#i hope first responders got everyone out okay there was a definely cars on the bridge when it went down

[demonicintegrity]

THE KEY BRIDGE COLLAPSED???

[sports-on-sundays]

serious / LN4

Summary: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader - The problem is worse than Lando expected. And Lando is worse at comforting than you expected. Takes place after the Singapore 2023 Grand Prix.

Warnings: GIF is not mine!!!, me possibley being super inaccurate abotut how stuff actually works but it's okay because I was just having fun writing and it's fine, censored cussing, crying/sobbing pushing for intimate things when reader doesn't want to - NO SMUT, screaming, the shock of learning of the death of a loved one, a bit of angst

Requested?: Nope.

Author's Note: I'm currently feeling very affectionate feelings towards Lando. Which means I'm gonna have a lot of desire to write Lando brainrot.

Just as your mother hangs up, you hear your boyfriend's voice practically squeal behind you, "Y/n! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Why'd you leave early?"

"Lando, I-" you start, but are interrupted by Lando's arms wrapping around you from behind and him exclaiming, "P2, pumpkin! P2!"

That nickname sprouts from a few different factors. One is that it's not an uncommon pet name. Another is that when you first met, your hair had been dyed orange, and you were decked out in papaya from head to toe. And, of course, the fact that anything pumpkin flavoured is just about your favourite food ever is another good reason for the nickname.

But right now, you're not in the mood for pet names. "Lando, that's grea-"

He hugs your middle tighter, resting his chin on your shoulder, muttering, "I'm so disappointed you weren't there to see me... It was so fun..."

Suddenly, you feel guilty. And suddenly, you feel like if you were to start going on about your problems, right now, when Lando is so happy... That would just be wrong. So you, somehow, allow yourself to not even process the news you just got on the phone with your mother, and say softly to Lando, "Oh, that's great...! I... I'm so sorry I didn't see. I would have... I would have loved to." It takes all you have to not let your voice crack. You just have to hope that in the darker lighting, Lando won't be able to notice your tear-stained cheeks.

"It's okay... It was amazing. Carlos got P1, and Lewis P3."

You find a smile, turning around to face him, looking up at him in his eyes, which appear to be a greyish blue in this lighting. They shine in the dimly lit night. You hope yours don't shine as much as his are. Because if yours were shining that much, you know it'd be because of tears.

He strokes your cheek. His defined curls are a little messy, and his hand soft on your skin. He grips your waist gently then, slowly swaying back and forth.

It's a strange feeling. With Lando being so happy at getting P2 in the Singapore Grand Prix alongside his friend Carlos, the joy is just radiating off of him towards you. But you can't accept it. The pain you feel right now is like a shield against letting his good mood rub off on you.

Don't cry.

You should've been there to hug and kiss him as soon as he exited the car. You should've been there to watch him step on that podium and spray that champagne. You should've. You should've. You should've.

You would have loved too. Along with the pain of the news you just received, the regret of not being there to see Lando is too much, crashing down on you.

You start walking, arms linked, to the car. Once you're in and Lando has started driving, you mutter, "We're just going back to the hotel, right?"

"Oh, uh, sure! As long as that's what you want," you boyfriend responds. You feel a sinking feeling. You feel so bad.

"Why? What else did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing really," he shrugs. "It wasn't any real cemented plans. And regardless, you're probably right. It's been a long night. Fun, but exhausting. I'm definitely tired." And, as if just to prove it, he gives a big yawn. You nod, staring ahead at all the streetlights in the lit up night. Because of everyone trying to leave all at once, and the huge amounts of people, unsurprisingly, you're stopped up, and moving pretty slow. You sigh. You just want to get to the hotel to sleep and snuggle your boyfriend as soon as possible. You're not sure how soon as soon as possible could be now, looking at this traffic.

"So, why did you have to leave your seat, anyway?"

You swallow. You honestly were hoping he would've just forgotten about that, in the excitement of his podium. But nope. Of course he didn't. He only remembers things when it shouldn't matter to remember them. But forgets everything important.

"Well, I just had a long... phone call," you respond, surprised that's technically not even a lie. "We were talking about some really complicated stuff. I needed to leave to... talk about it."

"Oh, alright," he nods, completely trusting you. It's sweet how much trust he puts in you.

"Hey, pumpkin, really?" Lando asks, shaking you awake. "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm?" you grunt softly, your eyes fluttering open.

"We're at the hotel. You fell asleep while I was driving there." He helps your tired body out of the car, and you make your way to the hotel room together.

The moment the door clicks behind you and you're inside the hotel room with your boyfriend, he pushes you against the door, making out with you, his hand cupping the nape of your neck.

You feel sick.

He runs his hands in your hair, on your neck, and down your body.

Finally you're the one to pull away, but before you have a change to say a word, Lando leans in and starts speaking. He has such a big mouth- he's always been this way, since you met. He's never able to shut up. "Pumpkin, I can tell you haven't had as much of a good day as I have. Can I share some of my happiness with you?"

He kisses you all down your neck, but it doesn't feel good.

His nickname for you has always been pumpkin. And yours for him has always been 'sunshine' or 'my sunshine'. Whenever you're feeling bad, he always manages to make you feel better. He's like the sunshine to your cloudy day; the light to your darkness.

But now you don't feel it.

"Lando," you breathe. "Can we go to bed now?"

"Hmmm, whyyy?" he whines. "Are you sleepy? Has it been a long day? Do you need your beauty rest?" This lighthearted teasing right now honestly just feeling like insulting. Most of the time it would make you laugh and loosen up. Right now, it doesn't seem to be working.

"Lando," you sigh, shaking your head and stepping away. You stare into his eyes for a few seconds, before turning and slipping into bed. Not facing him.

You feel him standing across the room in silence for a few seconds, before he sighs and murmurs, "M'kay, Y/n. Well, sleep tight. Love you."

You sigh. Ever since the relationship started, he used that word. Love. The first time he said he loved you was on your first date. So because of that, sometimes you wonder when he means it, and when they're just sweet words he uses to try to make you feel better.

Right now, you're not sure which it is.

You sigh, knowing that you have to pretend to be going to sleep, despite the raging of your thoughts that's keeping your body from slumber.

You wake up in the middle of the night, and you feel Lando's arms around you and his body against your back. He just doesn't understand. You sigh again. Even when you turn away from him, he just clings on from behind. He's fast asleep- you can tell by his soft, deep breath on your neck. All cuddled in. With not a care in the world. You sigh again, pressing your cheek against the pillow, clamping your eyes shut tightly, wishing the pain would go away. Wishing you could be happy with Lando's podium. Wishing you could be sleeping just as contently as him.

Your thoughts rage again. It's so strange. The world, so peaceful, but your head, in turmoil. But the sounds outside of your head- Lando's breathing, the heating vent, cars going by outside... You imagine all the happy people. Partying... Whatever they do. You forget.

You suppose there have got to be other people laying awake right now, too, though. Maybe other people with their partner sleeping next to them, but not sleeping next to their partner. You swallow.

Lando, I need you. I need you to help me. Why won't you help me?

"Are you feeling better?" Lando asks as soon as your eyes are fluttering awake the next morning.

You sigh, turning to face him. Him and his beautiful shining eyes in the morning light. "No, I'm not..." you breathe, deciding now that the night is over, it's okay to talk with him now, explain your distress, and be honest. "I'm still not feeling great. Last-"

But he interrupts you.

"Oh, Y/n, then I want to make you feel great..." he says it in a soft, seductive voice that makes you feel just a little sick. He strokes your cheek, before leaning in and slowly caressing your neck with his tongue.

But suddenly, an indescribable rage fills up in you, pushing out the pleasure that was sneaking in, and you push him away. You throw off the white sheets and quickly slip on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from your open suitcase on the floor. Lando is about to say something, but you grab the closest thing to your hand- the television remote- and throw it at him as hard as you can. It's on target, but because of his cursed reflexes he dodges it.

"Y/n-"

But it's your turn to interrupt him. "Lando, stop!" you practically scream, tears starting to fill your eyes. "You don't even care! You don't care! You just want to enjoy my body and celebrate all in the name of 'comforting me'! You're not even asking what the f*cking problem is! You're terrible! Terrible! You're a terrible boyfriend!" Now the tears are coming down in steady streams, and words that you don't even mean- venom- escapes from your mouth:

"Lando, I hate you!"

He looks shocked, and slips out of the bed, holding a hand out to you. He takes a step closer, but you flip him, slip on your slides, and leave the hotel room, slamming the door as hard as you can behind you.

You run away from him, crying the whole time. You go to the completely different side of Singapore. You find a spot to sit and cry, burying your wet eyes in your arms. Soon enough, you call your mother with shaky fingers. She picks up after three rings, saying softly, "Hey, Y/n..."

"Hi, Mum..." you trail off. "So... I'll head back to L- London... As soon as I can..." You're sure that your mother can tell by your voice that you've been crying. Ugly crying. She just sounds tired. Empty. That's kind of how you feel.

"Oh, sweetie," she says softly. "Thank you... I appreciate it... So, so much..."

"I know, Mum," you sigh deeply.

"I forgot to ask this last night just from the shock of it all but... On a slightly brighter note, Lando got second place, right?"

This comment makes you feel mixed. Good because your mother loves you and Lando enough to still look up the results of the Singapore Grand Prix after all the terrible tragedy that was just dropped on their family last night, especially since she doesn't even like Formula One. But anger at the mention of Lando himself.

You almost forget to respond. "Oh, right, yeah. He did... He's... happy about that. U-hm, so yeah, we'll leave Singapore as soon as possible and get back to London... And... yeah. We can deal with... everything."

"Yes..." your mother sniffs. "Right. Thank you... I should let you go now... Bye, I love you..."

"I love you too, Mum," you murmur, and then she hangs up. Your phone goes back to your contacts, and your eyes rest upon your brother's contacts. A slight desire to see what your last text conversation was raises up in you, but you fight it, shaking your head. You can't. You feel your eyes sprout tears again. And then your eyes linger on Lando's contact. He's sent messages to you, but you've ignored them. He tried calling once, but maybe didn't try again because he figured it was a long cause.

I need you, Lando. I'm broken. Your eyes linger again on your brother's contact. He's gone. How can he be gone that fast? You swallow, your world spinning around you, as if at any moment it will all just crumble down. Lando, I need to feel your strong arms. I need you. I need to tell you. Please. I need to feel your arms, because I'll never feel his arms around me ever again... You let out a soft sob, pulling at your tangled hair, shaking your head. Your whole body is shaking. Lando, I need you. So why don't you care? Why?

Why are you so selfish?

You're not sure how much time passes. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Either way, it's too much to be basking in this agony...

Suddenly, your phone rings.

You're relieved to see it's not Lando, but instead it's...

Oscar?

You only got his number because you needed to text him about something a couple months ago- you honestly don't even remember what it was, it was so unimportant. You have a policy generally of not texting other guys, since you're in a relationship. But in confusion, you answer it, and speak softly, not wanting it to sound like you've been crying. "Oscar?"

"Y/n," he says.

"What's up?"

"Where are you? W-"

"Did Lando tell you to call me?"

He sighs, and after a few seconds of hesitation, says, "Listen, Y/n. Lando's worried sick. He's practically pulling out his hair. If you'd've heard all the stuff he's rambling about..."

"What's he rambling about?"

"He's sorry, he didn't know, he needs you back. You know. He's nervous. He's getting way too nervous, though, talking about you breaking up. He still hasn't told me what happened, though."

"So he told you to call me?"

"No. I called you because I and everyone else is sick of Lando's stressing. So if you would kindly come back and comfort your boyfr-"

You know there's a teasing aspect in Oscar's voice, and you know it's just because he doesn't understand, but you still feel anger raise up within you because of it. "He should be the one comforting me!" you snap, your voice cracking.

There's a few seconds of silence, before Oscar says much gentler and softer, "Are you okay, Y/n?"

"No, I'm not okay! And Lando doesn't f*cking care, either!" Deep down, you know you shouldn't talk to Oscar like this, considering you don't even know each other that well, but it just feels like you can't hold your painful words back.

"Uh... One moment, please..." You wait a few seconds in confusion, before Oscar says, "Lando wants to talk to you."

"Oscar n-"

"Y/n," Lando's voice says over the phone.

Just the sound of him saying your name like that hits you in the heart like an arrow and causes you to start to bleed.

Just the sound of his voice saying your name.

"Lando..." you say, not even sure what to feel.

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just please come back. Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

You hesitate. "I'm just sitting on a street corner..."

"Y/n, it's been hours!" he exclaims.

"Really?" you ask, genuinely numb and unaware.

"Yes! Please, come back to the hotel! I'm here waiting for you... We just... We need to talk. Obviously, we need to talk."

You swallow, a pit rising in your stomach. Your voice cracks as you say, "Lando, you..."

"I what?" he asks softly.

"Nothing..."

"Are you okay? Would you rather me come and get you?"

"No... I'll just come back to the hotel myself... And tell Oscar thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know..." you shake your head, standing up. "Just tell him thank you."

"O... Okay. Um, well, see you soon, pumpkin. Bye."

"Bye, I..." Your voice trails off. You're so used to finishing that sentence in a certain way, but now...?

But now Lando finishes it for you. "...love you." And he hangs up.

You run to the bus stop.

The moment Lando sees you, he runs to you and envelopes you in a tight hug. You bury your face in his soft shoulder, and can no longer keep yourself from bursting into tears.

"Y/n, Y/n..." he breathes, stroking your hair. He leads you into the building and you step into the family bathroom for a little bit of privacy.

Quickly, you pull yourself together, taking a step back from him, looking up into his eyes. He looks back at you, and the twos words come from his lips: "I'm sorry."

You swallow. "For what?"

"I don't know what's wrong, but clearly it's worse than I thought... I was just so happy, and I figured if I could just make you feel better... But I went about it in the whole wrong way... I... I'm sorry, Y/n." He gently takes both your hands.

"Lando, I'm sorry, too..." you sigh. "Something... something terrible happened, and I just couldn't control my emotions, so I screamed at you and said... I said things that aren't even true. Lando, I... I don't hate you. I love you."

He seems slightly relieved, and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. "Why haven't you told me what's wrong?"

"Last night, I didn't want to, because I didn't want to ruin your moment of getting P2. Then this morning when I was about to tell you, you wouldn't let me..."

"Y/n," he breathes. "I know and I'm... I'm so sorry. I'll try harder. I'm so, so sorry. Can you... Can you tell me what's wrong now? I'm ready to comfort you now. I'm ready to quit being selfish now."

You look into his eyes for a few moment, before looking down, wiping the tears at your eyes before they even come. A part of you always wonders which of his words are fabricated and which ones are from the heart. "Last night, I left because my mother was speaking with me about something very serious on the phone..."

He looks at you with concerned eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak, only understanding now how serious this is.

You hesitate, before uttering, "Last night my older brother passed away."

Lando looks stricken, with wide, shocked eyes. His hands in yours start to tremble. It's like he's paralyzed.

Kind of like how you felt last night. In total shock.

Lando knew your brother. Not well, but he had met him. Your brother had teased him about McLaren, because he was just about the biggest RedBull fan around. He had teased him and treated him like a younger brother. And not only that, but you've talked about your brother a lot. Different, funny things he's always done, or a foolish story about him that you knew would make Lando laugh. Just nice things. You never spoke bad about your brother. But you spoke about him a lot.

Because you loved him.

It's terrible to think that now you're going to be speaking about him with 'was' and 'did' instead of 'is' and 'does'.

And then, Lando hugs you. It's warm. After a few moments, he slips his hands down under your thighs and picks you up. And he just holds you. Your tears are coming back, but you let them come.

"Now we have to plan the funeral and it's going to be so hard... Lando, I can't do this, but my mother needs help... As soon as we get back to London, I'm going to see her," you breathe, clinging to him.

He nods. "Would you like me to come with you, or would you prefer to go to see her alone?"

You shrug, shaking. "I don't know, Lando... Just... Just hold me..." You're holding the back of his shirt so tight. "You're all I need right now."

He kisses your cheek very gently, and does just that. But then he starts whispering. He whispers about random things, like the picnic we had the other day, or about how your favorite football team is doing. It's like he's reminding you- no matter what, the world is still spinning, and somehow, we're both still living humans who are going to be alright. "Y/n, I'm going to do everything for you, okay? Everything you need. I'm going to be there and help you when you need it. Because we're here for each other. We always will be. It's going to be okay, alright? I know it feels like your world is falling apart right now, but I've got you, and it's going to be okay in the end. Okay? Because I love you too much, and I'm going to help you through this."

I sniff. "Why couldn't you be like this right off the bat...?" I murmur.

"Be like what?" he asks in concern.

You sigh. "Why couldn't you comfort me like this right off the bat."

"Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't know-"

"I didn't know you were able of comforting! I just thought it was something you couldn't do or something!"

You can see Lando swallow. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't know... I'll try harder to-"

"It's fine," you breathe, shaking your head, although you're not sure how fine it really is, before leaning your head on his shoulder, sniffling.

He sighs big, obviously burdened. He kisses your cheek again. "Are you ready to head, then...? Or do you need more time...?"

"We have a long flight," you sigh. "We should get going now..."

Lando gently, slowly, slips you back down onto your feet. He strokes your hair, his face close to yours, looking into your eyes. "I'm here for you, okay?"

You nod, mopping up your wet, salty eyes with a paper towel. It's your turn to kiss his cheek now. "I understand, Lando. And I... forgive you. And I love that you forgive me, too."

"Of course I do," he says, exiting the bathroom, grabbing your hand. He puts his hood up and his sunglasses on. "I love you, pumpkin, okay?"

You sigh shakily, giving his hand a squeeze. "I... I love you, too... my sunshine."

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (13/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warning : angst, violence, sad reader, sad Bucky, shitty Rumlow, maybe Steve isn’t that bad, the doughnuts are back from chapter 11, did I mention angst?, angst, more angst

Everything was dark, you noticed. When you slowly returned to consciousness, you half expected to be in your bed with Bucky tangled beside you, just like in your dreams. He fit so perfectly in your bed — your life and you, as if he was a part of you, and you weren't sure where he ended and where you began. 

But when you moved to stretch your aching limbs, they moved a few inches before halting by some sort of restriction. Instantly, the bubble of your dreams burst, and everything came to your mind, and you abruptly looked around to find him. Bucky was still unconscious — tied to a chair, but instead of rope like yours, he was tied down with manacles. He had restraints on his wrists and ankles. You were sort of offended that they didn’t think you were strong enough to be captured like him. Not that you wanted those manacles anywhere near your body, but you preferred not to be treated as if you were meek.

What could be worse than getting kidnapped? It's definitely getting rekidnapped with the person who came to rescue you. Clint lied, he was working with Rumlow. His source was nothing but an ambush for Bucky. There were more than 4 of Rumlow’s men in the warehouse. Clint lied so that Bucky would come under prepared and he fell right into the trap.  

Earlier, it was just you in a room alone, but now it was you and Bucky in a dingy cell-like room with a closed door. He was still knocked out when the man known as Rumlow walked in. You recalled him from the time he came to the club, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards the safe embrace of your lover. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Rumlow’s steps halted when he was near your tied form. His hand came for your cheek and naturally, you recoiled away. Your rejection didn’t deter him, it only fueled his fury more as he held your chin tightly in his other hand and made you look at him. You attempted to get out of his grasp, which only angered him more, and he struck his hand to your face. It ached so much and it was so loud that it jolted Bucky up. 

“Will you look at that,” Rumlow mocked, pushing your face away from his hold. “Lover boy can feel her pain.”

It took a second for Bucky to drink in the sight and commemorate everything. Once everything came back to him, he looked at you deplorably, his eyes filled with concern and guilt as he saw the blood dripping down your face.

“Get away from her, Rumlow!” Bucky seethed when his gaze was back at the man who hurt you. Despite the warning, Rumlow moved more towards you. One hand running his knuckles on your face in an attempt to be soothing, while the other held your chin in a painful grip.

“Why do you get to keep such a pretty thing all to yourself?” Rumlow asked rhetorically. “I should get a taste too.”

Before Bucky could try to do something, a knock on the door attracted everyone’s attention. Clint came in with a look of victory on his face.

“You betraying son of a bitch,” you hissed. Unlike Bucky, you didn’t have much self-restraint or any wise escape plan cooking in your head. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“You’re new, sweetheart,” Clint pointed out, his tone condescending. “You don't know how it works.” 

“What I know is that your wife is friends with Wanda's girlfriend,” you retorted back immediately. You were tired of being seen as weak. ”How will she feel when she finds out that you betrayed Bucky?”

A look of uncertainty came over Clint's face and you continued, “I might be new, sweetheart, but I’m not dumb.”

When Clint was astounded, Rumlow spoke up,” Ah, the power of pillow talk. You are one feisty little bitch. What else did he tell you? Did he tell you that his work is not illegal and he sells weapons to the government?”

You looked at Bucky, hoping that the man you knew and loved was nothing like this monster who assaulted you. Rumlow continued, “Barnes, Rogers and I started this whole a business together. They enjoyed the money that was brought in with our illegal escapade. He enjoyed girls like you every day. Until one day, the childhood buddies decided it was time to go clean. And they just left us in pursuit of some dream life.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked over at Bucky who was staring at the floor as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole. Was he ashamed of his past? Did he think that his past would make you love him any less? If he did, then he was highly mistaken because now you didn't see James as your arrogant boss. Now you saw a young boy who made some questionable choices and, to make a better life for himself and his family, he changed his direction. Now you saw a reckless boy who did stupid shit in his past like everyone in the world and instead of letting it define him, he made a better life for himself. Now you saw a hardworking boy who worked his ass off to build an empire for himself and his loved ones. All of these versions of him existed before you, but you only saw one — the one that mattered to you at least, you just saw the love of your life, your Bucky.

The universe might have listened to your pleas because Rumlow’s phone rang and both he and Clint exited the room. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Bucky. He didn't want to, that you were sure of. What were you supposed to say? That his hardship and past made him look hotter in your eyes? You wanted to avoid romanticizing his struggles, so you resorted to the only thing you do when you are tense.

“This is not the lunch date I had in mind,” you teased, forcefully huffing to make the situation seem less intense. When Bucky did not respond or even looked at you, you retorted to another antic. “I remember that song name, you know — Invisible String. Taylor Swift, of course. It would make an excellent bakery name. We can -”

“We can what?” Bucky finally snapped, “You want me to fire my friends and convert the most profitable club into a fucking bakery, huh?” 

“Is that what you want? A life with a man who got you involved in this shit?” you flinched at his harsh words. You knew this wasn’t your Bucky — your Bucky was all about sweet touches, teasing words and passionate kisses. No, this was the Bucky that Rumlow recognized. 

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your tone gentle. “I’m sorry you're stuck here because of me, but -”

He cut you off. “Doll,” he exhaled, his voice devoid of all the venom present a moment ago, It was filled with the adoration towards you that you were used to; Nonetheless, it still made you feel dizzy all the time. His face softened before saying, “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I got you into this mess. I should have stayed away from you.”

You opened your mouth to object. You wanted to tell him that he was being stupid — that you would get through this together, but he sustained.

“I will stay away from you,” he pondered, his eyes avoiding yours again. 

No, you wouldn't let that happen. You finally had him, and you wouldn't let Rumlow get into Bucky's head. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he concluded, “When we are out of here. I will maintain my distance.”

You tried to ask him to stop saying that, but he kept ignoring your words and looked at the wall behind you for almost an hour. When it got to your nerves, and you were starting to get pissed he started whistling a song you weren’t quite familiar with. “Seriously? How old are you? Five?”

He didn’t respond. “So what? You're just gonna ignore me while we’re tied here?”

 “Hey, let's play a game,” you tried again.

Before you could lose all your patience and start yelling at him, you heard grunting sounds from behind the door. You shuddered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to see Rumlow again, in fact, you never wanted to see Rumlow.

Sensing your discomfort made Bucky finally speak up. “Y/N, look at me,” his voice sweet as ever, as if he hadn't been ignoring you for the past hour. You looked at him, and he held your gaze, assuring you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak anything. Both of you held your breath, waiting for someone to walk in and hurt you more, but it never came. All that came was a blond man with a gun in his hand, whom you recognized instantly — Steve. You didn't like that man one bit because he clearly disliked you, but at that moment, he was your angel who came to your rescue.

Immediately, Steve ran towards his pal who nodded his head towards you, indicating his friend to let you out of the restraint first. Again, he had manacles around his wrists and limbs, and he wanted you to be free of the rope that was around you. Steve took his friend’s request and freed you of your restriction before doing the same for Bucky.

When you stood up, the world stood up with you, and you realized that you hadn’t eaten anything in more than 24 hours. You almost collapsed on the floor when two strong hands came to your relief and held you. You didn’t need to keep your eyes open to see who it was. Likewise, you knew it was Bucky — you could recognize his touch anywhere, and just liked that you passed out.

The next time you gained awareness, you were moving swiftly. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge that you were in a car. You craned your neck upward to find your head situated on a hard and firm chest, Bucky looked down at you and engulfed you tighter to his side, your legs resting on his lap while his free hand was settled on the back of your thigh, holding you closer to him. 

“Doll,” his voice was barely audible, and you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to him or if he didn't whisper it in your ear. “You gotta eat something.”

Tiredly, you nodded and Bucky nudged you softly, encouraging you to straighten up a little before eating something. You straightened your back and somebody passed a box from the passenger seat. Steve, you recognized him and the person in the driver's seat — Sam. Both of them looked at you sympathetically, and you smiled at them, or at least tried to. You were so exhausted.

Bucky opened the box and took out a doughnut, which you brought for him that morning, or was it the previous morning? How long had it been since you were kidnapped?

Two doughnuts and one bottle of water later, you were back at your apartment. Bucky’s hand rested on the small of your back as Steve and Sam followed both of you. You hesitated before unlocking the door, and Bucky ran his hand on your back reassuringly as he ensured you, “I’ve got you, doll.”

Bucky said something to Sam and Steve, but you were too exhausted to listen. Once they were gone, Bucky strode towards you, cupping your face in his hands as he scanned your face for all the wounds. “How about you clean up, and I’ll get the first aid kit. Okay, doll?”

Just like the whole night or day or whatever time it was, you didn't remember most of the bath. You remembered going into the shower — you remembered water running down your body — you remembered seeing red water (probably from your bruises) seeping in the drain — you remembered seeing someone in the mirror you didn't recognize — you remembered falling to the floor and crying and most importantly you remembered calling for Bucky.

As if standing outside the door, Bucky was crouched over you instantly . He wrapped a towel around your naked form and held you on the bathroom floor while you cried and finally acknowledged the trauma that you had encountered.

Bucky held you as you continued to cry in muffled sobs against his chest. When you fell asleep, he placed you and tucked you in your bed comfortably before getting in himself. You wrapped your arms around him in your sleep and held him like the anchor he was to you. Bucky pressed a kiss in your hair and whispered his love and apologies to you for pulling you into his messed up life. You couldn't fathom a word he confessed before sleep finally engulfed you.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp

A/N - Hey, I finally made a Taglist .This was a very intense (please don’t hate me) I love you bye. Take care!

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 140

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: The Starks receive unexpected visitors, that come with a plan. 

Warning: Possible gif overload. Gifs aren’t mine. I just love Tony and Morgan.

Before the small Stark family knew it, it was October of 2023. And their house had become a wonderful home for them.

Morgan was four and almost the spitting image of her father. She was smart like him too. She loved working with her father in his workshop or playing outside in the tent Tony bought for her. 

Y/N had got into gardening, especially because they were kind of far away from any grocery store. Tony was a willing helping hand and was slowly becoming a small farm boy. It bought a few small goats, an alpaca, a couple of chickens, two cats, and was planning on getting a dog for Morgan for Christmas.

Steve and Natasha only visited when Tony was gone or Y/N and Morgan went to them. Tony was still struggling to forgive after everything, and Y/N wasn’t willing to push Tony more than he had willingly done himself.

Y/N was currently in the kitchen, making lunch, while Tony was “being helpful”.

“Are these our gojis?” Tony wondered, looking at the bowl of berries.

“They are not,” Y/N answered as she cut tomatoes.

“What’s wrong with ours?”

“Your alpaca ate them all.”

“Oh.”

“All of them.”

Tony laughed, moving to the other side of Y/N. “What a glowing endorsement. First of all Gerald is our alpaca.”

Y/N scoffed out a small chuckle. “He’s not my alpaca if he’s eating my goji’s.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of berries. “They’re gonna be nice in the salad right there, right?”

“No.” Y/N quickly reach over to stop Tony. “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Tony looked at her with big doe eyes. “Could you put it down?” She gently pushed his arm away. “And get out of my kitchen.”

“Okay.” He turned towards the stove and crashed into some pots. “Whoops.” Trying to bite back a smile, Y/N looked up at the ceiling. “We’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, we’re great.” She got back to chopping. “Tell Madam Secretary that lunch is in five.”

“I will collect our alpha female, posthaste,” Tony replied, before exiting the house.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on the food. She was so lucky. So very lucky.

~~~

Tony walked down the porch steps, clapping out a beat. 

“Chow time!” He called out to his daughter, heading towards her little play area. “Maguna?” He sat on a small chair outside of her tent. “Morgan H. Stark. Want some lunch?”

Morgan appeared from the fort with a suit helmet on and a fake suit glove. She had her gloved hand pointed at her father.

“Define lunch or be disintegrated,” she demanded in her young voice.

“Okay,” he ran his fingers down the helmet to the edge. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That is part of a special anniversary gift I’m making for mom.” He kissed the side of the helmet before removing the helmet from Morgan’s head and brushing the hair from her face.

“Okay.”

“There you go. Are you thinking about lunch? Wand a handful of crickets?”

“No,” she laughed.

“That’s what you want.” Tony held up the helmet. “How did you find this?”

“Garage.”

“Really? Were you looking for it?”

“No. I found it, though.”

“You like going to the garage, huh?” Morgan nodded as Tony lifted her up and set her on his hip. “So does daddy. It’s fine actually. Mom never wears anything I buy her.”

As they made their way to the house, a black car pulled up and parked in the driveway. Steve, Natasha, and Scott Lang stepped out as Y/N came out of the house to see what was holding Tony and Morgan up. They all were looking at Tony, who was avoiding Steve’s gaze and gave a slight nod to Natasha.

“Uncle Steve!” Morgan exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of her father’s arms. “Auntie Nat!”

Tony failed to keep her there, and let her run to welcome the guests. Y/N and Tony shared a look. They knew that, since Scott was with them, this wasn’t just a friendly visit. Y/N walked down the porch, to where Morgan was chatting Steve’s ear off in his arms.

“Hey, Mo,” Y/N called to her daughter. “Why don’t we go inside and make drinks for everyone? Then you can talk your uncle’s ear off.”

“Okay,” she sighed, turning to reach Y/N. Y/N took her from Steve.

“Please don’t ask anything stupid of him,” Y/N whispered to Steve. “He’s—we’re finally happy.”

Steve didn’t bother to answer, which Y/N huffed about before heading into the house with Morgan. Tony, Steve, Nat, and Scott gathered on the porch as Morgan and Y/N made drinks inside. Scott was explaining something when Y/N brought a tray of drinks out to Tony. She wished she could hear what they were talking about, but she needed to stay in with Morgan. Y/N watched from the window as she fed Morgan.

“Now, we know what it sounds like—“ Scott said, finishing his story.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve interrupted.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked, handing out drinks. 

“Thank you.”

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott said.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?”

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha stated. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony responded.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony sat down.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott replied. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—“

Tony held a hand out. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony…” Natasha called. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did,” Scott was pleading. 

Y/N could see that Tony was getting overwhelmed and she quickly told her daughter to go and save him. 

“And now, now we have a chance to bring her back,” Scott continued. “To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even—“

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t even. I got a kid.”

Morgan ran up to Tony, who quickly set her in his lap. “Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony stood up, facing his friends. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He headed inside.

“Talk to Y/N about it. Think it over.”

“No need. We can’t risk this.”

Tony entered the house, holding Morgan close. He went straight into the kitchen to get washed up for lunch. Y/N watched as their three visitors walked back to Steve’s car. Steve looked back at the house, making eye contact with Y/N through the window.

~~~

Tony was quieter than usual the rest of the day. This worried Y/N, but she couldn’t let it get to her. She needed to take care of Morgan. They made dinner together and Tony and Morgan chatted loudly over dinner. He even offered to do the dishes while Y/N tucked in Morgan. 

As Tony finished the last of the dishes, he lost hold of the hose, causing water to spray everywhere. Including the small shelves beside the sink that held a photo of Howard and a photo of Tony and Peter. Seeing the photo of Peter slightly wet, Tony grabbed it to dry it off. Looking down he say Peter’s face. He missed that kid so much. He looked up, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a while.

When Y/N came down from tucking in Morgan, Tony was at a table. He was talking to FRIDAY and playing around with a hologram. She knew very well to leave him alone when he was like this, so she grabbed her book and curled up on the couch.

Tony was still going strong about an hour and a half later:

"Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out,” he told FRIDAY. “So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” FRIDAY responded.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second.” He stuffed some food in his mouth.

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just kinda—“

“Model rendered.”

Tony fell back into a chair, in complete shock and amazement. “Shit!”

“Shit,” Morgan giggled.

Tony turned around to see Morgan sitting on the stairs behind him, large smile on her face.

“Sshhh,” Tony shushed, finger over his mouth. “What are you doing up, little miss?” He whispered.

“Shit,” she repeated.

“No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?”

“'Cause I got some important shit going on here.” Morgan raised a brow at her father, not impressed. “What do you think? No, I got something on my mind. I got something on my mind.”

“Was it Juice Pops?”

“Sure was. That’s extortion.” He stood up and took his daughter’s hand. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on…” Tony looked back at the model before heading to the kitchen with Morgan, “…my mind.”

~~~

“You done?” Tony asked with a smile on his face. Morgan was lying in her bed, finishing a Juice Pop. “Yeah, now you are.” He took the popsicle stick before wiping Morgans lips with his sleeve and pushing her head onto her pillow. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan said.

“A story… Once upon a time, Maguna went to bed. The end.”

“That’s a horrible story,” Morgan giggled.

“Come on, that's your favorite story. I love you tons.” He kissed Morgan on the forehead as he stood up.

“I love you 3000.”

Tony grinned, “wow,” he mouthed, putting the popsicle stick in his mouth. He turned off her lamp and headed to the door. “3000. That’s crazy. Go to bed. Or I’ll see all your toys. Night, night.”

Tony shut the door and heading to the living room. Y/N was still curled up reading.

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000,” Tony stated as he came up to the side of the couch. 

“Oh does she now?” Y/N questioned.

“You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range.” Y/N scoffed as Tony chewed on the stick and looked at the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it's just a book on composting,” she responded.

“What's new with composting?”

“Just—“

“I figured it out, by the way.”

Y/N looked up at Tony. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing—“

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow… I… That’s amazing, and… terrifying.”

“That’s right.” Tony sat down on the other end of the couch.

Y/N reached over and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, I can't help everybody.”

“It sort a seems like you can.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony… getting each other to stop has been one of the few failures of our lives.”

He smiled lightly at her. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest? Cause I sure as hell won’t be able to… I’ll stand by your side no matter you choose.”

“You already know what I’ll choose though, don’t you? Cause you’ve seen in.”

“I haven’t seen it… but I know that last fight isn’t the last.”

“I just… I can’t lose you and Morgan.”

“You won’t.” Y/N grabbed Tony’s hand. “We’re going to do this. Together…” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Your lips taste like Juice Pops,” she giggled against his lips.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” 

She shook her head before kissing him again, this time more heated. Tony pulled her onto his lap.

“What would you say to grabbing some Juice Pops and taking this upstairs?” Y/N panted slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” He placed on last kiss on Y/N’s lips before standing them both up. “I’ll grab the pops, meet you up stairs.”

“We have to be quiet though. Last time Morgan almost walked in on us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. FRIDAY won’t let that happen again.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Sorry about the time jump. Please send in requests for one shots or questions you want answered about the missing time. Try to be specific.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[artist-issues]

@snowybookworm

I’ve seen the logic behind both schools of thought: that Old Steve could only have sat back and allowed events like Bucky’s torture to unfold (thereby being super out of character) OR that he created an alternate timeline where he stayed in character by solving all sorts of problems while living out his happily ever after. And I’m not going to go into that, I’m not going to swing one way or the other. But suffice to say, I don’t think that the portrayal of time travel rules in Endgame supports the idea that Old Steve could only return to prime 2023 via the same portal he left from, because if that were true, how do you explain the Avengers’ big push to get the Infinity Gauntlet into Scott’s van in the final battle? If the only way they could be returned to the timeline they were snatched from was with the same portal, tossing them into the van, a DIFFERENT portal, would’ve been reality-suicide for our heroes.

But I’m not here to argue about what Steve Rogers did when we DIDN’T get to watch his actions. I’m here to argue about what we DO know for sure based on what we WERE given to watch. I’m here to prove that if you think it’s not like Steve Rogers to leave Bucky in the present to live his days out with Peggy, you’ve missed his whole character arc. You’re one of those people who doesn’t see that he HAS a character arc. Captain America has DEPTH. He has LAYERS to who he is. It’s not just “do the right thing,” as close as that may sound to the truth.

He is not the same exact guy Bucky had to lead out of back-alley fights in the 40s. He might have all of the same excellent qualities that we know and love, the BEST qualities, but we’re not at the same point in his story. He’s learned and he’s grown and Peggy Carter is symbolic of him moving on.

Now, that may sound oxymoronic to you, “because he literALLY TIME TRAVELED TO THE PAST to be with the lady he missed out on! HOW IS THAT MOVING ON?!” you ask. Because you’re missing it. Let’s rewind and look at Steve Rogers and his character development, shall we?

In Captain America: The First Avenger, Steve Rogers goes from a guy with everything to prove, who is so willing to take on the world and all it’s evil that it doesn’t matter if he’s 90lbs of asthmatic shortness, he’ll fight bullies and stand up for what’s right! And he’ll do it ALONE if he has to! That’s important, the word “alone.” He’s so committed to that identity that Bucky Barnes, his best friend and brother figure, keeps having to remind Steve that through all of life’s challenges, he’s not alone, that he’s got someone with him “til’ the end of the line.” And Steve believes it: Bucky will be there for him when he needs dragging out of the gutter and cleaning up, when he has nobody else and nothing else. But Steve knows, or thinks he knows, (AND YOU AND I DO TOO, if we pay attention to the actual movie instead of our fill-in-the-blanks headcanons) that however LOYAL AND TRUE Bucky is to him, he doesn’t believe Steve can win. Bucky doesn’t believe in Steve. Now hold your offense: it’s okay that Bucky didn’t believe in Steve. Have you seen Skinny Steve? He’s an amazing moral giant, but physically he’s not going to live past middle-aged. Bucky believed Skinny Steve was righteous, and a hero, and would never give up, but Bucky was resigned to having to help that righteous hero or watch him die eventually because all that gold was locked up in the wrong-sized package. Sebastian Stan has hinted at what the films portray subtly; that Bucky’s is more cynical than his friend Steve from the get-go. He’s always poised and worried that he’s about to watch his hero Steve get killed standing up to the darkness of the world—not WIN against it. Bucky was ready to help Steve out of fights, but—and here’s BUCKY’S character development in that first film—he’s not ready to follow Steve into fights until after Azzano, when Steve finally has the physical capabilities to back up what Bucky has always known was there on the inside: the will to fight the darkness of the world and win. That’s when he realizes, “he’s the little guy from Brooklyn, too dumb to run away from a fight—and now someone’s actually gone and juiced him up with the means to literally take on the jaws of death.” All that heroism and goodness Bucky’s always seen in Steve has gone from being what might get him killed to something that Steve can actually use to do the right thing, however dangerous. And Bucky chooses to keep his promise and follow Steve back into battle after enduring torture, because he is with him til the end of the line. But initially, cynical yet loyal Bucky Barnes didn’t believe his best friend could win.

Steve sees this about Bucky. He knows how Bucky sees him. In the Erskine Enlistment Scene, this line from Steve is so telling: “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this...” and Bucky responds after Steve’s ‘men-laying-down-their-lives’ speech with “right...cause you got nothing to prove.” sarcastically. Steve knows that Bucky loves him and is there for him, but he sees that Bucky doesn’t believe in him. And they’re still friends. They’re still brothers and everything we know them to be, because the word that defines their relationship is “LOYAL.” But you know who did believe in Steve?

Peggy Carter.

She takes notice of Steve’s heart of gold while he’s still skinny, and asthmatic, and everything that Bucky has seen since they were kids. But where Bucky sees a heart of gold about to be snuffed out by harsh circumstances, PEGGY sees something else. She sees something else because she has a similar hopeful outlook on life, a kindred spirit with Steve’s forever-the-fighter character. Peggy Carter, a woman in the 40s, has had to fight and fight and take one step forward for every three steps she’s been pushed back. She’s had to prove herself over and over, every moment of her career, when nobody (except her brother Michael) believed in her. That’s their conversation in the cab. That’s the crux of why they love each other. Peggy has always noticed Steve as never giving up, but until he talks to her in the car on the way to get Super Soldiered, she might have assumed that he was just trying to prove himself for HIMSELF. Then he explains that he doesn’t have anything against running away, and his philosophy about bullies. And she relates to him. She sees that heart of gold and she wants to STOKE it, not just protect it. She knows what it is to want someone to not only acknowledge her potential, but BELIEVE in it. That’s why she has a picture of Skinny Steve on her desk and not a newspaper clipping of Captain America; she loves Steve Rogers for what is inside, for his moral character, and for their kindred fighter spirits. You can see that through her urging him to not settle for being a dancing monkey. “You were meant for more than this, you know.” “If it could only work once, he would be glad it was you.”

And Steve Rogers recognizes that Peggy Carter believes in him. Here’s how. When Bucky and Steve argue at the World Fair before Bucky’s deployment, Bucky leaves with a sort of “I give up,” so-done, snarky “don’t do anything stupid until I get back” attitude. We know and love it. But that’s important. Steve is about to go lie on his enlistment and try to go to war. He’s about to do this risky thing. And Bucky leaves it like “even though I’m against it, I know I can’t stop you, so please just be careful.” When Peggy is faced with a more extreme, but still similar situation where Steve is about to jump headfirst into a risky thing, that’s not her attitude. “I can do more than that.” “Get back here! We’re taking you ALL the way in!” She’s not going to follow him, and she’s not going to shrug and say “fine, go get yourself killed.” She’s not even going to say, like Bucky might’ve, “if you’re dying, I’m dying with you.” JEEZ, the last thing she says to him before he gets on a plane that becomes his tomb is “GO GET ‘IM.” When he says to her “this is my choice” before he ‘dies’ she accepts it, but she still makes that appointment for the dance- almost like a sad, sweet little ‘if you can get out of this, I’ll still be waiting.’ But whenever he goes into danger, throughout that film, she’s going to HELP him. Because she believes in him. She really believes he can do this. She has faith. That’s the word that describes Peggy and Steve’s relationship. “FAITH.”

Bucky = Loyalty.

Peggy = Faith.

And how does Steve grow in this movie? He learned from both Bucky and Peggy: “I don’t have to fight alone.”  Whether it’s because he’s scrawny and everybody else would run away from a fight they can’t win, or because he’s an icon and the world’s first super-soldier-miracle, he’s always had this loneliness complex. He lifts the weight of the world because he knows that if you can, you should. But Peggy says to him “you won’t be alone.” It’s a quote important enough for him to experience it in a flashback the first time we see him in The Avengers.

In The Avengers, Steve has to share the spotlight with a whole other cast of heroes, PLUS the writers had to show us what it would be like for a 1940s superhero to lose 70 years of time and wake up with nobody left of his old life, so his growth is smaller. It’s setting up for more growth later. But still, there’s that quote. “You won’t be alone.” And now here he is. Alone. In the 21st century. Worse than a skinny kid nobody believes in, now he’s a cultural phenomenon in a world where everyone looks up to him but nobody believes in him, really, not directly. Whether it’s how well he can stand up against gods and iron men, what makes him special, or why cops should listen to him in the heat of interplanetary battle—in this bold new world he’s woken up in, Steve is on a lonelier pedestal than ever. He’s quickly disillusioned with the government that used to give him order and structure when it loses the Tesseract, which it was making weapons of mass destruction out of, then tries to nuke an island full of innocent people to win one battle. But Steve finally realizes, toward the end of the film, that just because SHIELD and the larger world are new and different and don’t know who he really is, that doesn’t mean he’s alone. When the other Avengers join him in going to take on Loki in their own way, and when Tony, in particular, proves that he’ll sacrifice himself for the greater good, Steve remembers his lesson from Peggy. He’s still not alone.

But being surrounded by other misfits, even ones who are willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good like he is, isn’t the same as being surrounded by people who know Steve Rogers, the punch-drunk kid from Brooklyn. He’s looking for purpose at the end of the Avengers. What do we see the other characters doing? Thor’s off to deal with the family drama that defines a lot of his character arcs in his movies. Tony is seen embracing the whole “work with others” thing by starting construction on Avengers Tower. Bruce is going with Tony, proving that he’s learning to trust himself with the Hulk like Tony suggested, and Nat hands him the bag, meaning she trusts him too. Clint is reunited with her and getting in a car with the SHIELD logo stamped on it, and where is Steve? What’s his foreshadowing/cap to the movie character arc? Is he getting in the SHIELD car, too? No. He’s on a motorcycle. Alone. Driving off to Lord-knows-where. He’s the only Avenger that drives off alone—but before he went, he shook Tony’s hand. That send-off says he’s willing to be on this team, with these other fighters and misfits...but he’s still lonely. Nobody really knows him yet. He’s not alone in fighting, but he doesn’t know what he wants or where he’s going.

In Captain America: The Winter Soldier Steve’s character development is centered around solidifying what parts of him need to change now that he’s “The Man Out of Time” and what parts of him stay true. The whole film is about trust. And yes, that trust is best driven him when Steve is literally willing to die rather than give up on Bucky, the man literally beating him to death. Because loyalty. But don’t miss the scene with Peggy, however brief. Their conversation has nuances, especially in light of Endgame. There’s a lot going on in the scene that shows how in love he is with her, but the part that’s most important is just his reaction when she relapses and realizes that he’s alive all over again. The last thing Old Peggy says is “it’s been so long.” And she repeats it, for emphasis. And he points out the dance. Because remember, there’s this theme that she would have waited for him. That’s their relationship: faith. But she didn’t know he was alive, and how could she? It’s been so long. She’s not smiling. She’s crying when she realizes he’s still alive. Because they missed all that time they would have had together. And his face is the perfect micro expression of grief. To me, it doesn’t read “I’m so sad because I missed out on Peggy,” though I’m sure there’s some of that in there. To me it reads more like Steve always reads because he thinks of others first: “I’m so sad because Peggy had to mourn me and our relationship for so long.” I mean, look, it’s 70 years later and she’s devastated that he’s alive but they weren’t together. (You can be devastated about your lost love AND accepting of your life and other children without him, it doesn’t have to be one or the other, but more on that another time.) Steve never moves on from Peggy because that’s not the kind of guy he is. It’s not nothing to say she was the love of his life. And he wanted to go back to her not just for himself, but for her. Because he’d seen the future where she was still heartbroken that he missed their dance, and I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s literally RIGHT THERE in probably the best-written Marvel Film, Winter Soldier.

In a film that’s all about how what he thought was good and right is literally crumbling or growing Hydra tentacles around him, there are two things he doesn’t let go of. The first is Bucky. Bucky is an assassin now who any other hero would have put down. Heck, STEVE would have mournfully put down any other threat to the greater good, for the sake of Doing What’s Right. But there’s two (2) exceptions to that rule, and the first is Bucky. Loyalty. He won’t kill or even fight his best friend. And the second thing he won’t let go of, thematically, is Peggy. It’s how we go from “I’m alone in the future” in the Avengers to, “and if I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.” Peggy founded SHIELD. Steve didn’t have to take time out of the very carefully synchronized and tense mission to stop Project: Insight to make that announcement. He could have assumed everyone was HYDRA and got to work. But he stopped, he made a FAITH-BASED decision to let HYDRA know they were there and shoutout to any good people in the building because the movie was about trust. And Peggy showed Steve how to have faith and trust in people because she extended it to him. He puts so many eggs in the Big Risk basket during this movie based on trusting others even though Nick Fury’s crucial words were “Don’t Trust Anyone.” That’s the part of Steve that won’t get corroded away by the new world he’s come out of the ice into. And he shows it by loyalty to Bucky, brainwashed warts and all, and belief in people, which Peggy taught him. There’s a lot that could also be said about Sam and Natasha, too, but more on them later.

The main thing, in CA:TWS and Avengers, to remember about Steve’s character arc is that while he’s learning to hold on to IDEALS like belief in people and defending freedom and innocent people from bullies like HYDRA and Loki, how does he express those ideals? The only way he knows how. By fighting. By finding a mission to complete or a cause to serve and going for it. How else? He doesn’t know how to do anything else. “I guess I just like to know who I’m fighting.” Sam asks, “You thinking about getting out?” And hid knee-jerk reaction is “no.” Then, “I don’t know.” AND WHY DOESN’T HE KNOW? Because he doesn’t know what makes him happy. Seriously! What makes him happy?? People who know him. He won’t go on a date because he has “no shared life experience”. He has no fun plans Saturday because his “barbershop quartet are dead.” Hes straight up politely walking away, kind-celebrity-style, from a potential new friend in Sam until Sam starts talking about being a veteran. He tries to relate to others through fights because that seems to be the only thing left. People see Steve as Captain America, leader of the Avengers, Fighter for Freedom, in the future. Nobody sees the kid from Brooklyn anymore. And he doesn’t know who he is without a war.

Bringing us to Avengers: Age of Ultron. This one’s character development is so obvious it feels like they’re beating you over the head with it Hulk-style if you just take half a second to focus on Steve’s scenes. It starts with how he views the Maximoff twins—he can relate to their lab-rats-of-justice ideals, but nobody else shares that sympathy, as seen in the conversation with Maria Hill by the elevator. Then there’s the scene at the party. No, not the one where he reminds Bruce that he waited too long for Peggy, although HELLO HE’S STILL IN LOVE WITH PEGGY. But I’m talking about Steve and Sam’s conversation. Sam mentions home. In the middle of a party, Steve is asking about Bucky, his one remaining person who knows him, and reminiscing about Peggy, the other person who knew him. Home is in the people who know you. Steve wants that to be the Avengers. He wants them to be the people who get who he is, and I think they come close. Nat, Sam, and Tony especially. But Tony never separates who Steve is from this idea of him handed down from Howard Stark, and Steve is made aware of that over and over. Plus Tony doesn’t trust Steve; the team keeps clashing over trust issues in this film. And Tony even says, in the pivotal argument with Steve over the lumber pile, “isn’t this why we fight? So we can END the fight? So we can go HOME?” Steve can’t go home because Steve feels he has no home. He’s made The Fight his home. And he defaults right back to it in this argument: “every time someone tries to stop a war before it starts, innocent people die.” So, again, he’s not ALONE anymore, in the sense that others will fight with him. But he’s still stuck on FIGHTING. And nobody really knows him. At the end of the film he says, almost reluctantly, “I’m home” and proceeds to go in and try to train new Avengers. Sam comes flying in among them—that’s a subtle reason why Steve is willing to make the Avengers/the Fight his new home. The one guy who might actually know him and represent who he is when he’s not behind the shield is missing, and Sam was supposed to be looking for him. Sam is with the Avengers, NOT looking for him.

But all of that is wrecked in Captain America: Civil War. Peggy, the love of his life, dies. Bucky, the friend he’d all but given up on finding, reappears and is in trouble. Without Peggy, there’s only one person left who knows who Steve really is, and with all that Bucky means to him, Steve isn’t going to give him up. It just so happens that that goal of remaining loyal to Bucky is synonymous with hanging on to his ideals: combatting the Sokovia Accords with a little moral kick in the seat from posthumous Peggy. I’m not going to go into why his actions about the Accords were in-character in this film. But it should be obvious from everything I’ve written, anyway. And remember, his faith is in people. Peggy taught him that, as we’ve established.

The main point of character development in this film for Steve is that he’s realized that he can’t give up who Steve Rogers is to be who everyone thinks Captain America is. When the rest of the world says that the Avengers should be little better than Government weapons and operate out of fear, Steve remembers that he’s the kid from Brooklyn who will fight for what’s right, shield or no shield. And Bucky symbolizes that aspect of who he really is, because Bucky knows him in a way that no remaining living character does. So when Steve is fighting Tony to keep Bucky safe, it’s not devoid of their conflict over ideals, either. Stave drops the shield but promises to still be there for Tony if he needs him. He’s not going to be everyone’s Captain America. He’s going to stay the good man Erskine gave a chance to, the good man Peggy believed in, and the good man only Bucky is alive to remember.

Now we get to Infinity War. And here there’s so much going on with so many characters that for Steve, it’s just important to realize that, although he’s finally hit a rhythm in this post-ice life as Steve Rogers, Fighter from Brooklyn, HOW is he hitting that rhythm? Settling down in Wakanda to hang with Bucky and the goats? Leaving the justice and peacekeeping to Tony Stark and the law-abiding heroes? No. He’s still fighting. And not just in response to Thanos—we’re shown hints and evidences that Cap and his Secret Avengers have been doing some behind-the-scenes peacekeeping. So why isn’t Steve finding peace with Bucky? Ask yourself that. He had time. He had anonymity, in Wakanda. He’d given up the Captain America mantle. They could’ve been roomies in that little hut, like when they were kids, right?

Wrong. But why?

It’s not because the Russos didn’t think of it. It’s not because of lazy writing. It’s because of Bucky.

Bucky is still Steve’s friend and Steve is still loyal to him. They don’t mean any less to each other than they did in 1945. But Bucky is not Bucky anymore. If you believe that Sebastian Stan did a good job playing Bucky, you have to remember that Sebastian Stan played him as if he would “never go back to being that guy you see in The First Avenger.” Bucky has evolved. He’s part Winter Soldier, now. Does he still know Steve better than anyone? Yes. But that is corrupted by the fact that Bucky was programmed to see Steve, the country Steve represented, and all of Steve’s ideals of freedom as targets to be destroyed for 90 years. That changes things. Steve is always going to do what is best for Bucky, because that’s the kind of friend he is. It was the kind of friend he was in 1945 when he rescued Bucky from Azzano, it’s the kind of friend he was when he wouldn’t fight him aboard Project: Insight, it’s the kind of friend he was when he gave up the Avengers and the shield for Bucky...and it’s the kind of friend he was when he left Bucky in the present.

In Avengers: Endgame Steve Rogers has experienced what it’s like to fight and lose again. He’s lost everything. He’s lost Peggy, and now Bucky, too. He’s lost everything and everyone that ever symbolized home...except, perhaps, Natasha. His friend who knows what it’s like to give up everything for ideals and fight to prove yourself. His friend who can’t stop fighting, either. But he loses her, too. Before he does, though, what does Steve say? In that first conversation before everything sets into motion? He says that maybe the fight doesn’t need to be fought by them. He says they need to get a life. But Nat says “you first.”

Who knows him the closest at this point? Nat. So who’s the best-qualified to point out where he’s at, character-development-wise? Nat. He sees his flaw. Steve Rogers sees that he can’t figure out who he is, without someone who knows him helping him. He sees that he defaults to finding a cause, a mission, a fight. Heck, the posters of him say “one last mission.” Not “one last sacrifice (of everything for Bucky).” One last MISSION, because that’s the only thing Steve knows how to do when he has nothing else.

“But he DID have something else! He had BUCKY! And his new family with the Avengers!”

Now we get to the part people don’t understand. They think, “how could Steve just leave everybody, especially Bucky, to fend for themselves?”

You didn’t see all that character development, especially in the first film where the differences between what Bucky means to Steve and what Peggy means to Steve are established.

Bucky is not the streetsmart protective charming brother figure he was in TFA. But listen. He’s not the broken Winter Soldier anymore either. Not in a way that needs Steve’s help. He’s not on the run. He’s got his memory back. He’s pardoned. He’s got Sam. Don’t you see, Bucky’s biggest problem is Steve’s, at this point? They MIRROR each other. Steve can’t figure out who he is if he isn’t fighting for everyone else because he’s been fighting for so long. And Bucky can’t figure out who he is with his friend, his brother figure, doing that and him. Because if Steve is fighting, Bucky will always be there to have his back. But fighting isn’t what Bucky needed anymore. It’s not what he wanted. Fighting is what Bucky is tired of.

And Steve Rogers can’t not be where the fight is.

Because without a fight, who is he?

Peggy Carter knows.

Steve Rogers left Bucky because Bucky needed him to leave. They needed to be friends from afar. And Steve left Bucky because Peggy Carter was home. Being with the woman who knew who he really was, as Steve “Kid From Brooklyn” Rogers, was the right move for his character because it shows that he’s finally ready to stop fighting. Stop being Captain America, lonely hero, man out of time. He’s ready to go and figure out who he is apart from all of that, with someone who really knows him. Could he have done that with Bucky? I don’t know. Seems to me, from what we’ve seen, that Bucky represented passively understanding  Steve while Peggy, at the point they were separated, represented understanding Steve and moving him forward.

Bucky was “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Peggy is “I had faith.”

Bucky was the guy to have Steve’s back in the fight. Peggy was the woman to show him he was meant for more. She represents his potential. She represents his ability to move on, see who he is when he’s doing more than following orders or standing up for honor or proving himself. It would have been out of character for him to stay in the present because new fights would have arisen, and he never would’ve put down the shield. He would’ve fought until someone killed him. And guess what? Bucky would’ve been right behind him, dragging himself into a fight when what he really needs is to step away from Steve and the baggage of his past for a bit. Not completely, but enough.

But this way? With Peggy? We get to see the guy who was always lonely and always learning how to be less alone actually do it. If you miss how significant that is, and you miss how much sense it makes, you don’t understand Steve Rogers at all.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

&&

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

[jovialluminaryalpaca]

True Beauty | Little by Little | Han Seojun x Kang Soojin fanfic series | part 2

Part 1 , Part 3

Hey, hey, I hope y'all are doing good, this will probably be a 3 part series and I hope I'll wrap it up by the next part. Anyhow, I hope y'all will like this part, don't forget to leave a like and reblog and feel free to share your views via ask or text, thank you 💛

No major warnings, very slight cursing (not edited)

Soojin sighed as she looked at her phone and waited for Seojun to come out of the studio. She was seated on one of the tables in the cafeteria at Move Entertainment. She tapped her feet impatiently as she sat there, it had been 2 days since Seojun witnessed her breakdown and decided to give her space to recover like he said. She felt embarrassed, not because she ruined one of his favourite jackets with her tears but because media had caught him holding her hand on a busy sidewalk that night. There were numerous stories and rumours around them and she was bombarded with calls from Jugyeong and Soo ah. She decided to ignore those calls because she knew they will only ask her questions she didn't wanna answer especially when she was recovering from her father's visit and her realisation of having feelings for Seojun.

If it was in her hands, she would've continued to avoid Seojun, but she had to come to the office to clear the rumours and make a statement that Seojun was just her friend and he was helping her out. It hurt her to say something like that but she couldn't really do anything about it, it was for Seojun's good and she knew that one sided love was all that was written in her fate.

In the past two days, she couldn't help but wonder when was it that it happened? When was the moment she started getting attached to Seojun and was dumb enough to not realise it? Was it when he made fun of her need to set everything in an order or was it when they bickered over almost any topic they could find? Was it when he called her everytime he was free and they would go to her favourite restaurant go grab a meal or was it when he stayed up late and planned a birthday surprise for a kid by performing a little concert at the orphanage the kid stayed in and the one her company helped? Was it when he casually called her pretty and bossy at the same time or was it when he apologized to her for calling her a piece of trash?

She remembered the time he did.

It was one of those nights, he walked her home after they hung out. They were both laughing at how a random old woman on the road mistook Seojun to be her grandson and dragged both of them along with her to come with her and have some dinner or tea at her place. Neither of them had the heart to refuse the old woman and it clearly looked like she missed her young grandson, so they decided to join her and much to their dismay, her real son approached them and apologised for the inconvenience she caused, she apologised and both of them told her it was not much of a big deal.

"Ya. Do you think we would've got free dinner if her son didn't come?" He asked her.

"Really? You are thinking about dinner? Oh My God." She exclaimed as he burst into laughter.

"No, no, no, I mean, food is everything you know." He said as she chuckled.

"You are such a goofball, I swear." She responded as he smiled at her. They both kept walking till they reached her apartment, they always took the route which less crowded and where he could freely roam without the mask.

"Next time, don't remove your mask in public, otherwise some other grandma will make you her grandson." She said as she nudged him.

He rolled his eyes but eventually laughed it off and shook his head as they finally reached her apartment.

"Don't worry, I won't." He replied as she nodded.

"Get home safe and try to stay as far as possible from groups of girls." She said as he smiled.

"Why? Are you jealous?" He asked as she laughed at his stupid question.

"No, because I want you to stay alive and not choke yourself to death when you get smothered by thousands of girls." She said as a matter of fact and he simply shook his head and she shrugged it off.

"Ya, Kang Soojin." He said as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry." He said out of nowhere and she looked at him blankly.

Why was he apologising to her?

"For what?" She asked as she studied his expression.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk to you back in school and for calling all those awful things." He said as she opened her mouth to say something but closed it back again.

"I know it's out of nowhere, but I just felt like I should apologise, so I did." He continued as she looked at him wordlessly.

Something about his apology was sincere even when she knew what she did was worth way worse than the words he chose to call her back then. Honestly, she deserved those words to be slapped on her and there was no justification for what she did except for it being a mean of escape which she found in Suho back then but she didn't anymore when she realized that what she did led to loosing one thing she cherished so dearly, her friendship with everyone including Suho.

"Why are you apologising? I deserved it." She said and scoffed at herself.

"Maybe, that version of you did, but I wanted to apologise to this version of you and not let her hold on to what I said back then." He explained as she looked at him with a smile.

"You don't have anything to apologise for, it's all in the past, it's like a closed back, I've moved past it, those words don't bother me that much anymore but it's the guilt that bothers me, it's always there whenever I'm around Jugyeong." She replied as he looked at her with a slight frown.

"Suho wasn't worth all that, honestly." He added as she chuckled.

"Yeah." She said as he looked at her and she looked back at him. There was just silence as they looked at each other.

"Don't you have rehearsals tomorrow for your concert?" She cleared her throat and asked him, his eyes widened as he remembered the rehearsal timings for the next day.

"Oh, no, I do. Oh, no, no. Heegyeong is gonna kill me if I don't reach the studio on time. I'll see you this weekend?" He asked as he checked his pocket for the bus pass.

"Yeah, you will, if I don't any event or work that is." She said as he smiled.

"Good, then, I'll see you later. Good night." He said and turned around to leave.

"Ya, Han Seojun!" She called out.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Why don't get a car for yourself?" She asked as his eyes widened to realise that he was rich now and he scratched the back of his neck and looked down.

"It will save you the hustle." She continued as he nodded.

"I'll look into it." He responded and turned his back to walk ahead.

"Good Night!" She called out as he waved his hand one last time and so did she as he  walked away. She stood there as she smiled to her self wondering when will Seojun finally learn to organize himself and then walked towards the elevator.

"Soojin?" Heegyeong's voice pulled her out of the trance as she looked at her and smiled.

"Yeah. Should I come now?" She asked as Heegyeong sat beside her.

"No, don't worry, it's handled. You don't have to make a statement, we cleared it out and warned Seojun to not be so careless." She replied and looked at Soojin.

"It's not his fault. I was the one who was in a hurry. I'm sorry for this mess." She said as Heegyeong looked at her with a small smile.

"You don't have to apologise Soojin, I understand, everyone has good and bad days and it's completely okay to have them." She said as Soojin nodded.

On the other side, Han Seojun ruffled his hair as he walked out of one of the studios and looked around to find Soojin. He was glad that she was doing alright and then he felt a sudden flutter in his chest as he looked at her smile at Heegyeong. He gulped not knowing why he felt that. He stopped as he admired her from the distance and a goofy smile appeared on his face.

Honestly, he would be lying if he didn't admit that Soojin effected him, her happiness and just her presence made him happy in ways he couldn't define, at first he felt like she was more of a replacement for Jugyeong and maybe her presence acted like some kind of a rebound for him but now he was sure that she was different and unique and maybe that's why he liked her presence around him. He weirdly felt comfort in the way she scolded him when she looked at the mess he made most of the time and the times she explained what certain words and references meant in fan letters. There was another tug on his heart's strings when she smiled and turned around to look at him. He smiled as he felt a gush of flutters in his stomach and she waved at him. He wasn't a fool to not realise what these feelings were but he was reluctant to accept that he started to feel them around someone who wasn't Jugyeong.

Did he finally move on from Jugyeong?

His heart whispered a yes as he walked towards Soojin, stood in front of her and ruffled her hair and she scowled at his action and that scowl on her face as she set her hair right and the rapid beating of his heart was enough for him to know that yes, he was finally over Jugyeong and that, yes, he definitely developed feelings for his school's ex top mark securing girl.

_

"We have something to tell y'all." Jugyeong said as she tapped the table and everyone looked at her.

It was weekend after the whole mess that happened with Seojun and the media, He apologised to Soojin for not being careful and she gave him a lecture on how he should be more careful with all of this and how risky it was to expose his face especially when they are teenagers around and how no one knows what their intentions can be, some might be innocent but what if someone was looking for some revenge or was an obsessed psychopath. He couldn't help but laugh at her theories only to get a silencing glare from her. They made up irrespective of the fact that neither of them were aware about the feelings they developed for the other.

They were now seated at the same table they sat months ago in the same position but it was dinner now, Jugyeong called all of them to gather here and they did because no one wanted to hear Jugyeong get mad at them for skipping the dinner.

"Don't tell me you are pregnant." Tae hoon blurted out as Soo ah burst into laughter.

Suho just shook his head at them and observed everyone.

Jugyeong glared at Soo ah but shrugged it off eventually as Soo ah let out a nervous chuckle. Jugyeong smiled at everyone who looked at her and then put her left hand up showing the sparkling diamond ring on her ring finger.

"Suho proposed and I said yes." She exclaimed happily as Suho smiled at her and wrapped his arm around to pull her close while the girls gushed at the news. Soo ah squealed at the news with happiness and Soojin smiled at her best friend. Suho observed Seojun's reaction but much to his surprise, he didn't feel his heart clench, like all the times before and he gave them a genuine smile and clapped along with the others congratulating the pair. Suho thanked them with a smile as Soojin looked at Seojun smile and felt happy that he finally moved on from Jugyeong.

After a while, Cho rong and Tae hoon decided to go explore something which opened down the street while Suho and Seojun walked out of the restaurant to let the girls to gush over details and spend their time alone without their partners or friends.

"You like Soojin?" Suho asked Seojun as they looked at the street view. Seojun choked on his drink as Suho shook his head at him.

"What? No." He said and shrugged.

"After all these years, you must know better than lying to my face." Suho said as he observed his friend's reaction. Seojun was silent as he contemplated the idea of telling Suho and eventually gave in.

"I...I do." Seojun said after a while as he cleared his throat.

"Then, why didn't you tell her?" He asked him.

"Do you think I'm ready for another heartbreak?" He asked as Suho looked at him.

"How will you know without confessing?" Suho asked instead.

"I guess, I just know how is it when the person I like looks at me as a friend." He said and shrugged.

"Maybe she doesn't." Suho said as he turned around to look at the girls from the window.

And much to his surprise, he found Soojin throw a glance towards Seojun and it confirmed his suspicions.

"Let it be. Will you?" Seojun asked with a mixture of scowl and frown on his face.

"As you wish." Suho said as he looked at him.

"Honestly, I still can't believe that you found a girl and fell in love." Seojun said as Suho raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? Have you looked at yourself? With those death glares and eyebrow raises you give, it's hard to believe that someone fell in love with you." Seojun explained as Suho smiled at his best friend.

"You are really a dumbass." Suho said as Seojun widened his eyes.

"Who are you calling dumbass, dumbass?" He asked as Suho shrugged and decided to walk ahead.

"I asked Jugyeong to call us when they are done talking, wanna join me for a walk?" Suho asked Seojun. Seojun stopped for a while and looked at Soojin smile and talk to her friends and he couldn't help but smile at the sight, he sighed and looked at Suho who stood there waiting for his response. He could definitely use a bit of fresh air to clear his head.

"Alright. Let's go." He said and covered his face with a mask and joined Suho.

[woozibby]

In Love | Joshua

requested: Hello, I hope you’re doing good 💙 Could I maybe request a cute fluff with Joshua? Maybe something were he realizes he’s in love with the reader and tells them, if that’s okay with you~

wc: 2190

a.n. I hope you like this anon!! Please let me know if you have any more requests! <3 This is unedited, so i’m sorry for any mistakes!

SEVENTEEN MASTERLIST

You, my dear reader, are in your afternoon music lesson. You tried your best to keep focus, however, it wasn’t going very well. 

So when your phone started buzzing in your pocket, that was when you completely lost focus.

Your phone screen lights up with many notifications, however, the ones that stood out were the ones from the ironically titled group chat: Oh God Why.

Mingyu: how does everyone feel about pizza?

Vernon: I could go for pizza

y/n: omg yes pls

Joshua: aren’t you meant to be in class y/n? 

y/n: don’t need to call me out like that, but yeah, I’m here 

Mingyu: So pizza after y/n’s class yes or no? 

Vernon, y/n: yes

Joshua: fine yes. y/nie, I’ll come pick you up after class

y/n: awe, thank you josh<3

Mingyu: simp

Joshua: STFU MINGYU

So you giggle to yourself as you read the exchange and you put your phone away in attempts to refocus. The idea of food and hanging out with your best friends at the forefront of your mind. 

Finally, your lesson came to an end and like he said he would be. Joshua was there, outside waiting for you to meet him. 

“So, how was class?” Joshua asks as you link your arm with his and you both make your way to his car. 

“It was something,” you laugh. 

It didn’t take you guys long to get to the small dinner that Mingyu demanded to go to. He mentioned how it sold authentic American style pizza. That no other pizza place could now compare. 

None of you bothered to fight him on it as it was just easier to go along with the giant puppies’ demands. Plus you all knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him either. 

Once you got inside and were sat down, Mingyu and Vernon instantly went for the menu and began looking over it. However, you were fine just sitting there in the presence of everyone else. 

Looking over, you see Joshua already looking at you with a small smile on his face.

“What?” you asked, returning his smile.

“Nothing,” he responded, turning his attention away from you. “Guys, stop hogging the menus, let us have a look.” 

Ten minutes later, you’ve all ordered and are now sipping away at your drinks as you guys talk about your day. You laughed at the jokes Vernon said and how every time the door would open from the kitchen Mingyu’s head would be straight up and looking around like a meercat. 

However, what you didn’t notice was the fact how when you weren’t looking, Joshua would take the time to glance at you, smile and look away before you could notice. You were so engrossed in the conversation that you failed to notice the smile that never left his lips. 

So anyways, your pizza arrives and you guys slowly eat your food- well you slowly eat your food, the guys slowly and eating are never in the same sentence. 

So once you’ve finished up, you all split the bill and make your way out of the dinner. 

“Didn’t I tell you that place was great?” Mingyu gushes as he walks ahead of you with Vernon. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Vernon laughs. 

You continue to smile as you watch the two boys before turning your attention towards your other best friend. 

“You okay?” you ask. “You’ve been kinda quiet tonight.” 

Joshua hums and shrugs his shoulders. He takes a moment to think before nodding his head.

“I’m good,” The smile never falls. 

OKAY so, flash forward. 

So it’s a Saturday, you don’t have lessons AND since you were good, you made sure to catch up on all of your work so you could have the weekend to chill and do nothing.

Absolutely nothing. 

You didn’t want to think, you didn’t want to move an inch out of your apartment. The only thing that would get you out of your apartment was if the building was on fire and even then, you’d have to think about it. 

So you queued up a drama on your tv and started on making a snack or two to keep you going and once that was all done, you made your way back to the living room and plopped yourself down on the couch with a blanket thrown over your lap. 

You were twenty minutes into the first episode when your phone buzzed. You ignored it, thinking that if it was important they’d call back later. So you forgot about it for another ten or so minutes until it buzzed again. 

Letting out a sigh, you pause the episode and lean over to grab your phone. 

Your screen was full of notifications. 

Some were random things from Twitter, others were from some random app you forgot you had on your phone, but the most recent ones were a string of text messages from Josh. 

Joshua: You busy? 

Joshua: You doing anything rn?

Joshua: you’re free right?

You whipped your hands on your blanket before you unlocked your phone and typed back a response. 

y/n: define free?

Joshua: As in you’re not out and doing something??

y/n: then yeah, I’m free

Joshua: YES okay, do you want to do something? I thought maybe we could go to the aquarium? 

You began to type out a message, before pressing backspace and deleting it all. You wanted to spend the day inside, but what was the worst that could happen? Plus, how could you ever say no to him?

y/n: yeah sure, meet me here in twenty?

Joshua: cool, for sure! 

Locking your phone once more, you turn off your tv and take your snacks back to the kitchen before you headed to your room to get changed. 

You put on a comfortable outfit and made sure to wear a jacket over the top as you knew it could sometimes get cold in the aquarium. So, by the time you were ready, a knock on your door didn’t come as much of a surprise. 

Opening it up, you smile at Josh and invite him in. 

“I’ll be one second, just gotta put my shoes on.” 

He nods and sits himself down on the couch as he waits for you to finish and when you come back out with a small bag, you pick up your keys, purse and phone before shoving them in. 

“You ready?” he asks causing you to nod in response. 

So he drives and you guys get to the aquarium in no time. 

Once you get inside and your tickets are brought, you start to make your way through. 

Josh laughs to himself every time you saw a new animal and ran over to them in awe. He tried his best to keep beside you, however, once something caught your eye, you were off again in a flash. 

He didn’t mind though, the look on your face and the pure joy that emanated from you was enough for him. Every little thing you did made him smile, every little thing you did made his heart jump around. 

It wasn’t until you guys got to the underwater tunnel and the sight of you looking all around you with the largest smile he thought he had ever seen you smile, did it dawn to him. 

He loves you. 

No matter how much his heart and brain fought, no matter how much he wanted to deny it- he couldn’t. Not now, not whilst looking at you like this. Not when the water was reflecting on you in a way that enhanced your already beautiful self. 

Mingyu and Vernon always joked that he was a simp for you and they were right. Not that Josh would ever tell them that, they didn’t need the ego boost. 

So as Josh followed you around the aquarium, he smiled. He laughed to himself and the more time you guys spent the more it cemented in his mind.

He was in love and there was nothing he could do about it. 

So flash forward an hour or two. 

He’s dropped you home and you’ve gone on and on about how fun the day was. How much fun it was going there with him and it makes his heart expand like five sizes. 

So after he drops you off, he heads back to his own apartment which he shares with Vernon and Mingyu. When he walks through the door, both boys are sat on the couch, playing the same game they were playing when Josh left. 

“How was your date?” Mingyu sniggers, he, however, doesn’t turn his attention away from the tv as Josh walks over and lets himself fall into the love sweet. 

“It wasn’t a date,” Josh responds before covering his face up with his hands.

“Is that why you looked so bummed?” Vernon asks. 

Josh uncovers his face and sends a look to the younger boy. Vernon, who just shrugs says nothing more. 

“I realised something today and I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.” 

“Let me guess,” Mingyu pauses the game which causes Vernon to gasp. “You’ve finally realised your love for y/n and now you’re in a state of shock” 

Josh’s eyebrows furrow together as he slowly nods.

“How did you know?” 

Both of the younger boys sigh in defeat. 

“Because it’s obvious!” Vernon laughs. “You’ve been in love with them since what? The moment you guys saw each other?” 

“That’s not true,” Josh fakes a laugh as he looks down at his hands. 

“Yes, it is and don’t even try to deny it.” Mingyu states. 

“And so what you like y/n, what’s so bad about that?” Vernon asks causing Josh to shrug once again. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m scared it’ll ruin our friendship.” 

“There is nothing in this world that could end your friendship, you know why?” Mingyu asks, but he doesn’t wait for Josh to respond. “Because your guys’ friendship transcends any other thing. You guys are practically soulmates, don’t hide your feelings because of the anxieties.” 

“He’s right,” Vernon speaks. “Let’s say you did confess and they didn’t feel the same way, that’s a whole lot better than sitting here wondering what could have been.” 

Josh lets out a breath of air and nods his head slowly. 

What the boys were saying was true. 

What was the worst that could happen? You could say no and that Vernon was right. At least you can move on from a no, how can you move on from the thoughts of a what if? 

Because what if he didn’t tell her and there was a day where he began to regret that decision? How could he live with himself if he never told you how much he truly loved you? 

Josh shot up from his chair and sent a look to the two younger boys. 

“I need to tell them,” 

Vernon and Mingyu look at each other before looking at Josh with wide eyes.

“Like right now?” Mingyu asks.

Josh nods.

“Of course, when else am I going to tell them?” 

Vernon laughs and claps his hands. 

“Go on, go do it! Tell them, dude.” 

“I’m doing it,” Josh said before walking out the door. 

He came back in a moment later and picked up his car keys. 

“I’m doing it now!” He said leaving once more. 

Mingyu and Vernon looked at each other once more before speaking. 

“He’s seriously going to do it,” 

They looked back at the tv.

“Another game?”

“Sure.” 

SO back to you!! 

Since you’ve gotten back, you’ve put back on your drama, you’ve got your snacks back out and reclaimed your position on the couch. You’ve finally finished the first episode and you’re only into the second one by a minute or two when the sound of knocking on your door causes you to jump in fright. 

“What is it now?” You mumble to yourself as you place the snacks on your coffee table and throw your blanket to the side. 

Going to the door and opening it up, you make a face to yourself in shock at the sight of Josh standing behind it. 

“Oh Josh hey, what’s up? It hasn’t even been an hour and a half, miss me that much?” You laughed at your own joke, but your smile dropped at how serious Josh was. “Are you ok-...” 

He cuts you off, and your mouth drops. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you giggle. “What’s up with you?” 

“No, I mean, I love you, I’m in love with you. I look at you and my heart swells and I wouldn’t want anything more than to call you mine.” 

You blink for a moment as your brain tries to catch up with the words Josh is saying. 

“I-I…” You try to speak, but nothing came out. 

Josh begins to frown and looks down. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to them, he thought to himself. 

“I’m sorry, I shou-...” 

However, this time you were the one to cut him off.

“I love you too.”

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 4: Misjudgments and Saviors

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Sorry it's later than normal! I procrastinated the fuck out of the last half of this chapter and just got it finished. This chapter was originally going to include way more than just the interrogation, but the word count got away from me. Not a ton of Hotch in this chapter, but fear not, you will be fed next week ;) Also dark!Hotch hits different, you cannot change my mind. I hope you enjoy, thank you to everyone who takes the time to follow me, share my fic, and send me such kind messages. It means the world! <3

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 4, Misjudgments and Saviors

Chapter Summary: The team interrogates Ellory Matthews and discovers that just because a killer is easy to catch, doesn't mean he's easy to predict.

Words: 2929

Rating: Explicit, 18+ (REMINDER: I don’t use chapter warnings to avoid spoilers. Assume violence, smut, etc. are possible in all chapters. Check AO3 for more exact tags <3)

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You threw on your work clothes and clambered into the back of the SUV in the dark, silent hotel parking lot. Morgan and Hotch were sitting up front, Morgan looking as exhausted as you felt and clutching a steaming cup of coffee like it was his lifeline, Hotch looking as startlingly unfazed as ever.

You caught a glance of the car’s clock up front between them and shook your head. Two in the morning - not an optimal time to interrogate anyone, much less try to force a confession out of a man desperate to avoid the consequences of a triple murder. If you were lucky, he’d fold quickly and the bulk of the paperwork could be pushed off until tomorrow when you’d all had more than a few hours of sleep.

After a blessedly brief drive (Hotch had a habit of ignoring speed limits, even in non-emergencies) and arriving at the police precinct, the three of you stood in the windowed room looking into where Matthews was being held. A police officer - you forgot his name, but he was one of the same ones who briefed you when you’d first arrived - gave you the rundown of his arrest.

“He was back on campus,” the cop said. “We stopped checking everyone in who entered through the gates after 10, so he must have waited until after then. Campus police were on a patrol when they heard screaming. He tried to grab a girl walking home from the library and got his ass pepper sprayed.”

You suppressed a snort at that. For someone who’d gone to such over-the-top measures to subvert the authorities after murdering three women at once, he was continuing to prove your initial theory, unprofessional though it was - he was an idiot.

Hotch thanked and dismissed the officer, who left after shooting one more glance of barely-suppressed disgust through the one-way window. Just the three of you now, you stepped forward, looking at your subject.

The first thing you noticed was his youth - he was young, around your age, which shocked you despite already knowing that information. He was big, too; not overly fit, but he certainly looked strong enough to have had the upper hand on nearly any female victim he chose. His face, inflamed and dripping with tears from the effects of the pepper spray, was his defining feature in that it wasn’t particularly defining at all. The structure was mildly unattractive - too-big nose, downturned eyes - and the symmetry just off enough that the absence of a stellar personality to compensate would render him nearly invisible to the opposite sex. That, you supposed, combined with a predisposition towards instability and a repeated lack of success with women, had created the perfect storm of obsessiveness and delusion that produced the three (almost four)-time rapist and murderer that sat on the other side of the glass.

“We need a confession,” Hotch said, breaking you out of your internal analysis, “but we also need to know if he’s done this before. Garcia put together a list of missing women that fit the victimology here as well as in Arizona and Nevada. Considering he dumped bodies there, we can assume he has some degree of comfort with those areas.”

Morgan grabbed the aforementioned list from Hotch and shook his head. “There’s dozens of names on this list.”

Hotch nodded in acknowledgement. “I know. That’s why I’d like to get closure for as many of the families as possible. But first, let’s focus on the three we know about.” He turned to you. “Morgan and I will go in first. We may have some success with intimidation from male authority figures, but I don’t see us piquing enough interest to get a confession. Normally, I’d send Prentiss or JJ in a situation like this, but I have full faith you can handle it.”

He paused, inspecting your face, no doubt gauging your reaction. “How do you feel about interacting with him?”

You felt sick, to tell the truth, knowing you were an exact match for his preferences. More than that, you felt woefully unprepared to conduct your second-ever interrogation under the scrutiny of two of the BAU’s experienced agents, including your boss. Especially your boss, whose gravelly voice and piercing eyes seemed to be occupying much more of your mental real estate than you were comfortable with.

You reassured him that you’d be fine, though, because looking like you were scared of interviewing a serial killer cast doubt on your ability to actually, you know, do your job . And if you watched Morgan and Hotch enter the interrogation room while really hoping that Hotch was underestimating their ability to crack him, well, no one needed to know.

Morgan swung the folding chair around, sitting with his arms propped on the backrest, directly across from Matthews. Matthews’ gaze, however, was glued to Hotch, who was standing with his arms crossed diagonally behind Morgan. You couldn’t see Hotch’s face, as his back was to you, but you knew what it looked like - jaw taut, lips pressed tight, frown even more pronounced than usual. Intimidating to anyone he came across, probably even more so if you were someone he was about to interrogate on suspicion of murder.

They made their introductions and began.

“Listen, Ellory, I’m gonna be straight with you here,” Morgan said, leaning forward. “This is not looking good for you, my man. We got you on attempted kidnapping at the same school three murdered girls attended. We have friends of these victims say they talked about a creepy teaching assistant in their classes. You’ve got piles of criminal psychology textbooks hidden in your house with notes that match what happened to these girls exactly. Put this in front of a jury, you’re getting convicted no question. At this point, it’s a matter of whether or not you wanna work with us and make this a little easier on you. You feel me?”

Matthews mumbled something indistinct, looking at his feet.

“Speak up,” Hotch commanded. You’d seen this before, what Morgan jokingly called the “good cop, bad drill sergeant” routine, but it always amazed you how easily they slipped into the roles.

Matthews looked up then, defiant. “They’re not mine.”

Morgan scoffed. “What aren’t? The books? C’mon man, they were under your mattress. In your house. No one’s buying that.”

“Well, it’s true,” Matthews mumbled, looking back down at his hands. “Don’t know how they got there.”

“And the girl?” Morgan asked, obviously unconvinced. “How you wanna explain you trying to kidnap a girl who fits the exact profile of three other girls who got kidnapped and killed in the same week?”

He whipped his head up at that, furious. “I wasn’t kidnapping her. She needed a ride. It was late.”

Hotch spoke up, his tone cutting. “Then why did she taze you?”

“She didn- look, she was confused, okay? I don’t know.”

“Sounds to me like she was pretty fuckin’ ungrateful,” Morgan offered. You cringed. You knew what he was playing at, but it was hard to hear nonetheless.

He continued, “Pretty girl like her, it wasn’t safe walking around that late, right? And you try to be a gentleman, try to help, and she freaks out and attacks you. That’d piss me off too, man.”

“Yeah. I guess,” Matthew responded, eyes flicking between Morgan and Hotch, seemingly unsure.

“Don’t worry about him,” Morgan said. “He’s just here cuz he has to be. Listen. We’re on the same page here. I’m you, I’m nice to these girls, I offer them rides, I treat ‘em like a gentleman. They turn around and act stuck-up, like they’re too good for me, right? That makes me mad.”

He paused, waiting for Matthews’ reaction. Matthews nodded, hesitant.

“So, what? Maybe I see them after they graduate or leave the college and confront them or something; tell them off for being such assholes to me when I was their TA. Maybe it gets heated, I gotta defend myself, someone gets hurt. Now, that’s not my fault, right?”

Matthews nodded again, more enthusiastic this time.

“Is that what happened to those girls, Ellory?” Hotch asked.

The room fell silent, waiting on his response. You leaned forward, nose almost pressed against the glass, praying it would really be this easy.

Matthews opened and closed his mouth, unsure. Morgan had worked him up, you could tell - his face was red, his hands balled up into fists on the table. He took a deep breath…

…and shook his head.

You cursed, stepping away from the glass. You heard Hotch and Morgan exit the interrogation room and come in behind you. You turned to face them.

“I thought you had him for sure,” you groaned to Morgan.

“Me too,” he replied, “but we got close. She going in next?” he asked Hotch.

Hotch looked at you. “He’s close to cracking. Act like he’d be doing you a huge favor by confessing, like you’d be in his debt. He wants to feel powerful, important. Convince him he can be.”

Catering to a man’s ego was a skill you’d fine-tuned after years of studying under, working with, and existing alongside them. Most men you’d had to flatter didn’t inspire quite so much disgust, however.

Just pretend he’s another idiot at a bar.

You straightened your cardigan and nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Remember,” Hotch said, “we’re right here. If you get too uncomfortable, just leave. This is a lot to ask of you so early in your position; I won’t blame you if it doesn’t go to plan.”

You nodded again and tried your best to smile. “Gotta learn sometime though, right?”

Morgan held out his fist to bump, and you obliged. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Hotch looked much less enthusiastic, but opened and held the door for you anyways. You took a deep breath and entered, plastering what you hoped was a convincing smile on your face. Matthews looked up, surprised, and returned your smile. He looked so normal in that moment, it was hard for you to reconcile that this was the same man who stalked, raped, and murdered three women and led authorities on a purposeless goose chase to divert suspicion.

Taking a seat directly across the table from him, you introduced yourself. “I’m the new intern at the BAU. I asked my boss if I could come talk to you. I just don’t feel like they really understood you, ya know?” You grinned, hoping the flattery would stick.

It appeared to, as Matthews leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, as if he was confiding in you. “I know how guys like that are. They think they’re the shit. Women always fall for that, though.” He looked at you intensely, and you started to realize very quickly why his victims had found him unsettling. “You don’t fall for that, right? That alpha male stuff?”

You forced out a laugh. “No, I prefer more sensitive guys. Ones that you can have a conversation with.”

“Are we having a conversation?”

“Wh-what? I’m sorry?”

“Are we having a conversation?” he repeated, still holding intense eye contact.

“Well, yes, I would say so,” you replied. “On that note, um, I wanted to be honest with you. It would really mean a lot to me if the families of -” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “- the three girls we’ve been talking to you about could get closure.”

“How do you mean?” asked Matthews, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“I just mean, they don’t know what happened to them, you know? And if we could tell them that whatever happened to them, it was a misunderstanding, and the person who did it feels bad, I think that would help a lot.”

Matthews’ beady, swollen eye twitched at that. “Feels bad?”

Oh, fuck.

“Sorry, I don’t know if bad is the right word, just that they didn’t want that to happen. For them to die.”

He paused. Seemed to make a decision.

"Who said I didn't want them to die?"

You had misjudged him - in that moment, you knew that. You had assumed the fatal ends to the encounters with his victims were born out of shame. That he felt remorse. That he didn’t want to mutilate and discard their bodies, and that the purposeful distractions from his true psychological profile had been a desperate attempt of an unintelligent man to throw the police off his trail. He was a creep, he was a stalker, he was obsessive and dangerous, and he was unintelligent. But he was also a sadist.

Realizing how pathetically unprepared you were to deal with this new diagnosis, you pushed back from the table and moved to stand - slowly, like you were trying to avoid startling a wild animal. Trying. But it all happened so fast.

Matthews shot up from his seat the instant you did - uncuffed, because he wasn’t supposed to be a threat, not like this - and grabbed you by the neck, dragging you across the table, scraping your legs against the hard metal edges. You screamed for help (really just screamed Hotch’s name over and over) until he had you too tight and you couldn’t anymore. Your hair was in your face, obscuring your vision, but you heard the door crash open seconds after he moved. He wrenched you closer to him, trapping you in the crook of one elbow, cutting off your breathing. More than cutting off your breathing, he was squeezing, much harder than he needed to simply choke you, and amidst the haze of your hair in your face and the blood rushing in your ears and the muffled sounds of Hotch and Morgan yelling, you had the wild thought that he might actually detach your head from your shoulders.

They can’t shoot, you thought, your last clear notion before your mind started to go fuzzy. He had you too close; the space was too small. A loud crash, presumably the table being launched against a wall, cut through the pounding in your head. You felt a sharp jerk - Matthews trying to move away - a sickening, dull crack, and the vice holding your throat was released. You dropped forward onto your hands and knees, hacking desperately, tears streaming onto the ground.

Morgan grabbed you by the shoulders and sat you up. “You ok? Hey, look at me, you ok? Can you breathe? Breathe for me, ok, come on.”

Coughing out a raspy, “Yes,” you pushed your hair out of your eyes and wiped your sleeve through the snot and mascara streaking your face. You looked to your left, trying to see what happened to Matthews, and nearly stopped breathing again.

He was dead, collapsed into a pile on the floor like sodden laundry. There was no blood, no apparent evidence of what happened, until you looked to his head and saw how grossly contorted his neck was. You looked up at Hotch in shock, who was standing over the body, hair askew, breathing heavily.

He broke his fucking neck.

Morgan could’ve done it, of course, but by the way Hotch looked up and met your eyes, you knew that wasn’t the case.

They gathered you up and wrapped you in a jacket. You saw paramedics almost immediately who cleared you medically (“No permanent tracheal damage, just expect bruising and soreness.”), met with internal investigators who questioned you about the incident, spoke to the rest of the team on a video call, spent 20 minutes on the phone with Garcia trying to reassure her between coughing fits that you were all alright, and finally, you were cleared to leave. The whole time, though, you were paying less and less attention to what was going on around you and more time thinking about the way Hotch looked when you looked him in the face.

You knew he had to have killed before; working this job for as long as he did made that a certainty. What you didn’t expect to see on his face was a complete lack of remorse. Disgust, even. He looked down at Matthews like he was scum, his lip curled and his jaw set. It was only when you made eye contact that you saw the slightest bit of emotion, of panic, before they whisked you away.

Morgan interrupted your cyclical musing. “You need someone to stay with you?”

Right, he was dropping you off at your hotel room.

“No, thank you Morgan,” you whispered, throat feeling more raw by the minute. “I’ll be okay.”

Morgan looked unconvinced but refrained from debating you. “Alright, but you know to call if you need anything, right?”

You nodded and managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

____________

Later that day, you took a commercial flight back, alone. Morgan and Hotch were staying for a few more days to finish closing the case, but they insisted you go home and rest. You were too drained to argue.

When you closed your eyes to sleep that night, in your own apartment, you expected to see Matthews, jeering at you from across the table. You expected to feel his arms wrap around your throat, to smell his stench, to wake up in a cold sweat thinking he was standing over you, ready to attack you again.

None of those things happened. In fact, when you closed your eyes, Matthews wasn’t the man you saw at all.

[hillbillyoracle]

Shadow Work Skills to Develop

Shadow work can feel very…vague to talk about. There’s a bad habit of just kind of handwaving things and hoping people figure it out on their own. Part of that is that it’s so intensely personal. It’s so hard to come up with things that will work for everyone. The other part is that I want people to experiment and add to what we know about shadow work so I don’t want to be too prescriptive in how I teach others to do it.

So, for this post I wanted to dig into some of the most basic skills I use in shadow work in the hopes it’ll help people no matter which methods or paths they take.

Describing Events Neutrally

I put this one first because I think it’s the most important and the more difficult. Our emotions cloud how describe events to ourselves and others. For us to look critically at actions or words, we really need to be able to describe them without intent or emotion. Now, I’m not saying to leave that out entirely, I’ll get to that next. But you have to be able to get a clear view of what was done. This is so important when working with anything that might be triggering. We are too used to describing events with the goal of justifying thoughts, feelings, and actions and in shadow work it helps to break that instinct where you can.

When you can describe events neutrally to start with, it’s easier to see whether the feelings where in line or out of line with what happened. Were you way over reactive? Maybe under reactive? It’s easier to judge that when you have a neutral account to work with.

To practice, try listing out some events as they happen neutrally. An example might be after a tense interaction with someone, listing out what was said and done. If you can, get someone who was there to look at it and someone who wasn’t there to look at it and see what they say as far as how factual and neutral the account is.

Naming Feelings

Many many people cannot tell you what they’re feeling. There’s a myriad of reasons for this but no matter where it comes from it hurts shadow work. Your mood is like an internal weather system, you need to be able to do shadow work that’s appropriate for the weather. How you dig into things if gonna be different if your reaction to feeling trapped is to give up and binge movies or to lash out in anger. Gotta know what you’re working with.

It’s absolutely vital that you practice naming your emotions in day to day life. I did a week where I had an alarm go off five times a day and I wrote down what I was feeling in a note on my phone. A lot of my entries were “I’m not sure”. The practice showed me how often I have no connection to my feelings at all and prompted me to get to know them better.

Try using a feelings wheel or a feelings chart at least once a day to get used to checking in with yourself and putting a name on it.

Defining What You Want

We live in a society that has a very complicated relationship with wants. People often say we live in a consumerist society but we don’t often talk about what that’s done to us psychologically, to be so consumptive. There’s a lot of morality around them too that we internalize. We identify strongly with what we want. We define ourselves through our ambitions and our goals. But it means what we really want gets lost in the pursuit of shaping our desires to be acceptable or admirable. We ignore our desires that don’t fit with our narratives which is such a block to shadow work. How can you work on what you won’t let yourself be conscious of?

You have to understand that you and your desires are not one in the same. Just because you really want to enact violence on someone for what they’ve done doesn’t make you a bad person or a mean person or what have you. It’s a natural human desire. That doesn’t mean that’s it’s justified just that you are not bad for having those thought or desires. This extends to other things people don’t like admitting they want – finding other people more appealing than their partner, wanting someone who’s wronged them to suffer, wanting more for yourself even if it means someone else goes without – they’re all desires we have from time to time.

Practice writing what you want out on paper. Remind yourself you don’t have to act on it and that it’s better to be aware of it so doesn’t sneak into the driver’s seat. It’s important to break the idea that we’re owed what we want or that we have to act on what we want. Desires, much like feelings, come and go. But they’re important to be aware of while they’re here.

Taking Responsibility

I still am unsure of how to describe how to do this. It’s really distress tolerance at it’s core; learning to be okay with not being okay. Because where I see people going wrong with responsibility in shadow work is that they either explain everything away with context or they go it’s all my fault and it’s so terrible I can’t do anything about it.

Part of taking responsibility is being able to answer the question “What do I owe in this situation?” If your answer is always nothing, you’re wrong. We are social creatures, we’re only here because we evolved the intelligence to work closely and creatively with other members of our species. We do owe each other things in any interaction. It’s important to practice thinking about what those things are. Equally important is thinking through what you don’t owe as well.

Practice sitting with your mistakes when they happen and trying to think what’s owed in this situation. Shadow work depends on our ability to take responsibility for the roles we play in what keeps us stuck.

Pattern Recognition

I don’t know that I have much explicit advice for this category other than it’s incredibly helpful. Seeing your patterns is really key to zeroing in on automatic behaviors or thoughts. Pattern recognition is kind of like playing Minesweeper. It gets you a little closer to what you’re trying to uncover without having to step right in it and maintain yourself to be reflective.

Journaling can be really great for this. If you see yourself writing about the same actions or feelings or thoughts again and again and again. Going back through old conversations where you’re venting might give you some clues.

Whenever you find yourself frustrated you keep doing something, take note. When are you doing these things? What does it offer you? What does it protect you from?

We don’t do things repeatedly if they don’t serve us in some way which can be hard for us to admit.

Compassionate Problem Solving

So you’ve dug up these unpleasant truths about yourself, what’s a shadow worker to do? The only way forward is compassionate problem solving. Which is best summed of for me as working with yourself, not against yourself. I’m reminded of permaculture – the problem is the solution.

An example of this in my own life was ADHD. Once I finally realized what I was dealing with was ADHD, I spent several months ignoring it completely and being shocked when I couldn’t will myself to be “normal”. I felt a lot of shame. It was only when I started accepting where I was at and then going okay what can I do that things started to shift. “Okay, if I know I’m gonna forget my keys what can I do?” I put spare house keys and car keys in my car so when I inevitably forgot them somewhere I could call AAA and I’d be able to drive home. “Okay if I’m gonna forget my papers what can I do?” I made digital backup galore so I could access them and print them off at the last minute on campus. My life got so much better with the approach.

Wherever you’re at there are things you can do to make it better going forward and it’s important to get creative and stay reasonable. Getting triggered frequently? Make sure you have a cool down list of some kind on your phone. Too scared to grab groceries by yourself? Grab a buddy or order them and pick them up. Spending too much time in bed because you’re depressed as shit? Set a 5 minute timer and do one thing to make your life better. Literally all of these are personal examples.

There’s always something you can do. Small wins are still wins. Count them. There’s no need to be cruel to yourself while doing shadow work. Practice coming up with at least three different ways to respond to issues that you face. Even if you know a solution isn’t the one you’re gonna take, get used to putting out more than one “right” answer. In shadow work, there’s always more than one path.

Conclusion

I hope this is helpful. A bit rambling, but I think I could have used a post like this when I was starting out. Shadow work gets very individualized, very quickly, but I’ve yet to talk to anyone who wasn’t using at least a few of these in their personal shadow work journey. Hope these skills and how to practice them help!

If you liked this post, consider tipping me here.

[detectiveupstead]

Workplace Romance [Upstead One Shot]

Summary: Jay and Hailey have a needed conversation about this new workplace romance of theirs.

She met Jay in the middle of the locker room, right as he was about to head out, and she stopped him short with a subtle furrow between her eyebrows. “Hey—are you heading out?”

Jay’s eyebrows rose, expression one she recognized of him trying to deflect the oncoming conversation. “Uh, yeah,” he breathed out, green eyed gaze glancing down at the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Whoa, hold on a second,” Hailey stopped him with a slight confused laugh, hand reaching out to grab his arm. He’d been off for a few days, which Hailey of course picked up on immediately, but she’d hoped that he’d tell her what was on his mind. They’d gotten past the point of their partnership, friendship, what they were now, where the other would have to seek out the one who had something on their mind. It was an unspoken thing between them to go to one another, yet Jay hadn’t done that this time around. When his eyes met hers, she lowered her voice to remind him, “I thought we were both going to your place?”

“Oh, right, right; we’re off the clock so our relationship is back on now.”

Though he spoke flatly, the sting of his words were sharp, and Hailey did her best not to recoil as she frowned up at him. Her gaze flickered past him for a moment, towards the doorway that led into the hallway outside of the locker room, briefly wondering if anyone was around. She remembered Voight was finishing up paperwork in his office, everyone else already gone for the night, and heard Jay scoff just then.

“Jesus—I can’t even mention our relationship without you double checking if anyone heard us.”

Hailey’s eyes sharpened, growing frustrated with Jay’s remarks, immediately understanding that his off-mood as of late had to do with their relationship. Doing her best to ignore the knot of anxiety that formed in her stomach, a seedling of fear growing from Jay potentially regretting starting something up with her, Hailey steeled her expression and said, “Not here. We’ll talk about it at your place and we’ll talk about it tonight.”

She noticed the flash of regret in his eyes, clearly realizing his words had hurt her in some way. But Jay said nothing, instead waited by the doorway as Hailey went to her locker to gather up her things. The silence in the locker room was tense, weighing them down, though neither of them startled at the sharp echo of Hailey slamming her locker shut. Jay kept his face blank, pushing himself off the wall as Hailey walked his way, following him out of the locker room and towards the stairs to exit the precinct.

The silence between them remained, and it took all of Hailey’s willpower not to fidget in her seat as Jay drove them to his apartment. Hailey had always been a straightforward person; if there was ever an issue she had with someone, no matter her relationship with them, she was vocal about it so they could figure it out. That had always been the case with Jay, long before they got romantically involved. It’s what made them so fluid with one another, always working in sync no matter the job. It was one of the things she loved about Jay, about them, and she would be damned if she let his stubbornness—or hers, since she sometimes was no better—try to crack at the foundation they had built together.

So she stayed quiet in the car, knowing the tension would explode if they started the much needed conversation right then and there, and waited until they got back to his place. When they did, Jay didn’t seem too keen on jumping into the conversation right away, instead dropping his duffel by the couch and asking her, “I’m gonna order pizza—the usual okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Hailey responded absently, eyeing his back as she dropped her bag down, too. She waited patiently as Jay placed their order, shrugging off her jacket. She didn’t quite feel like sitting down just yet, so once Jay hung up, she cut right to it. “What’s going on, Jay? I thought we both agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone about us. Not yet, anyway.”

Instead of answering her, Jay faced Hailey as he also took off his jacket, chin lifted as he asked, “What happened to your no work place romance rule, Hailey? You’ve broken that more than once now—what’s up with that?” She blinked at him in bewilderment, eyebrows drawn together as she looked up at him. “You just keep your relationships a secret so if they end up not working out, you’re saving face because you never told anyone in the first place?”

Was he attacking her? Hailey had no idea what was going on, no clue as to where the frustration in Jay’s voice was coming from. “Jay, what the hell?” she demanded, a humorless laugh escaping her. Her skin was beginning to heat up in annoyance—and hurt—as she stared at her boyfriend. “I just don’t like people knowing my business—you know that.”

“And that’s fine, Hailey, but you didn’t seem to have a problem when people found out about your relationship with Adam,” Jay retorted, lips curling slightly as he gave a shrug.

Hailey gaped at him, blinking at his accusation in disbelief. Adam? Why the hell were they talking about her relationship with Adam? Calmly, Hailey said, “That was different.”

Jay scoffed, clearly not believing her. “How?”

She shot him a glare, hotly responding, “Because I knew Adam and I were never going to work out!” Hailey clenched her jaw after her outburst, Jay’s frown weighing her down as she let out a breath before sitting down on the couch. Resting her elbows on her knees, Hailey bowed her head, fingers burying in her blonde hair as she sighed once more. The couch shifted next to her and she knew Jay had sat down as well, and Hailey swallowed inaudibly before lifting her head.

His gaze was softer than before, traces of annoyance disappearing as his tone took an encouraging tone as he asked, “What do you mean?”

Hailey licked her lips, sitting up, arms still resting on her knees as she linked her hands together. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts to best say what was on her mind. “I told you back then—I didn’t see my relationship with Adam coming. It wasn’t supposed to be a thing, you know? The only reason we ended up together in the first place. . .” She trailed off, looking at him, taking in the sight of his green eyes and freckles and open expression that let her know she could tell him anything. So she confessed, “Was because of you.”

Jay blinked, clearly not having expected that. They didn’t talk about their past relationships much, because both were trying their best not to let those influence what they had. But it would be a lie to see that their pasts didn’t define who they were today, and though they were trying, it was difficult not to let insecurities and grievances of the past bleed into what they had with each other. “Because of me?” Jay repeated, not entirely understanding what she meant.

And why would he? Hailey never told him how her and Adam had gotten together. So she told him, confessing how after the case that involved his dad’s death, when she saw him laying on the concrete with a bullet in his vest, there had been several agonizing minutes where she hadn’t known if he was going to make it out alive. And when the adrenaline wore off after finding out he was okay, she was so overwhelmed with emotion and Adam had been there, took her out for drinks. So she drank to erase the image of Jay on the ground, drank to erase the fear and panic of potentially losing him, and somehow that resulted in waking up next to Adam the following morning.

“I obviously care about Adam,” Hailey continued, gaze on her hands as she absently picked at her nails. “But we were never gonna work. We just. . . Didn’t line up.” Her blue eyes then met Jay’s blue, a gentle smile lifting at one corner of her lips as she finished, “Not the way you and I do.” Jay returned the smile, understanding what Hailey was saying, and she let out a sigh. “Our relationship—it’s still new, you know? And I don’t want everyone finding out already because as soon as they do, that’s when all the comments start.” With a tilt of her head, she inquired knowingly, “You’re gonna tell me when people found out about you and Lindsay, no one made comments about you two being partners while being together?”

Jay pursed his lips, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he, no doubt, recalled a conversation or two about the topic. “No, you’re right,” he relented with a breath.

“Keeping us a secret isn’t because I expect what we have to fall apart, Jay,” Hailey reassured, turning to face him as their knees brushed. “I just don’t want anyone questioning how we do our jobs because we’re together,” Hailey shrugged. With a wry grin, she added, “We work with some of the best detectives in Chicago—it’s not gonna take them that long to figure us out. But until then, I just—” She reached out, linking their hands together, warmth spreading through her when Jay squeezed her hands. “I want us to be just between us.”

“I know,” Jay agreed, a soft smile upturning his lips as well. She watched the way his larger hands covered hers easily, reveled in the heat of his skin touching hers. Lifting his gaze to meet hers, Jay added dryly, “Guess neither of us have had the best luck in dating someone we work with.”

She scoffed, nodding along in agreement. “Yeah, but—this is different, isn’t it?” Her voice quietened, a flutter in her chest. “It feels different. In a good way.”

He looked at her for a moment, green eyes boring into blue. Instead of replying, Jay leaned in, and Hailey was utterly compliant as she met him halfway, closing the gap between them as her lips met his. And in that kiss, Jay told her everything she needed to hear.

Because what they had—it was different. Years of partnership and friendship had provided them with a solid foundation to help them approach the next level, giving into feelings they’d been harboring for longer than either of them could recall. Both Jay and Hailey could admit that there had always been something between them, and over the years they spent building trust, respect, and loyalty between one another only helped to push them into realizing just how deep all of that ran.

They were only a month into their relationship, but they had years of friendship before that, and it was that solid, unbreakable bond that would help them navigate this new chapter they had started for themselves.

Hailey couldn’t help the smile that curled her lips as her thoughts fluttered around her head, grinning against Jay’s mouth as he kissed her, pulling away from her only to finish her previous thought—“In a really good way.”

[bellakitse]

“I called you because I can’t fall asleep.”

I’ll be here for you

“I can’t believe you came here instead of going home,” TK whispers when the kiss ends, his green eyes shining bright with affection and a little amusement. “You really didn’t have to.”

*

When TK can't sleep, Carlos comes to be with him at the firehouse.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 1

Carlos is more than halfway home from the station when his phone rings. He checks his dash, his mouth curving upward when he sees the name on the caller ID followed by a frown when he remembers he left work close to 1 am.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks when he presses on the Bluetooth to answer the call.

“Hey,” TK greets him back. “Yeah, everything is fine, I just wanted to say hi,” he says quietly.

Carlos frowns again, TK doesn’t sound upset or anything, but his dash shows him it’s almost 1:30 now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. “You don’t usually call me this late.”

“Wait, what time is it – “ TK starts to say, he hears him shift around and then let out a low swear. “Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t even check the time. Everyone in the station is in bed, except me. I called you because I can’t fall asleep. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” he says in a rush.

“Hey, no, relax,” he says quickly, not wanting TK to feel bad. “I’m not even home; my shift ran into overtime. I’m in my car headed home now. You didn’t wake me up.”

“Still,” TK protests. “I should have checked the time – “ he trails off, letting out a groan. “I just can’t sleep, and I guess I wanted to hear your voice,” he says before going quiet.

Carlos is also silent for a moment. He and TK have slowly started working towards something deeper since the night of the solar flares. They still haven’t officially defined what they are – he hopes they’re boyfriends now – but what ever the title, he believes that whatever they are, it’s something they both want to build on and watch as it grows. He knows that for his part, he’s already halfway to being in love with TK. He’s known his feelings for TK are powerful since he held his hand in the hospital, and maybe even before that.

He comes to a red light, biting down on his lip as he debates which way to turn. Left takes him to his apartment, right takes him to the firehouse.

“I should let you go,” TK speaks again, softly and apologetic.

The light turns green, and he turns right.

“Where are you?” he questions instead of saying goodbye.

“The firehouse,” TK answers. “My shift ends at 9 am.”

“No, I meant where in the firehouse,” he continues as he arrives at his destination, parking his car in one of the select spots. He looks out his window at the 126 firehouse as he turns off his engine.

“The couches in the common room on the second floor,” TK answers, but Carlos can hear his confusion, and it makes him smile as he gets out of his car. “Why?”

“I’ll be up in a second,” he tells him instead of answering his question, taking the steps two at a time as quietly as possible.

“Up? What do you mean?” TK asks, his confusion more pronounced. “Where are you?”

Carlos spots him with his back to him, sitting up straight. He clears his throat, a smile already on his face when TK spins around on the couch, the surprise clear on his face as he takes him in. He brings down his phone, ending the call, watching as TK does the same.

“Hi,” he says, his smile growing when TK continues to stare at him. “So, what’s this about not being able to sleep?”

TK’s expression goes soft, a gentle smile appearing on his face as he shakes his head softly.

Carlos watches as he gets up from the couch, taking a step forward as TK starts to walk towards him. They meet in the middle of the common room, Carlos closes his eyes a second before TK presses his mouth against his. He places his hands on TK’s slim waist, his fingers digging into the soft cotton of TK’s Austin Fire t-shirt, holding him against his body when TK wraps his arms around his neck. TK controls the kiss, parting his lips by a touch of his tongue. He sighs into the kiss as TK’s tongue flicks against his, the tiredness of his long day disappearing under TK’s attention.

“I can’t believe you came here instead of going home,” TK whispers when the kiss ends, his green eyes shining bright with affection and a little amusement. “You really didn’t have to.”

“You said you couldn’t sleep,” he reminds him. “I was already in my car; it just made more sense to come and see you then to keep talking over the phone.”

TK shakes his head again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grows. “How are you this amazing? Are you even real?”

Carlos feels his face go hot at the look TK gives him, still amused, still so very fond.

“And he blushes,” TK teases, brushing his lips against his hot cheek before taking his hand. “Come on; you have to be tired. If you aren’t in bed, at least sit on the couch with me and be comfortable.”

He lets TK lead him back to the cream-colored fluffy couch. TK places a few of the cushions against one of the arms of the couch and points.

“Shoes off and lay back,” he instructs him, a serious look on his face when Carlos raises an eyebrow at him.

Chuckling silently, Carlos does as TK asks, not at all surprised when TK crawls in between his legs, laying down on top of him, chest to chest. He shifts around a few times before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Comfortable?” he jokes, wrapping his arms around TK’s shoulders as he tucks his face under his chin.

TK nods, his nose rubbing against Carlos’ neck as he does so. Carlos laughs again, completely charmed as always by TK.

“Tell me something,” TK says quietly, already sounding mellowed out as Carlos runs his hands up and down his back.

“Like what?” he questions just as softly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment. He could stay like this forever.

“Anything? Everything?” TK tells him with a hopeful voice. “I want to know everything about you.”

Carlos’ heart ticks up at TK’s words and the sincerity he hears behind them.

“I’m allergic to watermelon,” he starts. “It’s not an extreme allergy, I just get itchy and a little red, so sometimes I still eat a piece or two when I have fruit salad.”

“No watermelon, and keep Benadryl tablets on hand, check,” TK responds like he’s making a list. “I only get seasonal allergies. What else?”

“When I was a kid, I had a Batman phase,” he tells him with a grin. “My aunt got me batman pajamas, the ones that look like a costume. I refused to wear anything else to bed, so my mom had to buy a few more just to switch them out and wash the dirty ones. When it was my turn to pick what we were playing, I would always pick Batman and make my sisters be the villains.”

“Please, tell me there are pictures of this?’TK asks, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles.

“My mom probably has a bunch,” he answers with a shrug.

“That’s the first thing I’m asking her to show me when I meet her,” TK promises.

Carlos’ breath catches at how matter-of-fact TK talks about meeting his mother like it’s a given he will. He wants that. He and his mother are close, and more than anything, he wants TK to know her and for her to know him. There is no doubt in his mind that she’ll adore him from the first moment she lays eyes on him.

“She’ll be only too happy to show you every embarrassing picture she has of me,” he answers, smiling when TK snickers.

“I can’t wait,” he says, lifting his head to look at him. “I bet little Carlos was adorable.”

“Was?” he scoffs, digging his fingers lightly into TK’s sides, grinning as he squirms on top of him. “I’m still adorable; thank you very much.”

TK smiles back softly at him. “You are,” he says, his voice low and sweet. “Tell me something else.”

“Your smile makes my heart skip a beat,” he whispers, staring into TK’s eyes as they widen at his confession. “Your kisses take my breath away, and I’m so happy when I’m around you, I want to be around you all the time.”

He watches as TK licks his lips, swallowing hard, his eye so bright they shine. His breath catches in his lungs again as TK nods at him rapidly.

“Same,” he breathes out. “Everything you just said, same for me, so much the same.”

Carlos lets out a shaky breath, his whole body humming with joy and love. “Good.”

TK smiles, letting out a laugh as he lays his head back down, this time over his heart, his hands squeezing his shoulders.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he says quietly. “For being here for me.”

“I’ll be here for you every time you need me,” he promises. He feels TK let out a sigh, his body loosening, and Carlos knows he’s starting to drift off to sleep. “Every time, sweetheart.”

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Seeing Ghosts (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

Italy was supposed to be for time off. You most certainly needed it. You couldn't ignore the tug you felt toward the castle, though you wanted to because you couldn't run from your abilities. 

Seeing the dead was a gift passed down in your family, it skipped a generation so the next person you had known in your family to have had it was your grandmother. She told you to keep it secret, wanting to keep you from the pain she had in her life. She had to learn it the hard way. People thought she was crazy and her childhood was constant bullying. Her mother had kept it from her father so he too thought she had problems. 

As always, it started young. There were many pictures of you looking off into an empty space, hundreds of drawings of imaginary friends. Though they weren't all sweet. There was the nightmares and gruesome drawings of horrific characters. Whilst your parents deemed it imaginary, your grandmother always reassured you in secret that they couldn't hurt you and you'd be completely fine. That was the curse your grandmother told you of. No matter how horrifying or evil the spirits could appear, they couldn't touch you. They were cursed to watch the world go by until they found peace. That's where your family come in, many are able to be saved by showing them the way to the light and move on. 

What drew you in wasn't the castle itself, it was someone calling out from the inside. You couldn't see anyone calling and you knew it was be a bad idea to go inside. That didn't stop you from entering as a tour group entered. You were about to step out of the group of tourists to speak with the receptionist but only made the step out before freezing. The receptionist was looking at you, smiling as she did so, waiting for you to say something to her greeting. Though she wasn't who had your attention. Behind her, in the dark, was a girl. She was blonde, her hair down that was slightly tangled and looked to be a teenager. She wore jeans and a crop top. She looked miserable and wore a look you were very acquainted with. She looked like she wanted to leave for some time now. Many bored teenagers wore that expression, but so did the dead. It was an expression you just couldn't escape. However the girl was only the first warning. The air felt heavy and you knew immediately that there were many ghosts here. Many were trapped here, the place of their death. "Quickly, please, stay together!" The beautiful woman in a red dress smiled warmly, violet eyes gleaming. That was strange. You didn't know violet eyes were even possible. 

The double doors opened and that was when the nightmare began. You were roughly grabbed by a man with long black hair and bright red eyes. Screams rang in your ears, your eyes wide. The man leaned down before he froze. He roughly threw you to the floor. "Not that one!" He barked. You could only sit and stare, horrified at the scene. The screams of people around you and the snarling of others dressed in various shades of black and grey. Your next observation was their frightening red eyes. They were monstrous. You had never seen such a thing. You had hoped you’d never have to. It was something you couldn’t have imagined. 

Just like that it was over. Bodies were piled and pulled to a drain. The man from before towering over you. “What are you?” You cowered in fear. The man chuckled. “My name is Aro.” He crouched down, yet still towered over you. “You, my dear, have magnificent talents.” The words couldn’t escape you and you could only shudder.  Suddenly he reached out and pulled you to a stand. “Come now. You poor thing. You’re shaking.” His words were sickening. As though he wasn’t aware how horrible the scene was. 

There was something oddly obscene that you had settled after weeks of being in the Volturi’s presence. From what you understood, they were vampires who enforce the vampire laws. Aro, Marcus and Caius were the leaders. The rest were their guard.  You were still alive because of Aro’s fascination with your sight.

It wasn’t the usual family heirloom. Very few in your family actually had it. You were the only living relative who had it. Your aunt had the sight but had difficulty coping. She had been sad for all the times you had met her. She died in a car accident when you were fifteen. The holder before that was your grandmother’s and her grandmother. Your grandmother saw it in you at a young age. She always defined you as sensitive. However, she never clarified what she meant by being sensitive.

Whilst there were many Volturi members, they were nothing in comparison to the number of ghosts. Alec had become a friend despite being one of the most feared, if not the most feared vampire of the vampire world. With you, he warmed up gradually although quicker than he had with most. “So what do you think of the place?” Alec asked. “Its loud.” You responded. What he didn’t realise your response wasn’t in design or what you could hear, many simple noises turning into echoes. Instead it was the screams of the dead roaring in despair. “That’s a new one.” You hummed in response, cracking a smile. 

After some weeks that consisted a lot of time with Alec, he finally asked you what was on his mind. “What’s it like? Do you see everyone who has ever died here?” You hummed again in thought before hurrying off your bed and grabbing a marker as well as two sheets of paper. You drew a circle on each. “So let’s say this. This bit of paper is this world, the physical one. You and I can see it. Everyone is living in this world. When people die, they leave this world to another.” You held up the other paper. You then put the paper together overlapping the circles slightly. “This is what i see. My grandma would tell me that I’m sensitive to the other world. Although she only ever told me that. I wasn’t allowed to tell my parents about it. It’s scary sometimes. I see them in the condition they died. In this castle it’s worse…because sometimes I hear them in between the walls.” 

You did your best for every ghost, some were successes, some where failures and then there were many you didn’t quite understand what they wanted. You offered the grey man a smile. “I see you. You aren’t forgotten. I promise.” He shifted slightly before climbing into your closet. You opened the doors to find him gone. You never saw him again. You assumed that perhaps that’s what he wanted - to be assured that he would be remembered. 

Another week later, you saw her again, the tourist girl, she had just passed by your room. You immediately looked around your door to see her standing and waiting for you. She didn’t look afraid, or in pain. In fact, she looked very comfortable with you. This didn’t surprise you anymore, she seemed to be trying to tell you something but she never said a word.  “(Y/N)?” You jumped slightly turning to see Alec. “Hey Alec.” Alec looked over your shoulder. “What were you looking at?” You shook your head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” The tourist girl brushed past you to stand behind Alec, continuing to smile. “Well i wanted to tell you something, you’ve been here for some time now and...i’d like you to know.”  “Oh, okay. Fire away.” You smiled.  “You’ve been here for six months and during that time, it’s been wonderful to know you. You’ve opened my eyes to a whole other side of being, it’s made life i little less boring.” He paused. “It’s been a joy being your friend but...i can’t help but feel that isn’t enough for me anymore. What i mean to say is that i care and feel for you more things than i should for a friend. I usually wouldn’t be so forward but i trust you. You don’t have to say anything right now. I just thought you should know.” Alec finished. You closed the space between yourself and Alec, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I can get on board with that. I look forward to seeing where this goes.” Your eyes flickered behind him to see the tourist girl continuing to smile but her expression changed to one of satisfaction. Only this time, a grey hand reached out for her in the open door and she turned to looked at the owner, taking their hand and walking into the room. After that day, you never saw her again. 

“You’ve got that face again.” Alec said, taking your hands in his. The two of you were cross legged on his bed and you were once again distracted.  “So this will sound crazy but, i’ve been seeing a new person.” You began.  “That doesn’t sound crazy at all, we feed-”  “No.” You shook your head. “It’s not someone from this time. It’s a woman, she has dark hair and wears black dated clothes but, she never looks at me. I’ve never seen her face and she seems to just wander in and out of sight. I just can’t piece her together.”  “This really bothers you.” Alec said, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.  “She has a strong presence but she doesn’t seem interested in communicating.” It could just be the time of year. Today is a special day after all.”  “It is?” Alec asked.  “Well apparently. it’s a legend my grandma always told me. Tonight is the night marking 100 years. There isn’t a name for it as far as i know but according to legend every one hundred years for one night only the dead and the living align. For a few people that means they’ll see a ghost of someone they miss the most. It’s completely at random and seemingly used as an explanation for some ghost sightings. Sightings are supposed to be more likely around this time.” You thought for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows? What i know is that i’m tired. This lady is making me work for answers and i still can’t figure it out. So on that note.” You leaned forward kissing Alec’s lips. “I’m going to bed. It’s eleven at night and i’m exhausted. I look at one more age of a book and i’ll die.” Alec chuckled. “Sleep well, my love.” 

You turned on your playlist which was needed after such an exhausting day. You didn't have any ear buds so you hoped it wouldn't annoy anyone too much. You cracked a smile to hear Ed Sheeran's 'Supermarket Flowers' playing. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

'Oh I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know. A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved.'  Alec stiffened, unable to believe his eyes. He had seen the woman in front of him before, but it was a distant memory like a dream. She was pretty, petite in form, her brown hair, like his own, smoothed back into a low bun. She adorned a soft smile and seemed to know Alec. His eyes stayed on her and he realised just who this woman was. The song you had played oddly fitting. If only you knew what was happening right now. 

'So I'll sing Hallelujah. You were an angel in the shape of my mum' 

This woman wasn't a stranger. It took him some time but when it hit him, it hit him hard. This woman was his mother. 

Demetri looked at the little blonde girl in front of him. He never thought he'd see the angelic face again. To see her was the biggest gift he could have gotten even if she was to disappear before him. 

'I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know, A life with love is a life that's been lived.' 

The little girl moved towards him and oh how he wished he could remember her name. He knelt down to her level with a gentle smile. Her hair was just as he remembered, long and wavy. Her green eyes and wide smile welcoming him. Had the little girl missed him like he had missed her? Demetri never talked about his daughter. He was ashamed he couldn't remember her name. He wanted to keep her to himself and cherish the memories of her that remained. Even if they were brief moments. All consisted of her wide toothy grin and the most prominent was no different as she ran around in the nearby field. The grass so tall it was levelled at her shoulders. He couldn't remember how she died. A piece of him was glad for that. To see her now, in front of him, still smiling just as he remembered, his heart felt full yet so broken all at the same time. She died young, too young. Barely six years old. Demetri remembered how much love she had for the world. Even though the world had none for her. She had more love and forgiveness in her heart than trying someone would in three lifetimes and the world in her mind was light and beautiful. There was no evil in her eyes and Demetri was led to believe that never changed even in her final moments. The world was darker after she died. He hoped that he could be capable of the love his daughter had by nature. Or even learn to do so and see the world, just as she did, in the future. Whilst she died too young, she was at peace with the end of her life. She seemed at peace with it, yet he knew of vampires who lived for thousands of years and couldn't stomach the very thought of their own death. He spent so long trying to understand it but only one theory could suffice. Demetri's daughter lived a short life but she gave everyone so much love that perhaps she lived a better life than any of them combined. 

'You got to see the person that I have become. Spread your wings. And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah. You're home' 

Alec felt as though all of the air in his body suddenly escaped him. He didn't know if his mother was proud of him or if she knew everything that brought him up to this moment but just as always, her smile adorned acceptance for her son. It felt like a dream, a gift too good to be true to be reminded of his mother. He didn't know how to explain this to Jane but he was thankful that knowing you, you'd believe him and help him through the experience. 

Demetri watched as the little girls smile fell slightly into a small one, no longer her usual toothy grin and a hint of sadness behind her eyes. Somehow he knew he'd be losing her again. A part of him silently pleaded that she'd stay but her own expression told him that wouldn't be the case. Demetri wanted to reach out and touch the girl but he couldn't bring himself to do it, afraid that his hand would pass through her. The hardest part was always saying goodbye and having to do it twice was too much. Demetri didn't remember the first time yet he still felt the pain like it was yesterday, just by seeing the girls face. "Please..." He whispered, curling into himself slightly in attempt of protecting his heart from breaking again. The little girl faded away before his very eyes and was gone. Demetri's eyes squeezed shut for a moment, stifling back the pain. He then exhaled slowly, regaining his composure and rising to a stand. 

'When I fell down you'd be there holding me up. Spread your wings as you go. And when God takes you back we'll say Hallelujah You're home.

Fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up.' 

Marcus trailed his fingers down the case on the bed that was filled with Didyme's old things. The ones he couldn't bare the sight of nor the possibility of being destroyed. So they remained hidden and untouched. He looked up and froze. Marcus couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't dare. "Didyme..." The name barely got passed his lips, becoming only a broken whisper. The dark haired woman wore a slight smile on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes telling him one thing she never had to say. 'I miss you.' Their relationship was built upon that. The ability to say so much to one another with only a look and no words at all. The moonlight reflected off her face. Slowly she moved around the bed, never breaking eye contact or her smile. She reached out her hand, moving towards him and almost touched his face. Just like that, she was gone and his grief returned but somehow he knew that this was a gift. He just didn’t know who to thank.

[soulwillower]

isn’t this easy?• bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader)      

warnings: swearing, some angst, fluff, poorly written, unedited!!!

... idk what this is

[losers + reader are aged up to high school in this.]

2.2k words

♡

bill’s eye rolls were getting increasingly more aggressive and painful to watch as you and the losers sit in the clubhouse, silently eyeing the boy as he leans against a pole with his phone to his ear. on the other line, an upset voice spits words like “insensitive,” “asshole,” “stupid,” and “embarrassing” but bill says nothing back, sighs emitting slowly from worried down lips with a pained and embarrassed look.

bill was broke, and not in an economic sense as much as in his relationship. he’d never admit it to you up front, but he told eddie and ben three days ago that his girlfriend was taking so much more than she was giving. and its killing him. 

its not like none of you noticed, it’s just that he’s still with her despite that that hurts you.

you cant help the twinge of anger that lights a fire deep within you; you open your mouth to question the berating insults that were just flying through his phone from the girls that was supposed to love him.  

richie asks before you have a chance. “whats got your girl’s panties in such a twist, big bill?” mike chuckles and okay, not exactly the words you would have chosen, but the grimace and shrug bill responds with suggests the job was done either way.

“e-earlier today i m-made a thats wh-what she said j-joke.”

you blink and share a look with eddie before looking back in shock to bill. “and thats all? you got all of that just from a joke? what, was it bad?”

he shakes his head, “i th-thought it was funny. she and her boring flathead f-friends didnt. i’m in the d-doghouse, now.”

it’s quiet then, because all seven of you - and possibly bill himself - were all thinking it, but not even you or richie were bold enough to just say it. plus, bill could never betray the treatment that he’s always known, and it's killing you to watch him wilt under this girl. he gets this treatment from his parents and now his girlfriend, too. it hurts you everywhere.

and in the silence of the group, the sarcastic 'cheers' gesture that bill makes with his can of soda is a sad reminder that he’s going to stay true to the golden core that once defined a now-dying infatuation.

but you’re fairly certain that golden core started rotting the moment they’d met. 

- 

sometimes, when bill gets flashbacks or around the certain times that he cant help but stare forlornly at the empty room across his hall, he would call her.

she didn't get it, of course she didn't. she tried to help him the first few times, like a decent girlfriend - really, the bare minimum - but it got hard for her. or she didn't want that part of bill. 

she only wanted the ‘good parts,’ you’d heard. but that doesn't make sense, because every part of bill is a good part. 

she doesn't get him, she doesn't understand the depths of trauma and hurt that swirls slowly below the depths of his 6’1 frame - behind his smiles, his leadership, his kindness, cheer, and unsullied bravery and intuition.

the losers get it, you get it. because you were there along with him the whole time and though still none of you want to outright address it for fear of getting violently sick as you recall memories. 

but you and bill can talk about it in a way that’s accessible for the two of you and it’s typically stuff that makes you laugh or makes you uncomfortable upon reflection, the fuzzy memories that get harder to recall the older you grow. 

and because of that, more often than not you’ll get a text and then sit in your car down the block until you see her leave his house before sneaking to his room to comfort him and brush tears off his cheeks that roll down from both the petrifying fear of repressed memories along with the stinging pains of rejection from his disdainful girlfriend.

it was heartbreaking.

during those nights he tells you that he doesn't deserve someone like you and you think that’s absurd. but he also tells you how nice it is that you make him laugh when he knows he’s about to cry, and how you know exactly how he feels when those intrusive feelings get in the way and its almost too much. he says he loves you, and when you say it back it’s with a stabbing pain through your heart. because he loves you, but not in the same way. 

and sure, you dream of the day where bill wakes up and realizes that holy shit, you’ve been in front of him the whole time. but even that isn’t as important as your longing for bill to wake up and see that he just deserves better than her. 

you could give that to him, but even so, he just needs to get out of her talons because they were ripping him apart.

- 

and when it had been a few days since you'd last gotten to see bill, you decided you needed to check in on him. out of childhood habit, you walked through the backyard and went to knock on the back door. but his figure is already there and before your fist can make a sound, ��the door slides open. “oh, hi.” you say, eyes wide, fist hovering above the empty space that once was bill’s sliding door.

bills green eyes swim with happiness and he gives you a tired smile, stepping out with you and giving you another glimmer of hope. “h-hey y/n, wh-what’s up?” he asks you, following you without question. you shrug, “wanted to go to the park. need to get away.” you explain, leaving out the 'you' at the beginning of your last sentence. he gives a blinding smile as he’s helping to lift you over his back fence. “g-good, i’ve been missing my g-girl lately.”

you think about those words the whole way to the park and they still make you smile as your legs brush against each other on the park bench. you can't help but watch him as he talks. the way his lips form words as he tries to force them out of his mouth, the embarrassed blush totally absent from his cheeks now that his girlfriend isn't around. he told you once with a grimace that she doesn't always love when he stutters.

you do, of course. you always love everything about bill.

and minutes later, when you crack a lewd joke, he looks shocked and unsurprised all at once that you can't help your stare as his green eyes flick around, checking if any kids at the park heard before looking to you. he tips his head back with a bright laugh, the melodic sound coaxing a laugh of your own from your lips. his arm casually comes to rest against the back of the bench as laughs still bubble from his cherry lips, his red hair glinting in the sun.

he looks at you and for the first time in months, he looks completely relaxed. “y/n!” he says, halfway between amusement and chastising, his lips still smiling. you smile back at him, holding his soft gaze as he shakes his head softly.

isnt this so easy?

you wonder briefly why it isnt easy like this with him and her.

because you just don’t get it. bill’s the kind of boy that everybody loves - very few people dislike him and if you discredit the psychopaths or lunatics that this town is riddled with, the people left are far and few between.

his girlfriend dislikes him now, though, and he dislikes her. but hes too nice to see that, because he just wants everyone around him to be happy even if its at his own expense.

- 

and then two weeks after their phone call in the clubhouse, he showed up at your door with short breaths, stuttering words, and tears swimming in his eyes. it was one in the morning and he looked almost as bad as you’d seen him since that one summer back in middle school.

and when you were up in your room, he told you all about their breakup and how that itself didnt hurt, but what was killing him was how foolish he’d been to keep on dating a girl who didnt show him the kind of love he wanted.

he started to say something else, but stopped and you didn’t bring it up, as much as you wanted to.

bill was sleeping on rocks at home, spending sleepless nights thinking about where they’d stepped and the entire mess that had thankfully ended tonight. but he couldn’t sleep well and the evidence was right under his eyes.

so you’d let him stay with you, and he insisted on sleeping on the floor but you thought that was nonsense. he curled up with you on the bed and it was the best sleep the two of you ever had.

- 

then it happened again a couple weeks after their break up. bill had run up to your front door and pounded on it until you begrudgingly answered. he'd woken you up, because it was seven in the morning and you gape at him - he looks like he's been up all night. "bill-" you start but he starts stuttering, talking a mile a minute as if he has to say something now or else he never could again.

the feeling of an empty pit in your stomach that wishes for a splash of light starts to grow as he looks at you almost warily. "y-y/n, i have to- just listen, p-please, because i n-need to a-ask you..."

you wait patiently, terrified because he looks like he might be sick, but he starts anyways. “y/n. you u-understand me, you always h-have...” he looks very anxious, and bill is rarely anxious so you start to panic. his next words are shocking.

“y/n, are y-you... are you in l-love with me?” he asks, and the air leaves your lungs. he’s watching you, looking torn, and it breaks your heart. it looks like he’s in pain and he looks so lost. you nod slowly, shrugging. “yeah, bill. i just- i cant help it.” you say, feeling defeated and somehow elated by your admission.

his eyes well with tears and he shakes his head. “im so s-s-sorry.” he whispers, voice cracking. it kills you. “i’m s-sorry, f-fuck.” 

you’re scared and confused and deeply sorrowful as his words leave his lips. just because he doesn't love you back doesn't mean he has to be sorry about it at all. 

 it hurts you to think that a boy who gives so much love for everyone can be so lost and unsure with himself, feeling so undeserving of real love. “y-y/n, i'm s- i didnt kn-know. i d-didnt know, i'm so s-sorry.”

he's hysteric and your heart hurts as you realize he's sorry that you had to see him with his ex all the time and you shake your head. you’ve never seen bill like this before. 

“bill, it's okay, i just want you to be happy, that’s all. i don't need you to- we dont have to-“

“-i don’t want to f-f-fuck it up w-with you, too. i’m s-scared.” he says softly, eyes bright and teary like summer grass after a long rain. his hands are shaking as he lifts them to rub at his tired eyes, lip quivering.

the world spins for both of you as you tentatively walk forward, grabbing his cheeks softly. theyre warm under your touch and when he looks down at you, the spinning stops.

“why do you think you could ever fuck it up with me?” you ask softly, genuinely curious as your heartbeat thumps against your chest. his eyes are closed, in either fear or regret. 

“you couldn’t if you tried. i love ‘thats what she said’ jokes.” you say teasingly.

bill laughs wetly, his cheeks slightly squishing as his wide smile is obstructed by your soft hands. “i love y-you.” he says, eyes opening to stare at you seriously. you raise your eyes, surprised and elated at his words.

“you do?” you ask dumbly, hands falling from his face to his shoulders to steady yourself. “y-yeah, i do. i think i have for a r-really long t-time.” he says sheepishly with a smile.

you can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, your shoulders relaxing as he grins down at you with a look full of nothing but love. 

“can i k-kiss you?” he whispers, hands sneaking to your cheek and neck. “please.” you say just as quietly, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

when he closes the gap, he tastes like salt but he kisses you softly with more intent and feeling than you ever thought possible.

his hands are gentle and rough all the same, kissing with wild fire and with calm waters. you feel pinned to earth and up in the clouds, his lips on yours and tongue swiping gently in your mouth. he’s smiling into your mouth, laughing gently with love as he pulls you closer, arms wrapping tightly around your middle.

the darkness that ached for the splash of light within you is completely gone now, replaced with glowing love, admiration for the boy that you’ve loved since middle school.

 he belongs with you.

[christineeej94]

One look❤

a/n:guys, I’m baaack. Finally. I have some amazing requests and I can’t wait to dig in. This one is so cute, I can cry. I hope i done it well. Okay, now I’m being weird. Bye. Stay safe and great. Kisses 🌻

the request:

Anonymous said:

can I request an Aron Piper imagine where the reader attends the red carpet even for Elite & both of them just so happen to be each other’s celebrity crush so when they bump into each other they instantly click & if you include them going on their first date too that would be great!

warnings: maybe bad language, some fluff and bad writing.

word count:2.016

Arón Piper x Reader

♠♠♠♠♠

“(Y/N) get your ass here.” My friend yelled from the kitchen and I rolled my eyes. “What?” she pulls her hair on the said and start dancing. I try not to laugh but she is so funny. “What’s happening chica?” I asked again and she start dancing again. “You receive an invitation to ÉLITE season 3 premiere. You are going to see ARÓN FUCKING PIPER on the red carpet.” She screamed so loud that I think the neighbors heard everything she said. I blocked and I look at the open envelop. “You are kidding me?” I yelled and I start dancing too.

I’m new in acting and everything, I just got a role in the new series called “Toy Boy” and it’s my first big role. This invitation was a surprise but I think my manager has something do to with this. I was so obsessed with Élite when the first season appeared on Netflix, I love the story line and also, I had a huge crush on Arón Piper, like the other thousands of girls. “We need to find you a fit for the event.” My friend said serious and I rolled my eyes. The rest of the day I spend it searching for some interesting outfits.  

A while ago when I started to shoot for Toy Boy, I went to a private Netflix event and I was so close to meet him. But he left with a problem and I could meet the rest of the cast. I’m a good friend with Ester, Mina and Danna, we are meeting every weekend and we are having brunch at a small and chic restaurant.  “The dreams are over, puta, cause you my friend are going to finally meet him.” My friend talk with her mouth filled of noodles and I laugh, taking a sip from my wine. “Yeah, I’m kinda afraid of this. Just imagine, what if I’m going to step on something and I will fall or something and he will see that and OMG.” I put my hands on my face terrified and it’s my friend turn to laugh. “Look, amor, you are funny, gorgeous and very smart. Don’t let emotions destroy your chance with him.” She said serious and I nodded. “But if he doesn’t like me at all? I’m not thinking at a relationship because I’m not that childish but if he doesn’t like me?” “Then is a very stupid man.” She said and take another huge bite.

The day of event came and now I’m struggling with my anxiety and, also, my hair. I’m on my hotel room waiting for my hair and makeup stylists to do their job, I’m so nervous and so excited in the same time. And I’ve the weird feeling right now. I heard a knock and I hurry to the door. “Ester?” the blonde girl jumps on me and we hugged tight. “Why don’t you tell us that you are coming to the premiere?” she asked and take a sit on my bed. “I wanted to be a surprise.” I smiled and she smirks. “You know that in this hotel are almost the entire cast of Élite, including Mr. Piper.” Ester winked and I blushed. She figured out a long time ago that I like Arón and she advised me to let everything chill for the moment because he is complicated. “I know now.” I look in other direction and I heard a knock again. My stylists come in and Ester went, but first she told me that I should come with their limo. “I already talk with Carlo and I’m coming with him and his girlfriend. Thank you, hermosa.” I kiss her cheeks and we promise to see each other at the premiere.

 After 4 hours, I was ready to go in a small pink and shiny dress, having a pair of white sandals and some tight wave. I look at my sparkly makeup and my manager made some photos for her Instagram. “Carlo is here.” She informed me and I look again in the mirror. “You look amazing. Now, go or they will leave without you.” She pushed me from behind and I took my clutch in a hurry. Carlo and his girlfriend wait for me in the lobby, at the entry I saw Mina, Omar and Arón waiting for their limo. When my group passed them, I stopped to give them my congratulations. “You look absolutely stunning. Congrats for the season 3.” I said and my gaze went to everyone and stopped on the breath-taking guy which is analyzing me. My cheeks got red and after a small chit-chat with Mina, I got in my car.

“You are so in love” Carlo comments and I pinch his arm over the suit. “And he seems like he his liking you too.” I rolled my eyes and he pinch my arm. “Be careful amigo, you can start a war that it’s already over for you.” I joked and he laughs. “Of course.” He smirks and takes his girlfriend in a hug. I want what they have.

At the event we need to take some photos on the red carpet and we arrived too soon so we need to wait for the Élite cast. We wait on the said and I drink without stopping, like 2 or 3 glasses of champagne. “Look who is here.”  Carlo’s girlfriend pointed me the spot when the limos are stopping and I saw him getting out of the car, followed by Mina, Omar, Ester, Miguel and Alvaro. My legs are shaking right now. We let them to do interviews and photos, after them Carlo drag me in front of the blinding lights and a lot of cameras and microphones are around me. “(Y/N), look here. Give us a smile.” The photographers yelled at me and I try to keep up. After the photo session, a guy stopped me for an interview. “How do you think the new season would be?” he asked and I smiled. “Explosive. That’s the word that defines the new season.” “What’s your favorite character?” “I love them all, but more specific, I adore Nadia, Ander and Lu. For me they are the most powerful characters in Élite.” I respond and he asks me other questions about my career and my new role.

At a moment, when I thought that everything is done on the red carpet, Arón passed me and some photographer yelled at us for a photo together. We gazed each other and Arón smiles. “Come here.” He comes closer and puts his hand around my waist. “You look incredible tonight.” He bends and whispers, while the photographers catch the moment. “I don’t outdo you.” I replied blushing and a cute smile rose on his beautiful face. After the photos, we went in opposite directions.

“Finally, you are done. Come, let me introduce you to Arón.” Ester grabbed my arm and she dragged me on the ball room. “Arón, bom-bom, she is one of my besties, (Y/N), she is playing in Toy Boy.” She pushed me from behind and I almost fall in his arms. “Hi.” He said simple and I blushed like a little girl. “Hola.” I respond and I didn’t know what to say so we stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. I just listen to the music on the background and I pay attention to his conversation, and I know it’s inappropriate but I didn’t know what to do next.

I wanted to go away and find someone who I can talk to but he stopped me. “Sorry, I’m such a douche. I’m Arón, nice to meet you. I think I never had the opportunity to meet you in person. I heard some many things about you.” I shake his hand smiling and he smiled too. “I hope are good things.” He laughed at my remark and I blushed. We started to have a normal and relaxing conversation about acting and his next projects. I told him that I’m so excited for him and he is a very funny person. “I wanted to talk more with you, but now my duty calls.” He winked and before go on the stage he placed a small kiss on my cheek. I can tell that place, where he kissed me, burned for a while.

 In the rest of the night we didn’t intersect and I left after an hour because next day I had a fly in the morning. I’m going to visit my family in my hometown.

 After 7 days.

 It’s been a week from the event and me and Arón don’t stop talking from then. I’m starting to catch feelings for him. He is such a nice and talkative person. He asked me on a date a while ago and today is the big day. He didn’t tell me where we are going, but he informed me to dress comfortable. I pinned my hair in a bun, I put on some shorts and a flower print top. I get out of my apartment and his car is parked in front of my block. He leans on her and smiles provocatively and beautiful. “You look amazing.” He comments and I blushed. “Look, you even don’t need blush.” He jokes about my red cheeks. I get in his car after he hugged me tight and he parfum replace my entire air.

He drove to the peripheries of the Madrid and he stopped the car next to a forest. “You are going to kill me now?” I joked and he smirks. “Of course, but first we eat, then I can kill you with the butter knife.” He continues the joke and he get out. Arón took a basket and a blanket from the backseat and in the other hand he takes my hand. We walk on a small path to nowhere, but I see that he knows the way. We finally stopped and I looked over his shoulder and I could see a glade shaded by tall trees. Small rays of light illuminate the place and I’m able to heard the birds' chirp. I’ve never seen a place like this. Is beyond beautiful and because he brings me here, makes my heart melting.

“It’s amazing.” I said and he smiled nervously. “I thought you wouldn’t like it.” “I love it. How you find it?” “Let’s set up everything and I will tell you.” We put together the blanket and while I’m putting the food on the said, he went back to the car to get drinks and napkins.

“So, tell me.” I said curiously and he nodded. Arón have his head in my lap and my fingers are playing with his short hair. He is finishing chowing a grape and when my hand went down on his face, he kissed my back of the hand. “So, I loved a girl so much a while ago, before playing in Élite, and she broke my heart. I found this place after the breakup. I decided to bring here the girl I like the most.” His words filled my mind with a lot of thoughts. “You like me?” I mumbled smiling and he nodded. “I’ve had a crush on you and when I saw you at our premiere, I thought it’s a sign. I know you had a crush on me too, Ester told me after the premiere. (Y/N), babygirl, you are lighting my life right now.” He raised his head and I prone mine, our lips meet each other in a small and cute kiss. His lips taste like cigarettes and fruits. “You taste like a candy.” He smirks and I giggle. “I can’t believe this is real. Weeks ago I didn’t know how to talk to you and look at us now.” We kissed again, this time more passional and after we confess our feelings for each other, we enjoy the food and we took a lot of photos.

I feel inside me my love growing and I know, actually, I’m sure that our life together will be the most amazing and exciting thing ever.