naruto.”

“It was Kurama’s idea,” the teen grins. “He remembered that normal healing jutsu wasn’t working before; but he was able to beat back Freol himself when she came after me. So letting Iru-nii use Kurama’s chakra as a kind of life support—it should keep Freol from making this worse at least, right? While he gets better?”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work.

But it does.

~

Almost a week later, the nurses are removing the tubes from his throat, and Kakashi is pacing the room waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off. Iruka should wake up any minute now. Naruto’s plan worked. Iruka made it through, and his most recent blood test showed no abnormalities due to radiation. They stopped the heavy metal sequestration yesterday, but the white blood cell proteins will continue for a few days still, to help prevent further infection.

They still don’t know what kind of change Iruka’s undergone. At least, other than the physical.

His hair is gone. Sakura has assured Kakashi that it will grow back. It’s so odd, though, seeing his partner without hair. They’ve put a cap on his head to keep him warm—his body temperature has been fluctuating oddly the last day and a half, and in particular today he’s running cold.

Also, his scent has changed. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, but Iruka smells different. Less like old parchment and a swift river, and more like… like a waterfall and the deep, loamy scent of rich, black earth. It’s not a bad change. But it’s significant. He’s already taken an overnight to summon the pack and have his ninken memorize Iruka’s new scent, just in case it’s permanent.

“K’shi?”

He’s across the room in a flash, holding Iruka’s limp hand and holding back tears.

“I thought—”

“My K’shi,” Iruka slurs, turning his head to face him and closing his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

The tears fall anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iruka hums. “L’ve you.”

He’s still on a considerable amount of pain medication, Kakashi realizes. He laughs wetly, leans forward and kisses Iruka’s forehead. “I love you, too. Rest, dear.”

“M’kay.”

And just like that, he is breathing slow and steady, his eyes close gently, and he is sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Kakashi falls back into his chair with a huff and tips his head to the ceiling, still holding Iruka’s hand, and also, finally, finding an easy sleep.

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Part IV

Summary: Henry tracks down people that could help him find you, not realizing just how close to you he is. You make it outside the wall of London, entering the wild expanse between it and Bristol.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 8,000

Chapters: I II III

Warning: PG-13 - Future!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Abuse of Power, Angst, Mentions of Violence and Drugs

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

A/N: I would love to thank @wondersofdreaming​ for being a lovely beta and brainstorm buddy! You’ve kept me sane so many times! Please, Tell Me What You Think!!

“What do you know about Michail Keagan, Mr. Parker?” Henry said, sitting across from your twin brother's Supervisor at his assigned place of work.

“He's a fucking loser.”

The Supervisor laughed, shaking his head at the table between them. “He might spend a whole hour here for his shifts, other than that he's missing in action. I've reported him to the Council of Daily Operations numerous times, but they don't care because he still clocks in, despite it only being for that one hour.”

“So, he knows how to cheat the system.” Henry nodded, chewing on his lip, frustrated.

“Him and that equal loser friend of his, who's supposed to be working for us, but got himself transferred to his family's hole-in-the-wall restaurant.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What friend?” Henry frowned, leaning against the table on his elbows.

“Theodore 'Teddy' Wang.” Parker replied. “He's a dishwasher for Wang's Take-Away.”

“Thanks.” Henry said, standing up and extending his hand to Parker, then made his way to the Chinese restaurant.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Jinyu asked from behind the register, smiling as Henry stopped in front of her.

“I'm looking for your son, Teddy Wang.” Henry replied, glancing behind her.

The smile on Jinyu's face melted away, she could tell by the way Henry looked and held himself that he was part of the Marshals Council. “He's not here today.”

Henry sighed, pressing his palms to the nicked counter top and leaned all his weight on his arms, bringing his piercing blue gaze to hers. “Mrs. Wang,” He said softly. “I'm not here to arrest your son, even if he's doing something that warrants it. All I want from him is answers to my questions. It's that simple, unless you and your son want to make it complicated.” He explained to her.

Jinyu stared at Henry for a long time, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the beaded curtain behind her. She knew if she didn't comply, Henry could make a load of trouble for her back at the Council, and she, her family and their business didn't need that. Henry nodded his head to her and stepped around the counter, parting the rattling beads as he stepped into the back of the restaurant and found Teddy there, doing what he was always doing; washing dishes.

“Teddy Wang?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, who wants--” Teddy started, setting the plate in his hand down and turned towards Henry, drying his hands on his filthy apron. “Oh shit!” He yelped, seeing the imposing Henry, and spun around, tripping over his feet, before catching himself on the edge of the sink and bolting out the back door of the restaurant.

Sighing through his nose and dropping his arms, Henry went after Teddy, quickly catching up to the kid in the trash filled alley, trying to scale a chain-link fence. He easily reached up, grabbing the back of Teddy's shirt and yanked him off the fence, before slamming his back against the grimy wall of his parents' restaurant.

“Look, I ain't got nothin'!” He barked at Henry, squirming.

“Is that so?” Henry smirked, deciding to have a little fun on Teddy's expense. “That's not what I heard.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of Teddy's faded jeans. “Oh, what's this?” He grinned, pulling out a small, dime-sized bag from the pocket, a sky-blue powder inside of it.

“That's just Naproxen tablets, they must have gotten crushed.” Teddy gulped, looking like a caught sheep.

“Right.” Henry laughed, opening the bag and dumping it out onto the wet ground, then rubbing it out with the sole of his boot.

“Oh, come on, man!” Teddy whined, slumping back against the wall. “That's expensive.”

“Really? I thought Naproxen was only five creds?” Henry replied, tilting his head at the boy.

“One cred is too expensive down here, you'd know that, if you lived in this hell hole too.” Teddy sneered at him. “Marshal.”

Henry smirked at Teddy. “I wanna talk about Mikey Keagan.” He said, cutting to the chase.

“Oh fuck that!” He snapped, shaking his head. “I am getting tired of being roped into their fucking issues.”

“Their?”

“Yeah, their!” Teddy spat. “Mikey tries to rope me into his Running operations and his sister, the last time I saw her, she held me up at knife point, until I told her where her brother went.”

“When was this? That she held you up?” Henry asked, not buying his story about you holding him at knife point.

If only he knew.

“Eight or nine months ago.” Teddy replied. “Mike got into a fight with his parents about becoming a Runner for Jaxon Quinn, over in Sector Three of Bristol, and went down to the Thirty Sectors to stay with a friend. Issy comes by, a week later, and holds me up, until I tell her what friend he's staying with. Gave her shortcuts around the gates and everything.”

“What's the friend's name?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes as he processed the story.

“Fynn Penmark.”

Henry looked Teddy over. “I'll let you off for having the Sub-Blue. But, if I ever find out you're in possession of it again, I'll make sure you're banished so far outside the walls of London, you'll be on a different fucking continent.” He threatened, pressing Teddy to the wall with a palm to the chest.

“Got it?” He hissed.

“Got it.” Teddy gulped, licking his lips and nodding his head, like a bobble-head.

“Good.” Henry pushed off of him and headed through the back door of the restaurant again.

“Hey, mister!” A boy on the street corner called out to Henry as he was unlocking his car.

“What!” Henry barked back at him.

“You lookin' for a girl?” He asked, and described you to him.

“That's her.” Henry nodded at him, leaning back against his car door. “What do you know about her?”

“What's in it for me?” The boy asked.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “What's your name, kid?”

“Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead and carding his fingers through his hair. “What do you want for the information?”

Oscar looked around him and pointed back to Wang's Take-Away. “Lunch. She already got me breakfast to see if any of her family was home.” He confessed.

Henry half smirked at the little boy and finally recognized him, so you had been in the area within the last three hours. “Fair enough.” He agreed to Oscar's terms. “Information first, then lunch.”

“She's looking for her brother, says he's in some kind of trouble, didn't say what.” Oscar told him, fidgeting. “Then, she told the Chinese lady to give me some food, got some for herself, then left.” He pointed to the East, toward Sector Twenty-Nine's gate. “That way.”

“All right, kid.” Henry sighed, satisfied with the information and pushed off the car, going back into the restaurant and let Oscar get some food and a drink, before heading towards Sector Twenty-Nine's gate.

He figured you were going to go find this Fynn Penmark's flat, to see if your brother was there, or what Fynn knew about Mikey's whereabouts. Henry gave you credit, you would make a damn good Marshal with the level of forward-thinking and intuition you had going on, in the case of finding your brother. He was also relieved to know that his own intuition about your brother being in some kind of serious trouble was all so right.

Now, to find you and learn the rest of the facts on the matter.

It took some doing, but you finally found out where Fynn Penmark lived. But, as you approached the opening in the wall separating Sector Thirty and Thirty-One, your heart started to race and pound, hands shaking and palms sweating, it became hard to breathe. You stopped and pressed your hands to your face, trying to push back the terrified tears that streaked hotly down your cheeks. You felt like you were breaking loose.

“Are you okay?” A voice nearby asked.

You started, stumbling away from the concerned looking woman. “Stay away from me!” You barked at her, gasping for air.

The woman looked wildly at you, palms held out to show you she meant no harm, but stayed where she was standing. You stared at her, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to fight off the dizziness clouding your brain and the bright, blinking spots in your eyes. Your tears finally stopped, but your hands still shook, and you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I'm sorry.” You apologized to the lady. “It's been a hard day.”

“It happens.” She replied, lowering her hands. “Do you need to get somewhere?”

“I know where I'm going, thank you though.” You assured her, even if it was possible she didn't mean you any harm, you weren't going to risk it, like you had the last time you were in these Sectors.

“I hope you find what you're looking for.” She told you, honestly.

“So, do I.” You nodded to her, politely.

You waited for her to go back about her business, before finding the opening and slipping through it, careful not to cut yourself again. Eric gave you point by point directions to the shabby building that Penmark lived in. You weren't surprised to find the lift in his building was broken, so you found the stairwell entrance and started mounting them to the twelfth floor.

“Flat 1283-A, Ms.” Eric's voice said through your headphones.

You found the dented and scuffed up door of Fynn Penmark and pounded on it, until he finally opened it. It took everything you had not to just burst out laughing. “Are you Fynn Penmark?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Who wants to know?”

He was gangly, face pockmarked from severe acne, that he was still clearly suffering from, his greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, his filthy clothes might have fit properly, if he weighed more than a kilogram, and with the slightest intake of air, you could tell he hadn't showered in a while, he smelled ripe.

“I'm looking for Mike.” You told him, breathing through your mouth.

“I don't know any Mike.” He said, then slammed the door in your face.

Rolling your jaw, you started pounding on his door again.

“Look, bitch.”

“Call me a bitch, and I'll crack your head open with your own door.” You growled at him, heated. “I'm looking for Mikey, he's my brother. My twin brother.”

Fynn looked you over, then cracked a smile. “Oh, I see it now.” He chuckled, leaning against his door. “I haven't seen Mike in a week.”

“Do you know where the idiot's gone?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest.

“His new handler, Knox Monroe, picked him up from here, as I said, a week ago, to take him to Bristol.”

“How long does it take to get to Bristol?”

“Depending on your transportation, anywhere from three hours to two days.”

“How do you take the three hour trip?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Have someone with a car pick you up and take you there.” He laughed, still smirking at you. “And I'm sure you don't. So, you'll be walking, and that's the two day option.”

“Doesn't seem so bad.” You sighed, frowning at the thought of walking that far.

“Are you stupid?” Fynn snapped, suddenly agitated. “Have you ever been outside the wall? Have you ever seen outside the wall? It's not rainbows and puppies out there. It's a barren fucking wasteland with pocket groups, that are more like feral wolves than humans, that would jump you, rob you and leave you for dead; if they didn't kill you in the process.”

“Have you been out there?” You asked him, chewing on your lip.

“Countless times.” Fynn nodded. “I make the run to Bristol, at least, once a month.”

“Can you take me?” You asked him, hopefully.

“No.” Fynn shook his head at you. “I've already made my run for the month and I don't take tag-alongs.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” You tried to persuade him.

“Why is it so vital for you to go after him? He'll be back in a couple months.”

“Because, something bad is going to happen to him, and I have to warn him, before it happens.” You told him, desperate.

“Like, what?”

“Can you help me or not?” You snapped at him.

“All right, fine.” Fynn huffed back, rolling his eyes at you. “Come in.” He sighed, pushing the door open for you.

You hesitated for a moment, but stepped into the trashed flat. Fynn pushed some stuff aside until he found an electronic pad and pulled up a map he used to get from London to Bristol, the most efficient and safest way he could, when he did have to walk there. You watched him fuss over it for a few seconds, before holding his hand out to you.

“Mobile.” He grunted, rolling his eyes again and snatched it from your hand. “I'm giving you my best directions there, with a couple of notes, should you need to stay somewhere. Whatever you do, and I mean whatever you do, do not travel at night. I marked several places along the way you can stay at safely or get supplies from, just show them this.” He pulled up a logo on your mobile, his interlocking initials.

“They'll know I sent you and accommodate you, for free, and know you can be trusted.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, taking your mobile back.

“Hey, Mike is a good friend, and he's saved my ass more than once. So, I'm just returning the favor.” Fynn sighed, rubbing his face. “I wouldn't want Mike bashing my head in for getting his sister killed, that's for sure.”

There was a strong knock on the door and Fynn got up to check the peephole.

“Fuck, it's the Marshals.” He snapped.

“Big fellow, shoulders wider than the door, curls and beard?” You asked, your adrenaline pumping.

“You know him?” Fynn asked, shocked.

“You can say that.” You gulped, glancing around. “Please, you have to hide me. If he finds me here, he'll stop me from saving Mikey.” You pleaded with him, clutching at his cold hand. “Please, Fynn.”

“Fucking Christ, you Keagans are a wily bunch.” He huffed, then directed you into his bedroom. “Be quiet and don't touch anything.” He said, pointing a finger at you, before closing the door and rushing to answer Henry's incessant pounding.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fynn barked at Henry, almost able to look Henry in the eye, glaringly.

“High Marshal Cavill.” Henry said, flashing his badge in Fynn's face.

“And?” Fynn huffed, unperturbed, he had dealt with far scarier people, both High Marshals and Crime Bosses before, and wasn't afraid of Henry.

Henry could see that Fynn wasn't frightened by him and his tired blue eyes darkened, before he grabbed Fynn by the shirt and launched him backwards into his flat, then stepped inside himself, kicking the door closed behind him. While Henry didn't usually employ rough tactics and overly abuse his power as a Marshal, he wasn't wholly immune to it either, he still had his flaws and prejudice from his status as a high born and position in London.

“Fynnch Oliver Penmark.” He growled at the Runner and looked around the utterly trashed flat, a scowl of disgust on his face. “Rumor has it, that you're a Runner.” He said, settling his eyes back on Fynn, who was using the cluttered coffee table to pull himself up.

“Vicious rumors.” Fynn huffed, brushing himself off. “That dumb brain at my work place has it out for me, so he keeps trying to report me to the Council of Daily Operations.”

“You certainly don't spend much time at work.” Henry countered. “What were you again? A floor licker?”

“A Janitor.” Fynn barked, scowling. “I don't want to spend all my time in a hostile environment. So, I do enough hours to appease those blood thirsty bastards at the Council, and get paid.”

“We'll see how long that'll last.” Henry replied, folding his arms. “All I have to do is give them one word and they'll cut you off and you won't have this hell hole to keep you cozy in anymore.”

“What do you want, mate?” Fynn sighed with a growl, he was starting to think you weren't worth the trouble Henry wanted to make for him.

“I had a visit with a friend of yours, Teddy Wang, up in Sector Twenty-Eight.” Henry said, pushing aside some trash by his foot. “He told me that you might know something about Mikey Keagan and his sister.”

“I haven't seen Mike, in a week, and I've never met his sister.” Fynn replied, taking a seat on a clear spot on his couch.

“Funny.” Henry hummed, frowning at him. “I had a little informant tell me that she was seen coming this direction, to see you.”

“Well, either that informant lied to you or she's lost her way. Because she's not here or has she been.”

“I doubt you would tell me, if she was.”

“Look, if giving you information on her would get you out of my place and my business, then I'd give it and her to you. But, I don't know where she is and I haven't seen her.” Fynn told him, annoyed. “You can look around, if you want.” He said, motioning around his pig sty.

Henry glanced around with a dirty look, then looked back to Fynn. “I know you're lying to me.” He hissed, his gut was screaming. “So, you either tell me, or I'll make that call right now and arrest you on top of it.” He warned Fynn, taking out his mobile.

“Jesus!” Fynn barked, jumping to his feet. “Fine! She came by an hour ago, looking for her brother, and said she was afraid something bad was going to happen to him, if she didn't find him and warn him about it. She wanted to know when I saw him last and I told her, just like I told you, it's been a week since I saw Mike.”

“What did she do with that information?” Henry asked, lowering his phone.

“She asked if I knew where her brother went.”

“And, where is Mikey?”

“Bristol.” Fynn said, deflating.

“Bristol.” Henry repeated, sighing. “What is Mikey doing in Bristol?”

“I don't-”

Henry grabbed Fynn by the shirt and yanked him against him, narrowing his glowing blue eyes. “Out with it, Slum.” He growled, harshly.

“He's a Runner.” Fynn yelped, now he was frightened of Henry. “He's been a Runner for the last two years, and he's going to Bristol so he can be trained as an Adjutant Runner for one of the top Crime Bosses of Bristol, Jaxon Quinn.” He babbled out, his eyes huge. “I gave her directions on how to find him there and she left soon after, to start that way.” He added without Henry prompting or threatening him.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, pushing away from Fynn and storming out of his flat, cursing all the way down the hall.

“You can come out now.” Fynn huffed, opening his bedroom door a few minutes later.

“How could you tell him all that!” You snapped at him, punching him on the arm.

“Oh, chill your heels.” He growled, rubbing his arm. “He thinks you're already gone and doesn't know the route you'll be taking. Besides, he's a High Marshal, he's not going to leave the wall for some girl. The Councils wouldn't allow it and even the craziest and most determined Marshals have enough sense not to chance it.”

“I could have just given you away, after all the trouble the asshole gave me.” He added, sourly.

“Thanks.” You grumbled under your breath.

“Hey, when you see your brother again, tell him he owes me for a change.” He called after you.

“Tell him yourself.” You snapped over your shoulder and slammed his door shut.

“She's fucking stupid.”

Henry growled, every muscle in his body was wound up and tight as he thought of you crossing the desolate waste outside the London Wall to Bristol. The danger that laid between there and London, and the even worse danger that lived and functioned inside the city of Bristol itself.

“She's out of her mind!” He kept mumbling, all the way back down to the car. “She's going to get herself killed!” He sighed, running both hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of his wild curls.

“What!” He hissed at his mobile rang through his car's AI.

“Is that how you address your Supreme?” Reyes asked, stiffly.

Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I'm sorry, sir. It's been a horrible morning.” He apologized.

“That Slave of yours keeping you up at night, Cavill.” Reyes laughed, his voice suggestive.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, spent.

“Well, either way.” Reyes sighed, sounding just as tired. “I need you to bring her in for her formal interview. The Council of Clerics have finally started the trials for the Trafficking.”

“Ugh.” Henry groaned, slumping in his seat. “Mother fucker.”

“Henry?” Reyes said slowly, hearing the sound of his voice.

“She's gone.” Henry admitted, regretfully. “I woke up this morning to her, gone. I've been trying to find her all day.”

“You lost her!”

“If you want to put it that way.” He mumbled, picking at his nails and feeling like he was getting scolded by his mother.

“Where is she?”

“Well, if I knew that, I would have her, wouldn't I?” He snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What have you been doing all day!?”

“Following every lead to find her that I could, Dylon.” Henry defended himself, exasperated. “I've been to her family home, her work place and even her twin brother's workplace, along with every one of their friends'.”

“And?” Reyes screamed, veins bulging from his forehead and neck.

“My latest Intel says, she's on her way to Bristol, to find her brother, Michail.” Henry sighed, his temples throbbing. “She believes he's in trouble, since he's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn.”

“Are you telling me, your Slave, has a twin brother, that's a member of a top Crime Boss's business? The same Jaxon Quinn, that funds Twist's Trafficking?”

Henry swallowed, thickly. “Yes.”

“You realize, she's not only a top witness to Twist's operations, but Quinn's as well. She could help us bring him down, Henry! And you let her get away! How did you not know this to start with? Don't, don't fucking answer that. You know, if she gets there and Quinn realizes who she is-”

“He'll kill her.” Henry replied, his voice weakening.

“Has she left for Bristol yet?”

“As far as I know.” Henry replied, depressed on the matter. “I plan on going after her, Dylon.” He added, he had already made the choice to go after you, he didn't care what Dylon or the Councils said on the matter.

“You know, I can't officially back you in your decision to chase after a Slummer, Henry.” Reyes sighed, leaning against his desk and rubbing his own throbbing head. “But, as your friend and someone that wants to take down Twist and Quinn, you have my full backing.”

“What are we going to say when I don't come in for work, for however long it takes me to find and bring her back?”

“I want both of them, Henry. I want her and her brother. She's a witness and he's a conspirator in Quinn's business.” Dylon told him, bluntly. “I'll tell them that you are quite deeply undercover, trying to gain more info.”

“I'll need to go home and take Kal to Charlie's. I'll just tell him, I'm going undercover for a long while and will be back, when I crack the case.”

“That sounds fine.” Reyes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don't fuck this up, Henry.” He said, then hung up.

“Thanks.” Henry sighed, rolling his eyes.

You were careful as you made your way to the wall, knowing Henry was probably still lurking somewhere nearby, looking for you. You tried to stay in as well populated areas as you dared, hoping to dodge anyone working for Traffickers or getting spotted by Henry.

“Hey, do-”

“Fuck off.” You snapped as a guy approached you, not wanting anything he had to say or wanted from you, and picked up the pace of your walking.

It was starting to get late, after it taking all day to piece your way through the Sectors and follow your brother's footsteps. You probably would have been out of the city by now, if Henry hadn't showed up at Fynn's flat and took vital time interrogating him about you. You wondered how furious he would be to know how close to you he was in Fynn's place, and still didn't manage to catch you.

“We'd have to see each other again.” You mumbled to yourself.

The chances of seeing Henry again were probably pretty slim. After being gone for a little while, he would give up on trying to find you and go back to work for the Marshals and his life. A deep part of you throbbed though, you felt bad for leaving him like that, especially after everything he had done for you. He could have been an absolute monster and treated you like the Slummer that you are, forcing you to wear a Ownership bracelet and making you his proper Slave. But, Henry had been a complete gentleman to you, taking care of your every need and whim, it was almost like he had become your Slave. Then, the charging of several hundred credits to his account for the backpack and mobile, and the dress and jewelry for the party.

“He'll get over it.” You said, shaking your head. “He's a High Marshal, for fuck sake! He probably makes all that in a single case.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

But, it didn't stop you from feeling bad for leaving him, without a single word.

“Take a right.” Eric's voice said, cutting into your train of thought.

Grunting, you took the quick right at his instruction. As you rounded the corner, you saw, several meters in front of you, the opening in the massive wall that encompassed the city and its citizens. The opening was one-third the size of the meter wide metal and rusted panel, a strip of dying light filtering through the four meter thick wall. Just a kilometer beyond that, was the first place you would be able to find shelter in for the night, then come first light, you would be on your way towards Bristol and your brother.

“Hey!” A harsh call barked behind you as you approached the gap.

You slowly turned and felt a hard lump form in your throat. It was a Beta Marshal, and he looked pissed. “Me?” You squeaked, pointing to yourself, sheepishly.

“Yes, you!” He hissed, face starting to go red with his anger. “Get away from the wall!”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, heart pounding.

“Because, I said so!”

You took a deep breath in and out, turned on your heels and dashed for it. The Beta Marshal screamed for you to stop and come back, but you ignored him. You dove into the opening and shimmed along it, going as quickly as you could, having to turn sideways in a couple of places to get through. The Marshal was still yelling at you, wedging himself into the gap to chase after you.

The light got bright and brighter, despite the sun setting lower and lower, as you struggled through the opening to the outside world, until you finally popped out on the other side, a cool breeze rushing passed you, fresh and clean. You turned back to the hole and saw the Beta Marshal panting about halfway, then made a dismissive motion with his hand and started back inside London.

You were home free now.

“Eric, where's the first safe house?” You asked, grinning and feeling victorious, despite the hundred and eighty-five kilometers between you and Bristol.

“Head straight for an hour, Ms.” Eric replied a moment later.

With Kal taken care of by his family, Henry returned to the Marshal Headquarters, intent on following after you, but knowing he needed better information on how to navigate the world outside London to do so.

“Henry.” Martin grinned as Henry entered his floor in the headquarters. “How are you?”

“Not in the mood.” Henry growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I know you have a Runner in your lock up, Lukas Hadwin.”

“Um,” Martin blinked up at Henry, then turned towards his computer and typed the name into his computer. “I do! He was arrested two months ago and is awaiting trial with the Council of Clerics.” He confirmed, turning back towards Henry.

“I want him brought to a private interrogation room on my floor, in the next five minutes.” Henry told the Alpha Marshall, then turned on his heels and marched back up the three floors to his office, needing the walk to calm down some of his anger.

Four minutes later, Martin shoved Lukas Hadwin into the private interrogation room on the High Marshall's floor, and handcuffed him to the table.

“Get out.” Henry barked at Martin, throwing the door open, startling both Martin and the Runner.

“But, Hen-” He started to protest, but his blood froze in his veins seeing the look on Henry's face. “High Marshall, he's my arrest, so he's my responsibility.”

“I outrank you, Sidwell.” Henry growled back at him, the anger he had managed to walk off started boiling again. “So, when I tell you to get out of my fucking interrogation room, I mean, get out.” He hissed.

Martin licked his lips, sheepishly, his mouth drying up. “Of course, High Marshall.” He croaked, edging around Henry, for the door.

“Mr. Hadwin.” Henry said, reaching up to the camera in the corner of the room and turning it off. “According to your extensive file, you're a high ranking Runner for a Bristol Crime Boss.”

“Total bullshit.” Lukas barked, trying hard to keep the angry and outraged expression on his face, despite shaking in his jail issued trainers. “My bitch of an ex-girlfriend reported me to the Council of Marshals, telling you corrupt pricks that I was a Runner, because I broke up with her and refused to pay her flat fees.”

“Is that so?” Henry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then, what's this?” He asked, dropping an open file on the table and pointed to a section of it. “Says you and another known Runner were arrested in 2864, for possession of a large cache of Sub-Blue. Your little partner in crime blabbed about how you both worked for a lucrative Crime Boss, running the drugs between Bristol and London.”

“Was he lying?”

Lukas glowered at the report, but didn't answer Henry's question; which only increased Henry's blood pressure. Grabbing the back of Lukas's neck, Henry slammed his face onto the metal table, cracking the screen on the file, and rested an uncomfortable amount of his weight on Lukas's neck.

“Was he lying?!” He yelled, directly into his ear.

“No!” Lukas cried out, squirming, fruitlessly.

“What Crime Boss?” Henry continued to yell.

“Benji Hernandez!” He squealed, whimpering.

Henry pushed off of Lukas's neck with a huff, he had heard about Hernandez, he had heard about all of the big time Crime Bosses that ruled Bristol like the Council of Clerics and Royals ruled London. But, Hernandez was the cream of the crop. His family was credited with establishing Bristol and bringing it to the level, almost on par, with London through deep waves of crime, selling every drug they could get their hands on or manufacture themselves, their number one seller was unsurprisingly, Sub-Blue.

Many Crime Bosses and groups had tried dethroning the Hernandez Family, and all had failed. They had too much money, too much power and their followers, all across England, were loyal, to the death. A massive turf war had broken out several years back, the first conflict of the sort since the end of the fourth war. It had mainly broken out and was confined in Bristol, with pockets of skirmishes in London and the other major city of England, Chester, before finally being squashed. Dozens of people were killed and maimed in the four month long battle, and the Hernandez's kept their throne and were still stronger than ever.

The Hernandez's family, friends and their most distinguished workers were the only ones that lived in Sector One and Two of Bristol, everyone else lived in Sector Three to Sector Fifteen.

“How do you get to Bristol?” Henry asked, pacing around the table.

“It depends.” Lukas panted, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

“On?” Henry pressed.

“The size of the load.” He replied, groaning. “If it's a small load, I'll walk there. If it's a large load, then we'll be driven from a checkpoint outside London to Bristol and back.”

Henry quietly paced around the room, brooding on his next course of action. He knew, for a fact, you wouldn't be driving to Bristol, or knew someone, other than your brother, who was already gone, that could drive you there. So, you had to be heading for Bristol on foot. He debated how he would follow after you, he could take his car to find you, sure he could reach you faster that way, but the moment he managed to get out of the wall with it, his car's on board locator would alert the appropriate channels and they'd go after him.

Especially since going after you wasn't authorized and being done quietly. Leaving Henry with the same option you had been saddled with.

Walking

“How do you get from London to Bristol?” He asked and leaned against the table, across from Lukas.

“There's two routes to Bristol.” Lukas sighed, knowing if he didn't tell Henry the information he wanted, the High Marshal would no doubt beat it out of him. “One is only used if you have a car, because pit stops are few and far between, and you don't want to be caught out there alone, especially at night. So, staying in the moving protection of a car is the best way for that path, since it's longer.”

“The other?”

“The other, is the one that's usually used by Runners that are walking between the two. It's shorter, by several kilometers, but slightly more dangerous than the car route, since it runs through several mini-towns that people, who were either banished or choose to live out there, populate. Some of them and the mini-towns are friendly and benevolent, but most are not. So, if you don't know what ones to stop in, chances are, you'll end up dead and stripped clean of any valuables they can take back into the cities and trade for goods.”

Henry gulped thickly, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as he battled the anxiety of you being out there, alone, for so long. He knew it was critically dangerous out there, but hearing Hadwin talking about it and the things between the two cities made it abundantly clear it was even more dangerous than he thought.

“Are you all right?” Lukas asked, seeing Henry's scruffy face steadily grow pale.

“I'm fine.” Henry growled, getting a handle on himself. “How do you know this other route, you used to walk there?”

“It's been used by thousands of Runners, for years.” Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “But, it was recently refined by another Runner.” He added, tugging on his cuffs. “Fynn Penmark recently compiled a map of safe places that Runners can stay for the nights and buy supplies.”

What were the chances? Henry thought.

“You'll be giving me that map.” He told him.

“I can't!”

Lukas squeaked, frightened at the thought of a High Marshal having the map showing him where Runners were coming and going from, the places they stayed and people that aided their operations.

“They'll kill me, if they find out I gave it to you!” He protested.

Henry leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Lukas's. “Look in my eyes and ask yourself, if you think I give a fuck?” He whispered, his tone cold and calculated.

“Now, give me the directions.”

Lukas gulped and nearly peed himself from the energy brewing off of Henry, who didn't pull back as he gave him the directions for the route. Henry looked over the map, making a legend of the symbols Lukas had made along the way, marking places to sleep and get supplies, as well as places that should be avoided at all costs. Once he was satisfied and sure the Runner wasn't lying to him and had told him all he knew, Henry stepped out into the hall and by Martin, not exchanging a single word with him.

Returning to his flat, Henry felt the quiet throughout it, without Kal's barked greeting and you either watching tv or listening to music. He missed those noises and being greeted by the both of you as he got home from work or wherever he had gone. Sighing, he grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items into it, a change of clothes, a small medical kit and a few other things he felt he might need, then checked to make sure his service weapon was still secure to his hip. Knowing it was getting cold out, Henry took off his coat and shirt, and pulled on his base layer HAMR, long sleeve shirt to wear under his black, knit sweater, before pulling his lightweight down jacket back over that.

Slinging his backpack over his back, situating his beanie on his head and zipping up his coat, Henry went back out the door, locking it up and rode the lift down to the ground floor. He knew a place in Sector Four with a large enough hole in the wall that he could squeeze through and start his journey to finding you.

Taking his best guess and trusting his gut feeling, Henry made his way to one of the first safe houses on the map, that you would likely stop in for the night. He just hoped he could get there before you left. But, you had an almost five hour head start on him already. Since, he had to spend so much time pulling information out of Hadwin, plus the nearly a two hour walk around the wall to get to the closest point to the house, and where you nearly had a straight shot to it, then the hour to the mini-town.

Within an hour of you both leaving Fynn's flat, Henry had entered the Marshal's Headquarters to interrogate the known Runner, Lukas Hadwin, on how to get to Bristol, and you had reached the opening in the wall. While you finally reached the safe town and your room, Henry had been grilling Hadwin for a tense hour. For the next two, you took a much needed rest, and Henry finally finished juicing Hadwin for every bit of info he had, including the map Fynn had given you for the trip. He then rushed home, taking Kal to Charlie's and packing a bag to follow after you.

Henry wasn't afraid of the nearly three hour walk to the house, in the middle of the night. He could easily protect himself, both with his weapon and his hands, it was you that consumed all of his worry and fear. You had nothing to protect you, other than your wits, but those would only get someone so far, before running out and getting you severely injured, or killed.

“Please, just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He said out loud, looking up at the inky black sky and twinkling stars.

“That's all I ask.” He sighed, walking faster.

You were exhausted after running around London all day, running from Henry and a Beta Marshall, then walking non-stop for a solid hour to reach the first safe place on Fynn's map, just as the last rays of sunlight died behind the horizon.

“Who are you and what do you want?” A hard looking woman behind a makeshift counter asked as you entered the decrepit building that was marked as a safe place.

“I'm a friend of Fynn's.” You told her, approaching the counter and showed her Fynn's logo off his map.

“I guess you want a room then?” She asked, turning her back to you and grabbed a key off the wall behind her.

“I do.” You replied, sheepishly.

“This way.” She rasped, disappearing through a doorway.

You gulped and followed after her, following her down a long dimly lit hallway with rows of doors on either side. She stopped by a door in the middle of the hallway and jammed the key in the lock and opened it. Pushing it open, she handed you the key and went back down the hall, leaving you alone. You leaned into the room, flicking on the light and finding it bare, only furnished with a bed, a single chair and nothing else, not even a window.

Sighing and figuring it was better than nothing, you stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind you, even shoving the chair up against it, for added security, before sitting down on the squeaky and dingy bed. Shrugging off your backpack, you unzipped it and pulled out a package of food you'd brought with you, slowly munching on it, before making sure Eric woke you up as soon as it was light out, and laid back on the bed; using your pack as a pillow. But, it took you a long time to fall asleep, the room was cold and there were scratching noises happening all around you, making you paranoid. But, eventually your exhaustion won out and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of your brother dying and Henry's voice calling out to you.

The time seemed so short, when Eric's voice sounded in your ears, and in reality, it had only been a mere two hours. Now, unknowingly, three hours ahead of Henry, you woke groggily and sat up, rubbing at your face, as you got up and pulled your backpack on. You removed the chair from your door and went down the hall to the front desk, finding the same lady there.

“Do you have a bathroom?” You asked her through a yawn and handed her the room key back, your bladder screaming.

She pointed to a door on the other side of the room and you went inside, grimacing at the filthy condition of it, but you really needed to pee, so you made do with it. Emptying your bladder, you looked at your map and found a supply store a mile up from you and headed that way, hoping for something decently hot, and was overjoyed to find a brewing coffee pot. You showed the supplier Fynn's mark, then filled a reusable cup with the hot brown liquid and roamed around as you sipped at it. Taking a couple more things of food, refilled your water bottle and pieced together something for breakfast.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the supplier as you finished your breakfast and refilled the coffee cup, before getting back on your way.

You made sure to follow Fynn's advice and the map, keeping your eyes to yourself and walking as quickly as you could to avoid trouble or attracting any unwanted attention. Everyone else around you did the same, there were very few people just standing around, those that were, begged for credits to buy things or trying to sell something else.

But, you ignored their harks and kept walking.

Once you were clear of the mini-town, you dared to have Eric put on some low music, the eerie quiet of the area playing on your anxious nerves as you headed for the next safe place, four hours to the north of your location. You decided to walk there as quickly as you could, then decide whether or not you could risk walking the extra two hours to the next one after that, without risking your own safety. Even though the sun had only just risen, you didn't want to play it risky or get cocky. If you did, and got yourself in trouble, you wouldn't make it to Bristol, hopefully in time to warn Mikey about potentially being in trouble, as Quinn's Runner.

“I'll make it, I know I will.” You assured yourself, pushing down the fearful anxiety. “I will.” You repeated, stubbornly, clenching your hands into fists. “I have too.” You added even softer, weakening to some of that concern.

“Have you seen this girl?” Henry asked, approaching a hard looking woman and showing her a photo he had taken of you and Kal, not that long ago.

“No.” The woman replied, shaking her head.

Henry narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was lying through her missing teeth. Had he been in London, he would have simply slapped his badge on the counter and she would have sang like an Opera singer on opening night. But, he wasn't and that move would have sealed her lips up tighter than a crab's shell, and probably gotten him into a heap of trouble, wasting more of his time.

“Fine.” He sighed, turning away from her and heading back outside.

Glancing around, he spotted an elderly man standing at the corner, hands held out to every person that walked by him.

“Hey, old timer.” He said, walking up to him.

“Credit for a sandwich?” The old man asked, reaching his hands out to Henry.

“How about a sandwich for some information?” Henry asked, pulling a sandwich out of his pack. “Have you seen this girl?” He inquired, showing him your photo.

“Yeah, saw her super early this morning.” the old man replied, scratching his scraggly beard. “Just as I was setting up here, after first light, maybe three hours ago.”

“Looked in a mighty rush to be somewhere.” He added, nodding to himself.

“Thank you.” Henry thanked him and let him have the sandwich, plus an extra sandwich, just to be nice to the poor man, then started power walking away, knowing he was on the right path to find you and that the gap between you was steadily closing.

“I've got you now.” Henry smirked to himself.

[blingywitch]

The First Step - Chapter IV

Omg hi! I am so sorry this took so long to get out. It took me a lot longer than expected to write but anyways, it’s here now!

This chapter is a lot longer than the others I’ve written in this mini series. I had a lot that I wanted to include and didn’t realize how much it was until I re-read this so I hope you like this huge chapter of pure fluff. :)

Finally, this is the last chapter of this story. I had so much fun writing it and it makes me very happy to see that you guys enjoyed it as much as you did. (I may write a mini Sequel with one or two parts. Maybe write the wedding I don’t know yet.) but moving on, as I’ve said before, thank you for all the love, and enjoy. <3

The First Step Masterlist & Full Masterlist

Characters and universe belong to, @lumosinlove

CW: mentions of food.

—

The team had finished practice and were now skating off the ice, tired, sweaty and ready to cool down in the gym and head to the showers. Well, maybe just the Cubs planned on doing that. The rest of the team however, unbeknownst to them, had other things in mind.

Walking into the locker room Finn, Logan and Leo were all grabbed by the shoulders and sat down in whoever’s stall was closest.

“Alright boys, sit the fuck down and tells us how this happened. Details. Go.” James prodded.

“You just sat us down” Logan deadpanned, smirk playing at his lips.

Finn huffed, though he was smiling—still. “Can we at least get out of our gear first? Get a shower-“

“No!” The entire team shouted back.

Finn put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay we’ll tell you.” He then looked to Logan. “Lo?”

Logan stood up and walked over to join Leo; who had been sat down at the other side of the room— in, from what Logan could see, looked like kuny’s stall— sitting down next to him and intertwining their fingers. Finn wasn’t long joining the two and then Logan took a deep breath, “It wasn’t anything special-“

He was cut off by Leo smacking his arm. Logan rolled his eyes playfully and continued, “Fine. It wasn’t anything big and fancy.”

One week earlier

The sun was streaming trough the blinds of their bedroom window when Logan woke up, sandwiched between his boys. Opening his eyes, squinting slightly from both sleep and the brightness of the room, he looked at Leo and Finn. In the morning sun he could see every little detail of them— every little detail that he loved. Hundreds of freckles adorned Finn’s face, fanning over his cheekbones and nose going all the way down to his shoulders; resembling the thousands of stars in the sky. Careful not to wake him Logan turned over to get a better look at Leo, who had his arm loosely around his waist. He noticed that, in the sun, the younger boy’s hair looked more like the sun than the sun itself. The blonde and white strands glistening and glowing in the light. Logan had to hold himself back from running his fingers through it. He loved these boys so so much and today was the day they would learn just how much.

Today was the day.

Logan peeked over Leo’s shoulder to look at the clock on the nightstand, it read ‘6:15 am’. That was good. Leo and Finn wouldn’t be up for at least another three hours, four if he was lucky— it was Saturday after all and they had nothing they needed to do today. Logan had gotten unbelievably lucky by coach giving them the day off.— he had time.

Sighing to himself he removed Leo’s arm, carefully climbed over Finn and got out off bed. He padded around the house for a little, toothbrush in one hand phone in the other, sending texts and making preparations for the day. After he was finally dressed and ready to go he gave his boys one last kiss on the cheek and he was gone.

—

“Thank you, Celeste, for doing this on such short notice,” Logan said as he sat down at the Dumais’ kitchen island.

“De rien, Logan. You know I don’t mind. But are you going to tell me why I had to cook all this food last night?”

“Well... I can... but you can’t tell anyone, not even Dumo.”

Celeste furrowed her eyebrows but motioned for him to continue.

“...I’m proposing today.” Logan said, his voice barely above a whisper. The rest of the Dumais’ were still asleep but he couldn’t risk anything.

Though his efforts were probably in vain because Celeste let out a very loud gasp at that, quickly covering her mouth and looking towards the stairs, listening for any sign someone had woken up. After the house stayed quiet she looked back at Logan.

“Logan... that’s amazing.” Celeste walked over to Logan and placed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Hearing those words come out of his mouth, Logan couldn’t describe how it made him feel. But he decided on happy for the time being. He was proposing today. “Moi aussi....”

Celeste stepped back and Logan met her eyes, “My lips are sealed.” She said, he just smiled at her.

“Now. You should get going, I don’t know when those boys of yours will be up but I know mine will be soon, so” Celeste pushed the dishes of food towards Logan and poked him in the arm. “Go. Get.”

Logan chuckled. “d'accord, d'accord I’m going.”

—

On second thought maybe Logan had gotten up to early.

He’d wanted to make sure he had enough time to do everything it was he needed get done. And he had gotten everything done, which was good. But it was still only 8:30 am, and Logan was just standing in his kitchen unsure of what to do next. He could wake them up... but he didn’t wanna do that, it was their day off. But at the same time, being here alone and just waiting for them to wake up was driving him crazy.

So Logan decided he wouldn’t wait alone. Taking one last look at the array of food before him, he set off for the bedroom.

Finn and Leo were exactly where they were when Logan left a few hours before, except now Finn was rolled over onto his back and had his arm thrown over his face, Leo laying a bit closer to him than before.

He smiled at how cute they looked and tiptoed over to the bed, dropping himself down beside Leo and waited. Letting his mind run wild with what was about to happen.

—

Leo woke up about an hour later, after rubbing his eyes and stretching he felt a hand on his back and a kiss to his shoulder. Leo smiled softly and turned over. “Hmm, morning.” He said, nuzzling into Logan’s chest.

“Bon matin, mon amour.” Logan greeted him, just as Finn started to stir. He groaned and his eyes meet Logan’s as they opened.

“I’m the sleepyhead s’morning I see.” He said, upon seeing his boyfriends next to him already awake.

Logan huffed out a laugh. “Morning to you too, Harz.”

Finn just smiled and got up on an elbow, leaning over Leo he gave Logan a quick kiss on the lips. “Morning.” He said, pulling away.

He then moved from Logan to Leo, bending down and kissing his jaw, the only part of the boy’s face that was exposed. “Morning Peanut.”

“Hmm.” Was the only response he got.

Finn laughed into Leo’s neck. “You awake yet?”

“Mm’no” Leo replied, word muffled my Logan’s chest.

“Well you can go back to sleep for a little bit, okay?”

“M’kay” Leo mumbled, Finn did not have to tell him twice.

They stayed quiet for another few minutes, enjoying each other’s company before Finn asked, “So what’s on the schedule for today?”

“Nothing.” Leo, who had finally decided to wake up said, rolling onto his back. “I’m staying here. All day.”

“Well as much as I’d love to do that mon chéri, I have something planned.” Logan chimed in.

“And what would that be?” Finn challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see.” Logan smirked. “C’mon.” He said, standing up and grabbing one of their hands each.

“Ugh fine.” Leo groaned though he was now curious as to what Logan had in store for them.

“So moody in the morning, Peanut.” Finn said teasingly.

“Oh hush you.” Leo playfully smacked his arm.

That only made Finn smile.

“C’mon,” Logan singsonged, pulling them forward. “you’re so slow.”

Despite all his previous nerves about this day, now that it was here Logan was surprised to find out that those feelings had miraculously disappeared and he felt completely fine. The only emotion flowing through him being pure euphoria. He was everything but nervous and he thanked whatever was responsible for that.

Finn and Leo were finally up and smiling brightly, Logan immediately stared dragging them out of the bedroom, walking backwards so he could catch their reactions.

They had just reached the living room when Leo and Finn froze. From here they could see the arrangement of food that sat in the kitchen. There were trays of cinnamon rolls, fruits and berries and well, anything you could thing of. Logan might have gone overboard, but he really didn’t care at the moment.

“Oh.” Leo broke the silence, staring over Logan’s shoulder.

“What’s the occasion?” Finn asked.

“No occasion.” Logan replied. “I just love you.”

Logan dropped their hands and walked the rest of the way to the kitchen. “Hello? Are you just going to stand there all day or do you want some breakfast?”

The two other boys were moving again and in no time had two plates of food in front of them.

“So, Lo” Leo started, after three had been eating in silence for a while. “Where did all this food come from? Because you certainly didn’t cook it.”

Logan let out a mock gasp at that. “How dare you underestimate my cooking skills!”

“What!? Am I lying?”

“No.” Finn said around a mouthful of eggs.

Logan flicked a blueberry at him.

“Hey!”

Next to them, Leo laughed, “Alright, alright don’t waste the food.”

Finn jerked his head at Leo, “The chef in that one is coming out.” He said to Logan, who laughed.

Finn got another blueberry flicked at him, this time by Leo.

—

Logan had to get the rings.

After the three had eaten breakfast they had all made their way to the couch and were now tangled around each other, relaxing and watching a movie. It was the perfect moment. But of course, Logan didn’t have the rings on him. They were at the end of the hallway, stashed in the back of a closet. The only place Logan could think of where they wouldn’t be found accidentally. He had to get them.

“Finn?” Logan tried to get Finns attention.

Finn hummed showing he was listening, though his eyes were fixed on the tv.

“Can you let me up for a second?” Logan asked. Like always, he was squished between the two of them.

“Mhmm.” Finn replied and stood up to let Logan go.

“Wait!” Leo said Suddenly, arms outstretched. “where are you going? Come back.”

“I’ll be back Knutty, don’t worry.” Logan laughed, walking away. “I’m just getting blankets.”

And in no time Logan was back, with a blanket in one hand and two rings in his back pocket.

“You’re the best.” Finn said as Logan handed him the blanket.

Leo sat up, taking the blanket from Finn and putting his feet in his lap. He motioned for Logan to sit next to him and then put the blanket over them.

“Je t’aime.” Logan whispered pecking Leo on the lips, he reached out and grabbed Finn’s hand. “You too, Fish.”

‘Here goes nothing’ Logan thought. He picked up the remote and turned the tv off.

“Lo, what are you doing?” Confusion laced Finn’s voice

“Do you know how much I love you?Both of you?” Logan was now gripping both of their hands like his life depended on it. The next thing that came out of his mouth even surprised him, “épouse-moi?”

Leo froze.

“W- what?” Finn asked, heart rate picking up.

Logan reached into his back pocket; when his hand reappeared he was holding three identical sliver bands in his palm. “Marry me?” He said again, firmer this time.

When no one said anything Logan continued, “I could get started on all that, ‘oh we’re to young and I don’t know if we’re ready’ shit, but I won’t. If you’re ready I’m ready. And if you’re not, then I’ll be here when you are; Because I love you both so much and I’d wait eternity for you. So... marry me?”

Logan looked back and forth between the two. Leo was first to break the silence, “Yes.” He breathed and Logan finally let his smile show.

He turned to Finn who was still staring at the rings in his hand. “Fish?”

Finn finally tore his eyes away from the rings and when he looked up Logan noticed a tear making it’s way down his face. Logan smiled softly at him.

“Yes. Oh my god, yes!” He beamed and tackled Logan in a hug, only breaking away to pull Leo in as well.

They fell into the couch again, in a puddle of happy tears, kisses and whispered I love you’s. Fully ready to start the next chapter of their lives, being with each other every step of the way.

As Logan placed the rings on their fingers the last thing Finn said before he was tacked by two boys and a bunch of pillows was, “Fuck, I love my life.”

Present day

Logan finished his story and looked around at his teammates, Dumo spoke up first. “Wait. Celeste knew and I didn’t!? Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surp- hmff” Logan was hit Square in the stomach by a hockey glove— thrown by Dumo of course.

“Rude.” Logan mumbled.

Leo looked to his left, hoping to find Finn. Instead, something else caught his eye and he burst out laughing, “Potts are you crying?” He asked.

“No!”

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

[cellophanejpeg]

serendipity

pairing: Marcus Pike x female!reader

summary: You’ve never been one to believe in luck, but when you get to know your handsome neighbor, something makes you change your beliefs.

warnings: tw blood, gunshot wounds, medical inaccuracies, mentions of sex (or lack thereof), one (1) line from Ratched (i couldn’t help it), also fluff and a sm**ch

word count: 3.7k

series masterlist | general masterlist

You’ve never believed things happened for a certain reason. Several failed relationships taught you that things happen because simply they happen. There’s not always a meaning hidden behind, or a lesson to be learned. Sometimes, they do. Most times, they don’t. And that’s okay with you.

Lady Luck isn’t always by your side and you’ve gotten used to it, even now as you try to push a loveseat through the door of your new apartment. It’s early in the morning and you didn’t want to waste time moving your things to the new place, given that you have a shift in the hospital this afternoon. You’re exhausted already, and it’s not even nine in the morning. Maybe you’ve underestimated the weight of a loveseat. During your struggle, you don't notice you're blocking the way in the hallway until you hear someone clear their throat. The sound makes you jump and you quickly look up to find a very handsome man staring at you. Heat creeps on your neck and cheeks immediately.

“Do you need help with that?” He asks, gesturing to the loveseat.

You usually don't accept help from strangers, – no matter how handsome they are – but right now, you don't even think about refusing, the sweat down your back reminding you that this is only the start of a very busy day with moving.

"Please," you answer and watch him place his travel mug on the floor and move to help you push the loveseat into your new apartment.

"Where do you want it to be?" He asks, his raspy voice sending shivers on your skin. You give him the directions, pointing to a corner in the living room and tell him you plan to leave it there.

"Thank you." You sigh, already worn out by the physical labor.

He laughs softly and lets out a breath. "No problem. I’m Marcus."

You give him your name with a nod. The smile he gives you is breathtaking and you have to look away or he’d catch you staring.

"You need help with anything else?" He puts his hands on his hips, letting out a small sigh.

"Oh, no, that's okay!" you quickly answer, shaking your head. "I see you're off to work. I won't hold you any longer."

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He smiles at you. Your cheeks warm under his gaze and you smile shyly at him. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the 44.”

“Thank you.”

You watch him leave with a smile on your face and your heart hammering inside your ribcage.

…

Your hands still shake as you wash them, watching the diluted blood go down the drain of the sink. His eyes are still plastered in your mind, those chocolate colored orbits full of fear that almost made you hesitate.

“Marcus stay with me, okay? Don’t close your eyes.” Your own voice echoes inside your head over and over and the image of him covered in his own blood won’t leave you alone as you wash his blood from your hands.

“Hey.” A soft voice startles you and you jump, looking at your coworker, Anne, through the mirror. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you wash your hands harder.”

You look at your now clean hands and blink, turning the faucet off. You could swear they were still covered in blood. Letting out a shaky breath, you move to dry your hands with paper towels.

“You know him, don’t you?” She asks when you don’t say anything. “The guy who got shot?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “He’s my neighbor.”

It’s not every day that chaos happens in the emergency room, despite what people think, so you’re not really used to it yet. When the time comes, you do your best as a nurse to help people and do your job.

But when you saw Marcus being wheeled in, something inside almost made you stop. You almost didn’t know what to do, almost stopped in your tracks, and panicked as soon as you realized it was him, with a gunshot wound and bleeding badly. Then, your instincts kicked in and you acted fast, trying to stop the bleeding before a doctor came. He kept looking at you with those eyes, panic and fear in them, and kept talking to him, trying to make him stay awake. You managed to stop the bleeding and he tried to speak, reaching for you, as they rushed him to the OR.

You barely registered the brush of his hand to yours as they wheeled him away, his eyes fixated on you until he was out of sight.

“Oh,” Anne pulls you out of your own thoughts and gives you a malicious look. “You and him…?”

“What?” You frown at her as you leave the bathroom. “I just met him, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“A sexually frustrated one, who needs to get laid.” She starts walking by your side.

You stop walking and look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow.” You shake your head and head to the ER again. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

Anne is the first friend you’ve made when you were hired to work at the hospital and you made the mistake to tell her the last time you’ve been with someone was over three years ago. Now she won’t stop bugging you about it.

“No, wait, sorry!” She tried to fix it, running after you. “I just thought– I’m sorry, I–” She sighs. “It’s just the way you looked at him…”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It was just a look. He looked at you the same way and I thought… You also knew his name and he said yours…”

“He said my name?” You widen your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?”

Shaking your head, the line between your brows deepens. There’s something about Marcus, something you can’t put a name on it, that keeps tugging on you. You decide to ignore it and go on with your day, but he never leaves your mind.

Anne is the one who informs you that Marcus is stable, hours after he came in. Alive. You visibly relax at the words, earning a knowing look from her. You don’t talk to her for the rest of the day, not because you’re upset, but because you were busy during your shift. When she’s about to leave, she touches your shoulder and whispers:

“Room 117.”

You don’t need to ask what she’s talking about. But maybe she knows you better than you thought.

It’s not until your shift is over that you decide to follow her unspoken advice. Gathering your things, you shoulder your purse and walk to the room in question before you can change your mind. The nurses in the ward are quite nice and they let you in the room, saying Marcus has been in and out of sleep all day. Some friends had come to visit and left him things, but now he was alone. So they let you sneak in for a few minutes.

When you enter the room, he’s asleep. He looks peaceful, rested. Different from when you saw him earlier. You’re tempted to touch his face or hold his hand, but you refrain from doing that and check the IV instead.

“I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.” His voice is rough, tired, and laced with sleep. You look at him to see his tired eyes, his gaze soft on you. “Knew it was you…”

Sighing, you offer him a smile. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I didn’t know you were a nurse.” He smiles at you. It must be the drugs, but the smile is honest, wide. It makes your stomach churn in pleasure.

“You sound disappointed,” You answer, sitting on the chair beside the bed.

“I’m not.” Marcus huffs a laugh and then grimaces, hugging his torso with one arm. You grimace too, touching his arm and pulling it gently from the wound.

“Try not to… touch it.” Your voice is gentle as you place his arm by his side, your fingers brush against his warm skin.

He looks at you and there’s something different in his eyes. A light in them. A flash of the memory of him covered in blood appears in your mind and you have to look away, letting out a deep sigh.

“They told me…” He starts when the silence stretches out. “They told me if a nurse hadn’t stopped the bleeding, I wouldn’t…”

When Marcus trails off, you look back at him and your eyes meet his, holding his gaze surprised.

“Was it you?” He whispers, his fingers twitching, wanting to touch your hand. You nod in silence but don't speak, deciding to leave the details out. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” You say quietly.

“You saved my life.” He insists.

You pause for a moment, holding his gaze before tearing it away from him as you speak.

“You save a life, you’re a hero. You save a hundred, you’re a nurse.”

“Who told you that?” He laughs again.

“It’s just common sense.” You shrug at him, smiling too.

“Well, common sense can go fuck itself.” He watches as you snort a laugh. “You saved my fucking life, and I am grateful.”

The smile you give him is genuine and honest, and it makes you feel like a teenager looking at her school crush. You stare at each other for a moment before you clear your throat and stand up.

“I should go.”

“Will you come by tomorrow?” He asks before you could say anything else. You pause to look at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. You wonder, once again, if it’s because of the drugs and if he’ll change his mind once they’re not in his system anymore. But you nod anyway and tell him you’ll try.

…

Marcus ended up staying at the hospital one more night. You went to visit him after your shift again and told him about your day and he revealed he was an FBI Agent and got shot during a task force. He was as happy to see you as he was the night before. After that, when you arrived at the ward to visit him again, the nurses said he was sent home that morning. You couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire day and the feeling of butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t leave you alone. That night, you knocked on his door to see if he needed anything.

“If I knew, I could have brought you home,” You told him, fidgeting with your keys nervously.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “I had my partner pick me up.”

“Oh.” The smile falls from your face and embarrassment takes over you. “I-I didn’t know you had a partner.”

Marcus huffed a laugh and shook his head. “My work partner, I mean.”

“Oh,” You laughed at yourself, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Sorry, I forgot you were a federal agent.”

He laughed with you, but never at you. Eyeing the blush on your cheeks, he thought you were adorable, getting all flustered because of him.

“I wanted to tell you I was home, but I didn’t have your number,” He said, nonchalantly, after a small pause.

“Don’t worry about it, I never use my phone at work anyway.” You shook your head and he raised his brows, nodding at you. Marcus waited for the penny to drop. “D-do you want it? My number…” Before he could answer, you tripped over your words, stuttering to explain. “For-for emergencies, o-of course.”

“I’d love it.” He gave you one of those wide smiles you liked so much.

It’s funny to think about how a gunshot wound made you two get closer. You’ve been checking on him every night for the past three weeks, helping him change the bandage and cleaning the wound. He recovered quickly and was past the point where he needed help, but you didn’t mention it and neither did he. You kept showing up even after he was healed and fine.

You can't deny the tension and the feelings that come to light when you're with him. It's like you're eager to see him everyday, and every minute you're not with him is like torture. You get all happy and excited when your shift ends because you know you'll get to see him. You don't know if he feels the same, that's why you don't dare to breathe a word of it to him.

“I’d like to take you out some time,” He says, pulling you out of your thoughts. You look up from where you’re washing your hands at his kitchen sink and feel your cheeks warm. He smiles at you as he leans on the door frame of his kitchen. “You know,” He says quickly. “To thank you for the help. I happen to know a nice restaurant around the corner…”

Biting a smile down, you reach to turn the faucet off, drying your hands on a dishtowel. “Is it fancy?”

“A little.” He frowns his lips and then shrugs. “Not too much. Don’t wanna go overboard on the first date.”

“Ah, so it’s a date?” You smile at him, watching as he blushes.

“If-if you want to…”

You approach him until you're close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “I’d love to.”

Marcus smiles at you and then clears his throat, looking away from you. He lets out a deep sigh and smiles down at you.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asks. For a moment his eyes stare at your lips and you suppress a smile.

“Tomorrow?!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows.

“Or is that too soon?” His eyes shift from soft to worried. “We can go on the weekend–”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” You interrupt him, nodding.

Marcus sighs again and you both stare at each in silence for a moment. Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s looking at your lips again.

“Is it weird that I want to skip dinner and kiss you right now?” He says, voice low and quiet like you’re not the only person in the room. You feel like your heart is going to burst, hammering inside your chest, your cheeks burning intensely... Marcus realizes he maybe was out of line and starts apologizing. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean– I mean, I did mean, but– fuck, I–”

“It’s not weird.” You laugh. “But… Pay me dinner first, and then maybe you can kiss me.”

Marcus laughs and then nods.

“Deal.”

…

“Hey,” Marcus breathes when you open the door. He takes your form and you feel shy under his gaze. You’re wearing a black glittery bodycon dress that compliments your curves and black heels. “Wow.”

“Too much for a first date?” You playfully grimace at his reaction.

“No, no, no,” He’s quick to respond. “You look… Amazing.”

Biting your lower lips, you nod. “You too.”

Marcus frowns and looks down at his own clothes, a simple black suit. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You say softly, closing the door and locking it.

“But you see me in a suit almost everyday.”

“I know.” Turning your body to face him again, you see the redness on his cheeks and smile widely.

Both of you walk side by side in the streets, since the restaurant is around the corner, just like Marcus said. Your hand brushes occasionally against his and you feel the urge to touch him all of a sudden. Your stomach bubbles with anxiety, the good kind of anxiety that makes you eager for something. There’s a bit of nervousness in your chest as you sit down in front of him, and try to concentrate on the menu.

“So, do you bring all your neighbors here?” You ask, sipping your wine.

“Just the ones that save my life.” He shrugs, a teasing smile on his face. A soft laugh leaves your lips. “Did you always want to be a nurse?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Since I was a kid. I broke my arm once and ended up in the hospital.” A smile spreads on your face. “There was this nurse in the ER and… She was really kind to me. Ever since I just knew I– wanted to be like her.”

“So, you like helping people?”

“I do.” You pause and smile at him as he looks at you with adoring eyes. Your heart skips a beat. “And you? Did you always want to be a federal agent?”

Marcus lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “It was never in my plans. I actually went to art school.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was going to be a teacher, but…” He sighs. “Other things got in the way.”

“Other things?” You look at him, curious.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t explain and you don’t press him. “But I’m glad I chose this career.”

“Oh, so you like catching art thieves, huh?”

“Nah, it can get boring pretty quick.” Marcus shrugs, tilting his head. “But it led me to you, so…”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at him and shake your head.

“Sorry.” He laughs. “Was that too corny?”

“Yes, it was!” You laugh, smiling at him. He laughs with you, taking his glass of wine and bringing it to his lips.

“I haven’t done the date thing in a while, please go easy on me.”

The confession makes you pause and look at him for a moment. “You’re kidding me.”

Marcus lets out a laugh and nods. “Two years.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, smiling.

“Why not?” His voice is laced with laughter and happiness and it makes you smile even more.

“I mean, you’re so nice and… handsome and,” you try to ignore the heat creeping on your neck. “I’m just surprised you’re not married yet.”

And just like that, Marcus’s smile falls from his face and your heart drops. His demeanor changes and, suddenly, he’s not very receptive anymore. He tries to hide the change of mood but you pick it up fast and sigh quietly.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, grimacing at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Marcus laughs softly, giving you a tight smile. “It’s okay.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry.” He assures with a soft voice and then hesitates. “Yeah, I, uh– I was married once.” A pause hangs in the air as you nod at him, encouraging him to continue. “A-and then, there was someone, but… She chose someone else.”

You can see the insecurity in his eyes when he looks away, feeling your heart clench at the thought. Marcus is an amazing man, caring and kind, why would someone ever think of leaving him?

“I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, reaching for his hand over the table. His skin is warm and rough under your fingers and you try to ignore the pleasant butterflies in your stomach. “For what’s worth, I think they were fools. No one in their sane mind would–”

Marcus raises his eyebrows when you interrupt yourself, your face on fire. You clear your throat as you start to pull away from him, but he squeezes your hand, stopping you. The rough pads of his fingertips press against your skin and you swear you feel a wave of electricity running through your veins.

“What were you going to say?” He asks softly.

Laughing softly, you hesitate. “I, uh– I just don’t see why s-someone in their sane mind would–” You exhale shakily. “Leave you. You-you just seem like a nice guy, that’s all…”

He gives you a half-smile, mesmerized by you.

“You’re adorable.” He lets it escape and squeezes his eyes shut, mentally cursing himself. You laugh softly, looking away from him and feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’m so–”

“Don’t apologize.” You interrupt, smiling at him. “I kinda like it.”

A smile splits his features and you sigh. When the food arrives, you both eat and talk like you’re old friends. With Marcus, it’s easy to talk and get to know each other. He makes you strangely comfortable, which is something you’ve never felt on a first date. You feel peaceful, despite the initial jitters you felt earlier.

“Not bad for a first date, huh?” He says, once you both are back at your doorstep.

“The best first date, actually,” you tell him, smiling. “I had a great time, Marcus. Thank you.”

"You're welcome," he says softly. He's close to you, his body almost touching yours. His eyes are looking deeply into yours like he knows all of your secrets and you fight the urge to look away. You don't feel shy anymore, growing used to his loving gaze on you.

"Are you gonna kiss me, or what?" You whisper quietly, and Marcus laughs, the sound of it echoing in the hallway.

"Is that okay?" He asks as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours.

"Yeah."

Marcus closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips gently on yours. Butterflies flip in your stomach and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your heart speeds up as you cup his cheek, his beard tickling the palm of your hand. It's soft and sweet and gentle, and it's nothing like you've felt before.

When he pulls away, his lips mere centimeters from yours, he lets out a shaky breath, smiling.

"I want to take you out again," he whispers softly, eyes still closed. "I'd really like to get to know you better."

A soft breath leaves your lips as you let your hand fall to your side. He waits patiently, ready to tell you it's okay to say no, but your answer surprises him.

"I know a nice drive-in theater we could go." You smile when you see the look on his face. "Let me take you."

He nods, brushing his knuckles on your cheeks. "Next Friday?"

You nod. "It's a date, then."

Marcus laughs and shakes his head as you turn around to unlock your door. The butterflies in your stomach give you a pleasant sensation as you enter your apartment, smiling like an idiot.

Maybe Lady Luck is by your side after all.

__

@goldafterglow​ @forever-rogue​ @bestintheparsec​ @murdermewithbooks​ @hiscyarika​ @haildoodles-writing​ @aerynwrites​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @adikaofmandalore​ @theocatkov​

[littlx-songbxrd]

Ok I meant to answer you're question about what I thought of the show ages ago but I forgot.

I LOVED IT OMGGGG! I got so many kitty vibes from Wilhelm and Simon! The touching! The softness! It's those vibes exactly! I want that energy in TWP.

COMRADE SIMON!! We stan! That speech he made at the very beginning about the differences in attitudes towards "tax evasion" vs. "Welfare fraud." Legend behavior.

Sara!!!! My girl!!!!!! An autistic/adhd character PLAYED BY AN AUTISTIC ACTRESS!!!! THIS IS SO HUGE!!! I would die for my problematic queen. I made an entire post on her but the gist is, I get where she's coming from and understand why she feels the way she feels but dear God girl make better choices and stay the hell away from August.

Speaking of.... I wanna run August over several times. Vroom vroom motherfucker. The fact that he

- filmed MINORS HAVING SEX AND TGE POSTED IT ONLINE

-kissed Sara behind Felice's back when they were still dating WITHOUT HER CONSENT BTW

- Wanted to blame Simon for the drugs because he knew it would be easy because Simon's family is lower class and doesnt have the same social standing as one of the "members of the society"

- Also it didn't escape my notice that the cult like faternety type group with all the rich, mainly white boys is called The Society. This shows commentary on class is vv interesting. Especially the little things like two girls just randomly advocating for THE DEATH PENALTY. The rich people audacity.

-Anyways back to August, when he tried to excuse his actions with Wilhelm and get all teary like no bitch you can't manipulate your way out of this one. And again with Sara! When he said "Wilhelm has everything" I wanted to scream! Like he's fucking closeted and clearly suffering from panic attacks and extreme anxiety you moron.

-Anyways!! I also think that Wilhem might be autistic because he just feels autistic. Like the vibes are there.

- The girl group is so sweet? And to have the popular girl be a Black girl who isn't "stereotypically attractive" with a more medium sized body and bad acne. As someone who has really bad skin I needed that. Felice is kinda awesome imo.

Let me see what else??

-Simon and his mom speaking Spanish consistently throughout the show. It sounded pretty natural to me? But I'm not a native speaker. (Or even fluent honestly lol.)

- Simon and Wilhelm are honestly so adorable and in love and it made my heart ache. (I am so touch starved I swear..)

-My only main beef is the outing plotline and the show using an outdated medical term for Sara, aspergers. It's literally just autism. Also it's kind of offensive because Hans Asperger was a n*zi who literally killed autistic children because they weren't useful to capitalism. SOOOO yeah.

As for the outing plotline, I feel like the cishets have like three plotlines that they use for queer stories. Outing/coming out, one of them dies, or one if them bullies the other until they both fall in love. It's tired.

But overall I really loved it.

HI SORRY I HADNT REPLIED

I wanted to correctly talk to you about this series so I logged in through my computer to make it easier for me :D

LOOK AT THIS POINT IVE RELATED THEM TO LITERALLY EVERY COMFORT SHIP I HAVE LIKE. I've compared this to kitty, I've compared this to Thomastair, I've compared this to my friends to ocs who she has obsessed me with (youd actually like them if you liked this tbh) IVE COMPARED ME TO MY OCS

BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY I JUST LOVE THEM

IF KITTY DOESNT HAVE THIS ENERGY IN TWP WHAT WAS THE POINT

what was the point cc??

S I M O N

OH GOD WHEN HE SAID THAT I WENT OMG YEAH

new favorite character

Great

SHES PLAYED BY AN AUTISTIC ACTRESS?? Sorry I hadn't known! Haven't actually gotten to obsessively look at the cast I've been trying to get over the last episode BUT THATS SO COOL. SARA IS AMAZING AND I ADORE HER. I'll read your post after this! But of course STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM AUGUST GIRL PLEASE

Tbh I understood where she was coming from with everything with Simons image falling apart and her having to suffer when she had just started having friends , just after finding he had been lying to her. But love, AUGUST?

A U G U S T ???

WHO JUST FOUND OUT OUTED YOUR BROTHER

Also random and stealing this from @marzzinaa i totally hc Sara as a demi girl for some reason

Im kinda sad we didnt see her speak spanish as much we did simon :(

But oh well I LOVE HER AND YEAH STAY AWAY FROM AUGUST GOD

FAE WE RUN HIM OVER TOGETHER BROOM BROOM

You already said it all, I just agree

Ok I'll bring a machete you bring whatever you wish and we kill him sound good?

ALSO YEAH I TOTALLY NOTICED HOW THE ECONOMIC DINAMICS CAME INTO PLAY AND HOW IT BASICALLY LET YOU KNOW HOW THE PRIVILEGED ELITES COULD GET AWAY WITH ANYTHING

meanwhile they wanted to pass off to Simon who came from a lower class family the blame

Also I'd like to mention how that would also play into the stereotype latinos are all drug dealers

Which I love how they didnt make his dead beat alcoholic man the latino parent, when I first read the description I thought they might do that, but im so glad they didnt

I think it might have been a comentary idk i liked that they DIDNT make the poc parent the dead beat

THE FRIEND GROUP WAS SO COOL AND I LOVED ALL OF THEM AND YES FELICE WAS JUST <3

I love how they didnt make her stereotypically perfect AND YES MID SIZED REP WAS AMAZING TO SEE

Also im so glad you got to see that represented!!

So I am a native speaker and him talking to his mom MADE ME CRY

it was WONDERFUL I WANT MORE OF IT

pls most her phrases reminded me to my own mom

Autistic wilhelm you say?? omg tell me more (if you want)

Oh thats awful, well I'll just refer to Sara as autistic and hope the showrunners fix that next season because if they dont-

Yikes

Oh yeah, thats valid critisism. But in my opinion they actually wrote it pretty well so I wont really be complaining about an overall media problem with queer stories rn. If so I'll be here all day. But yeah its an overall problem but it wasnt done bad in my opinion so!

I'll shut up, for now

IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT FEEL FREE TO KEEP TALKING ABOUT IT WITH ME PLS ITS MY OBSESSION NOW IM GONNA BE ANNOYING ABOUT IT ALL MONTH

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley IV

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

"...The day lily also serves as a symbol of coquetry. Because it blooms at sunrise and closes at sunset, it shows that it doesn’t intend to stay around long.”

Release Date: 05/29/20 @ 7 pm 

previously ~ next

         When YN opened her eyes, she immediately recoiled with disgust. "Fuck." She jumped out of bed and searched through her bag until she found her suppressants. YN had long gotten used to the symptoms of preheat to know when to begin the medication. It made her feel strange, especially when her heat came but it was the lesser of two evils. Now that she lived with four alphas, and three betas, she didn't want to take any risks. Even if they were more than twenty feet away in their luxurious mansion. In her groggy state, she chugged two pills down and placed the carton, although threw is a better word, on her bedside table near her phone. Then she headed to the bathroom, ready to begin her day. It was the delicious smell of food that dragged her out of the bathroom ten minutes later, with a towel wrapped around her now clean body.

           "Morning." Hoseok stood in the middle of the room with a plate of golden waffles, topped with strawberries and syrup. YN was so preoccupied with the sight of the food, that she failed to realize the predicament she was in. Until the alpha's darkening gaze reminded her of the state of undress she was in. "Um", YN held up her finger quickly gathering some clothes and rushing back into the bathroom to dress. Idiot. Why didn’t I sense him? That was worrying, even in her preheat state she should be able to sense another alpha near. When she exited the bathroom again, the plate of food was set down in the countertop of the small kitchenette. The alpha in question was seated in the corner of her bed.

           “Sorry to intrude, but I figured you were hungry. Plus, I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable given what happened last night.”

           Right, last night had seemed to prove her worst fears true. Still, Jungkook’s behavior was bizarre. In all the time, YN had known him the alpha had never been so unstable. “What did happen last night?" Hoseok shrugged as if it was nothing out of the ordinary when their behavior had proved the opposite. "Jungkook gets a bit anxious around you. He still blames himself and hates that he screwed up to the point where you reject us." She already knew this, but that wasn't what had scared her last night. It was their reactions to it: how the men seemed so calm, yet quick to assert their dominance. How Namjoon's words had suddenly shifted the way Jungkook behaved.

            Hoseok, seeing her discomfort, stood up and walked towards her cautiously. "YN," he placed his hand on her shoulder near where her mark was. The small action caused it to throb and she was sure he noticed. "I'm sure you're aware that alphas tend to butt heads. It's instinctual and Jungkook liked to test us often. We had told him not to bring it up, but we should've known better." YN remained silent. Not sure how to respond to Hoseok. Jungkook was a brat, that much was true, but he didn't seem like the instigator type. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.

           "Sure, yeah. Whatever you say." Hoseok smiled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "Eat your waffles before they get cold. Seokjin made them with lots of love." She couldn't help but grimace at the last part but Hoseok only chuckled. The man excused himself, waving goodbye and telling YN to call him if she needed anything. Reluctantly, she took a bite out of the waffles and it hurt her pride to admit they were good. So good in fact, that she had all but licked the plate clean in five minutes. After washing it, she headed straight for her bed. Disconnecting her charging phone from where it rested, YN failed to notice what was missing. Upon unlocking the screen, a plethora of messages greeted her.

           The most worrying were the emails of all the aids that had been lost once they had been 'notified of her change in status.' It seems the world truly was out to get her. The money her parents gave her was barely enough for rent; how was she supposed to pay for insurance or anything else. I can’t do this anymore. A migraine was settling in, mixed with her preheat and ever-growing frustration at her situation - YN wanted to cry. Not that she would, but she really wanted to. Letting out a deep sigh, she turned towards her side. Casting a look outside the glass doors towards the house.  

           Out of all of them, Namjoon was the one she was closest to and even that was a relative term. She trusted him in a sense, he was the lead alpha and controlled all of them, but YN knew how flimsy Namjoon was to apply said power. Last night was one extreme but from what she could remember he tended to be lax with his mates. Entirely the opposite of most alphas, YN knew. Then again perhaps the incident had been a sobering moment for Namjoon. YN could only hope. She didn’t have his number, so it meant she would have no choice but to enter the house. Mustering all the strength she could, YN stood up and made her way towards the house.

            Namjoon's room was on the top floor, room was a bit of an understatement, as with the size of the manor YN had an inkling that the rooms resembled apartments. Namjoon's however was a full-on penthouse with what might be the largest bed she'd ever seen. Don’t even think about it. The man in question was seated in a large chair in the left-hand corner of the room, staring into a computer screen whilst on the phone. Their eyes met and Namjoon flashed her a quick smile before beckoning her into the room, signaling one of the chairs in front of the desk. YN may not have been able to sense Hoseok before, but this room reeked of Namjoon's woody, coniferous scent. She had been in the room for less than a minute but was sure the alpha's scent had already clung to her body. I’m going to have to shower again.

           Namjoon was speaking far too low for YN to be able to pick up on anything he said, but from his tone, she could tell it was important. She sat down in one of the leather chairs and looked around the room trying to distract herself. The room was minimalistic in nature, most of the furniture either being made of wood or having wooden accents. Back in school, Namjoon had always been a fan of nature. The two of them had met briefly when helping tend the valley, but it wasn't until she had shared a class with him that they really bonded. It was like he had known her all his life, they way clicked, YN had never experienced anything like it.  

           Even back then, she had known he was mated. Pack bonds were rare and a pack bond with seven men - specifically four alphas - was the talk of the school. From what YN had heard through rumors, Namjoon presented at fourteen which was the first sign of anomalies. Still, YN had always seen him as more of a beta. He was far too kind, even if his kindness had only really extended to her among all of their classmates. Maybe he knew back then. There were old wives tales that said strong alpha’s could detect sub-gender’s before people presented, but that was mainly based on stereotyping.

           “You’re in preheat.” The statement caught her off guard. YN whipped her head to find Namjoon off the phone, resting his face on his hands. A teasing smile on his lips.

           “How do you-”

           “I can sense it. Are you? I have to know, wouldn’t want to be caught off guard.” There was something hidden in those words.

           “Yes, but don’t worry. I have suppressants.” At her words, Namjoon’s brow raised slightly, but since the smile remained on his face YN ignored it.

           Namjoon cleared his throat, straightening up. “I’m sorry about last night. We didn’t mean to scare you, things just got out of control. Jungkook can get a bit testy when he’s anxious and truthfully we should’ve known he would try something.” His words were the exact same as Hoseoks. Huh. YN forced a smile, “Don’t worry. Hoseok already explained things to me this morning. But, um, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes were peering deeply as if trying to read her mind, YN cast her eyes downward to the desk.

           “I hate to keep being a bother and I know that you guys have already helped me a lot.”

           “YN, I told you already what's ours is yours. Whatever you want just say it.”

           “I’ve lost all my benefits since under the eyes of the law, I’m mated.”

           Namjoon crossed his arms, “Uh-huh.” From two syllabus YN could already garner the change in attitude. He knew where she was going with this, but wouldn’t offer her an easy way out. “I need those things in order to survive. I can’t afford to live on my own, even though I’m thankful for you allowing me to live here...I can’t do it forever.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly, it reminded her of what she had witnessed last night. He muttered something under his breath, causing YN to meet his gaze. It was cold. Dark. Ravenous.

           “I know what you’re asking of me, but I won’t do it.” YN opened her mouth to protest, but he held his hand up displaying that he wasn’t finished. Silencing her the way one might a child.

            “The only way I can relinquish my claim on you would be if another alpha stepped up. Not only that, but you’d have to complete a mating bond with them. So, all your benefits would remain lost.” It was embarrassing, the condescending way that he spoke. YN was already aware of all this, but she couldn’t just give up. Couldn’t resign herself to an unfair life, simply because of what perceived was ‘right’ or ‘wrong.’ “Not to mention pack bonds are extremely rare, so even if I wanted to or you wished to - we might not be allowed to break our bond.” YN scoffed, “I’m not your mate. There has never been any record of an omega displaying a pack bond.” She was tired of the excuses. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. Nor do I want to. I didn’t consent to be bitten.”

           “You consented to sharing your first heat with a newly presented alpha. Both of you were reckless.”

           YN stood up the chair screeching loudly against the hardwood floor. “I know it was reckless. I know it was stupid. But I wasn’t thinking in the moment, just like he wasn’t thinking. It was all instinct.”

         Namjoon ran his hands through his hair, jaw now locked and YN could see how tense he was. The pheromones were radiating off him and it wasn’t helping her preheat, not at all. “If you weren’t attracted to him you wouldn’t have accepted. Hell the partial bond wouldn’t have even occurred if you weren’t mates because it's physiologically impossible.” YN was feeling a whirlwind of emotions and felt herself losing control of her body. Namjoon’s stench was too much, she was practically choking on it but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Please Namjoon.” The alpha shook his head, walking out from behind the desk and towards her. YN cowered, until his arms wrapped around her.

         “Calm down. It’s okay, Lily. Calm down.” He pet her hair affectionately and YN found that she was able to breathe again, little by little. “Shush, it’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled. I promise to never do that again.” Slowly all the anger seemed to fade, as Namjoon held her against him. YN wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, but knew it must’ve been a while since her muscles were beginning to tense. Gently she pushed herself away from Namjoon, ending their embrace.

         “Please YN. I know it’s been hard these past few years, but it’s been the same for us.” All the darkness was gone from his eyes, only warm chocolate remained. Namjoon eyed her mark as he spoke, “You were so close to us, but because of a mistake you were out of our grasps. It broke us.” YN shook her head, she no longer wanted to dwell on the subject. “I’ll stay Namjoon. I’ll stay, let’s just drop it for now.” This seemed to satisfy the alpha as he nodded and smiled once more. Tentatively Namjoon leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to YN’s forehead. It sent her body into a frenzy and almost triggered her heat.

           “You’ve had such a long week. You should have fun, go out, relax a little.”

           “Do you mean go on a date?”

           “Sure, if you want to. Whatever you want, we’ll treat you to it.”

           “A date with all of you?” YN was hesitant, not to mention everyone seemed on edge as of late. Especially her.

           “No, not all of us. Hoseok and Taehyung can take you. They’ll behave.” It was the way he spoke that implied a reason to misbehave. There was mischief in Namjoon’s eyes and YN wasn’t in the mood nor the right physical state to find out the reason for it.

           “Alright.”

           YN would have rather not gone on the date, truthfully. However, if she had to choose...why couldn’t it be Jimin and Yoongi? It wasn’t that they weren’t threatening, but they seemed the least threatening. Especially compared to who she was actually going to be accompanied by.

           “Ready to go?” Taehyung asked, holding his hand out. YN let out a breath she didn’t she was holding in, as she reluctantly placed her hand in his. Taehyung grinned in response, while Hoseok simply rolled his eyes at the younger. They walked side by side, until they reached the side entrance and left through their. Paying more attention now than she was when she arrived, YN noticed the camera’s. “I didn’t know you guys had cameras.” It was a casual comment, but she felt Taehyung tense slightly. Hoseok on the other hand remained calm as he turned to look at her, “We have a lot of precious things to protect.”

           “So YN. Where do you want to go? Shopping? To a restaurant?” Taehyung was beaming with excitement and though the contrast between his personalities and looks should’ve unnerved her. It had the opposite effect.

           “Wherever you want.”

           Hoseok leaned forward to whisper in the driver’s ear, then turned to them. “Let’s just go for a drive.”

           It was a nice area where they lived, much nicer than her old neighborhood. Various mansions lined the streets, each standing out in their own unique way. They were nice to look at and YN thought that going for a walk around the area might be good sometimes. It was something she used to do when she was younger, before she presented. YN had to lean over the men sometimes to get a better look, she wasn’t aware of how close she was until Taehyung cleared his throat. When she turned to face him, they were mere inches separating them.

           “Sorry,” YN mumbled and sat straight up in her seat. Her thoughts were beginning to grow hazy and she had less control over herself. This heat was going to be a strong one, but strong or not her pills should’ve been working. YN had tried to take more before the date, after her run in with Namjoon resulted in her needing to take a cold shower. The packet of pills, however, was nowhere to be found. She’d looked everywhere and was certain it had to be somewhere in her room.

           “Penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok teased, out of all their scents, his was the nicest: warm, fresh, almost like a sunny day.

            YN shook her head, “Just wondering, where we are going?”

            “Wherever the road will take us.” Taehyung answered, not even bothering to look their way.

             Not that it mattered, for it seemed YN and Hoseok were in a staring contest of sorts. Both of them drinking the other in with no intention of stopping. YN’s heart began to race and she cursed herself for not being able to resist the man. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” Hoseok whispered, as if telling her a valuable secret. YN raked her brain for an answer, for an answer the man could possibly want. When she came empty handed, he pushed again. “Even if its something dumb or reckless. Promise I won’t laugh.” For that one moment, YN forgot all about her fears. Out went her dislike and frigidness, in its place was comfort.

             “I always wanted to get a tattoo when I was younger.”

             Taehyung interlaced his hand in hers drawing YN’s attention. His smile was Cheshire- like as he spoke, “Let’s do it.”

         “Maybe this wasn’t the smartest decision.”

         “Don’t be a wimp.”

         “It looks like it hurts.”

         “It doesn’t. Stop trying to psych yourself out.”

         “Taehyung enough,” Hoseok muttered as he looked over the forms once more. Confirming everything was right, he signed on the bottom and was quickly handed a copy. Now there was no backing out, though something did bother YN. “Won’t Namjoon be upset?” She hadn’t even realized what her asking that implied, but the men sure did pick up on it. Taehyung winked and Hoseok spoke with ease, “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

        “So, what will it be?” The tattoo artist asked, finally back after giving you some time to look over his designs. “I'm not sure. Maybe something like this,” YN pointed to a fine line of two roses, “but with a different flower.” The artist nodded and then looked up at the alpha standing beside her, “Is that alright?”

       “Whatever she wants.” Hoseok answered, not even looking up from his phone. Taehyung on the other hand was observing all the different tattoos and paintings hung on the wall. He seemed interested in them, so YN didn’t understand why he didn’t get one. The tattooist turned back to YN, “Alright, what flower do you have in mind?”

       “You should do lilies.” Taehyung commented, not even bothering to look up from the photographs. YN frowned, “Lilies? Why lilies?”

       “I mean you do kinda smell like lilies.” YN’s eyes widened at the artist’s statement and it seemed to have upset Taehyung and Hoseok. The latter emitting a low warning growl from his throat. “Uh- I meant no disrespect. At all.” The man looked terrified and YN went to say that it was alright, but Taehyung intercut.

      “Just do your job and don’t make comments about my mate.”

      “Of course,” The artist scrambled to get his supplies ready and signaled YN to get in the chair. She shot a look at Taehyung and Hoseok, but both returned to whatever they were doing. Once situated on the chair the artist asked where she wanted the tattoo. Without a second of though, YN signaled to her right collarbone just below where the bite was. It would be nice to be able to look at herself in the mirror and not instantly be reminded of the incident. Of the situation she was in. Pretty flowers might be a nice distraction.

     “Is that alright?” The tattooist asked once more, his voice trembling slightly. Now Taehyung and Hoseok’s attention was fully on her, more specifically her bite mark. The men exchanged a look YN couldn’t decipher, but figured it would be best not to further push them. Especially given how they reacted to the tattooer’s words.

      “Whatever she wants.”

       “Leave that on for two hours and then you can shower. Try not to rub that area too harshly. Oh, also apply non humectant moisturizers on it for around a month. It should be good by then.”

       YN nodded to all the instructions and thanked him once the job was done. Taehyung seemed excited to get home, even Hoseok seemed to be in lighter spirits. Once they were back in the car, it dawned on YN just how exhausted she was. Her limbs were trembling and she kept zoning in and out throughout the drive. Stupid preheat. YN’s head rested on Taehyung’s shoulder while her feet rested on Hoseok’s lap. She didn’t exactly know how she’d gotten in this position, but she wasn’t complaining.

      “We’re almost there.”

       Taehyung brushed his fingers across her knuckles as if trying to lull her into actually falling asleep. What bit of her consciousness remained was struggling to keep her awake. When YN blinked, they had arrived home and Hoseok was helping her dismount the car. “Come on, sleepyhead.” Thankfully being on her feet, seemed to have given her the last bit of energy she needed to walk towards her room. YN bid goodbye to the men and closed the doors, going through her nightly routine half-asleep as she checked her messages.

Rosé: Hey, I have an appointment tomorrow to get a refill. Can you come with me?

YN: Sure.

        Placing her phone on her nightstand, YN noticed her pills were there and decided to take two. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be able to meet Rosé the next morning for YN’s heat struck that night.

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

Hii!! ive seen alot of you're good sub stories, and i reaaly enjoyed it alot since you're the first one to ever done that, i was thinking maybe could you do a hoshi one, thinking that he's been replaced bcs he was jealous of minghao taking over his place?? and maybe some mommy kink play of him?? thanks alot!

Here you go!

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!Hoshi, fem!dom!reader, overstimulation, bondage, pegging, mommy kink.

Your Muse

There weren't enough words on the planet to describe how much you loved your boyfriend. Hoshi was the sweetest and cutest boyfriend that you had ever had. You were surprised when you had found out that he felt the same way, thinking it was a dream. While most people thought it would be tiring to date an idol but you had been working with idols for quite a few years. You worked as a photographer, and you had been lucky enough to spot Hoshi one day when you were taking a walk, finding him so beautiful that you just had to ask if you could take a picture. You had happened to run into him a few days later, and then the day after that one as well. You eventually decided to start talking to each other, leading to your perfect relationship. 

     Hoshi had never really been one for photography or anything like that, often opting to sit and wait for everyone else to finish and continue with his day. After he had met you, however, you always took at least one picture of him every time you went out together. You had always told him that he just looked so beautiful everywhere he went, so somebody had to capture the moment. Hoshi was the perfect model, you had told him at least a million times, always leaving him a giggly, flustered mess. You had even started calling him your muse, a nickname that he loved dearly knowing that out of the countless attractive idols you took pictures of, you had chosen him.

     While you had taken pictures of many different kpop idols and bands, you had never taken photos of Seventeen and Hoshi was determined to change that. Ever since he found out that their usual photographer couldn't make it to their next photoshoot, he had been dropping not so subtle hints to hire you. They eventually gave in and called to ask if you were free. You excitedly agreed, and decided not to tell Hoshi so you could surprise him. The morning of the photoshoot, you couldn't stop smiling as you were reminded that you would be working with your boyfriend. You quickly got dressed and you were pretty sure you might've broken a few laws to drive there as fast as you could. You had gotten there before the boys did so you could help with setting everything up. 

     The first thing you heard when the boys showed up was BooSeokSoon screaming about something, though it was cut off by a squeal as Hoshi locked eyes with you. He practically threw himself into your arms, almost making you fall over. The rest of the boys had been confused for a second, until they had finally put the pieces together when he began peppering your face with kisses. They had known that he had a girlfriend but they hadn't met you before. They had quickly introduced themselves and began the photoshoot after basically prying Hoshi off of you. 

     The photoshoot ran smoothly, and you had already taken pictures for the majority of them. Hoshi decided that he wanted his pictures done last, knowing that you would take a million more than you needed to. The next person you had to take pictures of was Minghao, which you had known was one of the members from China. He had seemed a bit confused at first when you began telling him what to do, seeing as you talked very quickly most of the time. Luckily, you had studied abroad in China for about three years so you were pretty fluent in the language. He seemed thankful upon hearing his native language and the photoshoot continued. You had accidentally taken more time taking pictures of Minghao than you thought you would. He looked absolutely stunning and almost any pose he did looked amazing. Seokmin was waiting patiently to get his pictures taken as he sat next to the others. He rested his cheek in his palm, letting out an exasperated sigh as he watched you.

     "How long has it been since Minghao stepped up? It feels like it's been hours." Seokmin said, turning to look at the clock. Hoshi turned to look as well furrowing his eyebrows as he realized how long it had been. 

     "I'll go see if somethings wrong, though there really shouldn't be." He said as he stood up and began walking over to you. He lightly tapped your shoulder to get your attention. You smiled once you had turned around and saw him. 

     "Hey baby, what's up?"

     "Nothing, nothing. We just wanted to know if there was a problem with anything because you've been working with Minghao for a while." You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the clock, becoming surprised as you saw the time. 

     "Is it that late already? I must've gotten carried away then. Minghao, I think you're good for the day so you can go sit down now." He nodded and smiled at you and moved to sit with the others as Seokmin moved to get his pictures taken. 

     "So was there a problem with the camera or the lighting or something?" Hoshi asked, tilting his head adorably at you.

     "Oh no, Minghao was just a perfect model and I got carried away. He somehow managed to look good at every angle." Hoshi deflated slightly, feeling like something shot him through the heart. He had always prided himself on being your perfect model and hearing you call someone else that hurt. He pouted on his way back to his seat, resting his head on the table once he had sat down. After Seokmin and Woozi's pictures were done, they were allowed to take a break.

     Hoshi had decided to stop moping, reminding himself that you still loved him more than Minghao. After he had a few small snacks and sat with his bandmates for a while, he decided to go and talk to you. He felt that same pain in his heart as he saw you laughing with Minghao about something. He felt even worse as he saw you tell Minghao something that made him blush. He had tried to eavesdrop, but was disappointed as he heard you speaking in Chinese. He was about to ask Jun if he could come and translate for him, but was cut off as the director said that the break was over. You quickly finished up with everyone else and decided to stay a little while longer to take a few more pictures of your boyfriend, just for fun. The boys understood and left, bidding a quick goodbye, though Minghao said goodbye again as he passed by you with a bright smile that made Hoshi glare daggers into the back of his skull. You saw the sour expression on your boyfriend's face and furrowed your eyebrows.

     "Is something wrong baby?" Hoshi huffed and turned away from you.

     "Why do you care? Just go back to drooling over Minghao since he's just the perfect model." You stood confused for a second as Hoshi began to pack up both of your things, just wanting to get back home. You finally realized what he was pouting about and giggled.

     "Aww, is that what this is about?" He didn't answer, continuing to pack up his things. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't realize that it meant that much to you." You told him as you turned him around, forcing him to look at you and holding his face in your hands. "I really didn't mean it like that. Sure, Minghao's attractive and all but you're my baby, my muse, and I would never even think about choosing anyone else." He let out a quiet sigh.

     "I know, I know, it's just that you and Minghao seemed to get along so well. You didn't even talk to me during the break because you were too busy talking to him. I just- I don't like the fact that you two are bonding even faster than we did…" He trailed off, the floor looking much more interesting. You felt your heart crack slightly. How could he think you loved someone more than him?

     "No no no sweetheart, you have it all wrong. I was talking to him during the break because he was asking about the pictures. He's into photography so we talked about it for a little longer than I thought we would so I didn't get the chance to talk to you. I'm sorry if you thought I wasn't thinking of you baby." Hoshi looked up from the floor to look into your eyes, a small smile spreading on his face. He leaned forward to bury his face into your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist. You both just stood like that for a minute, content in each other's arms. Eventually he pulled back to press a loving kiss to your lips. 

     "I'm sorry, I guess I was just overthinking things." Hoshi said as he played with the hem of your shirt, a slight pout on his lips. You held his face in your hands again.

     "It's alright baby. I love you, more than anyone else in the world. Don't ever forget that." He smiled at your words, pulling you closer to rest his forehead on yours. 

     "I know, I love you too." He seemed to think for a second before a small smirk slowly spread across his face. "Y'know, maybe you need to remind me how much you love me…" He said slowly, gently grabbing your hands and bringing them to rest on his ass, "mommy." A shiver shot down your spine at the breathless way he had whispered in your ear. You let out a quiet growl and squeezed his ass, making him bite his lip.

     "Maybe I should." You both hurriedly shoved your things into the car and hurried home. As soon as you had arrived you pushed him against the nearest wall, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss. There was no fight for dominance as your tongue pushed its way into his mouth, claiming it's territory. Hoshi brought his hands up to tug and pull at your hair and he whimpered into your mouth. You pulled away for a second with your hands gripping his waist. 

     "C'mon baby, tell mommy what you want." You growled in his ear before leaning down to leave some marks on his neck. He whimpered, squirming in your grip.

     "W-want mommy to fuck me, please!" He whined, trying to grind his hips up into yours. 

     "You have to be more specific than that baby." You muttered between kisses, moving lower and lower on his neck. You felt his adam's apple bob beneath the touch of your lips.

     "W-want mommy to tie me up and r-ruin me! Please mommy! N-need to feel mommy cock pounding into me!" You groaned against his skin before pulling away from him to drag him to the bedroom. Once you had reached your destination, you pushed him onto the bed, pinning him beneath you. Your hands were roaming all over his body, tearing his clothes off quickly to leave him bare beneath you. His delicious sounds spurred you on as you left a light trail of kisses down his chest, making him whine in aggravation as you skipped over where he needed you most to leave hickeys on his inner  thighs. You bit down hard on one spot that made him whimper loudly before you pulled away. He whined and bucked his hips up, trying to get you to touch him. You merely chuckled and pecked his lips. 

     "Hands above your head baby." His eyes lit up as he did what he was told. You reached into your bedside drawer to pull out a black, silk ribbon to tie his hands to the headboard. You also pulled out a bottle of lube and your strap-on before putting the box back. He bit his lip and started squirming around as you squirted some lube onto your fingers. You chuckled at him before leaning down to pepper kisses on his face, trailing down his neck as you pushed one finger inside him. He moaned quietly, his eyes closing in bliss as you thrusted your finger into him. His noises got increasingly louder as you picked up the pace, soon adding a second finger. He threw his head back with a guttural moan as you added a third finger, spreading your fingers out to stretch him open. You saw his leaking dick twitch against his stomach, telling you he was going to cum soon. On any other day, you would have pulled out or teased him more, but Hoshi was surprised as you continued to finger him, working him through his first orgasm of the night. You slowly pulled your fingers out, leaning up to kiss him again. 

     "You look so pretty when you cum babyboy." Hoshi whimpered before gasping as he felt the tip of the strap-on slowly push into him. "Do you think you could do it again for mommy?" He whined needily, struggling against his restraints as you thrusted the rest of the fake cock into him. You grabbed the backs of his thighs, pushing his knees to his chest as you continued to pound into him. He practically screamed as the new angle allowed you to hit his prostate with every thrust. It didn't take long for him to feel another orgasm building up.

     "O-oh fuck! M-mommy! C-cum! G-gon- fuck - gonna c-cum!! Please l-let me cum mommy! A-AH!" You smirked, lightly running your nails over the backs of his thighs.

     "Go ahead baby." He threw his head back with his mouth hung open in a silent moan as he came again. Tears started to well up in his eyes as you didn't slow the pace of your hips, making him pull against his restraints harder. You leaned forward to leave kisses and marks on his neck, making him sob in pleasure. About two more minutes passed before he was begging to cum again, with tears running down his cheeks and drool seeping out the corner of his mouth. You smirked as you saw his dick twitch against his stomach.

     "C'mon babyboy, you can cum for mommy one more time can't you?" Hoshi sobbed, more tears streaming down his cheeks but nodded anyways. "Use your words baby." He whined, thrashing against the restraints.

    "Y-yes!! F-fuck- y-yes m-mommy!" You hummed in response and grabbed his dick, pumping it to match the pace you were thrusting into him. His back arched off the mattress as he came one last time with a loud cry. You slowed your thrusts, stopping once he had somewhat calmed down.

     You had to admit that this was always one of your favorite sights. Hoshi tied to the bed with cum covering his stomach and a gorgeous fucked out expression on his face. The tears and drool just seemed to make him look even more beautiful. You carefully pulled out of him before reaching over to grab your phone and snapped a picture, smirking as you set it as your home screen. You carefully untied Hoshi's wrists, giving light kisses to the red marks from how hard he had been pulling. You moved to the bathroom, leaving your strap-on in the tub to clean it and grabbed a wet rag to clean up your boyfriend. You cleaned the cum off his stomach and threw the rag to your laundry basket. You leaned forward to give Hoshi a loving kiss, brushing the hair that had clung to his forehead off once you had pulled away.

     "Are you alright baby?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. He weakly nodded with a small smile, turning to cuddle into you. You smiled softly at him, running your fingers through his hair. You pressed a light kiss to the top of his head as he started to fall asleep. " I love you, you know that right?" You felt Hoshi smile and press a light kiss to your skin before weakly muttering.

     "I know, I love you too."

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard IV: Vegas Lights (Chapter Seven) (B. Urie x Reader)

"WE NEED TO RECONVENE UPSTAIRS. COME ON."

Brendon's words echoed in your head, yet failed to properly sink in. Your feet moved on their own accord, instinctively following in the steps of the agent ahead of you. The hotel's various entertainment areas and their accents faded into a swirl of blurred colours and patterns; you shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose in hopes that it would recalibrate your vision.

It might have been all those tequila shots you'd taken with Ambrose, or the exceptional kiss you'd received a few moments earlier, but you were fairly certain that it was Brendon and his mesmerising, unnecessarily flirtatious performance that was responsible for your current state of disorientation.

A frown crept its way onto your face as you played back the last fifteen minutes in your mind – specifically, the parts where your bodyguard had gotten a bit too up close and personal with the hotel's female guests.

You were still following Brendon's lead, however your stride had slowed down enough so as to allow a couple feet of distance between the two of you. Sensing the change in proximity, the agent halted his movements and spun around to address you.

"Why the frown?"

Shaking your head, you avoided eye contact. "Just... thinking about your little... show."

His left eyebrow arched and there was a smirk playing on his lips. "You didn't like it?" he queried, feigning hurt, "It was for you."

Snapping your head back to look at him, you furrowed your brows and scoffed, stretching your arm out to gesture at the music lounge. "You sang to every girlin there."

"Yeah." He walked forward to minimize the distance between you and whispered lowly. "But where'd I end, though?"

With the intention of delivering a clever retort, you immediately opened your mouth to respond. Sadly for you, you couldn't think of a single thing to say in return, and instead resigned yourself to clicking your tongue at him irritatedly.

Satisfied with his little win, the brooding agent straightened himself up and smoothed his jacket. "Exactly. Besides..."

He started making his way to the elevator and you followed suit, leaning in slightly to ensure that you heard everything he was about to say.

"...not liked I danced with them. Unlike some people."

His voiced dropped to a low hum for that last sentence, but you caught it nontheless. You caught it, and you once again stopped dead in your tracks.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

It was abundantly clear that his quip was in reference to the whole "went-out-to-a-karaoke-bar-and-let-Aaron-Ross-serenade-you" thing, and honestly, you were insanely annoyed that he had brought it up.

After all, pretending to be dead and disappearing for eleven months was far worse.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you scoffed, clutching at your chest and widening your eyes, "I wasn't aware that dancing is a crime."

"It isn't," he shook his head, then tilted it to the side and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "Unless you do it without me."

"Oh, is that so?" you mumbled, skewing your face mockingly as you proceeded to overtake the agent in heading for the elevator. "Well maybe, if you had beenthere..."

Holding up his hands in a silent plea for you to stop talking, Brendon resumed his stride and sidled up next to you. Now that he was close enough to do so, he spoke into your ear.

"I don't intend on ever making that mistake again, believe me."

The two of you stepped into the elevator, standing shoulder-to-shoulder after pressing the button for your floor.

"I knew you sang," you scoffed, "You tried to deny it all those times, but I knew."

"Obviously. I literally sang you back to sleep once. What did you think that was, sweetheart? A dream?"

The elevator doors opened with a ding and seconds later, Brendon slipped out and down the hallway, leaving you to gawk after him.

"You literally said- UGH!"

✧✧✧

Minutes later. Your and Brendon's hotel suite.

"...so to summarise," Rollins made a circle with his hands, signifying that his recount of the last hour was coming to a pinnacle, "the lead was a bust and we just wasted a perfectly good distraction technique on nothing."

From the other side of the suite, over by the bar cart, Ambrose piped up. "On the bright side, we did bust a drug operation." Drink in hand, the Hound nudged Brendon with his elbow and leaned in to mutter some words. "I swiped a couple grams, if you wanna have a party later."

Already annoyed due to the fact that no one had managed to get anywhere with this case, Brendon clenched his jaw and exhaled fumingly at the Lunatic's immaturity. Turning his head sharply, he delivered a glare so deadly that it could be felt all throughout the suite.

Stepping back, Ambrose held up his free hand in a show of surrender, raising his brows. "Kidding. Jesus, lighten up a bit."

"I'll lighten up when we finally find a lead that's an actual fucking lead," the agent growled, grabbing Ambrose's drink out of his hand and downing it before rubbing his hands over his face.

"That was the closest thing we've had," Reigns reminded everyone, shaking his head in disdain, "I can't believe weof all people are in a rut."

Sick of the heavy, pessimistic aura in the room, you stood up and clapped your hands together once. Making sure that you looked each man in the eye, you called them down.

"We are not in a rut. We've been in Vegas for all of what, three days? Not all missions are walks in the park – you guys of all people should know that."

You were met with silence and four downcast gazes, and so you continued.

"Today was a particularly draining one; we're all tired, not thinking clearly, and some of us are still slightly inebriated so," you made your way over to the bathroom and placed on hand on the doorframe as you finished addressing your teammates, "let's all just call it a night, get some rest and then discuss our next move in the morning, okay? Okay. Wonderful. Now get out of my room, I need to take a shower."

A resounding slam echoed around the room as you emphasised your point by shutting the bathroom door. The lock clicked and taking that as their final cue, the four agents shifted from their respective spots around the suite and headed for the exit.

Given that there was twenty feet and a thick plastered wall seperating you and your teammates, it wasn't at all possible for you to overhear any conversation that arose between them. Nevertheless, Brendon waited to hear the water spouting from the shower head before he started speaking.

"Since this case is clearly going nowhere slowly..." Brendon stopped in front of the door, running a hand through his hair before placing both hands on his hips. The Hounds ceased their steps and listened intently. "I'm gonna call Weekes. In the meantime, I want you guys to keep looking for Mason."

Ambrose made no effort to hide his disdain over the request, letting his body go limp as he expelled a throaty groan.

"Big brother duty again? Dude, we told you that he's dead."

Brendon responded with an icy glare. "You also told me that the kidnappers were operating from an underground lair here in the casino. So forgive me if I'm a bit untrusting of your sources and their intel."

"Fair enough."

Always the rational one, Rollins nodded his head and gave Brendon a firm pat on the back as reassurance.

"We'll handle it. Let us know what Weekes says."

Nodding, the brooding agent opened the door to allow his colleagues to leave, each of them mumbling goodnights as they did so. He locked the door, making sure that it was properly secure before moving off to grab another drink from the bar cart.

The pattering of water against shower tiles continued to filter through from the bathroom and concluding that you'd most likely still be in there for a while, Brendon decided it'd be best if he called HQ then.

He picked up the suit jacket strewn across a chair in the corner of the room and ruffled through the inside pockets in search of his phone. Once he found it, he walked over to the compact dining area, i.e. the most secluded part of the suite and tapped the screen a couple times to ring Dallon.

Setting it down on the small table, Brendon tooks sips of his whiskey as he waited for the techie to answer. There was complete silence in the suite, save for the distant pattering of the water from the shower and the trill of the phone; the sounds fell in and out of sync with one another, giving the agent something to listen to until the cheery voice of his comrade – accompanied by his hologram – pierced through the air.  

"Hey, handsome! I was wondering when you'd call!"

Just barely managing to fight back a chuckle and a smile, Brendon cocked his head up in greeting.

"Hey, Weekes. Listen, everything has pretty much gone to shit over here. We've got no leads, no intel, nothing. So..."

It took a second for the penny to drop but once the techie fully caught on to what his brooding counterpart was insinuating, he dropped the Scooby-Doo mug he'd had in his hand. The broken pieces of ceramic and milky coffee painted the linoleum floor of the tech room in an unappealing mixture of browns and blues.

Scooting as close to his desk as the roller chair would allow, Dallon leaned in closer still as he readjusted the glasses in front of his wide eyes. Eyes that were sparkling with excitement and a hint of mischief.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He was practically squealing, forcing Brendon to recoil and shut his eyes. "We're gonna do the-"

"Yes." The agent cut his colleague off, partly out of fear that he'd overspeak and say something he shouldn't and partly because he was still squealing. "I hate to say it but... we're in a rut, and this might be our only option."

Dallon's hologram cheered triumphantly. Brendon winced. The techie was far too invested in this, and that unsettled him a great deal. Especially since it was purely for the sake of the mission, and not for the reason Dallon was not-so-secretly vouching for.

"So," Brendon cleared his throat, tossing a quick glance over in the direction of the bedroom to make sure that you weren't out yet; you weren't, and he looked back to the hologram, "Can you get that suitcase here by morning?"

"How do you know me, bro?" Dallon scoffed, then leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles, "Already on its way."

✧✧✧

The next morning.

The tiny crack in the hotel's curtains allowed for rays of morning light to filter into the bedroom, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Your eyelids rose with ease, grateful to finally reopen after a good night's sleep. Stretching out your limbs, you shook off the remnants of your slumber.

You had gone to bed right after your shower the previous night, calling out a goodnight to Brendon as you crawled beneath the covers. A low mumble was all you'd received in response. He was hunched over his phone, busy with what was undoubtedly mission-related things; you assumed he'd come to bed as soon as he finished whatever it was he needed to do.

Looking over at the space next to you, a frown found its way onto your face. The bed looked completely untouched, not a crinkle in the bedding nor a dent in the pillow. Your fingers trailed along the crisp duvet, hoping that you would somehow feelhim – feel that he had been there – and that it would prove that your thoughts of him chosing to sleep on the sofa rather than next to you were nothing but pesky anxieties.

Sadly, you found no such reassurance.

Heaving a sad sigh, you rolled over to face the other side. Your eyes fixed on the compact bedside table – or more specifically, what was on top of it. The frown you  were wearing slowly morphed into a soft smile as you took in the sight of the still-steaming cup of coffee.

There was your reassurance.

While it was evident that he hadn't slept next to you, the familiar gesture of bringing you your morning coffee was proof enough that he cared.

Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you called out to him. "Bren?"

Your voice was hoarse from sleep, and you cleared your throat while reaching over to pick up the mug. After taking a sip, you tried again.

"Brendon?"

No response. Knitting your brows together, you peeled back the covers and tentatively slid out of bed, trying not to spill any coffee. The complimentary hotel slippers laid by your feet; you slid them on and started for the living area of the suite.

There was no sign of your bodyguard, however there was a note on the coffee table. Picking it up, you read over the slanted handwriting.

'Needed to run a couple errands. Be back soon.

                                                                     -B'

"Errands?" you muttered, taking another sip of coffee as you reread the note.

It was odd that the usually mission-orientated agent would take time off to do personal things, which led you to conclude that whatever he was doing was somehow tied to the case. It was even more odd, then, that he hadn't informed you of what exactly the errands entailed.

Chalking it up to his lone-wolf, arrogant nature, you dropped the note back onto the coffee table and walked back to the bedroom. You picked up your cellphone from the side table and sat yourself on the edge of the bed, scrolling through your notifications while you slugged down the remainder of your coffee.

Not long after, you were headed for the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for the day. You shut and locked the door out of habit, ensuring your privacy despite the fact that you were alone in the suite. When you emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, though, you realised that that was no longer the case.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw the dress splayed across the made-up bed. Knitting your brows together, you approached the bed with cautious steps and an inquisitive gaze.

Now that you were close enough to properly examine the dress – which was covered in a transparent dress protector to preserve its delicateness – you were quite easily the most confused you had ever been.

"Uh... Brendon?"

"Heads up."

You spun around just in time to catch the airborne object he had tossed across the room. Clutching the bunch of tulle in both hands, you lowered it down to inspect it.

"What's this?" you asked, fondling the material as you tried to make sense of it.

"A veil." His words caused you to freeze, your eyes the only part of you that moved as you looked up at him. He nodded to the item of clothing on the bed. "And that's a dress. Get changed. We have an appointment."

Tilting your head, you gave the agent a skeptical look. "Where?"

"The altar."

"...why?"

"We're getting married."

_______________________________

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[the-demelza-robins]

american high school!jily (iv)

oh hey! it’s chapter four! you can also read it on ao3 :)

part three 

JAMES’S GLASSES GET IN THE WAY. Lily should’ve expected it, should’ve known that when he’d backed her against the door, when he’d leaned down slightly to kiss her again, his glasses would bump against her forehead. He’s kissing her and she’s laughing, and she should be embarrassed, but this is James Potter and his glasses got in the way and he’s laughing, too, and they’re a mess and Lily can’t really think about anything except that Gretchen Prewett must be onto something, because she’s never felt this comfortable kissing someone before.

“How blind are you?” she asks, voice more breathless than she thought it would be (he’s kissing her neck, now, which probably has something to do with it).

“I’m nearsighted,” he replies, lips against skin. “Can’t see things far away.”

“In that case, I’m taking your glasses off,” Lily decides, reaching for them. Eyes. Hazel. Up close.

“At least take me to dinner first.”

Lily doesn’t glorify that with a response. She can feel the time running out, sand through an hourglass; there’s only so much left before she’ll remember what he did to Sev and he’ll realize that the sweater she’s wearing belongs to Roger; before Sirius unlocks the bedroom door and Marlene wants to go home; before the sun rises and the whole night is reduced to a dreamy haze. She takes his glasses off and tosses them onto a nearby chair, and then she kisses him again.

She’s only kissed two people before: Sev, once, in eighth grade — it was wet and gross and quickly extinguished any remotely romantic feelings she’d had for him. Then, tonight, Roger.

And now, James. Her hands are in his hair and his are pressed against her waist, under Roger’s sweater but over her dress, and his hair is so soft and he’s doing things with his tongue and the fire she felt earlier in the night is nothing, nothing, compared to this.

Just like that, he steps back. Just like that, the sand in the hourglass runs out.

“Lily?”

She takes a breath, tries not to stare at his lips (swollen) or his hair (thoroughly, thoroughly mussed) as she pulls herself together. “Yes?”

“Are you and Roger —”

Everything comes crumbling down. Her and Roger. What was she doing here, with James, when she’d finally gotten Roger? So what if James is a better kisser, so what if the look he’d given her after she’d kissed him for the first time made her stomach tighten? Roger was the one she wanted; had always wanted.

“We’re not together, not —” she swallows that last word, that yet, down.

James steps back, runs a hand through his hair. Crosses his arms. Grimaces, slightly, at the ground. “Okay.”

The room spins in time with her heartbeat. “I don’t know what came over me, I just —”

“It’s my fault,” he says, voice quiet, controlled. “My fault. I knew you always liked him, hell, I even saw you kissing him a few hours ago —”

“It’s not your fault,” Lily says wildly, unsure of what she’s trying to accomplish. “But — we can be friends, right? I’d like to be friends.”

This time, he looks up at her, a more genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he couldn’t have actually liked me, Lily thinks, if he’s taking it this well. “Yeah. Friends.”

***

Lily wakes the next morning to a splitting headache and a text from Roger. It’s simple, straightforward (the text, not the headache): that was fun, we should do it again sometime, to which Lily responds, definitely.

Ignoring the guilt settling in her stomach — guilt for what happened with James, even though she hadn’t made any promises to Roger — she pops an Advil and resolves to keep her phone on silent for the rest of the day.

***

The Sideways Diner opens early on Sunday mornings, and it’s there that Lily finds herself a twenty minutes later, talking about the night before with the usual crowd. Alice blows bubblegum bubbles and refuses to eat anything, but still she orders a strawberry milkshake, if only to draw patterns in the whipped cream. Marlene, dressed preppily enough to go golfing, bears almost no resemblance to the tired, sad girl Lily had consoled last night; she smiles brightly, laughs, Sirius’s fever finally, finally broken. Dorcas, half-asleep, leans her head against Lily’s shoulder, legs dangling out into the aisle. Lily herself feels like she’s been ground through a trash compactor; though her headache has subsided somewhat, different moments from the night keep echoing through her head — Roger, smiling at her in the dimly lit kitchen, hand on her back as he’d kissed her; James, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else when he’d interrupted them; Marlene, soft, quiet, wrecked; James, again, and again, and again…

“James and I hooked up last night,” Lily blurts out, unable to stop herself. From the other side of the circular booth, Marlene’s mouth drops open, lip gloss framing a perfect O. Dorcas stirs against Lily’s shoulder, then sits up, forking some of Lily’s pancakes onto her own plate and grumbling.

Alice is the first to break the silence, raising her eyebrows. “Well?”

“What do you mean, ‘well?’” Lily asks, brow furrowing. “James. James Potter. The one I hate? I hooked up with him, and all you have to say is well?”

“I called it,” Marlene says, a hint of triumph in her voice as she sips her orange juice. “Literally right before it happened. I called it.”

“Was it good?” Alice pushes.

“We just — I mean, we just kissed,” Lily sputters, wondering how she’d managed to lose control of the conversation already.

Dorcas raises an eyebrow, then pokes Lily’s neck. “That hickey says otherwise.”

Marlene’s laughing now, and Alice joins in. “I thought you got with Roger.”

“That was earlier in the night, before…”

“Before you got mysteriously ‘locked’ in the master bedroom with your childhood enemy?” Marlene asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We were locked in!” Lily protests. “It’s an old house, and —”

“Oh, so you just had to make out to pass the time?”

“Well, I got pretty mad at him, and we were fighting, but then we realized we were stuck, and he seemed claustrophobic, so —”

“So you kissed him to make him feel better, obviously,” Alice jumps in, smirking. “It’s what any of us would’ve done. The most clear path forward.”

“I hate all of you,” Lily grumbles. “Besides, we agreed to be friends.”

“And what kind of friend would he be, Lily dear?” Alice asks, batting her eyelashes. “The one that leaves marks on your neck?”

Lily wonders, idly, if her friends will ever let this go.

***

On Friday, after a week of texting back and forth, Roger asks her out. They’ve just finished their last yearbook meeting, and as they walk down the empty hallway towards the parking lot, he says: “You going to the game tonight?”

“There’s a game?” Lily asks, though of course she knows what he’s talking about. She’s a bit too aware of the soccer team’s schedule, thanks to him.

He nods. “We’re playing Rosedale. You should come.”

Lily can’t help herself from blurting: “I should?”

He glances at her, expression hard to read. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to. It would be fun.”

Lily feels the vibrations of incoming text messages in her pocket; thinks of plans. Marlene’s plans, to go to the Dairy Queen and get drunk, maybe, or sleep over at someone’s house. Boring plans. Usual plans. The plans that will result in a few new Snap memories and inside jokes, but nothing more.

The possibility of the game stretches out before her, as long as the corridor they’re walking down. She could go to the game. Cheer Roger on. This thing — whatever they are — could actually go somewhere.

“What’s in it for me?” Lily teases, trying to tell her heart to stop beating so fast. Is he blushing? The fluorescent lights of the hallway, universally unflattering, make it hard to tell.

He forms his words carefully. “I don’t know. School spirit? Yearbook photos? Ice cream?”

Lily laughs. “Ice cream?”

“I mean, if you want, we could get some after.”

Lily’s practically beaming, and it’s so embarrassing, but she can’t stop herself. This is what she’s wanted. This is what she’s always wanted. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

***

The game starts at six, and it’s four thirty now. After Roger leaves for the soccer field, Lily calls Marlene, who screams in her ear and promises to meet her in the bleachers. Dorcas can’t come because she has a violin recital but she tells Lily, almost fondly, not to fuck it up.

“Love you too, Dorcas,” Lily says sweetly into the phone. Dorcas murmurs something similar — albeit in a much less friendly tone — and Lily wonders how she got such amazing friends. She’s about to find an empty classroom to do some work in when someone calls her name.

“Lily! Didn’t think I’d see you here on such a fine Friday evening.” James walks towards her, already in his soccer uniform.

Lily waves her ever-present yearbook camera. “I’m going to the game.”

His hand flutters over his heart, Northwood High’s colors — green and gold — splayed across his chest. “I’m shocked, Evans. Truly. What prompted such a dramatic change in behavior? Possession?” He squints at her. “Whoever’s inhabiting Lily’s body, riddle me this — what was her mother’s maiden name?”

“Lawrence. And I’m, um, meeting with friends. And taking photos.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth. Some protective instinct, buried deep inside her, doesn’t want James Potter to be the first person outside of her friend group to find out about Roger — even if James had reverted back to his old self over the course of the week. It’s almost like Halloween night didn’t happen, and Lily is absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he never liked her, that the combination of leftover alcohol and claustrophobia was what drove him to say he wanted to kiss her, not some deep seeded longing.  

He runs a hand through his hair. “Keep the camera on me, ‘kay? I’m the star out there.”

“I’ll try,” Lily says drily. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the field right now?”

James shrugs. “I had to put my contacts in, and the locker room bathrooms were full.” He holds up his glasses, which he’d been carrying in his hand, and Lily’s struck by vivid memory: the way the glasses had dug into her forehead the first time he’d leaned down to kiss her; the way she’d tugged them off his face in a frenzy; the way his face, without them on, looked so vulnerable, even in the dark.

Just as Lily realizes she’s been staring for too long, James snaps his fingers. “Oh, I get it. This the part in the movie where the protagonist takes her glasses off, and the love interest realizes that she’s beautiful. I guess the genders are swapped for this one.”

Lily gapes at him.

“I mean, I thought you would’ve already realized how captivating my eyes are, Lily, but if this is what it takes —”

“Oh, shut up,” she snaps, color rising to her cheeks. She’s thoroughly humiliated, but she’ll be damned if she has to let him see that. “I’m meeting Roger after the game, okay?”

Now it’s his turn to stand stock-still, smug expression frozen on his face. He clears his throat. “Okay. Sorry. I was just joking, I mean —”

“No, I get it —”

“— knew we said we’d be friends, I was just teasing —”

“— it’s okay —”

“— crossed a line, and I’m sorry —”

“— you’re fine, James.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Okay. Well… I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

“Good luck,” Lily almost whispers.

She watches as he walks away.

***

Northwood crushes Rosedale, 5-0. Roger is a solid wall, not letting a single ball into the net, but, if Lily’s honest with herself, James is the one behind the team’s success. Again and again, he scores; the stands erupting into cheers, his teammates patting him hard on the back. Lily snaps picture after picture, and when it’s over she joins her classmates in flooding the field, a crush of bodies and cheering and exuberance under the rapidly approaching twilight. The team streams out of the locker rooms a few minutes later. Lily searches for Roger amongst the sea of green and gold sweatshirts, and before she can find him, she makes eye contact with James. He’s glowing — cheeks still flushed from the game, hair flattened by the shower, glasses back on. For a moment, Lily swears that the pure energy radiating from him, the unfiltered happiness, makes him seem like a little boy again.

That last thought abandons Lily’s head as soon as she spots Gretchen Prewett running towards him. He lifts her off her feet, spins; not a little boy anymore. Something settles deep in her gut, and she turns away, not sure why seeing James happy causes such discomfort.

“Lily?”

She blinks; while she’s been off in her own head, Roger’s walked over, and now he stands in front of her, grinning. “Great job out there,” she says, not quite knowing what to do with herself.

Is he blushing? He’s definitely blushing.. “Thanks. I, um — wanna get ice cream?”

“Definitely,” Lily says, confidence rising. He’s nervous, too.

“Cool. I just have to say goodbye to everyone, and then we can go.” He holds a hand out expectantly. She takes it, realizing too late that this means she’ll have to see James one more time.

They weave through the crowd, shouted congratulations and praise following them as they move closer to where the majority of the team stands. Lily knows that people can see her and Roger’s intertwined hands, and the thought sends a thrill through her. “Davies,” Preston Fawley, right midfielder, shouts. “We’re going to James’s — wanna join?”

Lily looks past Preston and sees James, arm slung around Gretchen’s waist, talking to Remus and Peter. “What do you think, Lily?” Roger asks, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, can we stick to ice cream?”

“C’mon, Evans, lighten up a little,” Preston says, a glint of something in his eye. Whatever it is, it makes Lily want to stay ten feet away from him for the rest of her life.

Roger shifts his weight, hand growing damp in hers. “It’s her call.”

“Girls,” Preston chuckles, shaking his head. Roger returns the gesture uneasily and tugs on Lily’s hand.

“We’re going. See you around, Preston.”

“See you soon,” the other boy responds, and then they’re walking across the field, towards the parking lot.

“Preston’s a dick,” Roger says.

“You could’ve at least stood up for me,” Lily responds, “I mean seriously, what was that? ‘Girls?’ Like I’m not right in front of him?”

“With Preston, it’s better to just back away slowly,” Roger replies, a hint of humor in his voice. “Everyone knows he’s like that.”

“And no one says anything?”

“Trust me, it’s best to just leave him alone.”

“And have him spew condescending, borderline sexist shit like that — ”

They’ve reached the parking lot; Roger stops abruptly in front of a white Toyota. “This is mine. I was thinking we could go to the Baskin Robbins?”

Lily takes a deep breath — perhaps the subject change is for the best, anyway. She needs to remind herself why she’s here. Not to change the soccer team’s team culture, but to go on a date with Roger Davies. Smart, handsome, and her crush since freshman year. She pastes a smile back onto her face with minimal effort. “That sounds great.”

He grins back, and they’re off.

***

Lily orders mint chip; Roger takes strawberry. He pays — Lily protests only a little bit — and they sit at an empty picnic table. After a few awkward moments, they find a conversational rhythm. Between licks of ice cream, Roger tells her that his parents are divorced; that he wants to be recruited but is having a hard time getting scouts interested; and, now, that he really, really hates James.

As Roger launches into the first of many anti-James anecdotes, Lily wonders if this is what she sounded like whenever she used to rant about the boy. Surely she wasn’t so bitter, was she?

“… kicked the ball right from under my feet, then laughed about it…”

“Yikes,” Lily responds, wondering when this line of conversation will end. She’s finished her ice cream, and is getting cold; mid November means relatively nice days and lukewarm nights. She shivers, then imagines sending an update to Marlene, Alice, and Dorcas: never imagined i’d spend my first date with roger gossiping about james, but here we are :/. Marlene, Lily thinks, would be sympathetic but suggest changing the subject. Alice would tell Lily to just date James instead — as if that would ever happen, Lily thinks. Dorcas, no doubt, would advise faking an emergency and leaving. Lily does none of those things: instead, she sits, letting both Roger’s words and the cool fall breeze wash over her. She’s not excited, but she’s not bored, either; she’s comfortable, almost sleepy, sitting here. In fact, she could just doze off —

The sound of Roger’s phone ringing interrupts his monologue. He picks it up, and his eyes widen; after a few hushed words, he hangs up, then looks up at Lily apologetically. “I need to go to James’s house. We’re doing team bonding or some shit.”

What?”

“Preston says I should come, and it’s important that I have a good relationship with everyone, even James, in case a scout asks them about me, and —”

“You can go, it’s fine,” Lily says, and she finds that it is, truly, fine. She’s had a nice night; not a great one, but maybe first dates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be (or maybe Roger isn’t all he’s cracked up to be, she thinks, before dismissing the thought guiltily). Roger takes her hand as they walk back towards the parking lot.

“I’ll drive you home before I head over.”

“It’s fine,” Lily responds, knowing that Marlene would be happy to pick her up, if only to get the first scoop on what happened. “You should go.”

He stands, looking vaguely pained as he considers her words. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Lily replies.

“Okay.”

For a second, they just stare at each other. “I had a lot of fun,” Lily offers.

Roger’s leaning in, so slowly that she can’t be sure that it’s actually happening. “Me too. We should do it again sometime.”

“Definitely.”

He kisses her softly, and then his phone is ringing again. “Shit.”

Lily blinks, caught in an odd feeling of unreality. “Okay. Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“Right. Bye.”

He gets in his car and drives off, leaving Lily standing in the half-empty parking lot.

***

“Lily, can I ask you an honest question?”

Lily glances over at Marlene, who perches on the opposite end of the couch, mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. They’re watching Love, Rosie, Marlene’s favorite movie; two hours have passed since Lily’s date with Roger. “Sure, go ahead.”

Marlene inhales, as if about to jump off of some unseen cliff. “Do you even like Roger?”

For a second, Lily just stares at her friend, then: “What do you mean?”

Another careful breath. “Well, from what you told me about tonight, it didn’t really seem like you enjoyed hanging out with him. I could be wrong, of course. Please tell me if I’m wrong.”

“I don’t know,” Lily responds, testing the words out on her tongue. I don’t know if I like Roger. She can’t quite bring herself to say the words, to admit that defeat; doing so would abolish the one certainty that had lasted from freshman year to now. I don’t know Roger, she realizes. Roger is not who I thought he would be. “I liked sitting there. Listening to him talk. His life is interesting.”

“You find everyone’s life interesting.”

“I liked kissing him.”

“You’ll kiss a lot of people.”

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” Lily asks, suddenly defensive, defensive because  Marlene’s right; because Marlene knows her as well as Sev did; because life would be so, so much easier if she could bring herself to like the real Roger as much as she likes the Roger in her head.

“I don’t want you getting into your first relationship with the wrong person.”

“How do you know that he’s the wrong person?”

Marlene leans back, tilts her head back towards the screen. “I don’t. But I think that you do.”

Lily’s phone buzzes: a Snap from Roger, drunk already, Preston in the background. She sighs, turning back towards the TV. “I think you’re right.”